A/N: Ok, firstly, this is one of my first HP fics I ever wrote, and I know it's pretty bad. I don't blame you for not wanting to read it. I'm mainly putting this up to see what responses I get from it. I know it's bad, so please don't tell me how much it sucks. I know that. But if you do decide to go on, thank you. I appreciate it.

It was the first day back at Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger couldn't have been happier as she sat at the table, eating dinner with her two best friends, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter

It was the first day back at Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger couldn't have been happier as she sat at the table, eating dinner with her two best friends, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter.

"Isn't it great to be back?" She asked excitedly. "You wouldn't believe some of the classes I'm taking this year!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Isn't it just bloody great to be back?" He mimicked. "I'm taking the most amazing classes this year. Well bloody good for you," He muttered.

"Ron Weasley, you're the most-" Hermione cut off from giving Ron an earful, when she noticed that Harry was totally oblivious to his two friends playful banter. Ron looked at her strangely, before she motioned to Harry with her eyes.

As per usual, Harry had finished off his meal within a matter of minutes, and was now either lost deep in thought, or sleeping with his eyes open.

Ron looked at Harry, then back at Hermione worriedly. "Harry?" He said, turning to face his best friend. "Harry!" He added a little poke in the arm.

Instantly, Harry shot up, jumping a little, his eyes losing the vacant expression, and looked over at his friends. "What?" He asked irritably.

"You were sleeping, mate. Surprised you didn't fall down in your plate!" Ron was forcing his voice to be teasing, trying to mask his worry. "What time did you go to sleep last night?"

Harry grinned, but it was painfully obvious to Hermione that it was faked. "Well, with you waking up and complaining about the spiders wanting you to dance, I didn't sleep very well."

Ron turned an interesting shade of red, Hermione noticed. "Well, all that aside Harry, you do look exhausted. Maybe you should go to bed early tonight," She suggested.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Maybe. I don't know."

Later that night

Hermione hadn't been able to sleep. For some reason, she felt something wasn't right. But she couldn't quite place her finger on 'what'.

As she usually did when she couldn't sleep, she decided to head to the Library. Reading always helped her feel more peaceful.

Walking down the dark corridors, Hermione pondered the strange happenings of the day. Harry had acted odd all day long, not paying attention to anything, and falling asleep with his eyes open, walking around slowly like a little old muggle. Granted, Hermione had to admit that he always acted a little strange during the first week or two back in school, but never to this degree. Even Neville had noticed, of all people!

That decided it, she thought. If it was bad enough to where Neville noticed, she had to help him. If he wasn't any better by the next day, she would talk to Professor Dumbledore.

She had just made up her mind, as she quietly opened the door to the library, and stepped inside. She smiled as the familiar dusty smell greeted her, and she headed towards the back, where most of the wizard-history books were kept.

She rounded the corner, and almost jumped out of her skin, when she seen Harry sitting at one of the desks, his head bent over his book, writing furiously quick. He hadn't noticed Hermione come in. But she soon remedied that.

"Harry Potter, what are you doing?!" She asked, her voice little higher than a whisper.

Harry jumped. "Hermione! What're… I mean… what are you doing here?" He finally managed to spit out.

"What am I doing here? I came down because I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to get a book to help. You on the other hand were the one falling asleep during dinner! You couldn't even keep your eyes open!" She said, her voice slowly getting louder.

"Hermione, I'm fine," Harry said, picking up his book, and slowly trying to move around her.

She stuck out one arm, and blocked him. "Harry Potter, you're not fine! Sit down, now!"

Harry stumbled back in his chair, stunned. Hermione had never acted like this before.

"You're barely sleeping, if you are at all! You wander around like a dead man during the day, not noticing anything! You haven't said hardly three sentences to anyone since you got here!" She counted down her list on her fingers. "And now I find you in the library at this ungodly hour, writing a paper for… What are you writing for anyways?" She asked curiously, glancing at his paper. "A History Of Hippogriffs? Harry, is this for Hagrid's class?" She asked, shocked when Harry nodded. "This is due tomorrow!"

"Oh well, thank you, Hermione, I didn't know. I was rushing to finish it because it's due next month," Harry said sarcastically.

"Don't take that tone with me," Hermione warned. "We were supposed to be working on these over the summer! It's a three roll assignment!"

"I know, Hermione. I just… I just didn't have time this summer."

"Why not? What were you doing that was so… so… bloody important?!" She said, shocking even herself. "I also noticed that you failed to return a single one of mine or Ron's letters! I guess you were too busy for your school work, and your friends, right?" Tears sprang to her eyes, and she slumped down in her chair.

Harry looked at Hermione crying in the chair, silent tears running down her face, even as she desperately tried to wipe them away.

Good job, Potter, said the voice in his head. The Dursleys were right, you're useless, and you only cause grief.

Harry ignored the voice, and kneeled down next to Hermione, ignoring the shots of pain through his ribs. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't write you. I've told you how my uncle is, he doesn't even approve of me going to Hogwarts. He doesn't let me send letters to people from there. I tried, Hermione, I really did," He tried to assure her. He didn't tell her that after Uncle Vernon had found the first three letters he had tried to write, and starved him for a week afterwards each time, he had given up writing to them.

