Venom
Harry focused his eyes on the empty parchment in front of him. He looked to the board for the fifth time in hope of sparking some spec of knowledge. He read the assignment to himself
"Write a one page essay on the Erkling and what effect it has on society."
He closed his eyes hoping to draw the jumbled words in his head to a sentence. Surrounded in the darkness of his mind he could hear Hermione to his right scratching away in tiny print as to not go past the one page limit. To his left he could hear Ron, scratching slowly as to not skip any part of his fable. Harry felt the quill in his hand and wished it wrote itself. He starred at the blank parchment once again.
"Quills down."
Harry watched as the class offered their well-written essays up for grading. He placed his quill in his bag before tossing his blank parchment on the top of the stack.
"Harry, you didn't write anything!" Hermione remarked.
"Thanks for pointing that out to the class," he mumbled back.
She huffed, placing her essay on top of his and following him out of class, Ron close behind
"Harry wait! What's gotten into you? You're studies have been slipping lately."
"Hermione," he said, turning to face her. "Leave me alone!"
Hermione was speechless as she watched him continue towards the Common Room.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked.
"I-I don't know…I just asked about his studies."
"Oh, smart move Hermione."
She glared at him before beginning a trek towards the library.
"Of course, go somewhere you know I won't follow."
"That's my point."
Harry slowed down after turning to corner out of his friend's view. The truth of the matter slowly materialized in his head, I'm going to fail my 6th year. He reached the common room before anymore thoughts progressed on the subject.
"Why the long face Harry?" Fred Weasly asked, slinging his arm around his shoulders.
"Bugger off," he replied, removing the slung arm and taking to the stairs.
"It's Hermione isn't it!" Fred called up the stairs.
"SHOVE OFF!" Harry replied, slamming the door for greater effect.
"I knew it," Fred smiled to himself.
Harry flopped on his bed, determined not to throw or break anything. His scarred hands formed fists as he tried to calm his anger. It's not their fault, they just don't understand. Damn them. His fists released. Taking in deep breaths, he sat up and was faced with a scrawny version of himself, his green eyes dull and his generally messy hair completely untamed. What am I doing to myself? The boy in the mirror scowled back at him, a five o'clock shadow asking to be shaved. Harry walked closer to his reflection. The vision pained him. Bloodshot eyes and permanent bags under them detailed what his life had become.
He felt his hands shake at his side, the lack of substance taking a toll on him. He closed his eyes to try to block the pain from his mind, erase his ghostly figure from his sight. Once again surrounded in darkness, Harry tried to pull himself together. Before too long, that darkness was interrupted with streaming images of his parents, happy and laughing. They were soon washed out by his mother's screams, echoing in the deepest corners of his mind. Harry's eyes snapped open, wet streaks marred his cheeks, his eyes glistening with sadness. Bloody hell. He slammed his fist onto the desk, causing the mirror to shake, his image blurring.
"Alohamora," he barely spoke.
A thin drawer just below the desk unlocked. He ripped it open revealing his poison of choice. He starred at the bag of freedom; his fingers itched to break the seal. The syringe, already filled with heroin, glistened in his hands. Harry toyed with the plastic, not wanting to succumb to the drugs power, not wanting to turn to its release yet again.
His will gave out moments later. With trembling fingers, he opened the bag, taking out all of its contents. He striped of his robe, exposing past injections that had bruised. With ease he strapped the tourniquet to his right arm, the adrenaline was rising. He quickly uncapped the needle revealing the shinny point. The prick of the needle no longer fazed him, all he felt was the heroin entering his veins, the process becoming almost pleasurable. He watched the syringe as the level of substance dropped lower and lower, the thoughts of suicide flowered in his mind. Lower the numbers dropped, more vivid the thoughts became. No one would ever find me. I could live with my parents and Sirius…
"Harry?" a voice came from down the hall.
"Shit," he whispered, pulling the needle out and removing the tourniquet in one motion.
"Harry? Are you in there?"
"Hold on, Ron!" he yelled back, shoving the contents back into the plastic bag.
