AN:/ The hardest part of re-writing is the utter feeling of "…I was really terrible at this" that just makes you cringe I swear. Anyway, here's the fourth re-written segment. I won't bore you with the details, but hopefully it's a bit more fleshed out than the previous one. I find I have trouble writing transitionary periods but that's because I'm impatient haha. If anyone has any pointers for that I'm all ears.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any characters, locations etc. Good thing too imagine how long we'd be waiting for books.
(Real World/Hogwarts)
Slowly Harry's eyes fluttered open. 'We're back? But how did he–' Harry cast a side long glance at Snape before dropping his eyes because Snape's bottomless cold eyes were looking back at him.
Minerva was the first to speak, "Harry? Are you okay?" Slowly Harry nodded although in reality they all knew he was far from 'Okay.'
Harry was positively dreading what he knew was inevitably coming next. 'Professor McGonagall will probably get mad at me, and then they'll make me leave Hogwarts cause I'm not good enough...' he thought dejectedly.
Severus groaned as he stood before casting an annoyed glare at the other two professors. "Never, and I mean never, let me stay in that position for so long again."
Minerva rolled her eyes, "Fine, would you like a hand getting up?" Severus just huffed and got up, ignoring Minerva's offer with a sneer.
"Back to the whole reason we're here," Snape injected coolly. "Potter has agreed to receive talk." he paused to let those words sink in; Harry could feel sweat dripping down his hands.
Dumbledore was, as always, the one to assume the issue was resolved. "Splendid, my boy!" Albus exclaimed clapping his hands together. "I'm sure we can get this matter resolved quickly." He said in his most grandfatherly tone. Albus didn't notice Harry's flinch or Severus' barely contained snort.
"I'm afraid," Severus drawled. "That Potter meant another, Albus. You are not who he has agreed to speak with." Severus got a sick sense of mirth out of watching the happiness fade from Albus' eyes.
"Oh," Albus said, before clearing his throat. "Well, that's quite alright my boy; who did you wish to speak with?" Harry was barely containing his flinches at the continual use of 'boy', even if he recognized it as his pseudo-name most of the time. Worse still, he had seen the disappointment on Professor Dumbledore's face. He had disappointed the headmaster… As if he didn't already have reason enough to be kicked out of Hogwarts.
Still, Harry knew he had to answer Professor Dumbledore's question. And so, with a shuddering breath, Harry spoke in the softest, smallest sounding voice the professors had ever heard. "Professor McGonagall, sir."
Minerva froze momentarily. 'He's willing to talk with me?! I thought Rubeus perhaps or Filius... Not that I mind at all but...'
Meanwhile Albus was taking a mini internal tantrum at not being picked. 'What does he see in Minerva that he doesn't see in me? Harry has to have faith in me. He has to.'
Sensing a pending explosion of some sort, Severus cut in smoothly. "That will be enough for tonight, Potter. Professor McGonagall will contact you herself in the near future I'm sure."
Knowing a dismissal when it was given Harry gave a slow nod before standing, murmuring his thanks for their time and all but darting from the room. When he was finally back in his bed in the Gryffindor dorm, Harry felt his heart start to slow for the first time in hours. Still, it would be another sleepless night for him.
(Time Skip: Next Morning)
Harry sighed getting out of bed, 'Why do I even bother? Professor McGonagall will just hold me after class again. Everyone will ask why or just assume it has to do with the Chamber...the Hufflepuffs already hate me for what they think I did. Geez maybe it would be easier to just not get up.'
That thought was quickly thrown out the window when Harry heard Ron grumble something about having Defence Against the Dark Arts first period. Even if he hated Lockhart, Harry just couldn't help loving the subject.
Getting up rather briskly, Harry dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. He wasn't surprised to see Hermione reading a book at the table whilst eating her breakfast. She looked oddly at peace with everything so he decided to let her continue to read.
That in mind Harry took his own breakfast, which wasn't nearly what he should've been eating but he didn't know that, and went to go sit under the Whomping Willow. Most people wouldn't like a tree that nearly killed them at the start of the year but Harry, having figured out how to get under its branches, quite enjoyed the spot.
He released a long sigh, 'Why do I even bother with Lockhart's stupidity when what I really need is to learn stronger spells? Honestly if I'm supposed to be the wizarding world's weapon they could at least try to–'
Harry stopped that thought in its tracks. 'What am I thinking?! I don't deserve to be taught what I am learning. Let alone what I want to be learning.'