"I know, Harry," Hermione sobbed. "I just… I want to know what's wrong. And don't say nothing, even Neville says there's something wrong."

"Well, than 'even Neville' is wrong," Harry said tersely. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just tired from trying to write a three roll parchment in two days."

Hermione didn't buy it for a second, and Harry could tell.

Hermione didn't believe Harry's excuse. She knew that something was wrong, she just didn't know what.

She reached over, and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. She was shocked when Harry cried out, and shoved her away.

"Harry, what's wrong?!" She demanded shrilly. She knew Harry wasn't a very physical person, but he had never reacted like that.

"Nothing… Hermione… Nothing…" Harry panted, holding tightly to his ribs as he pushed himself backwards up against the wall.

"Dammit all, Harry!" Hermione swore again. "What's wrong? Tell me now, or I swear I'll go get Professor Dumbledore right this second!"

"Hermione… if I… if I tell you… tell you something… you have to… have to promise… promise not to tell anyone. Do you swear? Swear, Hermione!" Harry begged desperately.

Hermione hesitated for a mere second, before nodding. "I swear, Harry. I swear on my parents lives I won't tell," She said sincerely.

Harry nodded slightly, still breathing heavily. "Help me… help me pull up… my shirt…" He asked.

Hermione obeyed, and paused as Harry gave a small yelp, her eyes again filling with tears. Harry waited a minute, before indicating to her to go on.

Hermione gasped as she pulled Harry's shirt up to his chest. His entire torso was covered in large black and blue marks, small cuts, and…

"Are those… are those cigar burns?" Hermione asked, her voice low pitched and scared.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Harry… who… who did this to you?" She asked. She already knew who did it, but she wanted to hear it from Harry.

"It… The cigar burns are from Uncle Vernon. The cuts are from Aunt Petunia. The bruises are… well, they're from everyone," Harry whispered. Even though he was embarrassed to have Hermione see him like this, it felt good to get it off his chest. He decided to tell her everything.

"Oh my god, Harry. How… why?"

"I don't rightfully know," He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Usually it's for little things, like being late to cook breakfast, taking too long in the shower, missing a spot of dirt on the floor. Sometimes it's for bigger things, like making a mistake while doing chores, not finishing chores, done something Dudley doesn't like… sometimes I swear they punish me just for breathing," He said, trying to make a joke.

Hermione looked at him as if he had suddenly gone mad. "How can you joke about something like this?! They 'punish' you?! Try torture you, Harry!" Hermione cried, before taking a deep breath, and gaining control over her emotions. She stood up, and offered Harry a hand. He looked at her quizzically. "Come on. We're taking you to the lavatory."

"What?!" Harry asked, knowing exactly what lavatory she was talking about. "But… what about Moaning Myrtle?"

Hermione firmly helped him up. "What about her?"

"I… I don't want her to see me… like this," He said, staring down at the floor.

"Well, unless you want to undress here in the library-"

"Undress?!" Harry cut in indignantly, but Hermione continued on.

"-Then I suggest we go there," She said in a voice that offered no room for argument.

Harry, not having much choice, reluctantly agreed. The two teenagers carefully and quietly made their way out into the hall, and towards the 'haunted' lavatory. Halfway there though, they were stopped by an angry voice.

"And where the bloody hell are you two going?"

Both Hermione and Harry started breathing again as Ron stepped out of the dark hallway they had been passing.

"Um…"

"What's this then? The know-it-all Hermione at a loss for words?" Ron mocked. "Come on then, 'fess up. What's going on?"

Hermione looked over at Harry. "It's not my place to tell you, Ron," She said quietly, still looking at Harry.

Harry was busy looking at the floor. "I… I guess he can come," He finally said, still studying the stones that made up the floor.

"Come where?" Ron asked, quickly falling in line with the other two.

"Just come on!" Hermione snapped.

It didn't take them long to reach the lavatory. Moaning Myrtle was sitting up on top of the window when they entered.

"Harry! Oh, and look, it's Ron and Hermione too. Have you come to visit?" She asked, flying down towards them.

"Not tonight, Myrtle. We've important matters to attend to tonight," Hermione said, not really paying attention to the ghostly girl. Normally she went out of her way to be nice to Myrtle, but she hadn't the heart for it right then.

Myrtle stuck out her lip in a little pout, before flying back up to her window. "Fine. I was perfectly happy sitting here all by my lonesome before you showed up."

Ron snickered a little, and Hermione rolled her eyes, before turning back to Harry. "All right now, Harry. Take off your pants and shirt," She ordered.

Both Myrtle and Ron looked up in surprise.

"Oh, is that what's going on."

"Bloody hell, what did you just say?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Give it a rest, you two. Myrtle, go sit up in the window, and Ron, either stay and be quiet, or leave. Now, Harry," She said, a little impatiently.

Harry struggled for a moment to get his shirt off, before finally turning towards her. "Um… would you… would you help me?" He asked, embarrassed.

Hermione moved forward, and carefully helped peel the shirt off, forcing herself not to look at Harry yet.

"Good, now your pants."