"Are you ok?"
"I'm fine!"
He shoved the bag into the drawer and locked it. The door opened as Harry managed to get his robe on. He turned to face the entering Ron.
"Hey Ron," he said fastening the final button on his robe. "Why aren't you at dinner?"
"I was coming to get you," he said looking over Harry's shoulder at the vacant desk. "What were you doing, Harry?"
"Nothing, I had just woken up."
Ron's eyes caught something on the smooth desk surface. "Harry what's this?" he asked pushing him out of the way and wiping a drop of heroin off the table.
"Probably spit," he replied, trying not to be annoyed.
"It doesn't smell like spit," Ron said, sniffing his finger.
"Its spit, come on Ron, I'm getting hungry," Harry said wrapping his arm around his best friend, leading him out of the room.
At dinner, Harry tried to focus on eating but his eyes continually went out of focus. He was beginning to see small buoyant lights enter the Great Hall floating his way. One landed on his nose, causing him to go cross-eyed to see the tiny faerie.
"Harry?"
"Huh?" he said, snapping from the faerie on his nose.
"What are you looking at your nose for?" Ron asked.
"Do you not see faerie?" he asked pointing to his nose.
Ron stared at him blankly.
"There's one right there too," he said pointing to Ron's goblet.
"Harry…mate, there's nothing there but my drink and your nose."
"Are you sure? Maybe it's the light your in, look here," he said pulling the highly confused Ron to his side, almost knocking him from his seat.
"No Harry, it's not any better over here."
"Really?" he said, pushing him back to his original spot. "I mean, they're right there. The one in your goblet just waved," he said, waving back.
"Harry, I think you're going mental, that's what I think. Maybe you should go back to bed."
"Yeah, bed sounds good. Not very hungry anyway," he said getting up.
"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione asked.
"Not to do my homework," he mocked.
Hermione "humphed" as he rose.
Harry managed to get to his feet and leave the Great Hall without causing trauma to himself or others, the faeries following him. Away from the noise of dinner, Harry felt the drug's control over his body. The stairs blurred in and out as he tried to climb them with slow success. The faeries kept their distance from his troubling body.
"Mister Potter," a sneering voice crept around the corner. "What, may I ask, are you doing?"
"I wasn't hungry sir," Harry retorted, becoming very engrossed in a green faerie.
"Coming from anyone other than you, I'd believe it."
"I'm sorry to hear that Professor, I'm simply going back the common room."
He began to walk away from under the hooked nose of Snape. "Good evening, Professor. You can keep the faerie."
"Wha- Potter, what are you talking about?" Snape asked.
"Why doesn't anyone see the fucking faeries!"
Snape stared at the skeletal figure as it disappeared around the corner, swatting at something invisible. "I'm watching you Potter," he hissed.
Harry grimaced as he entered the common room, the drug's effect finally taking its toll. The faeries began to fade as he headed up the stairs. The last thing he remembered before his vision went black was entering his dormitory, all his pain finally falling away.
In the darkness of his mind, a tiny golden ball appeared before his eyes. It fluttered around his head, the tiny wings marking it as a snitch. Harry instinctively caught it, causing it to tremble in his grasp. He let it go, catching it again. The darkness supporting his dream-image transformed into stone, Hogwarts appearing before his eyes. Students bustled past him, minding their own business. Harry realized the snitch was no longer wiggling in his grasp, his wand had replaced it. The wood felt warm and reassuring as he headed down the hall. Turning the first corner, Harry spotted his nemesis. The blonde's back to him, insulting some poor first year no doubt, Harry felt a rush of adrenaline shoot up his spine. He could catch him off guard, take him down. Without checking the audience, he made a running start, wand at the ready. Four steps away and Harry tripped, falling head first into a pensive.