Minerva McGonagall was rather surprised when she saw Harry leave the Great Hall without speaking to anyone, 'I hope he isn't afraid that last night's incidents got spread over the school.' she thought quietly to herself.
Meanwhile Harry sat under the Whomping Willow thinking about how he should go to the library to research some information on their upcoming potions work. Contrary to popular belief Harry did like potions but he didn't like Snape.
The way the professor looked down on everyone who wasn't a Slytherin reminded him of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and how they held Dudley above all others. Especially him; after all, freaks weren't superior to anyone. And Dudley wasn't a freak; a fat Muggle and a bully, sure. But not a freak.
"Not like you." A cruel voice in Harry's mind hissed. Harry held back a flinch, but he knew the voice was right. He was just a freak. A good for nothing freak. Always had been, and always would be. Everyone would have been better off if he'd just died that night in Godric's hollow. He should have… then maybe his mum and dad would be alive.
Shaking off the monstrous voice hissing in his head, Harry collected himself. He had class. He had to go to class because otherwise McGonagall would suspect something, and then everything would get worse.
When Harry got to DADA he saw that the only remaining seat was beside Ron, so he took it and began to attempt any kind of learning in the 'class' taught by Gilderoy Lockhart. Quite a feat truly; it was almost as useless as trying to have a student from the class teach it.
Transfiguration was immediately after Defense for the second year Gryffindors; and it was arriving to Transfiguration that Hermione noticed that Harry wasn't with the rest of the Gryff's. But that was ridiculous because he had been in Defense, and Lockhart hadn't asked him to stay back, and Hermione was certain he wouldn't have of his own free will. So where was Harry?
She hadn't seen Harry since last evening though, and that was worrisome. It wasn't like Harry to not come to breakfast, and his lack of appearance had caused a tendril of fear to curl through Hermione and nest in the pit of her stomach. It was her greatest fear that whatever had gone on in that meeting he'd had would make him hate her. Hermione was a girl with so few friends; she couldn't bear to lose Harry. She just couldn't.
Hermione was relieved when Harry showed up to Transfiguration just as class was about to start. He decided to sit in the back today; there was a desk over in the back corner by itself that he rather liked. Harry pulled out his text book flipped it open to the pages they had been reading last class and did a quick skim-review to refresh his memory.
Professor McGonagall walked into the classroom at that moment; scanning the room briefly with her keen eyes to make sure no one was absent she began the lesson. 'At least he showed up for lessons.' She thought, relieved that he wasn't that alienated by the night before at least.
"Today we will be learning to transfigure a pocket watch into a pincushion. Now if you will please turn to page 278." she said and the lesson began.
Harry sighed in his head. He had read ahead in all his books and already understood the basic principles, but he figured that McGonagall would give him a better understanding. Taking up his quill he took notes on what she said on a piece of loose parchment.
Unknown to Harry, Minerva was watching him copying notes out of the corner of her eye. Which, she noted, other than Hermione he was the only one taking notes on the explanation. Harry, in fact, seemed to be writing more than Hermione.
By the end of class, Harry knew he was able to do the spell. He didn't though. He would get in trouble if he did better than the other Gryffindor boys, same way he always got in trouble for doing better than Dudley. He wished he was in Ravenclaw some days actually. They were kind to the wise and intelligent. Or in Hufflepuff where they were devoted to each other in success or failure.
From what he knew of them they accepted virtually everyone, and were kind to most. Hell even Slytherin seemed to be good to their own. Gryffindor though...they were nice and friendly; if you were good at Quidditch and not that good at academics. It was often a point of consternation for those like Hermione who ended up in the lions' den.
Harry may not be a Slytherin and he certainly didn't have any friends from that house...or any house really...except for his one true Gryffindor friend, Hermione. Sure he and Ron were mates, but Ron only wanted to know Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived; or Harry Potter, the youngest seeker in a century. Ron didn't want just Harry. No one in Gryffindor but Hermione seemed content with just Harry.
When McGonagall finally ended the class, Harry rapidly packed his things and was the first student out of the room. In his flight he missed the saddened look in Minerva's eyes, but she understood why. He was going to be jumpy around her for quite a while now, she'd wager.
All but running on his way to Charms, Harry hoped there would be another open seat alone in the back. Those seats were the best because they left the least openings around him. No one was behind him, and he could see most everyone else. It was good. The kind of feeling that gave him a sense of security, however falsified it was.
Charms did find Harry gaining another seat in the back, much to the raven-haired boy's relief. They were working on some fairly standard Charms, so Harry allowed himself to relax, just slightly, and enjoy the candour of Professor Flitwick's teaching. Flitwick was always jovial in his teaching, and sportingly answered any and all of Hermione's questions. Gryffindor had charms with the Hufflepuffs, so really Hermione was asking essentially all of the questions.
