Keep on keeping on

“Miss Granger. What can I do for you?” The professor asked from behind her desk, looking up from the parchment scattered in front of her. Hermione edged her way into McGonagall’s office and closed the door. She fidgeted nervously, shaking her hands. Her eyes darted around the office before landing on the stern woman who was peering at her expectantly.

“Miss Granger?”

“Um well it’s a little bit difficult Professor.” Hermione muttered, still shifting nervously on her feet.

“Have a seat, Miss Granger.” McGonagall offered, signalling to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a biscuit” The lady smiled warmly at Hermione as the girl sat slowly. Hermione nodded gratefully and took a biscuit. She nibbled it and swallowed, her throat dry. She was terrified that she was betraying Harry, but she was hoping that McGonagall would be able to help her friend.

A few minutes passed in silence and the head of house allowed Hermione to collect herself.

“It’s Harry, Professor. Harry Potter. I’m worried about him.” The small girl was shaking like a leaf, holding back tears. McGonagall thought for a moment.

“Ok. What is worrying you?”

“Well, he doesn’t speak, Professor. Ever.” Hermione began.

“That’s not unusual for first years. They are often nervous, leaving home, coming to a new place, meeting new people.” McGonagall reasoned. She couldn’t deny that Harry was quiet. He hadn’t even been able to speak the spell in his first class and Flitwick had noticed the same.

“But it’s not that. He’s admitted to me that he doesn’t know how to talk anymore!” Hermione protested.

“How has he told you that if he doesn’t speak?” The professor replied, incredulously. Her eyebrows were raised, and Hermione could tell she didn’t believe her.

“When I met him on the train, I realised that he couldn’t speak so I gave him a notebook so he could communicate. He writes in it if he wants to say something, but I often have to remind him about it and push him to speak. It’s like he’s forgotten he’s even allowed to say something, Professor!” Hermione pleaded, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Take a breath Miss Granger. What are you trying to say?”

“He’s being abused at home.” Hermione whispered simply. At the admission, she began to sob.

“What do you mean!” McGonagall demanded, shocked at Hermione’s words. She couldn’t believe it. Albus had always ensured them that Harry was safe and looked after. So, why now did McGonagall have a tearful young girl in front of her saying otherwise.

“He’s broken Professor. It’s like he doesn’t believe in himself. He has horrible panic attacks and flinches at any sudden movements. He’s told me that his relatives aren’t very nice to him, hits him and calls him a freak. He had a massive panic attack on the train when Ron called him a freak for not talking. He started hitting his head against the wall in the toilets. Done it a couple of times now. That’s why he passed out yesterday – he hit it so hard his head was bleeding! He’s not okay, Professor!” Hermione sobbed, gasping for breath.

“I’ve tried to help him these last couple of days but it’s not working. He wasn’t sick today, Professor. He stayed in bed all day. He didn’t sleep in his dorm last night.”

The professor was speechless for a few minutes as she processed what was being said.

“Why wasn’t he in his dorm last night Miss Granger?” She asked, trying to ask simple questions so as not to overwhelm the girl. Hermione hesitated before answering.

“Ron hit him. Harry said that Ron was teasing him and when Harry tried to explain, using the notebook I gave him, Ron laughed at him and slapped him. He’s got a huge bruise on his face, Professor. That’s why he wouldn’t come out today – he can’t do magic to hide it, not when he can’t speak the incantations.” Hermione answered, sniffling. She wiped the tears from her face and looked up at the professor. McGonagall’s face had softened as the girl had spoken, her heart breaking for the boy and her anger rising as she learnt of Weasley’s actions.

“I will need to talk to Harry to confirm this.” Hermione nodded sadly, realising that Harry was probably going to be very angry at her. “Ok, very well. Thank you for coming to me with this. I will speak to Harry during dinner. Please return to your classes now Miss Granger.”

Hermione stood up to leave and walked to the door. With her hand on the doorknob, Hermione turned to face her professor one last time.

“He won’t be in the hall professor. He doesn’t really eat. I think they starved him.” The girl whispered sadly and then left, not waiting for a reply.

Professor McGonagall strode from her office and headed for Albus’. She rapped sharply on the door and walked inside, not waiting for permission.

“Is Harry Potter safe in his home Albus?” Minerva asked sternly, voice and face devoid of emotion. Albus looked up from his papers, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Of course he is Minerva. Why would you think he isn’t?” Albus replied sweetly.

“Then why have I just had Miss Granger in my office, in tears, saying otherwise?” Minerva growled menacingly, her voice low. Albus didn’t miss a beat.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I have kept an eye on Harry personally, along with an informant near his home, and I have never noticed anything. Harry is safe there and he must remain there for the safety to continue. What is it that Harry is claiming?”