He landed on a cold stone floor, no where in particular. The room was, at first glance, completely empty. He rose to his feet wondering whose pensive he had stumbled across. As he turned to look behind him, a reflection in a distant corner caught his eye. He moved towards the shine that nearly blinded him, though no sun graced the room. When Harry arrived at the heart of the glow, he found, to his surprise, the infamous Mirror of Erised. Once standing in front of it, the reflection vanished. Harry expected to see his parents, smiling back at him but received a very different image. The blonde of moments ago stared back at Harry. He didn't understand, his heart's desire was Draco Malfoy? Maybe to kill him, but even that was not what he wanted the most. Malfoy smiled and waved, gestures alien to his face and body. Harry gasped as he blew a kiss his way. What the fuck? A wink was the final straw, Harry ran from the mirror's horror, hoping to find a way out.
Harry's eyes flickered open, the darkness ebbing to light. A plain golden lion focused in his eye.
"Uhg…"he moaned, realizing he was flat on the floor of his dormitory. He lifted his face off the floor, his head immediately protesting. "Uh…"
"Harry?"
"Huh…"
"Harry, mate…are you finally awake?"
"Uh-huh…" he replied trying to pull his head off the floor.
"I would've helped you into bed but you were as heavy as a led weight and I couldn't wake you. I was a bit nervous you know."
"Thanks Ron," he mumbled, collapsing back to the floor.
"You don't look well Harry," he said helping his limp body to sitting position. "Do you need to go to the infirmary?"
"No," he said firmly, pulling form Ron's grip.
"Are you sure?" Ron asked, steadying the wobbling Harry. "You're a bit paler than normal."
"I'm fine, I'm sure it was something I ate."
"But you didn't-"
"I'm fine."
"Alright them, I'll see you in Transfiguration."
Harry nodded as Ron let go and headed for the door. He turned to face the mirror of his sorrows before Ron was out the door.
"Are you sure you don't-"
"YES!"
The door shut firmly as Ron left the room.
When Harry finally made it to Transfiguration, his downward spiralling morning took a nosedive. Besides having the class with Slytherin, McGonagall decided to surprise them.
"Please remove your books and prepare your quills."
Harry and Ron joined the rest of the class in groans while Hermione sat straight up in her chair, her quill shivering with the need to write. McGonagall's wand tapped the board, their assignment appearing in simple cursive.
"Describe how to transfigure a living animal into any inanimate object and why this is widely used. Use specific details."
Harry once again stared at his blank piece of parchment, watching and hoping the answer would come. He remembered the day they learned this, he tried to turn his rat into a goblet. Though this was an improvement from not knowing anything, it would not suffice for the question asked.
Time ticked away slowly, offering the opportune time to wallow in his complete failure. Hermione's annoying know-it-all quill scratching added to the mood.
"Class dismissed, please stack your essays on my desk on your way out."
Hermione frantically wrote one final sentence.
"Mr. Potter, please stay behind," McGonagall said as he turned in his blank parchment. Harry managed not to roll his eyes before taking his seat again.
"I'll see you at lunch Harry," Ron said before following Hermione out of the classroom. Harry waved as a good gesture, but doubted he would appear at lunch. When the last student left, McGonagall began to speak.
"Mr. Potter, I have watched you grow into the man you are today and I am asking myself a new question, 'Whatever happened to The-Boy-Who-Lived?"
"I'm sorry I don't understand the question," Harry replied coolly.
"Is that your excuse for this essay as well? You didn't understand the question?"
"No ma'am, I understood the question, I just went blank, as my parchment will show you."
"I know perfectly well what your parchment will show me," she snapped. In a whisper she added, "Harry, what on earth is going on?"
He stayed silent, not having a valid answer. I have nothing left to live for. Everyone is gone. All I have left is pain. I'm alone.
"Mr. Potter, I asked you a question."
"And I can't answer it."
"Can't…or won't."
"That's just it professor, everyone thinks I won't do this and won't do that, I won't answer the question, I won't win the Quidditch match. Well let me tell you something, Professor, I'm not looking for your sympathy or your compassion or your worry. I'm not looking for your attention or anyone else's. I'm just looking for myself," he remarked, feeling very full of himself at that moment. "Now if we're finished here, I'd like to eat with the few friends I have left."
