Some time later he returned and lay back on his bed, hearing Ron's
satisfied snoring beside him. Again his stomach rumbled; he was seriously
considering casting a silencing charm on it. It was an odd tableau. People
would expect others in the dormitory to be awake, unable or unwilling to
sleep. The boy-who-lived, they would all say, should be sleeping
peacefully, dreaming of his happy life.
They probably wouldn't like the picture of Harry sprawled out on his bed looking sadly at his feet in their threadbare grey socks. 'Like elephant skin' said his mind, and he suddenly realised that they did.
"The elephant man" he said aloud, with a snort. "Giant fat feet with baggy skin. How fetching. . ."
Dragging himself to his feet and blinking his eyes against the sudden dizziness which overpowered him he padded quietly to the bathroom and removed his pajama top. His ribs protruded sharply from thin white skin, but all he saw was fat. Blubber; he saw his grossly oversized head stuck onto Dudley's body. Suddenly, to his eyes, his skin looked horrible. . .clammy, and monotone. He felt like he was trapped inside this skin; like it was overtaking him. Not even thinking, he scratched his nails down his arms, relishing the pain that it caused. The figure in the mirror grinned lopsidedly at him, and ran it's meaty fingers over the scratches. Harry's nails were long, and soon blood was running from the scratched in places. The pain felt good on his bloated skin.
Eventually he staggered back to his bed and slept as well as he could remember having done.
********************************************
The next morning they had double potions next. Ron said nothing to Harry, obviously seeing his non-appearance at breakfast as a personal insult. Hermione tried to make some sort of conversation but Ron didn't want to talk, and Harry felt too ill to participate. His arms throbbed and ached, and his inner voice was chastising him every time he felt a twinge of pain. He didn't know why he'd done it. Of all the stupid, unbalanced things to do. . .if anyone found out it would be so embarrassing. . .his thoughts were interrupted by Snape's arrival.
"Alright, cauldrons out, no notes, the recipe is on p254, now get on with it!"
He strode around the classroom glaring at the Gryffindors and giving house- points to the Slytherins. Harry was just about to add the final ingredient when Draco nudged him hard, sending the entire pot of Besselwood powder into the cauldron. It simmered and hissed, before solidifying into a thick black mass at the bottom of Harry's cauldron. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed like loons but Draco's smirk wasn't at the trouble the boy would be in with Snape. It was at the way he was holding his arm.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Snape wrinkled his nose.
"Longbottom! What have you done this time?" he asked, in a tone laced with resignation and annoyance. However Neville's potion wasn't wrong (yet). Snape looked around the classroom, his eyes resting on a smirking Malfoy. Smirking Malfoys were never good. Snape didn't particularly like the blond boy - in fact he couldn't stand him - but he had appearances to keep up. And if Draco was smirking, it was probably something to do with that wretched Potter boy.
The classroom was deadly silent as Snape stalked over to Harry's cauldron and looked inside for a long moment before fixing Harry with a sneer.
"I did not think even you, Potter, were inept enough to add a bottle instead of a teaspoon of Besselwood. You never cease to amaze me."
"Sorry, sir" said Harry, in a monotone. Had he not been the master of the blank expression Snape might have keeled over in a dead faint. As it was, he was just rendered speechless for a few moments, which he filled with a dark scowl. The boy did actually look contrite - there was no mockery on his face. How disturbing. . .
Snape swept away, taking 20 points from Gryffindor but feeling oddly unsatisfied.
**********************************
Harry turned the corner of the dungeons, having been late out cleaning his cauldron, to find himself at wandpoint. Malfoy smirked and beckoned.
"This way, Potter"
Harry obeyed, not knowing whether Draco could actually hurt him on school grounds but not wanting to find out the hard way. The Slytherin led him to a deserted room in the middle of the dungeons and locked the door behind him.
"How are you, Potter?" he asked, the grey eyes glistening coldly.
Unsure already, Harry shrugged.
"I'm fine, thank you, Malfoy."
"Ingero!"
"Aii! What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy?" asked Harry, hands covering his private parts. Malfoy had just stripped him. The Slytherin smirked.
