Chapter One
Harry was huddled in the corner of Dudley's second bedroom. The beginning of a dawn was hinting at the horizon, and a pair of finches chirruped playfully outside the window.
Hedwig hooted angrily at the birds, and they flew off as she fixed Harry wither her baleful gaze.
The Boy Who Lived had been up all of the previous night, petrified. His face now was pale and his expression wan.
Uncle Vernon had visited again. Had made Harry do things that he despised himself for. Harry had made himself sick afterwards, if only to wash the taste from his mouth. He could still feel Uncle Vernon inside him, inside his mouth and inside…
The thought of it made him wretch again, and he hastily took a gulp of water in an effort to keep the vomit down.
Vernon Dursley hadn't stayed away from Harry's face last night.
"Only your freaky little school friends will see this now, so what does it matter?" he had hissed, before hitting Harry so hard it felt like his neck had snapped.
He hadn't returned to bed afterwards. Instead, he had sat with his back against the wall, facing the door and holding a picture of his parents. Salty tears had marked the photo frame as his parents in the photograph danced and laughed with each other. What would they think of him?
How he longed, as he had a thousand times before, for them to be alive. How different his life would be. He might even have a family as big as Ron's, a real home with a real family.
His heart aching with pain and emptiness, Harry was finding it unbearable. He absentmindedly picked at the scratch on his arm that the thorn had made yesterday, and found himself comforted by the small prickles of pain that shivered through him as blood began to leak from the cut again.
It gave Harry an idea. Kneeling, he rooted around in one of the draws of Dudley's old desk, praying that he'd find what he was looking for. He smiled slightly as his hand clasped around something cold and metallic and he pulled out the old Swiss army knife with an inward crow of victory.
He flicked open the knife element and spent a few moments admiring the sharpness of the blade. Glancing at his already bleeding arm, he momentarily paused and guiltily placed the photo of his parents face down, ashamed of what he was about to do.
Holding his arm close, he decided to cut just slightly higher than his wrist. He didn't want to die, he simply wanted to feel enough physical pain to satiate his mental agony.
He pressed the knife against his skin, and forced it down and across. With a flinch of pain, he pulled the knife away to look at his work.
The cut was already beginning to bleed, a small trickle running down towards his elbow. For the first time in weeks, Harry's head began to clear and excited by the sudden control he grabbed the knife and made another identical cut underneath.
The wave of relief that overcame him was sensational. He felt better than he had felt for months, and he realised that this was something that he could do for himself. To himself, for himself. He watched for a while longer as the blood ran out of the cuts, then he stowed the knife in his back pocket, and began to pack up his things for the school year ahead.
…
The morning had passed without much incident. Dudley had sulked when Aunt Petunia had forced him to come on the car journey to KGX with them. Harry had smirked slightly when his overfed cousin didn't get his own way for once, although the smile was quickly admonished by a slap from Aunt Petunia for burning the eggs.
Harry was currently in the back of the car, with Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the front discussing Dudley's ever blooming boxing career.
"All you got to do is punch them in the cheekbone – my last opponent was at least 2 years older than me and I knocked him out cold!" Dudley said proudly.
"Oh my ickle diddykins is such a grown up now!" Petunia gushed, unaware of Dudley's flash of red embarrassment.
Harry was surprised that Dudley was so clearly uncomfortable with his Mother's cajoling. Then again, Harry hadn't seen much of Dudley this summer. He'd been out with his gang of friends almost every day, beating up little kids in the neighbourhood for their pocket money. He supposed that Dudley really did think of himself as a 'hard' man now, and Petunia's admiration did nothing to support this.
Petunia saw Harry staring at Dudley in her rear view mirror, and quickly turned to face him.
"You'll need to do something about that face" she hissed, eyeing his bruised cheek bones, broken nose and black eye.
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. He too had come to this conclusion, but was uncertain of how to conceal his appearance before he got to Hogwarts. After all, he was under-age and unable to cast a glamour charm on himself until then.
"Yes Aunt Petunia" he replied sullenly, lowering his gaze and staring at his clasped hands.
Seemingly satisfied with this response, Petunia turned back to the steering wheel. Dudley was looking at Harry, a curious expression on his face.
"How did YOU hurt yourself so badly anyway? Not like you even left the-"
"He hurts himself when he's gardening" Aunt Petunia interrupted Dudley, speaking slightly tremulously.
Harry couldn't believe that Dudley was completely unaware of his Uncle's actions. He'd assumed that all three of the Dursleys were in on it, and always pictured them having a laugh at his expense. Dudley turned back to the front, smirking while Harry felt a wave of pity for his blindly foolish cousin.
