Chapter 1
The days that followed the fight at the Ministry went by slowly, but far too quickly at the same time. Harry spent them as a spectre of himself, barely able to even concentrate on the goings on around him. The talk with Dumbledore in the headmaster’s office had taken what little energy he had left along with any hopes of ever being able to leave Privet Drive before he became of age.
If someone had told him of the prophecy the day before Sirius’ death, Harry probably would have reacted with the usual attitude of being able to take on the world. He would have smiled at the person and confidently stated he would take care of it. That he wasn’t afraid. That he would do whatever had to be done.
Hearing it so soon after Sirius died, however, had him feeling such hopelessness for a future that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Harry was supposed to defeat Voldemort? Yeah, right. He’d die. Within seconds. He had only managed to survive due to pure luck and nothing more. The wizarding world was made up of fools.
His lack of reaction seemed to make Dumbledore uneasy, but the old man had let him leave. He’d walked back to the Gryffindor common room and when asked what the meeting had been about, Harry had shrugged. That was the last day he spoke.
Sirius wasn’t given any kind of funeral. Escaped convicts weren’t worth it, apparently. Even escaped convicts who had been framed and had a whole group of friends who knew it. To see everyone around him, an onlooker wouldn’t know a death even happened.
As the final day before summer holidays approached, his friends tried harder to get him to speak or to react or do something other than just exist. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore tried speaking with him, but he refused to respond. Even Snape taunted him harder, but none of it penetrated through to his mind.
The train ride seemed to be the worst of it for his friends. It was silent the whole way. Harry sat next to the window and just stared out, watching everything go by. A blink later and it was time to get off the train. Harry didn’t bother to tell his friends goodbye or even wave. He grabbed Hedwig and his trunk and made his way through the platform and back to the Muggle side, quickly finding his uncle and following him out.
Harry’s summer went by much the same. For the first several days, Petunia and Vernon had loved the silence. They wouldn’t stop talking about how someone must have finally trained him properly. He did all of his chores without uttering a single word or sound of complaint. He ate what he was given and when he was given it and didn’t ask for more.
Dudley enjoyed the silence for a whole different reason. The day Harry had fallen off a ladder and rolled around in silent pain, his cousin had watched him. Had seen how no sound escaped, even though it was quite obvious his elbow was broken. After that, Harry became his punching bag, something he hadn’t been since he found out he was a wizard. For some reason, the fact that Harry no longer spoke or made sound gave Dudley the confidence to hurt him again. And since they were older, it was far worse than it had been when they were kids. Going to bed with a black eye and a body covered in bruises became routine. His cousin broke several of his bones over the summer. His magic did nothing to help with any of his injuries.
The beatings to his face had stopped a few weeks before it was time to go back to Hogwarts, but the rest of Harry’s body was forced to compensate for that. He never fought back, never uttered a sound of pain or a single word for it to stop.
When Vernon dropped him off at the station, his uncle didn’t say goodbye. Harry had just enough time to get himself and his things, and then his uncle was speeding away. He walked through the platform and got to the train, already sitting in the compartment when his friends got there.
He didn’t miss the hopeful look Hermione sent his way. “I wonder who the Defense teacher will be this year.”
Ron groaned as he plopped down next to her. “Hopefully it’s someone good. Or else we’ll have to continue the DA.”
Both his friends looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to offer an opinion, but Harry just stared out the window. The sound of whispered speaking filled the compartment for the entire trip.
Harry knew his friends were waiting for the day that his old self came back. That they had fully expected him to be better after the summer break. Harry wasn’t quite sure it was even possible for that to happen. It was like he was locked inside his mind. A prisoner. But Harry didn’t care, didn’t bother searching for the key or a way out. He didn’t see the point in it.
The trip to the castle was loud. The rest of his friends greeted him as he got on the carriage to ride to the school and all he did was nod at them to acknowledge their words before looking at the trees as they went by.
Luna had to leave them when they walked through the entrance hall, but the rest of them made the journey up to Gryffindor together to unpack. The group seemed to talk around him, still trying to keep him in the conversation, but without forcing him to engage in anyway. Before long, it was time for the welcoming feast and they all started back down stairs to the Great Hall.
Sitting at the Gryffindor table, it took no time for Seamus to elbow Ron’s side and nod up towards the Head table. “Snape’s gone. Reckon we’re finally fucking free from the git?”
Everyone around them looked at the table and sure enough, Snape’s usual spot was empty. Harry took the opportunity to notice that there also wasn’t anyone new sitting there, but all the other professors were present.
He turned around just in time to see Ron shaking his head. “We will never been that bloody lucky. Even after we graduate, the arsehole will still find an excuse to torture us.” The rest of them groaned in pained agreement.
The sorting ceremony went by quickly, with every house getting new students. When it was through, Dumbledore wasted no time reminding them that the Forbidden Forest was called such for a reason and that no one should enter it.
“And finally, before I free you all to eat, there is one last thing to discuss. I would like to introduce you all to the new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor. I expect you all to treat him with the respect he deserves.” Dumbledore turned towards the door to the staff room that was behind the Head table just as it opened.
The Great Hall was silent as the new professor stepped out. The lighting in that corner made it impossible to see any of the man’s features, but the moment he stepped up to the table, the whole room got a clear look at him. If Harry had been looking at his friends, he would have noticed every single one of them eyeing him with concern. If he had been aware of any other student, he would have seen them all glance back and forth between him and the professor, all of them in shock. Harry’s eyes were locked onto the eyes of a man who looked like an older version of him.
“I would like to present to you Professor James Potter!” Dumbledore barely had time to finish the sentence when the Great Hall erupted in loud whispers.
“Harry?” Hermione’s voice was quiet. A hand touched the back of his shoulder and that’s what finally made him move his eyes away from the Head table.
He shook her hand off of him and stood, rushing out of the Great Hall. The nearest bathroom was in the dungeon and he took off at a run the moment he was out of sight of the school.
Locking the door behind him, he managed to reach the middle of the room before he fell to his knees and began screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Screaming so loud and for so long that his lungs protested and his throat quickly felt like it was being cut with glass.
His body was curled in on itself from the force of his screams. He didn’t hear the door being thrown open, didn’t hear the footsteps running toward him. He didn’t hear his name being called or the person telling him that he needed to stop being so dramatic, that he was being an insufferable idiot and had most likely woken up every single ghost within a 100 kilometer radius.
Harry just kept screaming. Even when the person saying his name went from saying it with venom to downright concern and fear. Even after the person’s tone went from angry and vicious to soft and gentle.
The last thing he remembered before he finally stopped screaming and passed out, was the person dropping to their knees beside him and grabbing him, gathering his body and limbs with gentle hands and pulling him against a black robed one. The sound of the person’s voice breaking through his screams to softly shush him and tell him he was alright. The feel of long, soft hair falling against his face as the person bent their head forward to rest it on top of his. The first emotion of being safe for the first time in a very long time.