"Oops, sorry. Must be a fault in the spell. . .but that doesn't explain your arms."
Harry went from red to white to green to red again.
"Now, I think we should make a little deal. Because. . .I now have two pieces of information the Prophet would kill to get their hands on. So. . .shall we bargain?"
Harry nodded mutely and Draco tossed him his robes back disdainfully. After dressing himself, Harry sank into a chair, still pale.
"Well, Potter, I don't know why I said bargain really. Basically, you will do whatever I want and I may refrain from telling the Prophet that the Golden Boy can't stand up for himself against his abusive relatives and that he cuts his arms. Do we have a deal?"
Feeling sick to his stomach Harry nodded.
********************************************
He was going to make a quick exit from the deserted classroom, but an authoritative snap of the fingers from Draco stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Excuse me, Potter, but I don't recall dismissing you. Total obedience, remember. . ."
Harry turned, head bowed in defeat. Some part of him knew that Malfoy would probably tell Skeeter anyway, but any chance was worth taking.
"Now. . .let's see. . .you can walk with me to Charms and carry my bag. Because it's very heavy."
"But I have History of Magic!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. You must have me confused with someone who cares. Move!"
Harry dragged Draco's bag all the way to the charms classroom, aware of the Slytherin adding weighting charms to it every few steps. He was also aware of the odd looks he was getting, though thankfully there weren't many people around. However rumours spread fast, especially in Slytherin, and everyone saw Harry give Draco's bag back to him outside the charms classroom.
Draco walked in smirking all over his face, and Pansy Parkinson simpered up at him,
"How did you do that, Draco?"
For once Draco relied civilly to her
"Oh, just a little Malfoy trick"
*********************************************
Binns thankfully didn't notice Harry's late entrance, but Hermione fixed him with a look that said they would be talking later. Ron gave him a half- smile across the room which Harry forced himself to return.
After the lesson Hermione collared him before he could escape and dragged him to the Hall, Ron following and smiling gormlessly. She sat him down and watched as he looked at her in confusion.
"Aren't you going to eat anything?"
Harry forced his face to remain calm even though his hart pounded and his stomach churned.
"Yes. . .aren't you?"
Suspiciously, Hermione put potatoes and chicken legs on her plate and began to eat. Harry took some potatoes and vegetable stew and lifted a forkful to his mouth. Would this work? He wondered. With his wand held carefully under the table he transfigured the potato into a speck of dust, and pretended to chew. Hermione looked satisfied and Harry repeated the process with most of his vegetable stew and potatoes. Knowing that the witch would be suspicious if he cleaned his plate - he'd never had much of an appetite - he left a little bit of food at sat back in his chair, sighing as though full, inwardly amazed at his acting skills.
Meanwhile at the staff table Snape was rubbing his eyes. He had just been glancing over the Gryffindor table, past the Weasleys stuffing their faces, to see Potter looking worriedly at his plate of potatoes and stew. The boy lifted a forkful of potato and then. . .it disappeared, before he put the empty fork in his mouth. Snape frowned and blinked slightly. It must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. . .how odd. . .
************************************
Harry sat with Hermione trying to make sense of the potions essay they had to write. As he watched Hermione poring over a huge book trying to research the uses of aconite in invisibility potions and Ron trying to read Quidditch Monthly surreptitiously he thought back to how it had been; how close they had been. He remembered the Philosophers Stone, when even the greatest danger they'd been in had been funny. Phrases whirled unbidden in his mind.
"Don't panic, Ron!"
"I think he's panicking. . ."
"Fire, oh, how can we build a fire?"
"Are you a witch or not?"
He was jerked out of his thoughts.
"Are you a wizard or not?"
