Keep on keeping on

When Harry arrived in the dorm, he walked straight to his bed and began to unpack, ignoring the boys that filtered in behind him. He’d felt awful when he found out he’d be sharing with Ron, but Harry pushed those thoughts down and set about busying himself with a task he was familiar with – organising. His four poster bed was right at the end of the dorm, next to the bathroom. Harry was relieved at that because it meant he could easily sneak in there to change in the mornings and evenings. Ron’s bed was right next to him though which made Harry’s stomach tighten painfully. But for now, Harry ignored the boy. He didn’t want to give Ron another reason – or chance – to hurl spiteful words him. Harry lifted his trunk from the foot of his bed and carefully placed it on the red comforter. He began removing the items from it and placing them in the drawers beside his bed. He delicately folded his shirts and trousers, balled up his socks and rolled his red and gold ties. Like his school robes, the rest of clothes weren’t too damaged by Uncle Vernon. But Harry’s books and other school supplies weren’t so lucky. All his textbooks were battered, and dog eared. His transfiguration textbook was the worst. A few of the pages were falling from the binding and the front cover was bent. His quills were snapped, save for one and his ink pot was broken, covering his parchment in black splotches. Harry sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He sat back on his bed, holding the damaged things in his shaking hands.

“Oh, deary me. Someone won’t be the class favourite tomorrow.” Ron laughed, peering over at Harry. He shook his head and laughed loudly. “Not speaking won’t earn you any brownie points either. You know you have to actually speak to do spells, right?” Scoffing, Ron turned his back on Harry and walked away.

Crap. He was right. Harry was screwed. He curled up on his bed and closed the hangings forcefully, shutting out the laughter of the boys.

The next morning dawned bright, the September sun streaming through the gaps in the hangings. Harry rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked over at the small alarm clock that ticked away on his bed side table. 4:45am. Harry groaned. He knew he’d need to get up and get ready before the rest of his dorm if he wanted to avoid the awkward questions and unkind words and there was no way he was going to get back to sleep now.  Harry groped around in the drawers for the clothes he’d so neatly folded there the night before. Bundling them into his arms, Harry crept to the bathroom silently, not daring to turn a light on.

When inside, Harry quietly locked the door and began to strip his clothes off. His bruises were turning yellow now. He sighed and traced his hands over his chest, feeling his ribs and he collar bone. He’d always known he was skinny but after seeing all the other boys at Hogwarts, Harry felt inferior. Everyone else was so much taller than him, and whilst they were still only 11, most were much more muscular and filled out. Harry’s face was sallow, with dark circles under his eyes. Sighing again, Harry ignored his body and shrugged his clothes on, wrapping his cloak tight around him. He patted his pockets and made sure that the notebook and pen were in there along with his wand. Looking in the mirror, Harry grimaced and left.

Padding quietly across the dorm, Harry gathered his transfiguration book and headed to the common room. The fire was burning in the grate, crackling every so often. Harry spotted a large red armchair nestled in a barely lit corned so Harry took a seat, curling up and pulling his legs tightly to his chest. He opened his textbook and began to read, relishing in the silent environment.

For about an hour, Harry read in silence, the only noise from the occasional rustling as he turned a page. At 6am, Hermione came down the stairs, her bag slung over her shoulder and her hair scraped back into a tight ponytail.

“Harry?” She whispered hesitantly, as her eyes fell on the small boy tucked away in the corner. Harry raised his head and looked at her with wide, glistening eyes. He nodded and then turned back to his book.

“What are you doing up so early?” She asked, walking over to Harry slowly. The boy shrugged and fiddled with his hands. Hermione raised her hand and Harry flinched. She slowed her movement and brought her hand back to herself.

“Use the notebook, Harry.” The girl reminded gently. Harry nodded and fumbled in his pocket for the book.

[Couldn’t sleep. Woke up early and came down here. Been here since half six. You, okay?]

Hermione read his words slowly and looked up at him with understanding eyes.

“Yes, I’m okay. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

[Ron said something. Reminded me of something.]

“What did he say? Whatever it was, ignore him. He’s a prat.”  Hermione growled. Harry shrugged and began to write again.

[Some of my stuff got broken before I came here. He reminded me that I can’t cast spells if I can’t speak]

Hermione sighed sadly at his words. Unfortunately, Ron was right.

“How about we see how our first lessons go and then go from there? And if you’re still worried, we can talk to McGonagall?” Hermione suggested gently. At her suggestion, Harry shook his head furiously. He began to scribble quickly.

[No. No. I don’t want to be the freak who can’t talk. McGonagall can’t know. I’ll find a way. I have to.]

