Don't own it
To say that he didn't really trust others was an understatement. After growing up with the Dursleys and the primary teachers, his level of trust was next to none, but the Wizarding World completely destroyed the bit that was left.
When he'd started to ignore Dumbledore's orders, teachers talked, calling him an irresponsible child.
When he'd distanced himself from Ron and Hermione, students began talking.
When he'd nearly stopped eating, everyone talked even more, calling him an attention seeking prat.
They had all begun to ignore him by the time he'd made it into the dark clothes. The few that did notice him called him rude, hateful names, looking at his clothing and the bit of black eyeliner.
When a glamor would shift or fail and they saw the perfect cuts lining his skin they didn't attempt to help him or stop him, no one cared at this point.
To them he was a lost cause.
All but a few would even attempt talking to him now, Fred and George tried often, Neville at times, though there never really was a response from the supposed chosen one.
People began wondering, how he could possibly save them if he couldn't save himself. No one stopped to ask themselves what truly made the 14/15-year-old the one to fight Voldemort, if he was even back to begin with. Nearly everyone wanted someone to step up, to take care of the problem plaguing their lives. They wanted a hero, someone for their children to look up to, someone that could be followed, someone who could have stories told about them for centuries to come, someone who wasn't self destructive and suicidal.
They'd lost all of that in him and it made him next to useless to them all.
The only one he came to somewhat trust at this point was Sirius, the man had never done anything against him, as far as he knew, Sirius had only tried to help him.
When he'd finally made it into Grimmauld Place, Sirius had been all but attached to him,. Apparently he'd been the only one to see the signs because he'd been on the same road when he was 14 /15ish. He'd been shown the scars trailing up and down Sirius' arms, he'd was told about how James and his parents had found him passed out in a bathroom, covered in his own blood, from going a bit overboard.
At the end of the summer Sirius had wanted to pull Harry from Hogwarts and teach him privately or at least keep him at Number 12 for a few more weeks, just enough to ensure that he'd get to a more stable mental point. It seemed that he was no longer to be trusted with taking care of himself.
He agreed to a point.
Dumbledore wouldn't hear of it, he no longer cared. He'd lost his pawn, his one way to kill Voldemort, but the man still insisted on keeping him under his thumb.
He was soon back in Hogwarts with the Ministry toad following him.
She'd thought that the quill would work, if anything he enjoyed the pain it caused. Sometimes he'd change the words around to mix it up, annoy the toad, and to get more of the detentions.
Soon after actually getting back to the school, they had begun plotting. It wasn't much but they decided that they would leave when he'd made it back for Christmas. Sirius had mentioned a house in America, where the laws for underage magic where nonexistent as long as they stayed out of public view.
They would be leaving soon, he'd realized that he wouldn't last too much longer here. He knew that Sirius could see that, it had made the man only more determined to get them out of Britain and get him back to a safer point, both mentally and physically.
To Hell with magical Britain and Voldemort.
They never cared, why should he?
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