Without McGonagall's permission, Harry stood up and left the classroom. Watching the door shut, McGonagall let the fear of what Harry had just said sink in. A single tear slipped from her aging eyes, a flicker of pain drowned out by sadness.
"Nice show, Potter."
Harry stopped, mid-step. The ice of the voice chilled his spine and crippled his ears.
"I would've loved to have seen it in person," he paused. "I'm just looking for myself," he mocked.
Harry faced the putrid scum egging him on. "Malfoy, if you say one more word, I swear to Dumbledore, my wand will be so far down your throat you'll be barfing slugs for a month."
"Is that a threat?"
"Like hell it is."
"Bring it on."
Harry and Malfoy revealed their wands with matching motions. Before Malfoy could get "Expelliarmus!" completely out, Harry matched it, sending both wands flying out of the other's hand.
"Good show Potter, you've proven you can duel, let's see if you can fight."
Harry watched Malfoy crack his knuckles, the intimidation barely affecting him. He waited for him to make the first move, crouching low to the floor.
"Let's go," he called.
Malfoy lunged. With lightning quick reflexes, Harry dodged the attack, rolling to all fours, and loosing sight of his opponent. One step identified the location of Malfoy, who once again lunged for the back of the unaware Potter. Harry felt his face meet cold stone, Malfoy having complete control over him. Harry's arm was snapped to his back, twisted as far as it would go without breaking.
"Give up?" Malfoy sneered.
"Never."
Malfoy pulled his arm even higher, the pain making Harry cringe.
"I think now would be a good time to quit, Potter."
"I think you're a bastard."
Malfoy found enough of Harry's face to slap it.
"Fighting like a girl now?"
He pulled Harry up by the scruff of the neck.
"Say that to my face."
Harry kicked, as hard as he could, at Malfoy's legs. He was dropped and quickly took up residence on Malfoy's stomach, pinning him to the floor, Harry's arm across his neck.
"Going to suffocate me, eh, Potter?" he managed to say.
"Only to shut you up!"
He placed a knee just above Malfoy's groin, causing fear to flicker across his eyes for the first time.
"Hermione taught me well."
"Learning how to fight from a Mudblood?"
"She can fight better then you," he spat, closing Malfoy's windpipe a little more.
"You wouldn't kill me, Potter. You don't have….the…balls."
Harry pushed harder on Malfoy's neck; the hint of blue on his face caused him to smile.
"Oh really?"
Harry's hold on Malfoy was much stronger then looked possible to present from his small, withered frame. He had obviously underestimated him.
"Mr. Potter!" a shrill voice came from around the corner. "Mr. Malfoy!"
Harry instantly let up on Malfoy's throat and released his body. Malfoy in turn, quickly slid from under Harry and managed to stand.
"Professor," Harry said, facing the shrewd looking McGonagall.
"He attacked me, Professor!" Malfoy rambled. "It's all his fault," he hissed.
"Mr. Malfoy, though I try not to favour my house, I would have to admit, Mr. Potter attacking you without any reason would be highly unlikely."
"But it's true –"
Harry tried to hide a smile.
"Mr. Malfoy, I don't want an explanation now. You can both tell me what happened in detention. For a week."
Without further word, McGonagall left. Both boys' mouths were caught open.
"Look what you did," Malfoy sneered.
"Shove off."
"This isn't over Potter."
"I wouldn't doubt it."
They both headed in opposite directions, looking over their shoulders to watch the other leave.
Harry arrived back at the common room in record time. It was nearly empty as most were at lunch. Double Potions would be hell. He wondered up the stairs, hoping no one would be in his dormitory. The silence of the room was perfect. Harry locked the door and silently moved towards the dresser and what lied within. His motions were automatic as Harry filled himself with simple pleasure, the rest of the syringe empting into his blood. He replaced the cap on the needle and placed in into the empty plastic bag. As he turned to burry it with the other dead soldiers, his eyes met the one face he didn't want to see.