He pushed Hermione gently out of the way and grabbed the book. Holding his wand in his left hand he whispered,
"Invenio uses of aconite"
The book slammed shut and opened at a new place, the page titled "uses of aconite". Hermione gaped, and was about to say something when screams were heard from the people nearest the Fat Lady. Loud thumps were coming from the other side of the common room door. Suddenly she swung open looking very miffed, and about twelve huge books flew across the room. Harry dived under the table and felt it shake as the books landed in a row. There was a rustle of pages, and when he emerged every book was opened at information on aconite and it's uses. One book, which looked like it had been hidden behind a shelf for a long time, contained an entire essay on why aconite was the best herb to use in invisibility potions. Hermione gaped at harry, and a grin stretched across her page as she picked up her arithmancy text.
"Invenio seven!" she cried, pointing her wand at the book, but it did nothing. She looked at Harry, confused.
"Maybe it only works with potions?" she said doubtfully. "Why don't you have a go?"
Harry held his wand in his left hand again.
"Invenio seven" he said, and the book instantly opened on a page giving all the uses of the number seven. Hermione stared at him.
"How much other magic like that can you do, Harry?"
Harry shrugged.
"I can do anything, if I put my mind to it. . ."
Hermione frowned.
"But there aren't spells for everything! For instance, you can't conjure items, or completely destroy them. That's just impossible!"
Harry shrugged.
"Do you know the spell to make items visible?"
Hermione nodded, her face tight.
"Cast it, just here, on the desk"
Hermione did. Nothing happened. Then Harry pointed his wand at the table, and shut his eyes in concentration. Slowly, a small chip of granite began to appear, as though through a cloud. Harry was sweating with the strain, as the stone grew and grew. Finally it stopped, being no bigger than a sickle in diameter, and Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted. Hermione gaped at him.
"Harry" she said in a timid voice, "Harry, I'm a little scared now. . ."
Harry frowned.
"It's only a little piece of magic, 'Mione."
"NO, Harry, it's NOT!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill. "It's impossible! Nobody could do that! Not Voldemort, not Dumbledore, not Grindlewald, not Flamel, not even Merlin!"
Harry swallowed.
"Harry, come with me" Hermione led him upstairs to the girls dorm and locked the door magically. "I need you to prove that you are really really magically able. I want you to try and apparate to the other end of the dorm."
Harry nodded, and closed his eyes, imagining himself at the other end of the room. He heard a small pop, and opened his eyes. Seven feet away, at the other end of the dormitory, Hermione was crumpling into a dead faint.
They probably wouldn't like the picture of Harry sprawled out on his bed looking sadly at his feet in their threadbare grey socks. 'Like elephant skin' said his mind, and he suddenly realised that they did.
"The elephant man" he said aloud, with a snort. "Giant fat feet with baggy skin. How fetching. . ."
Dragging himself to his feet and blinking his eyes against the sudden dizziness which overpowered him he padded quietly to the bathroom and removed his pajama top. His ribs protruded sharply from thin white skin, but all he saw was fat. Blubber; he saw his grossly oversized head stuck onto Dudley's body. Suddenly, to his eyes, his skin looked horrible. . .clammy, and monotone. He felt like he was trapped inside this skin; like it was overtaking him. Not even thinking, he scratched his nails down his arms, relishing the pain that it caused. The figure in the mirror grinned lopsidedly at him, and ran it's meaty fingers over the scratches. Harry's nails were long, and soon blood was running from the scratched in places. The pain felt good on his bloated skin.
Eventually he staggered back to his bed and slept as well as he could remember having done.
********************************************
The next morning they had double potions next. Ron said nothing to Harry, obviously seeing his non-appearance at breakfast as a personal insult. Hermione tried to make some sort of conversation but Ron didn't want to talk, and Harry felt too ill to participate. His arms throbbed and ached, and his inner voice was chastising him every time he felt a twinge of pain. He didn't know why he'd done it. Of all the stupid, unbalanced things to do. . .if anyone found out it would be so embarrassing. . .his thoughts were interrupted by Snape's arrival.
"Alright, cauldrons out, no notes, the recipe is on p254, now get on with it!"
He strode around the classroom glaring at the Gryffindors and giving house- points to the Slytherins. Harry was just about to add the final ingredient when Draco nudged him hard, sending the entire pot of Besselwood powder into the cauldron. It simmered and hissed, before solidifying into a thick black mass at the bottom of Harry's cauldron. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed like loons but Draco's smirk wasn't at the trouble the boy would be in with Snape. It was at the way he was holding his arm.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Snape wrinkled his nose.
