Keep on keeping on

After that night, Harry always kept a knife on him. Not to defend himself but to save himself. Save himself from the thoughts that plagued his mind all the time. From the thoughts that were so overwhelmingly panic inducing that Harry had to give himself a release. Nothing that Aunt Petunia had said, no heartless warning that she had muttered into the dark that night, would stop Harry from doing the one thing that he now relied upon for relief.

Over the last two weeks of summer, his relatives largely left him alone. Whilst there were no more physical bruises inflicted, the scars left by their words would never heal. The bruises left by Dudley faded and the crude, jagged wound on his wrist began to heal, leaving a raised, angry scar. New marks joined it, but Harry didn’t care because these were ones that he controlled. Self-inflicted pain rather than the pain dished out by another. Before Harry knew it, he was back on the familiar scarlet train with Hermione and Draco sat beside him and he, once again, was headed to Hogwarts.

Harry was quiet the entire ride to Hogwarts. He could feel his friend’s eyes on him but he didn’t feel like answering the inevitable questions. Instead, he sat staring out of the window, his finger tracing the scar that now lay on his wrist. It was comforting to feel the raised skin but also disturbing. Every touch reminded him of the feeling of Aunt Petunia’s thread pulling through the wound. It made Harry uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat.

“Harry? We should get changed now.” Draco’s voice broke through, snapping Harry from his thoughts. Harry nodded solemnly and began grabbing his robes from his trunk. He made for the door but Draco grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving. Harry flinched at the touch and pulled his arm from Draco’s grasp.

“You can stay here. I mean, if you want. I don’t mind about…” Draco trailed off, his eyes scanning Harry’s body. The word scars hung unspoken in the air. Harry knew Draco knew about the abuse now, they’d discussed it last year but with addition of the new scars – the scars that his friends were not aware of – Harry knew he couldn’t stay in the carriage.

“Um. N-No. It’s okay. I-I need the loo anyway.” Harry shrugged and left the carriage, leaving Draco staring sadly after him.

Guilt rose in Harry’s stomach as he walked slowly down the corridor of the train. He knew Draco was only trying to be kind, trying to show that he didn’t mind about Harry’s scars, but Harry couldn’t face it. He knew his back was littered with scars and bruises and burns and even the thought of them made Harry’s whole body tighten with anxiety and revulsion. Because it was. He felt revolting. Not just from those scars but from his scars as well, the scars he’d given himself. But the act of hurting himself saved Harry from feeling angry at himself about the things he’d done so he wasn’t about to stop. One thing Harry was determined to stop though was the fucking stuttering. It made him sound weak and pathetic, and he couldn’t afford to have people see him how he saw himself. So, Harry’s resolution of the year was to stop.

Now dressed in his black robes, his Gryffindor tie nestled neatly on his chest, Harry sat with his friends as they all watched Hogsmeade station roll into view. It was dark and there were wizards lining the platform lighting the hanging lanterns. All the students disembarked and assembled on the platform. A sea of black cloaks and the excited chatter of the new school year wafted over the platform. Harry clung close to his friend as they made their way up to the castle, flinching at each jostle and knock. Eventually, the great stone castle came into view and Harry felt a warm feeling spread through his body. He was home.

The start of year feast passed in a haze of announcements, sorting’s and food. Harry didn’t eat much but managed a few pieces of chicken and some plain bread. Even with that little amount, Harry’s stomach felt full for the first time in a while. He felt Hermione’s eyes on him as he ate, brows creased in concern at the little portion sizes. Harry ignored it though. It was more than he’d eaten last year.

Once the glittering plates had cleared of food, Dumbledore stepped up to the podium and began addressing the students once again.

“Well. Now we are all full of glorious food, I’m sure that you are all eager to head to bed.” The was quiet muttering of agreement and nods but Dumbledore held his hand up and quiet fell again. “Yes, yes. Very exciting. However, before I release you there is just one staffing announcement. Due to the unfortunate departure of Professor Quirrell last year-” Harry’s stomach rolled and he felt the food rise back up into his throat. “-we are welcoming a new defence against the dark arts professor this year. Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.” There was a round of applause and, disgustingly, a few wolf whistles from the girls in the hall. At the far end of the professor’s table and man stood up, his hands raised in thanks. His hair was a golden blonde, his eyes a sparkling blue and his face had perfect, unblemished skin. He winked and smiled widely, his pearly white teeth glinting in the candlelight.

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore.” Lockhart said clearly, his voice as silky smooth as caramel, sweetness dripping off his tongue. “I am very happy to be here and to be given the chance to impart my wisdom on all of you. After all, I am the five times winner of Witch Weekly’s best smile and best-selling author, my books describing all the incredibly dangerous things I have accomplished.” Lockhart flashed another wide smile. His face was beaming and his chest was puffed out, clearly trying to show off. Harry scoffed.

“Pompous a-arse.” He muttered under his breath.

“Shh. He’s brilliant Harry. He could teach us so much!” Hermione admonished, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dazed and unfocused as she stared longingly at Lockhart. Harry just shook his head in frustration and began to stand to leave the hall now that they had been dismissed.

“Potter!” Snape called through the crowd of students. Harry was the back of the hoard, so he didn’t need to raise his voice. The boy turned to face the professor. Harry felt hatred as he looked at Snape. That man had sent him back to the Dursley’s. Granted, he’d tried to find somewhere else for him, but Harry was angry because he hadn’t tried hard enough. Everything that happened to Harry over the summer was Snape’s fault. If Snape had tried harder, Harry wouldn’t have that horrible scar on his wrist. He would be able close his eyes without feeling Aunt Petunia’s hands on him and her needle pushing through his skin.

