Chapter 3

Harry loved music. Actually that was a bit of an understatement. He lived for music. It was the best way he had found to express himself accurately.

When he had gotten to his seat, which just happened to be at the front of the room, he sat calmly and waited for class to start. He couldn't wait. Soon after, the bell rang and the teacher, Ms. Stevens, stood up.

"Alright class. I'm sure that everybody already has already met Evan Black so I wont make him get up." several of the girls groaned in dissatisfaction. They wanted to hear him talk, even if they had already heard what he had to say.

"Now then. I will be assigning everybody to a partner. You will then work together for the next week and a half to write a song. It can be about anything you want, and everybody must participate." She finished speaking and smiled at the students looking at her in disbelief.

She pulled out an old baseball cap and dropped a stack of scrap paper into it. Harry assumed that names were written on them. She mixed it up, and then reached inside. A girl named Angela got paired with a boy named Tyler.

After about half the class had partners, Harry heard his name be called and looked up from studying his desk. The class held its breath.

"Jasper Hale." The portion of the class who had yet to be partnered groaned. They all wanted one of the two. Harry looked at the boy he had been paired with and was startled to see one of the students he had been staring at during lunch. It was, in Harrys mind, his punishment. Punishment for being a bloody hypocrite. It was, he noticed, the blond boy, and that he was once again staring at him curiously. It was like the boy thought he was a puzzle that had to be figured out.

Harry stood up and moved to sit with the boy, and he noticed that the rest of the class was looking at him like he was insane. He wondered absently what he had done but dismissed it.

"Apparently we are working together." he said softly as he sat down.

"So it would seem."

"I apologize for staring at you and your..." he trailed off uncertainly. He didn't know what they were to each other and didn't want to say anything stupid.

"They are my family. We were all adopted but Rosalie is my real sister." Jasper told him quietly.

"Then I apologize for staring at you and your family at lunch. It was rude of me." He told the boy.

"In that case I must also apologize, for we are also guilty." Harry smiled. He didn't really know why, but he liked this boy.

"Then it doesn't really matter. As both parties were in the wrong, then it shall be excused." Jasper started laughing quietly and Harry could feel his lips twitch into a half smile. "Evan." He held out his hand.

"Jasper." The other grasped it tightly, and Harry started at the temperature. The others hand was freezing. He had only felt skin like that once before... during the war. His eyes narrowed. He knew what they were... but he also knew the benefit of secrecy.

"We should discuss this project." He paused slightly. "What instruments do you play?" He had been about to ask if he played anything but had decided that it would be stupid of him.

"I learned piano from my brother Edward. But I also play the violin."

"I can play guitar and sing."

They talked about the assignment for the rest of the class, not that there was much left. Shortly after, the bell rang and Harry headed to gym.

Of course, he knew that he would have to be a moron to participate with wounds like his, so he cautiously approached the coach. He cleared his throat at the man when he didn't look up after several minuets.

"Oh are you the new kid?" he asked in a deep rumbling voice.

"Yes sir. Evan Black..." He hesitated slightly and tried to not fidget. "I need to inform you of my medical limitations for this class."

"Yes?" The man sounded like he was prepared for a story that could not be proved... like asthma or something. So Harry, with a sigh, reached for the bottom of his shirt and made to pull it up. "What are you doing boy?" the man was clearly shocked by his action.

"Sir it is easier to show you now and have you believe me than for you to think I am exagerating and have to go to the hospital before the end of class." Harry explained softly and watched in grim amusement as he paled. He got the ok in the form of a hand being waved. When he had pulled the shirt off all the way, the coach was gaping in undisguised shock and concern. "You see sir?"

"You will be required to dress out every day, but unless I get a doctors note then I cannot, in good conscience, let you participate."

"Perfectly understandable sir... Do you suppose I could get a uniform?" The man stood and unsteadily got him the clothes. Without another word, Harry turned and walked out of the office, not bothering to put his shirt back on. He ignored the stares of the other boys as he walked to an empty locker, and then as he changed. He walked out of the room silently and confidently several minuets later.