"Longbottom! What have you done this time?" he asked, in a tone laced with resignation and annoyance. However Neville's potion wasn't wrong (yet). Snape looked around the classroom, his eyes resting on a smirking Malfoy. Smirking Malfoys were never good. Snape didn't particularly like the blond boy - in fact he couldn't stand him - but he had appearances to keep up. And if Draco was smirking, it was probably something to do with that wretched Potter boy.
The classroom was deadly silent as Snape stalked over to Harry's cauldron and looked inside for a long moment before fixing Harry with a sneer.
"I did not think even you, Potter, were inept enough to add a bottle instead of a teaspoon of Besselwood. You never cease to amaze me."
"Sorry, sir" said Harry, in a monotone. Had he not been the master of the blank expression Snape might have keeled over in a dead faint. As it was, he was just rendered speechless for a few moments, which he filled with a dark scowl. The boy did actually look contrite - there was no mockery on his face. How disturbing. . .
Snape swept away, taking 20 points from Gryffindor but feeling oddly unsatisfied.
**********************************
Harry turned the corner of the dungeons, having been late out cleaning his cauldron, to find himself at wandpoint. Malfoy smirked and beckoned.
"This way, Potter"
Harry obeyed, not knowing whether Draco could actually hurt him on school grounds but not wanting to find out the hard way. The Slytherin led him to a deserted room in the middle of the dungeons and locked the door behind him.
"How are you, Potter?" he asked, the grey eyes glistening coldly.
Unsure already, Harry shrugged.
"I'm fine, thank you, Malfoy."
"Ingero!"
"Aii! What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy?" asked Harry, hands covering his private parts. Malfoy had just stripped him. The Slytherin smirked.
"Oops, sorry. Must be a fault in the spell. . .but that doesn't explain your arms."
Harry went from red to white to green to red again.
"Now, I think we should make a little deal. Because. . .I now have two pieces of information the Prophet would kill to get their hands on. So. . .shall we bargain?"
Harry nodded mutely and Draco tossed him his robes back disdainfully. After dressing himself, Harry sank into a chair, still pale.
"Well, Potter, I don't know why I said bargain really. Basically, you will do whatever I want and I may refrain from telling the Prophet that the Golden Boy can't stand up for himself against his abusive relatives and that he cuts his arms. Do we have a deal?"
Feeling sick to his stomach Harry nodded.
********************************************
He was going to make a quick exit from the deserted classroom, but an authoritative snap of the fingers from Draco stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Excuse me, Potter, but I don't recall dismissing you. Total obedience, remember. . ."
Harry turned, head bowed in defeat. Some part of him knew that Malfoy would probably tell Skeeter anyway, but any chance was worth taking.
"Now. . .let's see. . .you can walk with me to Charms and carry my bag. Because it's very heavy."
"But I have History of Magic!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. You must have me confused with someone who cares. Move!"
Harry dragged Draco's bag all the way to the charms classroom, aware of the Slytherin adding weighting charms to it every few steps. He was also aware of the odd looks he was getting, though thankfully there weren't many people around. However rumours spread fast, especially in Slytherin, and everyone saw Harry give Draco's bag back to him outside the charms classroom.
Draco walked in smirking all over his face, and Pansy Parkinson simpered up at him,
"How did you do that, Draco?"
For once Draco relied civilly to her
"Oh, just a little Malfoy trick"
*********************************************
Binns thankfully didn't notice Harry's late entrance, but Hermione fixed him with a look that said they would be talking later. Ron gave him a half- smile across the room which Harry forced himself to return.
After the lesson Hermione collared him before he could escape and dragged him to the Hall, Ron following and smiling gormlessly. She sat him down and watched as he looked at her in confusion.
"Aren't you going to eat anything?"
Harry forced his face to remain calm even though his hart pounded and his stomach churned.
"Yes. . .aren't you?"
