Legilimency Aftermath
Harry was not good at keeping track of dates. Time in terms of minutes and hours, he had to know far earlier than his classmates did, but beyond what day of the week it was, months and years passed without the Boy Who Lived aware of specifics. Hagrid gave Harry his first ever birthday gift - proving without a doubt that Harry was indeed eleven - but the beginning of the school year did not incentivize Harry to keep a calendar. Harry just knew he had been in school for a while, and the time was approximately two weeks away from when Professor Flitwick talked to him about schoolwork.
The night after his detention, Harry’s nightmares woke him up at three in the morning. His mind was anxious for reasons that he didn’t think had anything to do with the nightmares, so Harry decided to read instead of merely lying awake listening to his heartbeat and breathing quicken. Gender in Wixen Society was due in November, so Harry read a chapter on Hijra/Kinnar Wixen. He had a Muggle flashlight he used to illuminate his reading because he was not reliably good at the Lumos charm, so he did not realized he had forgotten his wand in detention.
At around 5 am, Harry grew more and more curious about his Occluding Octopuses And Other Defenses of the Mind, and he was no longer retaining what he was reading in the library book, so he switched books. He finished the chapter on Occlumency in Goblin and Goblin-derived species by the time (7 am) the Ravenclaw lights and alarms began ringing, alerting his roommate it was time to wake up.
”Whhyyy do we have to be up so fricking early???” Anthony complained as he tugged his socks on. Terry nodded and groaned in agreement, while Michael had informed the group that he needed a long shower and would be late to breakfast earlier. Harry watched his roommates, unable to move in his exhaustion from staying awake so long.
”Harry?” Terry questioned the small boy, who had slept in his robes. “We need to go to breakfast, c’mon.” Harry stood, his mind a blanket of fog different from dissociation but still having similar effects on his ability to react and interact.
”Harry? What’s up with you today?” Terry questioned, worried about his quiet and exhausted roommate. Terry didn’t understand why Snape wouldn’t listen to Michael and Padma and even Gregory Goyle the Slytherin, but the stubborn professor insisted Harry take a detention, and the boy seemed like he had been gone half the night, if the way he wobbled down the stairs was any indicator.
”Boot, you idiot!” Sasha Flint, a second year who had been following them, interjected. “Don’t you know what day it is?”
”Halloween?” Terry didn’t know what that had to do with Harry acting mentally impaired.
Anthony suddenly remembered. “Shoot, Boot’s Muggleborn.” He then lowered his voice, looking behind him, where Harry had slowed down and remained unresponsive. “Terry, Halloween is the day the Potter’s were killed. The end of the Britain Wizarding War.”
”Shite.” And the group had made it to the Great Hall.
Harry’s ears were ringing. He had heard the other Ravenclaws. “Potter’s were killed.” The phrase brought to mind green light and a memory from when he was five or six - ‘they died in a car crash, don’t ask questions’ Uncle Vernon had been the one to break that news, and later Aunt Petunia broke Harry’s nose in punishment, as Harry was not in school yet. Nobody cared. Don’t ask questions. Don’t ask questions. Don’t-
“Harry? Aren’t you going to sit down?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.” Harry left, his eyes accidentally seeing Snape in his peripheral vision as he left. Freak.
Harry didn’t go to the bathroom. Harry wandered the halls, hoping to get lost. Hoping to end up finding that three headed dog again so he could be bitten and mauled like he deserved for having killed his parents.
He couldn’t do this. He had to go to class. He had Transfiguration first, so his legs took him to the classroom and he sat in his seat. He was tired. He wasn’t hungry. Freaks don’t get candy, idiot- Dudley and Piers then beat him with their collecting bags for having had the audacity to try to take a fun sized piece off the floor while cleaning Dudley’s room
Harry opened his bag for a distraction. His Occlumency book, perfect. Harry noticed the next chapter was on how to identify a legilimency attack if you already had traumatic experiences. (The first chapter had outlined how an ordinary mind would suffer after a legilimency attack, meaning memory loss and emotional reactions apropos of nothing, but as those were already symptoms of trauma, different symptoms occur in an already mentally weakened mind, as the deluge of cortisol that trauma creates impairs magical defenses of the mind as well as the ordinary functioning.) The book really moved all over the place regarding topics, Harry thought- his first coherent thought of the day.