….
After what seemed like an age, they arrived at King's Cross. Not bothering to say goodbye, Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage and started to walk towards the barrier. Halfway there, however, he remembered his bedraggled appearance, and suddenly had a glimmer of inspiration.
He opened his trunk and found his invisibility cloak. Throwing it over himself and his trunk, he told Hedwig to fly to Hogwarts. She looked at him dolefully but gave him a soft nip and took flight. Satisfied that no one would be able to see him, he went through to the platform and quickly found an empty compartment on the train.
Swinging his feet up, he settled on the luggage rack next to his trunk which he placed visible in front of him. There were several occasions this summer when he had been locked in his cupboard as a punishment, so the small, cramped space didn't bother him.
He could just about see through the window on the other side of the compartment, and noticed a worried Ron and Hermione peering over the platform. He had no doubts that they were looking for him, and a pang of sadness echoed through him.
I'm not good enough to be their friend, he thought. I'm freaky and useless and…crazy.
The last he said as he looked at his arm, and felt the bruises all over his body aching. His uncle was right. He didn't deserve to be here, not when someone like Cedric had died. Because of him.
Harry reached into his back pocket, something that was made incredibly awkward by his current position, and pulled out the knife that he had stowed there.
Without hesitation, he plunged it into his skin, repeatedly adding lines upon lines of cuts. Blood was trickling down his arm and once he was out of the haze of relief, he saw that he had cut a fair bit deeper than last time.
Grabbing a packet of tissues from his bag, he wrapped them around the open wounds on his forearm, cringing slightly as they met his skin with a sting. That's enough now, he told himself.
He rolled onto his back, and fell into a nauseated sleep as the train rumbled out of the station.
…..
Hours later, Harry awake. Momentarily forgetting where he was he tried to sit up, and was met by a nasty knock of his head against the ceiling.
Below were three students, who were at present changing in to their Hogwarts robes.
Harry felt his heart beat hard in his chest as he realised that he was in a slightly precarious situation, while the students below continued to talk in hushed voices.
"Father said that I may be able to contribute something myself" a drawling voice said "But obviously with OWLs this year he'd like me to focus on those first. I'm aiming for 10 O's"
Draco Malfoy was tall, pale and pinched. His white blonde hair was hanging slightly longer than it had done previously, and hand was entwined with Pansy Parkinson's. She was short and had an upturned nose, giving her a slightly piggy appearance. Her hair was dark and long, and her expression was one of pure adoration as she gazed at Malfoy.
Harry kept as still and silent as he possibly could, willing the train to pull into Hogsmeade soon. He didn't fancy being caught by three Slytherins in his current state, and had no doubt that Malfoy would only add to the bruises.
"Oh yes Draco, you'll certainly do well, although I doubt you're going to do better than me" the third Slytherin said in a bored voice. Blaise Zabini was an extremely handsome boy with olive skin and chestnut eyes. He reeked of aristocracy, which was one of the many reasons Draco Malfoy associated himself with him.
"I imagine Hermione Grange will do the best in our year" Blaise continued, as Pansy's colour rose with indignation.
"That filthy mudblood doesn't even deserve to go to our school" She spat, her eyes filled with spite "She, Weasley and Potter are insufferable, thinking they're better than everyone else"
Draco rubbed her back in a futile attempt to calm her, and she turned in to hug him.
Harry wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but Malfoy looked rather reluctant to hold the girl close. He noticed that Malfoy and Zabini seemed to be communicating something over Pansy's back, but couldn't work out what they were doing.
Only a few minutes later, the three Slytherins left the compartment and Harry was startled to see that they were pulling into Hogsmeade Station. In relief at finally being able to use magic again, he quickly pulled the blinds down and cast glamour upon glamour over himself. Once satisfied with his appearance he towed his trunk off the train and headed towards Ron and Hermione who were anxiously waiting on the platform.
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, and Harry suddenly worried that his glamours weren't holding. "Where have you been?! We've been looking for you the whole journey!"
Harry met eyes with Ron, who raised his eyebrow slightly but then snickered and clapped him on the back "Good to see you mate".
Harry tried not to flinch with pain from Ron's slap. Neither of them could ever find out about his summer at the Dursleys.
Hermione pulled him into a hug, her eyes filled with concern which Harry suspected was because he hadn't answered her question. Thankfully, she didn't pursuit it, and the three of them made their way up to the castle for the opening feast.
Harry was home.