Hermione grimaced but knew better than to argue with the boy right now. Instead, she suggested they go down for breakfast whilst it was still quiet. Harry nodded in agreement and followed Hermione out of the portrait hole.

Unlike last night, the great hall was quiet and nearly empty. Harry and Hermione walked over to the Gryffindor table and took a seat, surveying the array of breakfast food laid out in front of them. Hermione reached for some eggs, toast and a cup of tea before looking expectantly at Harry. He was sat silently beside her, fiddling with his hands in his lap and looking at the food with wide, terrified eyes. Hermione slipped her hand into his and nodded encouragingly. Harry looked away from the food and made eye contact with her, returning the smile. With shaking hands, he reached for a single slice of toast and poured himself a cup of tea.

Hermione watched Harry curiously. He was tearing the piece of toast, he’d hesitantly taken, into small pieces and eating each piece slowly, chewing each piece monotonously. His eyes didn’t leave the space on the wall he’d chosen. Hermione was so worried about him. The way he’d freaked out over Ron’s words, the panic attack in the train bathroom, the way he’d wanted to change in private and now his behaviour around food. The most glaringly worrying behaviour was the muteness. Hermione had not Harry utter a word, and it was terrifying. She knew that a friendship with this boy would be exhausting but her heart broke for him, and she couldn’t abandon him now. She wasn’t about to push him for answers, but she knew that if this behaviour didn’t change now that he was in a safe place, Hermione knew that she’d need to talk to someone.

With breakfast over, and Harry’s meagre meal eaten, Hermione and Harry left the hall just as it began to fill up with more students. She saw Ron and Neville enter and knew Harry’s dorm would be empty. They still had an hour until lessons started, and McGonagall had handed them their timetable when they entered the hall. So, Hermione walked with Harry out of the hall. When they reached the portrait hall, the pair clambered through.

“Harry? Do you want to go up to your dorm for a bit? We have an hour until lesson’s start and your dorm will be empty.” Hermione asked. Harry nodded sadly and walked away.

Sat on Harry’s bed, Hermione watched the boy again. He was curled up against the headboard, eyes closed but he was tugging at his fingers.

“Harry. You can talk to me you know. I know you said that your family aren’t very nice to you, but I can tell it’s more than that. Please let me help you.” Hermione whispered soothingly but her voice was shaking. Harry’s eyes snapped open and were wide at Hermione’s words. His mind flashed back to when he wrote to Hermione telling her that his family weren’t nice to him and called him a freak. Then he remembered Uncle Vernon’s words – don’t tell anyone. Harry had broken that. He’d told Hermione and now he’d be for it. Uncle Vernon would find out about Harry’s loose lips and there would be hell to pay. He couldn’t say anymore. He just couldn’t. Harry shook his head furiously and tugged at his fingers faster. His breath sped up and he squeezed his eyes shut. His whole body began to shake, and Harry heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath.

Hermione witnessed Harry’s panic attack take hold. She saw him shaking in his bed and pulling at his fingers. Hermione went to place her hands on Harry’s hands but at the contact, Harry flinched horribly, bringing his hands up to his face. Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes and Hermione wiped them away before they could fall.

“Harry. Please. It’s okay. I promise. You are safe here. No one’s going to hurt you. You relatives can’t hurt you here.” She begged. She finally voiced her concerns in this sentence. It was obvious there was abuse there but Hermione knew Harry wouldn’t, or couldn’t, admit to it so Hermione had to say it. She prayed that she’d done the right thing, and this wouldn’t set Harry off more. At Hermione’s words, Harry’s breath hitched, and he opened his eyes and they flashed with confusion and fury.

[They don’t! I’m fine.] Harry wrote furiously. He shoved the notepad to Hermione.

“Harry come on. Don’t lie. This isn’t-” Hermione began but she stopped herself. She was about to say normal but she knew Harry wouldn’t appreciate that. He would see that as Hermione calling him a freak. “-this isn’t okay. There is something wrong and you’re not fine. Anyone can see that.”

Harry wiped tears from his face and sighed, calming himself down. He picked up the notepad again and began to write, slower this time.

[I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it. I’m not allowed. Please don’t push me. I’ll try to be more normal. I promise. I’m sorry.]

“Oh Harry! There’s nothing to be sorry about. You are allowed to talk about it. The way they are treating you is not ok. Let’s talk to Professor McGonagall. She can help.”

[No. He said I can’t. No one can know.]

With that, Harry stood up abruptly, showing that he was done with this conversation. He left his dorm, leaving Hermione in stunned silence.