Harry slowly obeyed. Hermione finally allowed herself to look at her best friend's body.

"Bloody hell," Ron said quietly. "Bloody, bloody hell."

Hermione couldn't even find words to describe her feelings. She struggled for a moment to keep that day's dinner down, before she looked Harry in the eyes.

Long, thin scars covered his legs, torso, and back. Hermione dimly thought that they were probably from a belt. Cigar burns littered his entire body. Bruises were everywhere, along with small cuts. His back had a circular burn like scar that was about a foot and a half long.

"What… what's that one from?" She asked emotionlessly, still trying not to lose her stomach.

"Aunt Petunia. She hit me with a frying pan hot off the stove," Harry said, as if it wasn't that big of a deal.

"What the… Harry, what the bloody hell is going on?!" Ron demanded, tears in his eyes.

"You can't tell anyone, Ron," Harry said urgently, reaching out and grabbing his friend's arm. "Not a soul. Promise me, Ron. Promise!"

"Fine, alright. I promise. Now tell me what happened!"

"It's… it's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia," He said, as Hermione touched an open wound on his back, causing him to inhale sharply.

"Sorry."

"It's ok," Harry said off-handedly. "What're you doing?"

"Checking to see how bad off you are. Lord, Harry, you're nothing but skin and bones! Let me guess; they don't feed you there either," Hermione said sarcastically.

Harry shrugged. "If I get all the chores done, I'm usually allowed to clean up what's left after dinner. Unless I'm being punished for something. Bloody hell!" He swore as Hermione touched his aching ribs.

"They feel broken, Harry. You should go see Madame Pomfrey."

"No."

"Harry, who knows the amount of internal damage you could have?!" Hermione almost yelled.

"I could tell you," Myrtle said smugly. "If you asked nicely."

Hermione spun around. "What do you mean? How could you tell?"

"I'm a ghost, Hermione. I can see through people. I can tell you exactly what's wrong with Harry-" She stopped to smile at him, flirting still despite the severity of the situation "-If you ask me nicely."

"Please, Myrtle," Hermione said sincerely. "Will you tell me what's wrong with Harry?"

The ghost laughed, and floated down from the window. "Of course! Well now, Harry, you seem to have broken or cracked quite a few ribs, and your poor leg… that looks very painful. I don't know what exactly that is, but it looks painful," She said surely.

"That's it?"

"Well, internally yes. Any more, and I'll need a kiss from a cute boy!"

"Myrtle!" Ron and Hermione shouted at the same time.

"Fine. Don't ask for my help," Myrtle pouted, disappearing into one of the bathroom stalls.

"Harry, you have to tell someone," Hermione pleaded. "Broken ribs?! And you've been walking on them for two days now!"

Longer than that, Harry thought to himself.

"You could scratch a lung or something! Massive internal bleeding!"

"I'm not talking to Pomfrey, and that's-"

"Harry?"

All three teenagers turned at the unexpected voice from the doorway. Hagrid's large form ducked under the door, and was kneeling next to Harry's abused and malnourished body.

"Dear gods, boy, what've they done to you?" Hagrid asked, his voice thick with tears. "Come on, now, we've got to take you to Madame Pomfrey," The half-giant said.

"No," Harry said, his own voice thick with fear. "I won't go. I won't!"

Hagrid stared at him for a moment, before simply picking the boy up, and cradling him in his arms tightly enough to keep him still, but not enough to hurt him.

"You two, go get Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. Quickly now, don't just stand there!" He said as the two teenagers didn't move.

"We uh… We promised him we wouldn't tell anyone, Hagrid," Ron finally said, looking embarrassed.

Most teachers would have simply ordered them to tell. But Hagrid understood, in some deep rooted way, and nodded. "Fine then. Tell them that I need to see them in Madame Pomfrey's."

Hermione and Ron both looked relieved, and ran off.

"Please, Hagrid, don't do this," Harry begged as the large man started down the hall. "Please."

Hagrid stopped for a second, and looked down at the frightened boy in his arms. Tears were freely falling down Harry's face, and the look in his eyes reminded Hagrid of a caged animal who'd been beaten his whole life.

"Harry… You mark my words, and you mark them well. No one… I repeat no one will ever hurt you like this again. Ever, you hear me, Harry?"

Harry nodded slightly, tears still dripping down his face.

"Good. Now how long has this been going on?"

Harry carefully wiped his face on his sleeve. "I don't know. Since before I could remember, I guess. I don't know," He said softly.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. I should've seen it sooner," Hagrid whispered.

"Sorry for what, Hagrid? You didn't do anything. It was my fault," Harry said quietly, turning his head to face away from the Giant.

"Harry James Potter, I never want to hear those words mentioned in this conversation again. Do you understand me? Do you?" Hagrid nearly hissed. "None of… this," He said disgustedly, "was your fault. You did nothing to warrant this… this torture. Do you hear me Harry?"

Harry whimpered slightly, and Hagrid was shocked at the change in the boy. Harry Potter was usually calm, and reasonably level-headed, mostly in control of his emotions, and usually mature for his age. This was a side of Harry he had never seen.

And he never wanted to see it again.