Suspiciously, Hermione put potatoes and chicken legs on her plate and began to eat. Harry took some potatoes and vegetable stew and lifted a forkful to his mouth. Would this work? He wondered. With his wand held carefully under the table he transfigured the potato into a speck of dust, and pretended to chew. Hermione looked satisfied and Harry repeated the process with most of his vegetable stew and potatoes. Knowing that the witch would be suspicious if he cleaned his plate - he'd never had much of an appetite - he left a little bit of food at sat back in his chair, sighing as though full, inwardly amazed at his acting skills.
Meanwhile at the staff table Snape was rubbing his eyes. He had just been glancing over the Gryffindor table, past the Weasleys stuffing their faces, to see Potter looking worriedly at his plate of potatoes and stew. The boy lifted a forkful of potato and then. . .it disappeared, before he put the empty fork in his mouth. Snape frowned and blinked slightly. It must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. . .how odd. . .
************************************
Harry sat with Hermione trying to make sense of the potions essay they had to write. As he watched Hermione poring over a huge book trying to research the uses of aconite in invisibility potions and Ron trying to read Quidditch Monthly surreptitiously he thought back to how it had been; how close they had been. He remembered the Philosophers Stone, when even the greatest danger they'd been in had been funny. Phrases whirled unbidden in his mind.
"Don't panic, Ron!"
"I think he's panicking. . ."
"Fire, oh, how can we build a fire?"
"Are you a witch or not?"
He was jerked out of his thoughts.
"Are you a wizard or not?"
He pushed Hermione gently out of the way and grabbed the book. Holding his wand in his left hand he whispered,
"Invenio uses of aconite"
The book slammed shut and opened at a new place, the page titled "uses of aconite". Hermione gaped, and was about to say something when screams were heard from the people nearest the Fat Lady. Loud thumps were coming from the other side of the common room door. Suddenly she swung open looking very miffed, and about twelve huge books flew across the room. Harry dived under the table and felt it shake as the books landed in a row. There was a rustle of pages, and when he emerged every book was opened at information on aconite and it's uses. One book, which looked like it had been hidden behind a shelf for a long time, contained an entire essay on why aconite was the best herb to use in invisibility potions. Hermione gaped at harry, and a grin stretched across her page as she picked up her arithmancy text.
"Invenio seven!" she cried, pointing her wand at the book, but it did nothing. She looked at Harry, confused.
"Maybe it only works with potions?" she said doubtfully. "Why don't you have a go?"
Harry held his wand in his left hand again.
"Invenio seven" he said, and the book instantly opened on a page giving all the uses of the number seven. Hermione stared at him.
"How much other magic like that can you do, Harry?"
Harry shrugged.
"I can do anything, if I put my mind to it. . ."
Hermione frowned.
"But there aren't spells for everything! For instance, you can't conjure items, or completely destroy them. That's just impossible!"
Harry shrugged.
"Do you know the spell to make items visible?"
Hermione nodded, her face tight.
"Cast it, just here, on the desk"
Hermione did. Nothing happened. Then Harry pointed his wand at the table, and shut his eyes in concentration. Slowly, a small chip of granite began to appear, as though through a cloud. Harry was sweating with the strain, as the stone grew and grew. Finally it stopped, being no bigger than a sickle in diameter, and Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted. Hermione gaped at him.
"Harry" she said in a timid voice, "Harry, I'm a little scared now. . ."
Harry frowned.
"It's only a little piece of magic, 'Mione."
"NO, Harry, it's NOT!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill. "It's impossible! Nobody could do that! Not Voldemort, not Dumbledore, not Grindlewald, not Flamel, not even Merlin!"
Harry swallowed.
"Harry, come with me" Hermione led him upstairs to the girls dorm and locked the door magically. "I need you to prove that you are really really magically able. I want you to try and apparate to the other end of the dorm."
Harry nodded, and closed his eyes, imagining himself at the other end of the room. He heard a small pop, and opened his eyes. Seven feet away, at the other end of the dormitory, Hermione was crumpling into a dead faint.