/

After sitting on the bleachers in gym for well the better part of an hour, people tend to get restless. And Harry Potter was no exception. As the class progressed, he started to fidget in his seat. You would think that he would have brought a book or something of the like with him to occupy himself... but sometimes Harry could be a bit... absentminded. So he sat there trying to not fidget to much, as that would most likely open his wounds. Needless to say, his attempts failed and he finally squirmed into a more comfortable position. He was leaning back on the seat behind him, with his right leg out strait and the left crossed over it. His arms were crossed behind his head.

It was comfortable for a few minuets before the metal pressed into his spine started to hurt. then he squirmed a bit more. Later reflection would show this to be a bad idea as he tore open his wound, in a spot close to the hip. He froze instantly, knowing what had happened. He had a short internal panic, in which he debated on whether he should inform the teacher or not, but eventually decided that the blood seeping through his clothes would tell the man anyway. So, with a sigh, Harry stood up and walked calmly to where the coach was standing.

"Sir?" He asked softly, gaining not only the mans attention, but also that of those nearby. Several students gasped at the sight of him.

"Yes? What is it Black?" It was obvious that the tall man hadn't noticed the blood yet.

"I need to go to the hospital as soon as possible." Was the calm response.

"What?" Harry gestured at the bottom of his shirt and Coach Clap gapped when he saw the amount of blood on the teens shirt.

"I moved wrong." He shrugged as if this was a common occurence, and to him it was.

The coach didn't verbally respond but pulled out his cell phone and dialed the office. After speaking quickly, the dark haired man hung up and gestured for Harry to follow him.

Harry, of coarse, did as was expected and walked into the locker-room behind his teacher, and being followed by the rest of the class. He was led to a bench and made to take his shirt off, which he did so dispassionately. Then a strong hand pressed a cloth firmly into the wound. Harry lay back on the bench and the cloth was pressed more firmly into his side. He didn't even flinch.

He lay like that for several long minuets, in which he ignored the staring of his classmates, until a boy with blonde hair ran in with a man in a paramedics uniform.

The man was quickly at his side and removing the bloody piece of fabric. As his injury was inspected, Harry absently started listing potions ingredients in his head. He snapped out of his daze when the man asked him what his name was.

"Evan Black." He answered easily. "And yours?" The tall man blinked a moment before answering.

"My name is Steve. Can you tell me what happened Evan?"

"I moved wrong." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and to him it was.

"That is not what I meant. How did you get this injury?"

"I was perfectly well aware of what you asked. and it is not your business what happened as it is neither here nor their." The paramedic didn't seem to know how to respond so he called his partner in and they attempted to pick him up and place him on the gurney.

"I am not an invalid! I will walk to the ambulance, not be carried." His voice was quiet, almost like a hiss. "If I require assistance, I will ask for it." All of those gathered around looked at him incredulously. He was bleeding profusely and he didn't want help? It made no sense. Harry stood and grabbed his school bag before turning and walking out the door the men had come in through. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he climbed in the back and sat on the bench on the side. He was followed shortly after by the empty gurney and the two paramedics. They left shortly after that, and Harry skillfully dodged all attempts to make him talk about his injury.

It did not take long to get to the hospital, as the town was so small. Upon arrival, Harry walked calmly through the emergency entrance, flanked by the other two. Once inside, he was met with a host of doctors, all asking questions. Harry, of coarse, hated being questioned and said nothing until they all shut up. But right as he was about to speak, he saw a familiar face.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Cullen."

"Ah Mr. Black, would you please tell me what exactly happened since I last saw you?" Harry noticed with a smirk that the Doctor had remembered the last conversation they had had.

"Not in the middle of the corridor I wont." He told the man. Yes, he would tell the man what had happened... or a version of it anyway, But not in front of everybody else.

Dr. Cullen nodded and began walking.

"Follow me and we will talk in my office while I stitch you up."

/

-end chapter 3

-I am not happy with this chapter. I got halfway in and then realized that I had messed up. So then I had to rewrite it.

-Anyway tell me what you think.