Keep on keeping on

Eventually, Madam Pomfrey released Harry from the hospital wing and sent him back to his dorm. Harry trudged glumly through the halls, his head filled with memories and horror. He didn’t know how he was going to face his friends again. Every time they’d asked to see him in the hospital wing, he’d turned them away. Now, there was no escaping them. So, Harry had resolved to limit contact wherever possible and just get through the rest of the year.

Back in his dorm, Harry crawled into his bed and shut the hangings, determined to shut away the world.

“He returns…” Ron’s voice called out, the bitterness and resentment were biting. Harry ignored him and rolled over, closing his eyes and fought sleep, not wanting the nightmares to creep back in. He failed.

Harry woke in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked to the bone and clinging to him. He sat bolt upright, and his breath was fast and shallow. Flashes of Quirrell invaded him. Crumbling, screaming. Harry began to panic, his hands climbing to his neck and scratching. His throat felt raw and pained. His eyes glazed over, and Harry stopped being able to focus on anything. Time lost all meaning and when Harry took his hands away from his neck, his fingertips were covered in blood. His breath sped up ever more and Harry felt his entire body begin to shake. When the panic was not leaving, Harry scrambled out of bed and ran from the dorm.

He found himself running through the halls, his bare feet slapping against the stone. Harry ran and ran until he found himself outside, the light of the moon shining down. Harry’s hands were still shaking, and his face was wet and streaked with tears. The broken boy stared up at the sky, not letting the tears stop. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Even outside, Harry felt trapped. He felt suffocated by his life and by his actions. He’d murdered someone. He’d taken their life away. Even if it was Voldemort and Quirrell, no one deserved to die like that. Crumbling to dust, their only legacy being a pile of ashes on the floor of some dingy dungeon. Harry wanted to scream. He needed to scream. So he did. Harry screamed his raw, unfiltered emotion up at the peaceful full moon above him.

“I HATE THIS. I HATE THIS.” Harry felt his voice crack and his throat felt strained. The cuts on his neck were still bleeding and Harry could feel the warm blood drip down his cold, clammy skin. Harry fell to the floor, sobbing into his hands.

“Mr Potter? Shall we have a chat?”

Snape had been roaming the school grounds since curfew, determined to catch any student who was brave enough to risk detention. What he did not expect was to hear a heart wrenching, soul shattering scream echoing through the grounds. Snape broke into a run at the sound and didn’t stop until he found a broken Harry curled up on the wet grass, sobbing into himself. Snape’s heart broke into a thousand pieces. Of course, he had heard about Harry’s adventure, and he hated himself for not checking in sooner. Snape approached the boy cautiously but halted when he saw Harry’s red tinged fingers and the streaks of blood that covered his neck.

“Mr Potter? Shall we have a chat?” Snape asked, kindly. Harry flinched at his voice and scrambled away, arms lifted warily in front of his face.

“Harry. I’m not going to hurt you. That looks like some nasty cuts you have there on your neck. Do you want me to heal them for you.”

Harry shook his head forcefully but clambered to his feet.

“Let’s go to my office?” Snape suggested. He reached a hand out to guide Harry to his office but Harry flinched away again. Luckily, the boy did follow but at an arm’s length.

Harry arrived at Snape’s office, in a dumbed daze. He hardly realised where they were going until his professor pushed the door open and guided Harry inside. Any potential contact was flinched away from. Harry took a seat in the corner, as far away from Snape as possible. He refused to look up and only fiddled with his fingers.

“Harry. What happened?” Snape asked slowly. He eyed Harry warily, growing more concerned with the cuts that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Harry just shrugged, still not looking up.

“Okay. I understand that you don’t feel able to talk right now but I’m concerned about the cuts on your neck. They are still bleeding. I promise I won’t touch you.” Snape watched as Harry’s eyes flashed in thought before he nodded slowly. Snape waved his wand, noticing Harry’s flinch. Instantly, the cuts disappeared, and Harry’s neck was clear of blood.

“Are you not talking because you can’t or because you don’t want to?” Snape asked, trying to find out why Harry was suddenly mute again.

“W-What will h-happen to me?” Harry asked quietly, still not looking up.

“What do you mean?” Severus was relieved that Harry could still talk and that the event hadn’t completely derailed their hard work.

“S-Summer? W-Where will I-I go?”

