Disclaimer In chapter 1

A/N- Slightly happier chapter. Not as dark. Point of view changes a bit, sorry if it gets confusing.

-

Home

Harry struggled through the snow, creating a wide path, and made it out of the forest. He was still in an unbelievable amount of pain, but he wasn't dead, and for once in his several month imprisonment, he was glad he was still among the living. The icy snow burned at his sides as he pushed his way through it. He felt sore all over, and wouldn't be surprised if his head exploded from the throbbing headache he got from the cold; Snape's heating spell had worn off, and Harry was wearing nothing but torn, ragged robes.

He made it to the Whomping Willow that immediately started thrashing it's limbs threateningly once Harry was in reach. He stayed out of the way, and raised a long branch he had gotten from the forest to press the knot of the tree. It froze, allowing Harry to scramble to it's roots and through the hole to the passageway that would lead him to the Shrieking Shack.

Not forgetting Snape's warning, he kept his wand in his hand, lighting it when darkness overcame him. He kept his eyes peeled at every turn, squinting in the wavering wandlight for some sign of movement in the passageway ahead, but nothing came. His back began to ache from staying crouched constantly, and he could feel his strength starting to wane slowly. He had to stop and rest at a few points, sucking in the stuffy air in the tunnel.

After what seemed like an eternity, he made it to the end of the tunnel and out into the darkness of the Shrieking Shack. He pulled himself out through the hole and collapsed on the dust-covered floor, his legs still in the tunnel, catching his breath. He mopped his hair out of his eyes and breathed deeply. Small wisps of air were leaking through the cracks in the walls, chilling the house and allowing several snow flakes onto the floor. Harry didn't feel like moving too much; he was fine with just staying there. He was completely exhausted, and just stared at the ceiling. He noticed the many cobwebs on the Shack's ceiling, linking together the thick wooden beams.

His wand still clutched in his hand, he drifted into a light sleep, focused on one thing. He was free.

-

Harry didn't know how long he slept for, but he knew he awoke from a distant sounding pop! Opening his tired eyes he saw a familiar white beard and half-moon spectacles. Immediately a feeling of warmth and comfort spilled over Harry. Dumbledore extended his hand towards him, which he took gratefully. The headmaster raised the boy to his feet, his eyes scanning over the ragged form.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry croaked, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

"Harry."

Harry watched the emotions flit across the old man's face. The full impact of what he had just been through slammed into Harry like a freight train. He found himself in a tight embrace with Dumbledore, the first he had ever shared with his headmaster, his head pressed into the silk fabric of the man's dark blue robes.

Harry effectively contained the howl of anguish that was trying to escape his weak form. It had been too much. Harry had acted bravely during his imprisonment, but now that he was free, he no longer needed to mask his emotions. The hug with his headmaster managed to relieve Harry, and give him a new spurt of courage. He had survived. He would leave now.

They separated, and Harry caught Dumbledore wiping a tear from his eye.

No words were exchanged as Dumbledore reached into his pocket and withdrew a candy wrapper. Harry took it in his hand, and felt the familiar tug behind his navel, meaning it was a portkey. Dumbledore disappeared in a swirl of color, and suddenly Harry found himself face down on a dirty wooden floor, catching his breath.

"Harry!" someone nearby shrieked. Harry, who had just stood up, went reeling backwards into a sink as someone slammed themselves into him, hugging him round the midriff.

"Ow! Watch it!" Harry said, prying the figure from him. "Hermione?"

Hermione's round hazel eyes shone with tears. She threw her arms around his neck again, and sobbed into his shoulder. Harry felt himself stiffen unconsciously. For months he had been dreaming of this moment, envisioning it in his mind's eye, and now that it was happening he was in shock.

"Harry?" a tired voice said from the doorway.

"Ron!" Harry shouted as a redhead appeared in the kitchen.

Ron's eyes widened in shock as he took in Harry's appearance. "Bloody hell," Harry heard him whisper. Nonetheless, he strode across the kitchen and held Harry in a rough one-armed hug. "We thought we'd never see you again," he admitted.

Harry nodded. "I didn't think I'd make it out of there alive."

"From what Professor Snape has told me," a voice said from the doorway, Harry turned to see Dumbledore striding in, "you nearly didn't."

Harry held Dumbledore's eye contact for a moment before looking away, finding a spot on the floor to stare at. He didn't feel ready to tell them about the vision he had when he was dying. He couldn't before he understood it himself. He moved away from them.

Harry knew what Dumbledore wanted. He wanted Harry's story. But Harry wasn't ready to give it. He had only just left that place. They would have to wait.

"Is there a room where I can rest?" he asked, his voice suddenly drained of emotion.

Hermione immediately sprang into action, leading Harry to a room at the back of the house. It was small, with a single window, but it had a bed and a dresser and that's all that Harry really needed. He thanked Hermione, and assured her that he was okay before falling back onto the bed.