“Miss Granger has explained that Mr Potter doesn’t speak, doesn’t eat, flinches at sudden movements and has debilitating panic attacks. She has been communicating with him through a notebook and he’s written that his family hit him and call him a freak.” McGonagall explained, recalling Hermione’s words. “She even said that Ronald Weasley hit Harry last night. Apparently, there has been some bullying going on about Harry’s problems.”

“I can’t believe Mr Weasley would behave that way. Has she any got proof?” Dumbledore asked, disbelieving of his staff’s words.

“Miss Granger claims that Mr Potter has a large bruise on his face. That’s why he was absent today. He didn’t want anyone to see.”

“Very well. Check on the boy. I’m sure it is all fine and Harry will be able to return to his guardians for Christmas. Good day, Minerva.” McGonagall bristled at the blatant dismissal.

“If any of this is true, that child, James and Lily’s child, will not be returning to his guardians.” McGonagall spat, angry at the headmaster. She turned on her heel and stormed from his office, slamming the door behind her.

Hermione floated through her afternoon classrooms, not able to focus. The conversation with McGonagall kept replaying in her mind on a loop.  She was relieved that she’d told someone. They’d only been at school two days, but Hermione was already exhausted and drained. Harry had still not left his room, and Hermione knew that McGonagall would be talking to him during dinner, so his room was empty, save for Harry. Hermione hoped that Harry would accept the help that was offered.  

After the final bell rang, Hermione left the charms classroom, slower this time. She desperately wanted to see Harry and check in with him, but she had some work to do and didn’t want to crowd him. Instead, she decided to head to the common room to write her potions essay that Snape set. She would still be close by should Harry need her but far enough away that he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. When Hermione reached the portrait hall, it was 5pm and still an hour until dinner. However, stood outside the tower was Professor McGonagall, her face expressionless.

“Ah. Miss Granger.” McGonagall announced as Hermione approached. “I will be talking to Harry during dinner, like we discussed earlier. To ensure an empty dorm room, I will come at 7pm. I am unsure as to whether Harry will want you there, but I am happy to ask him and you can sit with him should he agree. I recommend you head to the hall at 6pm to grab some food for both of you. I permit you to take it to Mr Potter if he does not feel up to dining in the hall.”

“Yes Professor. Thank you.” Hermione nodded. The professor left and Hermione clambered into the common room.

Once inside, Hermione took a seat in an armchair near the fireplace and pulled out her books, beginning her essay. Blocking out the noise in the common room, Hermione managed to write about half of her essay before people began filing out for dinner. The girl packed up her books and followed them. Hermione grabbed a plate and piled sausages and vegetables onto it, enough for both of them and left again, heading back to the common room. As expected, Gryffindor tower was nearly deserted, so Hermione climbed the stairs to the boy’s dorm. She pushed the door open and walked over to his bed, pulling Harry’s hangings open.

Harry winced at the bright light that streamed through the open hangings. He groaned and rolled over, seeing Hermione stood over him.

“I brought you food.” His friend offered the plate to him, and he took it, hands trembling. Hermione sat down in front of him and crossed her legs. She stared intently at him, so Harry took one of the sausages and bit into it. Hermione knew she should tell him about McGonagall coming to visit but she didn’t want to scare Harry off or give him time to come up with excuses. Whilst he had opened up to her, she wasn’t sure that the small boy was going to be so forthcoming when confronted by an adult. Instead, the pair ate in silence.

At 6:50pm, Hermione left Harry alone again and went down to the common room to wait for the professor. She didn’t have long to wait and 5 minutes later, McGonagall stepped through the portrait hole.

“Good evening, Miss Granger.” She said, nodding her head cordially.

“Good evening, Professor. Harry is still in his bed. I brought him some food and he ate half a sausage and a few steamed vegetables. I didn’t tell him you were coming – it might have caused another panic attack. I think he was threatened by his family before he left, warned not the tell anyone about what happens in that house.” Hermione explained. The professor nodded and put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Thank you, Miss Granger. Come upstairs with me, but do not enter. I will invite you inside if Mr Potter agrees.”

The pair left the common room and walked up to the boy’s dorm. Hermione stood nervously outside, shifting on the balls of her feet. McGonagall knocked and, expecting no answer, immediately pushed her way inside.

Harry heard the door creak open and assumed it was Hermione again. But, when the hangings were not pulled open like Hermione now did, his breath quickened. Had Ron come back? To hit him again when no one was around. Harry began to shake in his bed. His confidence was shot to pieces and his stomach turned.

“Mr Potter?” A voice rang out. McGonagall. Harry gasped. What was she doing here? Surely a head of house didn’t check on every pupil that missed one day of school.

“Mr Potter. I’m here to see how you’re doing. I saw that you missed some lessons today and I wanted to make sure you’re ok.” Silence. McGonagall had been hoping that Hermione was wrong but there wasn’t even a whisper. Sighing, McGonagall tried again.

