Keep on keeping on

Harry ran from the Gryffindor tower, his fast steps echoing through the empty halls. He wiped furiously at his face, getting rid of the tears that now streaked his red cheeks. Ron’s words reverberated in his mind, mixing with Uncle Vernon’s. Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe, his lungs constricting at his rapid, uneven breaths. He wasn’t sure where he was going, Harry just let his feet carry him through the deserted halls. He knew it was past curfew, but Harry couldn’t stay in his dorm. Harry just kept running and running. His vision blurred and Harry could feel himself shaking. Out of breath, Harry stumbled and fell against the wall nearest to him. He clutched his chest and breathed heavily, shaking his head. His hands found each other, and he began tugging at his fingers.

Stupid. Weak. Worthless. Harry’s brain swam with personal insults, hating himself. Harry banged his head against the wall once and his vision swam again. Harry groaned and he knew that, unless he wanted to end up back in the hospital wing, he couldn’t do that again any time soon. But Harry needed the release. He needed the pain on his own terms, not when it was handed out by others. Harry sobbed hysterically, wrapping his arms around himself. He curled up small against the wall and closed his eyes, willing for everything to just disappear.

When Harry woke, he was cold and shivering. There was morning light streaming through the windows above him, dust particles dancing in the air. Harry pushed himself up from the floor, his whole body feeling stiff from falling asleep on the stone floor. He didn’t have his cloak, so Harry wrapped his arms tight around himself to try and conserve some heat. He didn’t know what the time was but there were no students around so it must be early. Harry knew he needed to change, and he was desperate to use the bathroom so, reluctantly, Harry allowed his feet to drag him back to the tower.

Before long, Harry reached the portrait hole. He was relieved that the Fat Lady seemed to recognise Harry and his inability to talk and allowed him through without a word needing to be spoken. The small boy trudged through the common room and up the stairs. Once in his room, Harry was relieved to see that all the hangings were closed on his dormmates bed, meaning no one was awake yet. His alarm clock beside his bed read 6:30am so Harry did what he did yesterday morning and locked himself in the bathroom, robes in hand.

Looking in the mirror, Harry was shocked to see that a large, mottled bruise had appeared on the side of his face. He sobbed again. It had been a long time since he’d had such a visible bruise - Uncle Vernon learnt to be discreet so no questions were asked. Clearly Ron had yet to learn that particular lesson. Harry began to panic. How was he going to hide this! He couldn’t do magic to hide it, and he was not about to go to the hospital wing. No. Harry began to crumble and collapsed against the counter, sinking to his knees. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face anyone today. Harry just wanted to curl up and cry until everything was drained out of him. As Harry began to hear movement from the dorm room, the boy stood up quickly and rushed from the room, running to his bed and pulling the hangings shut. He heard Ron muttering about him, laughing. But Harry ignored him. He just curled up on his bed and pulled the covers over his head.

When Hermione woke up, she remembered the conversation she’d had with Harry last night. She hoped Harry would fulfil his promise and talk to, or at least write to, McGonagall today but part of Hermione knew that she might have to drag Harry there. She got up and got dressed for the day, pulling on her robes and stuffing her books in her bag. She left her room and walked down to the common room, expecting to see Harry there already. The common room was busy, so Hermione searched the corners of the room for the small boy. When Hermione didn’t see him, her face scrunched in confusion and worry. Harry hadn’t slept well the first night and had been down here at the crack of dawn, but he wasn’t here this morning. Maybe he slept better and missed his alarm, Hermione hoped. She waited for ten more minutes but when Harry didn’t show, Hermione resolved to go and find him herself.

Reaching the door, Hermione knocked politely, knowing that Harry wasn’t alone in the dorm. The door was flung open and Ron stood there, a stony look on his face.

“What do you want?” The boy demanded; his arms folded.

“Where’s Harry?” Hermione asked. Ron scoffed.

“How the hell should I know!”

“Well, he’s your roommate.” Hermione responded, icily. Ron jerked his head in the direction of Harry’s bed.

“Muteboy’s over there.” Ron replied and pushed past Hermione. The girl hesitantly walked over to Harry’s bed. The hangings were shut, and the room was silent.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered gently. No noise came from the bed. “Harry are you in there?” Hermione heard the sound of pen against paper before the notepad was pushed through the curtains.

[I’m sick. Go away.] Hermione sighed.

“Harry. Is this about yesterday. About the hospital wing. Does your head still hurt? We can go to Madam Pomfrey. She can give you a potion or something. Harry please.” Pleading, Hermione reached for the curtains and began to open them, but Harry grasped them shut.

[It’s fine. I just am not going to classes today. Leave] Hermione was hurt by Harry’s words.

“Ok. I’ll check back at lunch.” Hermione murmured dejectedly. She left the room and walked to her first class, forgoing breakfast.