He stiffened. He hadn't been in a bed for months. He wasn't sure that this was real, and felt as though if he enjoyed it, it would all disappear.

He had longed for a bed all those nights in the dungeon, but now he felt as though he would be much better off without it. He rolled off of it onto the creaky floor, and crawled to the corner where he sat with his back to the wall.

He would just have to take it slowly. One step at a time.

His head drooped on his shoulder as sleep rolled over him.

-

Hermione had listened to all that Dumbledore had to say after she had shown Harry his room, and now, nearly an hour after the headmaster had left, she still couldn't believe it. The same question kept running cartwheels in her head. How had Harry survived the Killing Curse? He should have died tonight. . . .

After a long while of feeling useless sitting in the kitchen, she got up and announced to Ron that she was going to bring Harry some extra blankets. She collected them from the closet, and silently entered Harry's room. When she saw the bed empty, a fresh wave of panic rushed over her until she spotted the crouched figure in the corner.

"Oh, Harry," she groaned. He had been unable to sleep in the bed. What had those fools done to him? She couldn't even begin to wonder how much they had hurt him, how he had been traumatized so much that he could no longer relax in the soft cushions of a bed.

She opened a blanket and laid it gently around Harry, tucking it in behind him. He groaned, and a pained expression overtook his features as she heard him audibly moan, "Sirius! Get him! Save him! He's only just gone through!"

Hermione stepped back, a fresh wave of rage rushing over her. She looked as the boy turned his head and a tear drop spilled from his closed eye. She turned and left the room.

"How is he?" Ron immediately greeted her when she had closed Harry's door.

"He's sleeping on the ground, in the corner," Hermione responded.

Ron stared at her in shock for a moment, and then turned away, running a hand through his already messy red hair. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he grumbled.

"When I tried to hug him earlier he stiffened," Hermione informed him. "And did you see how he changed the subject when Dumbledore came in?"

"Well can you blame him? He's just gotten out of that bloody hell-hole, and already Dumbledore wants to question him."

"We need to know what happened though!" Hermione said, defending her headmaster.

"Hermione!" Ron nearly shouted. "Those memories aren't going to fade anytime soon! I assure you, in several months Harry will still be thinking about his days there. He won't forget it. We just need to give him time to settle in."

Hermione knew this. Hell, everyone knew this. When Harry was ready to talk, then they'd talk; she wasn't going to force it out of him.

"Hermione? Ron?" a voice said from down the hall.

Hermione turned to see Ginny stumbling along. "Go back to sleep, Ginny," Ron said.

"It's morning though," Ginny pointed out. Hermione looked at the window. She was right, the sun was rising.

"Then go to the kitchen and wait for everyone else to get up. We need a group meeting," Hermione said.

Ginny frowned at her. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Ron said quickly. "We'll explain later."

Ginny frowned at them for a moment longer, and then walked past them muttering something about secrets.

Hermione went back to her own room to catch at least an hour of sleep. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.

-

Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, dragging his finger around the rim of a steaming cup of coffee. On the opposite side of him Ginny sat munching on her toast, her eyes locked on him.

"Have you slept at all?" she demanded.

"No," Ron admitted.

"You should try to get some sleep," Ginny said, sounding very much like her mother.

"I will," Ron said, watching his drink.

Ginny watched him for a moment longer before picking up an old Daily Prophet from the ground. She flipped it open and skimmed over the articles.

Ron was lost in thought again. When Hermione had said that Harry was sleeping on the ground, Ron found that he couldn't quite grasp the concept. Harry, the brave, valiant Gryffindor, was cowering in a corner. Harry, the brilliant Quidditch Seeker, the Boy Who Lived, Ron's best friend, had lost his courage. With a mixture of pity and rage bubbling up inside of him, he had gone to fix a cup of coffee and sat at the table, where he was now.

Nearly an hour later, Dean and Seamus made an appearance in the kitchen, both groggy-eyed, and sat at the table as well. Neville came out too, and grabbed a piece of toast from Ginny's stack. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown followed and sat down next to Ron, who told them all to stay there, and went to fetch Hermione. She was coming out of her room and looked as though she hadn't slept at all.

"Everyone's awake," Ron announced.

Hermione yawned. "Okay. So should we just lay the ground-rules for how people should act around Harry or what?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess. Dumbledore said no one should talk to Harry about his ordeal until Harry wants to talk."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "All right, let's go."

Ron followed her back to the kitchen where their house-mates were all talking quietly. Ron stood off to the side as Hermione caught their attention.

"Everyone," she said when every eye was on her, "Harry escaped from Hogwarts last night."

An excited murmuring began instantly, a hopeful look in Ginny's eyes as they darted from Hermione to Ron and then back to Hermione.

"He's here, in the house. Asleep at the moment," Hermione continued. "And Professor Dumbledore doesn't want any of us to bother him about what happened. He's pretty sick right now, so we need to heal him first. I don't want anyone to talk about the last few months in his presence. Understand?"

