Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world. No, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters – I'm simply expanding on what she provides.
Summary: Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and, when he writes in it, he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less-than-suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.
Warnings: Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.
Harry tried to slip back into Gryffindor Tower unseen after his detention. Alas, it was not to be!
"He's alive!" Ron crowed from a couch near the fire, his tousled ginger hair just peeking over the back and clashing awfully with the deep red fabric.
Green eyes met mischievous blue and Harry flashed a smile at his red haired friend, making his way over to a vacant couch next to him. He slumped into it, feigning exhaustion. He was tired, to be honest. The last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster. But then again, when wasn't his life a rollercoaster?
Ron was a good friend, mostly. They'd had their ups and downs, of course. But, after the triwizard tournament in their fourth year, Ron had been a lot more reasonable, and they'd vowed not to let something like that come between them again. Ron was a good friend. He was simply unobservant.
And Harry couldn't blame him for that. They had grown up in entirely different worlds. Ron knew that the boy who lived didn't have the best home life. He knew that his family sucked and that he wasn't fed enough, always returning from summer a bit scattered and thinner than when the school year closed. Ron assumed that his green-eyed friend was probably slapped around a bit by his uncle. But, he couldn't imagine, in his worst nightmares, how bad the orphan truly had it.
In the Weasley household, the biggest complaint might be not having new robes, or having hand me down school books, or maybe not getting enough attention. Harry shivered at the thought – he couldn't imagine wanting more attention from his relatives. No, attention was bad. Being ignored was best.
And, to Ron's credit, he had asked Harry a few times about his home life and his family. At the beginning of their second year they'd had to break him out of his "prison" bedroom, for Merlin's sake. He wasn't completely ignorant. But Harry always brushed off his queries and concerns. Often becoming angry and going quiet for hours when Ron pushed too hard. The youngest Weasley boy had learnt not to pry beyond what Harry was comfortable with. Unfortunately, this meant that there was general acknowledge of the situation, but it was never discussed in detail.
"Where is everyone?" Harry queried, glancing around the suspiciously empty common room. Ginny and Hermione were half asleep on a sofa to closer to the stairs, the younger witch had a fashion magazine open on her lap, no doubt looking for ideas for what to wear to the ball, whereas Hermione was just closing what appeared to be an advanced arithmancy text.
The clever, muggleborn witch looked up at Harry's question, meeting his eyes with a tired smile. She flickered her wand and the time flashed in front of them, answering that question sufficiently. It was after 11pm.
Harry sighed and rested his head back against the couch, staring into the low burning fire in the hearth. "At least he let me brew the skelegrow. I can't afford to fail any more potions or I'll never get into the NEWT class."
"I feel like you've been in detention all year, mate. What's been going on?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the messy locks.
"Just a rough summer, mate. Sorry." His voice was strained. It was not entirely a lie. It had been a tough summer.
Ron's eyes filled with pity, then. What that was definitely not what Harry wanted or needed. That was half the reason he kept his mouth shut. He held back a flinch at the sympathetic gaze, reminding himself that this was the only way his friends knew how to show that they cared.
"Don't be sorry, Harry. We just miss you and are worried about you. You never hang out with us lately." Hermione stood and shifted to a closer seat, looking at Harry with wide, sympathetic eyes.
"Yeah, I know, 'Mione. I am trying to get my shit together. It's just taking a little longer than usual."
Ginny unfolded herself from the sofa she was on and stood to stretch a little. The red haired girl offered the trio a warm smile. "Well, I'm off to bed. See you guys tomorrow."
Ginny and Hermione had grown very close in the last few years. The youngest Weasley didn't have many friends in her year level, given the debacle of second year, and so she spent a lot of time with Hermione and the other sixth years. She was quick witted, smart and easy going. She fit well in the group and, although not as close to Harry as her older brother and best friend, she too knew that things weren't great for him over the summer.
The three friends said goodnight to Ginny and Hermione said she'd be up to the girls dorms shortly. Harry looked at his two best friends in the dim list cast by the fire, shadows licking over their faces in dancing light and dark.
"I think we should re-form the DA." He spoke softly, as if not wanting to wake anyone, even though there was nobody within earshot.
Hermione looked surprised at this non sequitur. "But we have Professor Lupin this year, and he's a great teacher."
"I know, 'Mione. there's a war going on. And Remus will teach us DADA under the school system, but he won't teach us how to fight." Suddenly, Harry looked very old – older than his teenage years. It struck Hermione how much he had gone through in his short life. And the darkness that lay ahead of them.
"Harry's right. Professor Lupin is awesome. But he's teaching us to be book smart, not street smart." Ron leant his lanky body forward on the couch he'd been curled up on, propping his elbows on his knees. He looked excited at the prospect of defence training, his pale blue eyes glinting in the semi-darkness.
Ron had grown up a lot in the last couple of years, both physically and emotionally. He was still impulsive and didn't always have a filter between his mind and his mouth. But, for the most part, he was a bit more considered. He was also brilliant at strategy and was an important planer in their DA sessions in the past. He now towered over most of the student body at 6', with more growing still to do. He hadn't filled out yet, though, all long limbs and bony joints. Like his brothers, it seemed, Ron was going to be tall and slim well into his twenties.
Hermione had grown up, too. She was now tall and slender, with only a slight curve to her hips and chest. Her hair hung in smooth, gentle waves down her back almost to her elbows. She currently matched Harry's height at 5'8", though probably weighed at least a stone or two more than the skinny, green-eyed boy.
Harry was shorter than many of his male classmates. He knew that both his parents had been tall. Perhaps he'd get a growth spurt this year.
