Harry sat in his bedroom looking at the blade in his hand, the events that took place in the ministry still playing on a loop in his head. Was this a good idea? He had been clean for years now. Harry glanced at the almost completely faded scars on his left wrist.
He sat there for who knows how long. Staring at the blade as he lost track of time. He had started crying at some point, the tears dripping down his cheeks onto his blue shirt. Then he did it. One red line. Then another one. And another one. One after the other he drew those lines on his wrist with the blade. He felt all the bottled-up emotions bursting out as he kept going.
At some point he snapped out of it, now looking at the bloody blade and cut-up wrist in panic. He sat there as the guilt and shame of relapsing after so long was eating him alive. What would Sirius say if he saw him like this? What about his parents? And everyone else who had risked or even given their lives for his sake? Was he truly this ungrateful? Harry's eyes filled with tears once again as his head filled with hundreds of thoughts. He took a tissue from the tissue box on his nightstand and wiped the blade clean, then patted the cuts with the tissue to clean off some of the blood. He was too exhausted to properly clean them right now.
As the summer went on Harry found himself drawn to the blade more often. As the summer went on he started to worry about the scars on his wrists, how would he hide them from his friends?
Soon enough it was time for him to return to Hogwarts. Sitting on Hogwarts Express Harry tried to pay attention to Hermione and Ron bickering about something insignificant, but the anxiety in his head was overwhelming. He sat there quietly lost in his thoughts until Hermione's voice brought him back.
"What do you think, Harry?" She asked. "Huh? Sorry 'Mione I-I wasn't listening" Harry stammered awkwardly. "Which one is better, muggle music or wizard music?" Hermione repeated her question. "It's wizard music, muggle music is so weird!" Ron interrupted Harry before he could even properly process the question. The two continued bickering, completely forgetting that Harry never got a chance to answer and soon enough they arrived at Hogwarts.
Two weeks passed by without anyone noticing anything, but then on a Thursday night, Ron noticed something odd while he was talking to Harry in the boys's dormitory.
"Blimey mate! What happened to your arm?" Ron exclaimed in a slight panic and utter confusion. Harry glanced at his left arm and noticed that his sleeve had rolled up revealing some of the scars. He quickly pulled his sleeve down while trying to make an excuse that Ron would believe. "It's nothing to worry about, uhh...Just a small incident with Hedwig!" He said. The lie could've been believable if he hadn't seemed so panicked. Ron raised an eyebrow at his panic, now getting concerned for his friend. "I know you're lying. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but don't lie to me, Harry"
Harry looked at Ron and sighed in defeat. "I just don't want to burden you" That made Ron more worried. They had been through a lot together, but this was something that would burden him?
"Harry we broke into the Ministry of Magic last spring, the year before You-Know-Who came back, the third year we thought you were being hunted down by a mass murderer, our second year we went to Chamber of Secrets, the first year we went after Professor Quirell, but this is supposed to be something worse?" Ron said with confusion and concern written all over his face. "Well, it's not necessarily worse..it's just different" Harry explained, avoiding Ron's gaze. "Tell me, please" Ron begged.
Harry went silent. Should he tell Ron? If he didn't, Ron would probably ask Hermione about it. He took a deep breath and said it. "I did it...I did that to myself" A silence followed and Harry didn't dare to look at the face of his best friend. "Wha-..Harry? Did you just say that you..?" Ron stammered in confusion. He soon got up and sat next to his friend. "Look, I don't really get what's going on, but you know you can talk to me, right? Can I tell 'Mione, she's smart, I think she might be better help than I am" Ron said, wanting to be there for Harry, but acknowledging that he might not be the best person for this.
Harry shook his head silently, not wanting anyone else to find out how pathetic he was. As Ron had stated before they had gone through a lot together, but only he was pathetic enough to not handle it.
"Mate, I have to tell someone...Can't have you doing stuff like this. Is there anyone you'd trust enough to know?" Ron asked. He didn't want to tell anyone without Harry's consent, but he couldn't keep this to himself knowing that he wasn't able to help.
After a bit of back and forth, the boys agreed to tell the Head of the Gryffindor house, Professor McGonagall the following day after transfiguration class. It had been Ron's idea and since Harry couldn't think of anyone better they agreed on it. Ron promised to do the talking after Harry confessed that he felt like he wouldn't be able to keep it together. After the conversation, they both went to bed, yet neither of them slept well.
The next day Harry couldn't focus at all during transfiguration class, the nervousness making his heart race. After the class was finally over Harry and Ron told Hermione that they'd accompany her to their next class soon and then they waited for the classroom to empty.
Professor McGonagall gave them a confused look. "Mr. Potter? Mr. Weasley? Don't you have somewhere to be?" She asked. "Professor, we uhh.. wanted to talk with you about something important, would now be a good time?" Ron asked, now also getting nervous. McGonagall nodded and looked at the two young men before her. "Me and Harry are here because I found out last night that.." Ron swallowed before continuing, clearly struggling to say what he found out last night out loud. "Harry needs help" He finished and Harry felt himself cringe at that. McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why the two of you are so nervous to tell me that Mr. Potter needs help with his studies." She stated. Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Harry was quicker. "You misunderstood. I don't need help with my studies. I cut myself and Ron is worried and I promised him that we would tell someone and..and and I just..I" Harry blurted out as his eyes teared up. McGonagall's eyes widened for a split second. "I see. You did the right thing by telling me. Mr. Weasley, please see yourself to your next class. And Mr.Potter, whose class do you have next? I'll owl them to let them know that you won't be attending it today. We need to go over a few things" She said feigning calmness. Ron nodded and left the classroom.
The conversation was long and difficult. Harry cried a lot, but it helped. McGonagall had dealt with similar situations before during her long career and knew the basic do's and don'ts. She said she'd have to send an owl to the Dursleys but changed her mind once Harry explained his home situation. They settled on the following arrangement, Harry would once a week come speak with her so she could check up on him and he could let out his bottled up emotions.
Harry relapsed a few times after that, but soon he didn't feel the need to cut anymore. It got better.