Everyone nodded.

"Good," Hermione said, giving everyone a stern look. "Resume your breakfast."

She turned from the kitchen and Ron followed her.

"Should we check on Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. They reached the bedroom door, and Hermione's hand hovered above the doorknob. Ron could tell she was gathering her strength to see Harry again. He gave her an encouraging look, and she turned it slowly, pushing open the door.

"Don't hurt me!" a frightened scream came from inside the room as soon as the door had swung open. Hermione lit her wand as Ron proceeded to light several candles in the room.

"We're not going to hurt you, mate," Ron said. Hermione's beam of light fell on Harry's form still crouched in the corner, the blanket crumpled off to the side. The boy was shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.

"Get away from me," he hissed as Hermione took a step towards him.

"Harry, we're here to help you," Hermione said soothingly, "It's us, Hermione and Ron. You left Hogwarts last night. You're probably just disoriented now. Dumbledore said it could happen. Just calm down, Harry."

Harry, breathing hard, slowly lowered his hands and squinted at Hermione.

"That's right," Hermione said.

"Hermione?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's me Harry," she assured him.

"Ron?"

"I'm here, mate," Ron said.

Harry rubbed his temples. "I—I thought it was a dream," he said. "I thought you were Death Eaters coming to torture me again. I forgot that I had left. . . ."

Hermione and Ron shared a glance. Ron saw Hermione visibly cringe. Neither of them knew quite what to say.

Harry spared them the pain of answering by getting to his feet unsteadily. It gave Ron something to do as he rushed forward to keep his friend from falling.

"I guess I was going on adrenaline yesterday," Harry said. "I feel worse today."

"Just lie on the bed, Harry. We have to heal you," Hermione said.

Ron helped Harry into the bed.

"Snape told Dumbledore that you had a broken rib," Hermione said.

"I did," Harry said, "but I think Snape's potions fixed it."

"Just as well, I think I should cast my own charms just to make sure."

Harry eyed her suspiciously. "Since when have you had a talent for healing?"

"Since I've been cooped up here with nothing to do but read," Hermione said impatiently.

Ron smiled. Hermione had been reading a lot. He hadn't really noticed what she had been reading, but now he guessed it had been books on healing charms.

Harry easily ripped the thin robes open partially, exposing his bruised chest. Hermione gasped. Ron looked at how his ribs were protruding from his chest and how his stomach seemed to have been sucked in. There was a large purple bruise across the skin, and one of the ribs seemed slightly twisted. Scratches coated his body, some still dripping blood. Harry looked down at himself sadly.

"I guess Snape's potions didn't manage to heal everything," he said.

Hermione shared a worried look with Ron before moving over Harry. Ron saw the trust in Harry's eyes as he watched Hermione place her wand tip to his twisted rib. She muttered something inaudible, and a warm glow appeared on the spot. The rib looked like it was moving painfully, but in a moment it was strait. Hermione looked at Harry worried.

"Did it hurt?" she asked.

"No," Harry smiled. Hermione seemed to get strength from that. They hadn't really seen Harry smile since he had gotten there.

Hermione proceeded to heal Harry's bruises; Harry ended up closing his eyes and almost falling asleep. She then left the room as Ron brought in some extra robes for Harry to change into.

"You need to eat," Ron said, helping Harry into the robes. "You look like a skeleton."

Harry made an indistinct sound in his throat as he took his wand from the bed-side table and put it in his pocket. He made for the door, but then stopped and looked back at Ron.

"Who else is here?" Harry asked. "Who else is staying in this house?"

"All of the Gryffindor Sixth years," Ron said, "and Ginny."

Harry turned back to the door. "Is there a way out without passing them? I want some time outside."

"There's no back door," Ron said simply. He watched as Harry spun around and strode past Ron to the window. He wrenched it open letting a gust of wind blow several snowflakes inside the room. "What are you doing?" Ron asked. "I think you have to rest."

"I told you. I want some time outside," Harry responded. He swung his leg over the window sill and looked back to Ron. "Tell Hermione I'm asleep. I don't want company now."

Ron watched as his best friend didn't bother to wait for an answer and slipped outside, falling into the fresh snow just beneath the window. Harry closed the window slightly and then disappeared from Ron's sight.

Ron stood there for a moment. So this was how it would be. Harry was going to isolate himself. . . again. Ron wanted his friend to talk about what had happened, but he had said it himself, he didn't like the idea of people questioning Harry so soon after the ordeal. Not while the pain was still fresh.

He turned from the room and opened the door.

No, not when the wounds were still healing. Later they would talk, but not now.

Ron disappeared from the room, closing the door behind him.

When he was ready, he would talk.

-

A/N- Next chapter will be completely Harry's POV. I want it to be that way for the rest of the story, except for one scene that I have planned out in my twisted little mind.

As you might have gathered from this pitiful chapter, my muse still hasn't returned. I'll keep looking though.

A lot of your questions will be answered in later chapters.

Peace