He smiled at Ron's enthusiasm and nodded agreeably.
"How about we spend half a day or so planning things out in the Room of Requirement on the weekend? We can decide how it will run and plan out the first few sessions? Saturday afternoon, maybe? I know we need to study a lot this year, 'Mione, but we will find time. It doesn't have to be every week, even."
He could tell she was coming around to the idea – it wouldn't take much convincing. She stood and smiled at the two boys, shaking her head a little at their excitement.
"Okay, we'll have a brainstorm on Saturday and see if this is going to work. But, if our grades start slipping, we stop immediately."
"Yes, Hermione!" The boys chorused. They all stood now and headed up to their dorms.
The final day of his week of detentions with his dour potions professor found one Harry Potter forming a thick blue shield in front himself as the taller wizard threw a light incendio towards the green-eyed boy. He'd just finished reading a text on elemental magic the previous night and was now trying it out.
Elemental magic was not new, nor was it particularly complex – most fourth years could cast a half-way decent aguamenti or incendio, with a bit of practice. However, using it offensively or defensively was a completely different task. It didn't just require calling forth an element, but it also required direction and power and control.
Furthermore, Snape was casting non-verbally and encouraging him to "feel" the magic coming towards him, rather than relying on hearing the spell.
He was picking it up quite quickly, as he usually did when it came to combat magic. Some things came very easily to him, and others, like potions, were a challenge.
He watched the fire spell melt partway through his ice shield before fizzling out. The book had included a passing comment about there being a link between elemental magic and emotions, though it dismissed this as a wives tale. Harry was trying it out and found it did help, at least a little. He was better at the water and ice defenses if he thought about sad or upsetting memories. And his heat and fire spells seemed to be strengthened by anger, though he thought maybe overly happy emotions would do the same thing. Using anger to cast magic was not something he wanted to explore, really.
He cancelled the shield as his professor cast another spell. The wand movement was so subtle that he couldn't respond with a counter immediately as he didn't know what was coming. He waited, and watched the spell as it sped towards him, trying to feel the emotions and temperature behind it. When it was only maybe a metre away, he went with his instincts and slashed his wand horizontally in front of his body, angled slightly towards the ground, and hissed his counter spell. A wall of fire appeared between them, effectively negating the mini blizzard that was forming before him.
Before the spells had dissipated, the professor had already sent another attack, which Harry was unable to see through the fire. He tried to reach out and feel the magic coming towards him, but this spell wasn't something he had felt before. It almost felt like a confusion of three or four different, conflicting emotions and was gathering speed as it neared. He shook his head to clear the confusing emotions and focused on the energy building within himself. Again, he let his instincts guide him and he filled his mind with relaxing, calm thoughts. He flicked his wand, without thinking any spell in particular, and a wall of earth rose before him like a hill. He watched as the attack, a small tornado, it seemed, was diverted away by the earth. He cancelled the spell when it felt safe to do so, and immediately collapsed to the floor panting.
He watched Snape stride over to him and stopped himself from instinctually cowering through sheer willpower. He felt sweat dripping from his brow and the cool stones were a welcome relief under his sweaty palms. The former death eater smirked down at him, his voice laced with humor.
"You seem to be very much a natural at elemental magic, Mr. Potter. It will become easier and less tiring as your energy levels adjust to using it. And as you become more adept at understanding how much power you need to apply, rather than making a mountain instead of a molehill, for example. You are doing very well."
Harry smiled at that and pulled himself to his feet. That was high praise from the potions master. In fact, he almost seemed proud. The Slytherin never had anything nice to day. He glowed in the knowledge that he'd impressed the man.
The two wizards headed back to Snape's rooms, Harry hidden safely under his cloak. On arrival, a late supper appeared on the low table in the sitting room and the two men sat; Severus with a tumbler of whiskey at his left hand, and Harry with a pumpkin juice. The teenager broke the silence after they'd both began to eat.
"Ron invited me to The Burrow for Christmas. He does every year, but Dumbledore never lets me go."
Severus eyed the child, carefully masking his pity at the manipulations the boy who lived was subjected to by the interfering old coot. He didn't want to give the child false hope. And he knew the likely reason was that Harry's presence at The Burrow would put all of the Weasleys in danger. He delicately placed his tumbler back down on the table and leant back in his chair, eying the boy before him.
"I cannot see his answer changing, but there is no harm in asking. How are you feeling?"
Harry looked up in surprise, confused green eyes meeting an unreadable blanket of blackness across the table.
"Umm, fine, I think?"
Severus elegantly arched a brow and nodded pointedly at the teenager's plate.
Harry cast his gaze downwards and noticed, for the first time, that he had consumed half the light meal already. He blushed a little and rested his fork on his plate for a moment.
"Well, sir, you did request that I eat more." He flashed a cheeky grin and stabbed a potato dramatically.
"Indeed." The older wizard was, in fact, pleased at the appetite the child was displaying, if a little concerned at the sudden change.
"Do not make yourself sick, child. However, with the amount of magic you have used, you will need to replenish your energy. I loathe offering you a pepper up so close to bed time – the food may suffice."
Harry nodded in silent understanding but did not respond immediately. He seemed to be a little lost in his thoughts for a moment.
"I want to ask him about the diaries, too. Still don't know why he gave them to us?"
It was Snape's turn to blink slowly at the apparent change of subject. Though it only took him a scant second or two to piece together that the Gryffindor was talking about the headmaster once again. He raised an eyebrow once again and responded in an amused drawl.
"No, I don't know. I'm beginning to think he might be going barmy, though."
Harry snorted, "He's been going barmy for a long time!"
"Barmier, then."