“Mr Potter. I would like to see you. Can you open your hangings for me? Miss Granger came to me today with some concerns about your wellbeing.”

A flash of anger coursed through Harry. Anger at Hermione. He’d told her that this was a secret. He’d told her that no one could know but she’d gone running to a teacher. He knew that he’d agreed he would do it himself, but he was never actually going to. He was just going to keep on keeping on. And now, everything was ruined. He wasn’t sure how much Hermione had said. He didn’t know how much McGonagall knew. Maybe Hermione just told her about the fight with Ron – not everything with the Dursley’s. Maybe he could get away with this. Just maybe. At this flicker of hope, Harry reached for the hangings that shrouded him, pulling them apart and he flinched when McGonagall took a sharp intake of breath.

Minerva’s heart ached. Harry looked so much like James. The jet black hair fell across his face, obscuring his eyes but the professor knew they were bright green, just like Lily’s. His face was soft and sad, with tear stains on his cheeks. But unfortunately, Miss Granger had been right a second time. Across his face, was a large purple bruise. It started just above his eyebrow and extended down to his chin. His face was small, so it was swamped by the handprint mark. Minerva felt so guilty – how had she allowed this to happen in her house! She stepped forward, approaching Harry but Harry flinched, scrambling further up the bed and pressing himself harder against the headboard. Tears began to stream down Harry’s face, and he began to tremble. He raised his hand up instinctively to protect his head.

“Oh Harry. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Miss Granger is waiting outside. She can come in if that would make you more comfortable?” Harry thought for a moment. He was so angry at Hermione, but he was scared and Hermione helped him. So, Harry nodded his head. The professor walked to the door and talked in a hushed tone. Hermione then entered, looking solemn and scared. She walked over to Harry and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around him. Harry settled into her embrace and the trembling slowed. At one tight squeeze for his friend, Harry broke down and cried into Hermione. The two women watched Harry as he gasped for breath. As Harry eventually calmed himself down, McGonagall steeled herself and braced for the difficult conversation. But, looking at the time, the professor realised it was nearing the end of dinner, and she did not want to be overrun by Harry’s dormmates – especially after Hermione’s accusation against Ron.

“Harry, Hermione. It is nearly the end of dinner, and I don’t want us to be interrupted. How about we move this to my office? I have tea and biscuits and comfy chairs, Harry.”  Hermione agreed immediately but Harry hesitated, clutching his bed covers. Hermione rubbed his arms and whispered reassuring words in his ear. Eventually, Harry agreed and stood up shakily from his bed. Hermione clung to his arm and guided him from the room.

The trio reached the professor’s office and stepped inside. McGonagall waved her wand, and three comfy armchairs appeared. Harry ran over to one and curled up again, still not looking at anyone. Hermione took the one beside him and placed her hand on his arm. McGonagall took the one facing the friends and clasped her hands on her lap.

“Harry. Hermione tells me that you feel like you can’t speak. Is that true?” Harry nodded sadly. “Ok. There is a spell that I can perform, temporarily, that allows anything that you want to say to spoken aloud. It will break as soon as you leave my office. It will be easier for us to communicate that way. Do you consent?” Harry’s eyes flicked to Hermione who nodded reassuringly. Harry nodded too.

“Eloquor” McGonagall spoke. Harry felt a rush of magic wash over him. “Now, anything you think that you want to say, we will hear. So taht we can test it, what is your name?”

“Boy… wait no. Harry. I’m Harry” Harry was shocked to hear his words echoing throughout the office. Then he panicked. He’d said Boy. He’d called himself Boy. Harry started shaking and he felt Hermione’s hand stroking his and he began to feel grounded.

“Harry. You said your name was Boy. Who called you Boy?” Minerva whispered, worry creeping into her voice.

“No one. Nothing. Forget it.” Harry’s voice said quickly, breathlessly.

“Ok. We can revisit that later. Can you tell me how you got that bruise on your face please?” His professor asked gently. Harry hesitated again. He didn’t know whether to tell the truth. If he did, Ron would get in trouble and know he snitched and just hit him harder the next time he got the chance. If he didn’t, he didn’t have another reason to explain away the bruise. Plus, Harry thought that Hermione had already told anyway so he might as well just come clean.

“Ron was making fun of Snape after the first day of classes. He was asking all the boys for their opinion and then he asked me. He knew I couldn’t answer and laughed at me. Called me muteboy. I tried to explain. I wrote to him a note basically just saying to leave me alone and that he was pathetic for picking on me. But he threw it back at me, after reading it to all the boys, laughing. And…and then…then he…” Harry’s voice trailed off. He paused. It was his fault Ron hit him. “It’s my fault professor not his. If I hadn’t called him pathetic, if I hadn’t written that note he wouldn’t have…”

“Wouldn’t have what, Mr Potter?” The professor asked, gently. Harry shook his head, clamming up.