“Ah. I’m not sure. I will have to talk to Professor Dumbledore. I know it’s scary going back to that house, but I will try my hardest to not let that happen.” Harry nodded, not believing him. He’d end up back at the Dursley’s. He knew it. It would be karma. He killed a man and now he’d be killed, and Harry didn’t have the energy to fight that.

“Why did I find you outside?” Snape asked.

“C-Couldn’t sleep. N-Nightmare.”

“What was the nightmare about?”

“T-That night.” Snape sensed the heartbreak in Harry’s voice, and he crossed the room to sit in front of his student. He reached his hand out in a comforting gesture, but Harry flinched away and began to shout, his strained voice bouncing off the walls.

“DON’T TOUCH ME! D-DON’T YOU GET IT!”

“No, Harry. I don’t get it. I’m sorry. Please explain it to me.” Snape pleaded. Harry ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the messy black tufts.

“I-I can’t. I d-don’t understand i-it myself.”

“Try.”

“J-Just don’t touch me. Please.” Harry looked up, his forehead creased and eyes glistening with tears.

“Harry. You deserve to be okay. You deserve my help. You deserve to be happy.” Snape whispered, his hands clasped in front of him. He stared into Harry’s eyes, unblinking and sincere.

“I DESERVE NOTHING. I KILLED SOMEONE. I-I TOOK THEIR LIFE AWAY!” Ah. There it was. Harry’s guilt.

“Harry. You didn’t kill anyone. Voldemort was going to kill you. You were defending yourself.”

“I DID! I TOUCHED HIM AND HE CRUMBLED INTO NOTHING!” Harry’s voice was loud and pained before he broke down and his voice changed to a whisper. “Please d-don’t touch me. I-I don’t want to k-kill you too.”

“Harry. You won’t kill anyone. You haven’t killed anyone.” Snape’s voice was trembling, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.

“T-Then why did Q-Quirrell d-disintegrate when I touched h-him?” Harry asked in a small voice, his eyes pleading and sad.

“I-I don’t know, Harry. I’m sorry. I can only make assumptions.” Harry raised his eyebrows, encouraging his professor to respond.

“Well… when you mum died, she tried to protect you. She gave her life for you and some old magic was cast. Magic that protects you to this day. Love. The Dark Lord does not understand what love is and it protected you that night. Love conquers hate.” Snape explained, cautious with his words.

“S-So, I-I killed her too?” Harry whispered. Snape sighed exasperatedly.

“No, Harry. You did not kill her. I promise.” Harry shrugged and then yawned widely.

“You are tired. Go back to bed and rest now.” Snape suggested, sensing the conversation had come to an end. Harry stood up and walked out, hanging his head low. Snape sighed and resolved to talk to Dumbledore about Harry.

The next day, Snape walked into Dumbledore’s office, not knocking nor waiting for permission.

“Albus. Where is Mr Potter spending his summer.” Snape demanded, his face flushed with anger, all pretences dropped. Well, no going back now.

“Whatever do you mean? Mr Potter will be with his family.” Albus replied plainly.

“Merlin. Don’t pretend. We both know how he is treated there. Minerva knew too and you obliviated her. Don’t even think about doing the same to me.” Snape nearly shouted, anger rising further.

“I’m afraid you have lost me, my boy.” Albus’s eyes glistened with curiosity.

“I will take that boy if I have to, but I do not want him going back there.”

“That will not be possible. With recent events, it is evident that Voldemort is rising again. You must maintain your place as a spy. If you try to take Harry, I will not only remove your position here, but I will be forced to tell the ministry that you were a death eater and only became a spy out of necessity for saving dear Lily Potter.” The headmaster’s voice turned cold and threatening. Snape’s breath caught on the lump in his throat.

“I never thought that you would sink that low Albus. The lengths that you will go to keep your claws in the poor boy. If anything happens to Harry, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“And that shall be a burden I will have to bear. Good day Severus.”

Severus stormed out, slamming the door closed behind him.

The next few months went slowly for Harry. He continued to isolate himself and whilst Hermione and Draco kept pushing him, Harry pushed them back. Further and further away. Snape told Harry he would have to return to the Dursley’s and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Harry sunk further into his depression. Unfortunately, before he knew it, the scarlet train arrived, and Harry was headed back to his own personal hell.