Harry was suffering the symptoms of a Legilimency attack. But Harry routinely had unconnected memories pop into being unwanted ever since he had been informed he was a wizard. Maybe - could Hagrid have- no, he wouldn’t. The half-giant was too kind. Too stupid to learn legilimency even if he weren’t, a voice like Piers Polkiss piped into Harry’s mind. Hearing your thoughts in someone else’s voice was another symptom, as was nightmares and decreased appetite. Maybe Snape-
“Mr Potter - you’re early!” Professor McGonagall entered her classroom to this surprise, and she was anxious about the young Ravenclaw. “Did you have breakfast?”
Harry looked up, eyes widened, and instinctively moved as far from the woman in his seat as he could. “Yes’m.” Seeing people from your past in ordinary present experiences - Aunt Petunia worried was an Aunt Petunia secretly furious but required to maintain a facade. What had he done? He looked around, nobody else was in the room. Oh no. Oh no...
”Harry - are you okay?” The boy had begun looking around frantically, as though he was expecting an attack.
”Yes, I’m fine, I’m at-“ Harry’s mind finally caught up to reality, and he spoke more to himself than her. “Hogwarts, I’m at Hogwarts, no one can touch me here, I’m fine. I’m sorry, can I be excused? Today’s Halloween and I can’t focus - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-” Other students began entering the room and Harry was drawing attention to himself.
”No, you can. I’m sorry, of course today would be hard for you. I’ll give you a note for Madam Pomfrey, how about that?” Harry nodded - was the room spinning? He felt like he was going to throw up.
Nausea - another symptom of a Legilimency attack in all minds, both neurotypical and traumatized - McGonagall could she feel his fear? Oh god she’d know she’d know she could do anything she wanted to his body and with magic oh no—
She handed the boy a slip of parchment. Harry ran out the door, almost knocking over Mandy Brocklehurst in his haste.
He didn’t go to Madam Pomfrey - she’s a Mediwitch they teach Mind Arts in medical school according the book and Harry can’t-
Harry’s feet took him to the library. He found an unused room of spare shelves, and placed his bag down. Wand, Harry needed his wand, rubbing the wood always calmed him, he emptied his knapsack.
No wand anywhere. Harry couldn’t do this. His accidental magic blew out the torches, leaving him in the darkness of his cupboard. Halloween was always spent locked up, when his aunt wasn’t feeling sentimental and possessive about the living reminder of her sister’s death. God, the spare guest bedroom she only ever took him in, never allowing Dudley to enter, the room once upon a time made Harry feel special. Hands fondled him and Harry was not cognizant they were only his own hands, only his own tearing and itching at the places his aunt made him feel good in because he didn’t want to feel good, freaks don’t deserve to feel good, and his aunt knew he punished himself for her actions, she had ingrained that shame into him, taking away even the small pleasures that the child could’ve had from a sexuality developed far too young. Harry hurt himself as his aunt would have wanted to hurt him, hitting himself in the head the way she had when he was too young to hate himself, as she knew that she could be gentle and pretend to love him and the boy would still believe that he was a monster for allowing her access to his prepubescent body, never mind he was nearly drowned or beaten to death the few times he tried to stop her. The boy was a monster in the cupboard, crying and disgusting until his bleeding and bruised disgusting body fell asleep.
The library wards alerted the librarian to injured students in her domain, a little known and rarely necessary precaution against students deciding to harm one another among the aisles. They did not, however, alert her to where the child may be, and so she had her army of prefects search the premises. Fourth year Cassius Warrington found the unused supply closet, and when he entered he found the Boy Who Lived unconscious with his pants down. Alarming was the mildest word that could be uttered, and the librarian obliviated the student before flooing the child to the hospital wing.