Finally it was lunch and most of the Gryffindor students were throwing paper air planes and birds up and down the table and laughing loudly at jokes. Hermione had eaten quickly and gone to the library as they had the next period free. Harry didn't eat anything though. He didn't deserve food, so he ate only when he had to. Besides it wasn't like food did much for him anyway, he had never eaten enough to need it.
Quietly excusing himself from the hall, Harry had returned to his spot from earlier under the Whomping Willow to begin his homework. Defense, the farce that it was this year, was finished quickly before Harry moved onto Charms and Transfiguration. By the end of his free period all of his homework was finished. Well unless he counted the homework Snape would undoubtedly assign the class.
Thinking of Snape, Harry got up and made his way to the dungeons for class. Once he got there about 3 minutes before the rest of the class he silently sat at the very back table, eyeing Snape briefly, who hadn't heard him come in. Seeing the bat-like professor either ignoring him or not having noticed him, Harry quietly pulled out the year's book and began to skim the potions.
When Severus eventually looked up he was startled to see Harry Potter of all people sitting in the very back of his classroom. The boy appeared to be working on reading up on today's potion. A scowl adorned Severus' features.
'Potter has never shown any interest in before… What is he playing at?' the professor thought cynically.
It was 5 minutes later, when the rest of the class filed in, that Severus rose and cleared his throat. "Today you will be mixing the potion to cure warts. The directions are on the board, I do hope you dunderheads can manage something so simple. Begin."
At Severus' command the class set to work immediately. Harry was meticulously working away at his potions, carefully following the procedure, and preparing the necessary ingredients with precision honed from years of having Petunia breathe down his neck while he cooked. However, as always, Harry made sure to skip a step close to the end of the period to mess up his potion.
At the end of class Snape descended upon the classroom, and vindictively swooped his way over to Harry's desk. Once more the bat of a man leered over Harry's cauldron and sneered, "And just what, Potter, is this supposed to be?"
Grimacing, Harry didn't meet the potion master's coal black eyes as he responded, "A cure for warts, sir."
Snape clucked his tongue, "Ten points from Gryffindor for this abysmal attempt at potion making." And with a flick of the hook-nosed man's wand Harry's potion was gone with no possibility of gaining marks.
Having already known this was coming, Harry made no attempt to argue with the point deduction. Although he was weary of the groan from Ron and Seamus at the other bench. They would, of course, just call Snape a git. But Harry knew he had messed up. And messing up deserved punishment.
(Time Skip)
It was nearly an hour later that Harry let out a sigh of relief as he arrived at his favourite spot by the Black Lake. Gazing out across the water his body didn't ache quite so much, and his worries seemed to lessen slightly.
Looking out over the calm waters Harry wondered aloud, "Why can't anyone ever just let me have one day where the other students don't get an excuse to stare or laugh at me?" He knew he was slowly let his many emotional walls fall down but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not here.
Hearing movement near-by, however, his walls were back up in full force instantaneously. Turning the bespectacled boy saw Hermione approaching him and internally winced. He felt bad for avoiding her all day, but he really hadn't wanted to be a bother.
"Harry!" She exclaimed as she caught sight of him. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you today!" He guiltily looked down before offering her a sheepish grin.
"Sorry 'Mione." He murmured before continuing more audibly. "I didn't know you were looking for me."
As she got closer, the girl sat down beside him and shook her head, "Oh, honestly Harry! How could you think I wouldn't be looking for you? You're my best friend!" she said the last part as though it explained everything. Harry felt simultaneously elated and guiltier at the declaration.
'Someone like Hermione deserves much better than a freak like me as a best friend.' He thought self-deprecatingly. Instead of answering her statement though, he instead cleared his throat and asked, "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
Brown eyes dropped to her lap before flickering up to meet green; Harry nearly gasped at the depths of emotion he saw reflected back at him. A dark voice hissed in his mind that he didn't deserve her concern, but he pushed the voice away in favour of listening to Hermione. "How-how did it go...last night, I mean?" she asked in a rush, anxiety colouring her tone.
Flushing at the reminder, Harry squeaked out, "I— it-it was fine Hermione. Really!" he added seeing the slightly disbelief in the face of his friend.
"That's great Harry!" Hermione said finally. "Are they going to let you live somewhere else then?" she asked, a hopeful sound to her question. Harry blinked, that had never actually been on the table from what he could tell, but then his shameful panic attack had sort of derailed everything anyway, he recalled embarrassedly.