“Potter. My office. 7pm.” Snape said simply and then turned away, leaving Harry no room for argument.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked as Harry joined her and Draco again. They’d waited for him when Snape had called out and had watched curiously.

“H-He wants to see me tonight. N-No doubt to make sure I’m fine.” Harry replied bitterly.

“That’s good mate. You should go and meet him.” Draco said encouragingly.

“Fat chance.” Harry said sharply and walked away.

The next day passed smoothly. Besides Hermione’s protests about how Harry should have gone to Snape’s office the night before, which he ignored, Harry sailed through his classes, excited to learn new magic. Transfiguration and charms went well and with Harry’s ability to speak, something which he could not do last year, meant that he didn’t fall behind straight away. Harry felt proud of himself when he’d been able to turn his mouse into a water goblet in transfiguration and made Hermione burst out in a fit of giggles with the tickling charm in charms class. However, the good mood broke as he made his way to the dungeons for his first potions class of the year.

Great. Harry thought. Can’t escape him now.

Harry entered the classroom with his head hung low and eyes trained on the floor. He did all he could to avoid being noticed by the stern potions master that stood at the front of the room. He failed. Harry felt Snape’s eyes on him as he took his seat and Harry felt uncomfortable.

The class passed without incident, but Snape’s eyes never left the boy. Severus watched intently trying to work out if the Gryffindor that he’d grown to care about was ok.

Merlin. That’s a terrifying thought Snape mused to himself as he stalked the classroom. If you’d have told him 2 years ago that he’d care about James Potter’s son, he’d have laughed in your face. However, Harry was also Lily’s son. That overrode any concerns he had about James Potter. Overall, Harry seemed ok, if not a bit quiet but that’s not unusual for the boy. He seemed guarded and a little bit lost but otherwise okay. Snape wasn’t fooled by Harry though. The fact that Harry had not turned up last night was proof that something was wrong. There was something that the boy was hiding. When Snape eventually dismissed the class, he called out to the boy once again, this time knowing that he couldn’t escape.

“Potter. Stay behind.” He watched Harry reluctantly stop. He watched Granger eye Harry curiously and whisper something to him, to which Harry nodded and waved her away. Now alone, Snape breathed a sigh of relief.

“W-What do you want, P-Professor?” Harry asked bluntly, turning on the spot to face Severus. Snape nearly recoiled in shock at the hatred that flashed across Harry’s face.

“Firstly, I want you to cease talking to me in that tone immediately.” Snape said sternly. He cared about the boy but he wouldn’t take any disrespect from him. Harry’s face softened slightly but the stony glare did not waver. Harry stayed silent.

“I want to know why you failed to show up last night after I specifically asked you to come to my office.”

“D-Didn’t feel like it, sir.” Harry shrugged.

“It was not request.” Snape replied, tenting his fingers rigidly in front of him. “So, I ask again, why did you not come when asked.”

“A-And I’ll say again. I. Didn’t. Feel. Like. It.” Harry said firmly, his fists clenched at his sides. Snape could feel the anger radiating off the boy in waves.

“Cease with this childish hostility this instant. What happened this summer that has made you return to school so bull-headed and ignorant?” Snape asked, struggling to keep his anger in check. He knew he needed to handle the situation carefully. He remembered how fragile the boy was at the end of the year, and he did not feel like having a repeat of Potter’s breakdown.

“Nothing.”

“I find that hard to believe. After all we went through last year? After all you went through? After all you revealed to me about your home life. I find it hard to believe that your relatives just left you alone.” Snape said placatingly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“W-Well believe it. Maybe they were afraid of my magic? I don’t bloody know. B-But they left me alone, o-okay!” Harry was growing frustrated now.

“Harry.” Snape sighed, his tone softening as he sensed the frustration and hurt that laced the boy’s voice. “I understand that it is difficult to talk about, but I just want you to be safe.”

“SAFE! Y-You want me to be safe! I-I am Harry-bloody-Potter. I-I will never be s-safe. I-I am doomed to be m-miserable.” Harry was practically shouting now, his clenched fists shaking.

“Harry, you are safe here. It may not be safe at home, but it is safe here.” Snape whispered sincerely.   

“H-Hogwarts is not safe. I-I am not safe. D-Don’t bloody lie. L-Last year I-I had to face HIM again and y-you’re telling me I-I’m safe here!” Harry scoffed, turning away from his professor and pacing the room anxiously. He wanted to leave. He wanted to escape.

“Okay. You had a tricky year last year. But this is a fresh start, Harry. Please. Let me cast a diagnostic spell. It will tell me of any new injuries that I should be aware of and let me know if anything needs healing. As much as it pains me to admit it, and as much as you don’t want to believe me, I do care Harry. Let me help.”  Snape pleaded.

“NO! Enough!” Harry shouted, turning back to face Snape, tears streaming down his face. “Y-You don’t get to pretend to care anymore. You left me there. Y-You let me go back!”

“Harry-”

“I SAID ENOUGH!” Harry screamed, his voice turning hoarse and raw. “You don’t get to know what happened. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE. YOU DON’T KNOW HOW I FELT. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID…” Harry fell to his knees and sobbed hysterically, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Y-You d-don’t know what I had to do.”

Snape approached the boy carefully.

“Harry…” He whispered quietly and reached out a hand. Harry flinched at the movement and scrambled to his feet. He held out one hand in front of him, using the other to wipe his face free of tears.

“N-No. Enough. I-I’m done.” Harry murmured before running from the room, ignoring Snapes shouts of protest.