“Harry, tell Professor McGonagall. Please.” Hermione urged, rubbing Harry’s arms.

“He wouldn’t have hit me.” Harry’s voice finished. The room was silent.

“Harry, it is not your fault. You were standing up for yourself. Mr Weasley should never have resorted to violence, and he will be punished. Would you like me to heal your face?” The professor’s voice was reassuring and kind but firm at the same time. Harry nodded and McGonagall waved her wand. The purple bruise disappeared from his face. “What happened next?”

“He told me I was nothing and I ran from the room and fell asleep in one of the corridors.” Harry finished and closed up, hugging himself tighter.

“Ok Harry. Take a deep breath. You are doing so well.”

Harry took a few minutes to breathe deeply, calming himself.

“Harry. Are you ready to continue?” The professor asked gently. Harry nodded and prepared himself for the next round of questioning. “What happened that caused you to faint in History of magic yesterday?”

“Potions. Umm. I was minding my own business and Professor Snape asked me a question. I couldn’t reply and he made fun of me. He told me my parents were dead. I didn’t know! I DIDN’T KNOW!” Harry shouted, his vocal thoughts reverberating off the walls.

“What do you mean you didn’t know?” McGonagall asked, confusion flashing across her face.

“No one told me Professor. My uncle and aunt told me they left me and ran off. That they were drunks. That my parents didn’t want me.” Harry cried, his voice rising in pitch.

“Harry. That’s not true. Your parents did want you very much. They loved you. I know that because I knew them.” Harry’s head snapped up at his professor’s admission. His eyes widened. “Yes Harry. I knew them. James and Lily were brilliant parents and it is not fair that they died, and you were left alone but they did want you. They protected you until their last breath.” Harry sobbed at the information but smiled through the tears, glad to hear that his parents did love him. He’d heard it from Hermione, but it meant so much more coming from someone that knew them.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“What happened next Harry?”

“I ran from the classroom as soon as class ended. I found a cupboard and locked myself inside. I started panicking and I…” Harry trailed off again and paused for a few moments, readying himself. “And I hit my head against the wall a few times. It helped clear my head. It was something that I could focus on. I’m sorry.”

“Oh Harry. Don’t be sorry!” Hermione sobbed. “You were trying so hard. We can help you.” McGonagall nodded in confirmation of Hermione’s words.

“I had a bad headache all day and eventually just passed out.” Harry finished, clutching his hair and pulling at it. Hermione grasped Harry’s hands and pulled them from his hair. She began to rub circles on the pack of his hands to help calm him down. The room fell into silence once more.

“Ok Harry. We are nearly there. Just a few more questions. What was life at home like?” McGonagall asked, warily. Harry froze. So, Hermione had told her everything. Harry felt like a deer in the headlights. Up until now he could admit to everything. Everything that had already happened, had happened at school. What happened at the Dursley’s was a secret. No one was meant to know. Harry felt his chest tighten and his stomach clenched painfully.

“Professor. That’s too big of a question for Harry.” Hermione whispered, watching Harry panic.

“Ok. Thank you, Miss Granger. Harry. Did your relatives starve you?”

“Yes” Harry replied simply.

“Harry, did your relatives shout at you?”

“Yes”

“What did they say?”

“They called me a freak, worthless, nothing. I didn’t know my name until Snape came and got me.”

“Professor Snape, Harry. And what do you mean, came and got you?” McGonagall asked.

“He took me to Diagon Alley. He was with me when I got my supplies. Gave me my letter. That’s why I was angry that he picked on me in class. He knew that I can’t speak, and he still tried to make me answer him, to embarrass me in front of the class.” Harry explained, looking at the professor with glistening eyes.

“I was not aware of that, and I apologise for Professor Snape’s behaviour. Did you relatives hurt you, Harry?” McGonagall asked that last question slowly and carefully, watching for the boy’s reaction. Harry’s head snapped up, panic in his eyes. He jumped up from his chair and back away. He turned to glare at Hermione and his voice shouted loudly, bouncing off the walls of the office.

“You promised! You promised. Everything else I can handle. Everything else I can explain to people. But Uncle Vernon will kill me if people find out. He will actually kill me. I came to Hogwarts because I knew I’d be dead by Christmas if I stayed and now, I actually will be!” Harry paced back and forth, tugging at his hair with one hand and shaking his other hand frantically.

“Harry-” Hermione began, her eyes streaming. She approached Harry but his hand flew up between them, palm out to stop her coming any closer.

“No! Everything is ruined. I’m the school freak now! Leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!” Harry screamed and fled from the room; the door slamming shut behind him. Professor McGonagall and Hermione were left in stunned silence, tears falling from both their eyes.