"I'm, um, I'm not sure." He said finally, hating that he could see disappointment grow in Hermione's eyes. "I'm supposed to meet with McGonagall again though!" he added quickly, wanting more than anything to relieve Hermione's disappointment. He hated seeing his friend sad.
Seeing that it seemed to work, Harry continued more quietly. "Actually I'm, um, I'm supposed to go to her office again in half an hour." he said thinking of the note his professor had a house elf deliver to him shortly after potions. The parchment was still in his pocket; it read:
Mr. Potter,
Please come to my office this evening for 5 o'clock. I wish to further discuss the issues with your relatives. If you would be more comfortable you are welcome to bring one or two friends along.
If there are any complications with this please notify me, Mipsy will bring me a response if there is a complication.
Professor McGonagall
He had been so tempted to come up with a reason to avoid going; even if it was screwing up enough in potions to get detention. It still had to be a bit better right? Anything was better than explaining to a woman he respected why he was a freak. He just knew he would be expelled at the end of this.
Hermione drew him from his thoughts when she spoke again, "Well that's good, isn't it? That means that you'll be able to get away from those horrid people." Harry internally snorted at that. He wished, he really did, that Hermione was right. But he knew that wasn't possible. He deserved to be stuck at the Dursleys. He deserved everything they had ever done to him; it was simply how freaks were supposed to be treated.
Uncomfortable, Harry just nodded and then changed the topic to the classes they'd had that day. Hermione, though she noticed the diversion, let it go because it was so rare she got to gush about what they were learning. Part of her knew it was selfish to ignore Harry's hurt for this, but she also knew him well enough to know Harry did not like being forced to answer.
The pair stayed talking a long time, eventually having gotten side-tracked from academia into everyday life. Hermione giggled at Harry's stories of the boys' dorm; Ron's snores and Dean's sleep mumblings; Neville nearly falling as he got out of bed every morning. It was nice, Harry thought, to be able to talk about something less heavy for a little while.
Eventually time caught up with them though. It always did, though Harry was more loathe now than he already had been to let it. Sighing he turned to the girl beside him and spoke. "Er, sorry Hermione, but I should probably go back to the castle to, y'know, meet McGonagall…" he trailed off awkwardly.
Hermione offered him a reassuring smile. "It'll be okay, Harry." Harry didn't really believe her words, but he didn't have the energy to contradict them either.
Nodding absently as he stood Harry said, "I'll, uh, I'll catch up with you tomorrow. Okay?" the bushy haired girl nodded, and Harry took that as his signal to leave. He didn't know it, but worried brown eyes followed him as he left until he was no longer in view. Hermione sighed to herself. She was desperately worried about her friend, but there was nothing she could do about it accept to wait.
(Minerva McGonagall's Office; 1655hrs)
Harry once again found himself stood outside McGonagall's office. The sense of dread he had felt yesterday was in no way lessened. If anything Harry was sure he had felt more confident the previous time. Although he wasn't sure how, given it had been his fondest desire at the time to hide somewhere that he could never be found.
Swallowing and trying desperately to gather courage he wasn't truly convinced he had, Harry lifted his fist and gently rapped twice on the door. Harry would later be unsure whether the swiftness of response was a blessing or a curse. Minerva McGonagall opened the door mere moments after he had knocked, and seeing him allowed her features to soften.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter." she greeted politely before stepping to the side. Harry tried to quell his panic, but in the face of his formidable professor it was always easier said than done. Finding his voice was even more difficult, but he knew it would be rude not to respond, and so Harry found the nerve to stammer out, "H-hi Professor."
Minerva pointedly ignored his stutter and instead moved aside and invited him inside her office. As he passed her, Minerva sent a silent prayer to the old Celtic gods to give her strength. She was not a religious woman, but in these situations something in her Scottish upbringing made her hope those old legends held some grain of truth.
AN:/ Well hopefully that wasn't a miserable experience for you, although I do appreciate the nature of the story is not a happy one. I'm wary of making Harry seem whiny in any way, but well, one, he's twelve at this point so it's kind of expected but more importantly, it's been my experience that mental illness and depressive states of mind are like that. You simply cannot retain a state of contentment and happiness, and sometimes it does feel like you're always ragging on the same chain of thought. Let me know what you think. As always I appreciate any reviews, favourites etc.
Next Time: Round two with McGonagall. Is she really ready to discover what's underneath it all? Or will she even manage to make a chip in Harry's armour.
Until then,
~GGUC