All morning, Harry lay in his bed, slipping in and out of sleep. Anytime he did sleep, he was plagued by nightmares and slept fitfully, waking in a cold sweat. His nightmares were images of Uncle Vernon beating him, kicking him, hurling abuse at him. And then the nightmares shifted to Ron’s face, looming over him. Harry would wake gasping for breath, staring at the ceiling of his four poster bed. He’d curl up again, sobbing and clutching at his chest, begging for his breath to even out and the pain to subside but it never did. Harry spent the time he was awake sobbing and hating himself for being so weak. At the Dursley’s he was expected to get up after a beating, to clean the house, tend to the garden and cook dinner. But one sign of a beating here had Harry curled up and crying pathetically. Harry was disgusted at himself. He used to be stronger. He used to not be a weak mess.

Hermione fidgeted through all her classes until lunch. She couldn’t concentrate, not when Harry was lying in bed, alone. When the lunch bell rang, Hermione ran from the classroom before anyone could stop her. She entered the hall and quickly took a couple of sandwiches and an apple before leaving for the tower. The girl reached Harry’s dorm, panting from taking the stairs two at a time. She pushed the door open and entered slowly. There was a sharp intake of breath as Hermione surveyed the room. The air was thick and stifling. The room was dark, and Harry’s hangings were still drawn. Hermione held back tears as her heart broke for her friend. Something was seriously wrong.

“Harry?” She whispered, approaching his bed. She heard shuffling coming from inside, showing that Harry was awake.

“I brought you some food. I know you missed breakfast, and I figured you wouldn’t want to come down for lunch.” She offered the food through the hangings, not opening them. Hermione felt Harry take it from her hand, still not communicating at all.

“Harry, can you open your curtains please? I just want to make sure you’re alright.” A note was pushed through the hangings.

[Please leave me alone. You don’t want to see me. I’m pathetic]

Hermione whimpered at Harry’s words. He was hurting so much and Hermione felt horrible.

“You’re not pathetic Harry! What’s happened? Please just let me in.” Hermione heard Harry sobbing. She pushed open the curtains, ignoring Harry’s strangled noises of protest. What she saw shocked her and her hand flew to her mouth.

Harry was lying on his bed, clutching his pillow tightly to his chest, head turned away from her. On the cheek facing Hermione was a huge hand-shaped purple bruise. Harry’s face streaked with tears and red and swollen from all the crying.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione murmured, sadly. She threw herself down beside him and wrapped her arms around him. Harry flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Instead, he sobbed even harder, and his body shook in the girls embrace. Hermione allowed Harry to cry out his feelings and held him even tighter. Harry felt the contact and after 10 minutes of crying, his breathing slowed, and the tears subsided. Harry rolled over and faced Hermione.

“Harry are you ready to talk?” She asked carefully, not wanting to push Harry before he was ready. Harry nodded though and sat up. Hermione waved her wand and locked the door, not wanting to be disturbed. Harry raised the pen to write but he stalled. He didn’t know what to write. He didn’t know what to say or where to start and he began pulling at his fingers, anxiously.

“Ok. Too big of a question, right?” Harry nodded miserably. “Let’s start with the obvious. Who hit you?” She raised her hand to touch Harry’s face, but Harry jumped backwards, getting out of reach.

[Ron. It was Ron. When you left last night, Ron was teasing me and goading me. I wrote a note to him, telling him that I hate him and to leave me alone. He didn’t take it well. Threw the note in my face and slapped me.] Tears fell again and dropped onto the paper.

“Harry. That’s not okay. We need to tell someone! He deserves to get in trouble!” Hermione exclaimed, anger rising within her. Harry shook his head rapidly and choked on his sobs.

[No. It will make it worse. I’ll get in trouble. I ran from the room after curfew and fell asleep in the hall. I was panicking and next thing I knew I woke up to light streaming through the windows. I made my way back to the tower and went to the bathroom to get ready for lessons. But then I saw the bruise and I just broke down! Hermione. I can’t do this. I hate it here. I don’t feel safe. I was meant to feel safe here, away from my family but it’s all just the same so clearly, I deserve it!]

Hermione shook her head and grasped Harry’s shaking hands.

“No Harry. You do not deserve this. No one deserves this. You are safe here. I promise.” Hermione insisted. Harry was exhausted again and turned away, pulling his knees tight to his chest. He was done talking.

Hermione stayed with Harry for the rest of lunch in silence. When the boy showed no sign of moving, Hermione got up to leave. She didn’t want to abandon him, but she knew he needed space right now. Harry looked so sad and alone and Hermione needed to do something. It had only been two days, but Hermione knew he wasn’t adjusting well, and he needed support from an adult. Someone needed to be aware of this. Hermione couldn’t handle this on her own anymore. She felt horrible for thinking it, but this friendship was exhausting and, whilst Hermione knew she was meant to meet Harry, they both needed support. Hermione walked through the halls of Hogwarts and arrived outside Professor McGonagall’s office. Hermione raised her hand and knocked. From inside, came the Professor’s voice.

“Come in.”