Disclaimer: Harry and Sirius and Remus and Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey and Hogwarts and Snape aren't mine. Neither is anything else you may recognize as being from Harry Potter. It's not all that hard to figure out.

A/N: Sorry that this took so long to get out, and that it's so short- I've been rather uninspired, and when my Muse did deign to favor me with his presence, it was in the form of short pieces on the Marauders, or some help in my most ambitious project- a sixth year novel-length fic. I've got it planned out, but am only on the third chapter. I won't post any of it until I'm more than halfway through, so don't hold your breath.

Thanks to all of my reviewers- your feedback was what mostly made me spit this chapter out. I don't normally do individual responses, but in answer to a few questions:

Iko Baby: I came up with the idea for this story out of nowhere. It has no plan, or shape, and is mostly just spitting out what comes to my mind.

PixieDust590: I just turned fifteen.... And long reviews are excellent!!! Glad you like it so far...


*******
They tell me I have to leave eventually. Madame Pomfrey, saying in her no-nonsense tones that of course I need to rejoin the real world- Sirius coaxing, Professor Lupin calmly stating facts in that professor's manner. Dumbledore with his goddamn eyes glittering at me- I always thought they were twinkling before, but the memory of glittering red eyes is too firmly etched in my memory, overriding the pale blue orbs.

I curl up tightly and close my eyes, refusing to speak to them. I won't rejoin the world- I don't think myself capable of it. I can't even think about the eyes on me without wanting to scream. I don't, though- I'll never scream again, if I can help it. Although the annoying part of me that's become sarcastic and cynical is pointing out that I may not have much of a choice, considering my track record.

It's safer in bed. Even when my bed consisted of a cot in a cupboard, I knew that it was safer in bed. Pulling my tattered blanket up around my ears to keep out the bogeyman... I wonder if I couldn't just live out the rest of my life in a bed, secluded and sheltered, away from the glittering eyes of strangers and friends alike. Eyes that judge what they have no right to, that pry and damn and pierce through my hard-earned walls. I wonder if there is a spell that could cut out the eyes of every living being, so that no one could ever twinkle or glitter with joy or malice.

Harry, come on. You're not four. Sirius says, and I wonder for an instant if I couldn't be four if I tried hard enough. Sink into my childhood like a body into quicksand, losing myself to the tugging of the sand and the feel of my own impending demise. I'd die by aging backwards, drift into infancy and then back to being an embryo, until I sink away into nothing, awaiting a passionate night between two people long dead. It would be nice to be a child again, though, even if only for a day or an hour. Even as a childhood, living with the Dursleys, I believed in the overall good nature of the universe. Thought that true evil could always be vanquished, that ever story had a happily-ever-after.

I refuse to respond to my godfather, rolling on my side so I'm facing the wall, and don't have to look at the pale blue eyes that beseech me to be something I don't think I could ever be again. I'm not sure if I even remember who that someone was- I only know that the expectations those eyes hold are as unattainable as the idea of grasping a star in hand. I don't want to see what I have to measure up to, nor the disappointment when I once again prove myself incapable. I am nothing but a child, and they cannot ask more... But they will. They always do.

Mr. Potter, this is ridiculous! There is nothing more I can do for you here! Madame Pomfrey is scolding me. I'm so used to being scolded that I don't even flinch, imagining my Aunt's frigid, hate-filled glare, Professor Snape's calculated sneer. She cannot do worse to me than I've already lived through. I refuse to listen... I refuse to hear.

Harry, look at it logically- you are going to have to face the world eventually. This way, you'll be better prepared to start lessons next term. Your roommates have already been briefed on the situation. It's the best deal you're likely to get. Oh, sweet professor. I refused to be swayed by your logic and reasoning- logically, I should be fully healed by now. Logically, I should never have been kidnapped in the first place. Logically, there is no more meaning to this thing we call life than a string of numbers in a scientific formula, and maybe a few latin phrases to imbue magic to the wizards. Logically, none of this matters at all.

My eyes are shut tightly, but I still see things. My mother's eyes, and my fathers, disappointed and pained. Sirius's eyes, and Lupin's, Dumbledore's blue and Snape's black. I can see the eyes of everyone and they're all watching me, in unthinking awe or unyielding derision. I can't look at them, any of them, and I cannot face them without crying... I never cry, and I won't scream again, but one look in someone's fright-filled face and I'll collapse.

I don't want to collapse. I don't want to implode. I don't want to lose everything that makes me me and end up and empty shell, crushed by the forces of the world. I feel like I'm sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and with each foot I fall more weight presses on me, until eventually I'll be crushed flat, like a beer can on a fratboy's forehead. Empty and drained, drowned and destroyed by the pressure of Dumbledore's glittering gaze.







Mr. Potter-

And on and on and on, until my ears are ringing with the sound of my name and the prospect of forgetting myself is more unlikely than anything. I think for an instant of what it would be like to forget who I was, then realize that it's already happened, and I don't know who am or what I'm doing or how to get out of this goddamned bed... I realize I don't know anything about me except for the fact that I can't- I can't- I can't-

They're leaving, I can hear it and feel it and I know that I'm about to be left on my own, by myself, alone with the eyes that won't look away, even for so much as a second, that won't blink or tear up or loosen their hold on me. I whimper pathetically, an animal caught in my own trap, and am ashamed at how gratefully I am when Sirius and Professor Lupin return. Sirius grabs my hand and holds on tightly, and Lupin settles at my side, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my eyes.

I sigh at the feeling of another person's hand on my trmebling skin, and open my eyes reflexively. They are caught by Dumbledore's gaze from across the room, and I feel him burning a hold through my very fabric, letting the water seep in and drag me down... I'm never going to be able to breathe again, never going to be able to stare at the sun until my own eyes burn or walk across the water as easily as my heart beats. Never going to live...

But Sirius's hold on my hand is buoying, and Professor Lupins soothing presence is calming the storm. I blink, releasing the headmasters hold on my eyes, and suddenly I'm swimming again, and drifting upwards slowly as I inwardly laugh in relief at my freedom.

I close my eyes again, and let the grasping hands of sleep claim me. I can deal with this tomorrow, or the next day. For now, I'm a child, and I can sleep. My blanket it tucked in tight around my head, and the bogeyman is safely held at bay.


**********
And here we have a poem by me that I think fits the chapter, although it wasn't written with this in mind- reviews are appreciated!!! If you like it, check out my other work at fictionpress.com- link on my profile. You are violently encouraged to do so. (Meaning, if I was there, you'd probably be held at knifepoint,) Here goes:

Animal

I curl up and refuse to speak
Close my eyes- prepare to die.
Burrow in the hole I dug
The walls too high to climb.

They reach a hand to lift me out
I bite it, dig my teeth in deep.
And left I am to cry- to die!
I rot, but I refuse to weep.

They watch me sadly from the top-
Peer down to face the wild beast.
So wild- I'm savage, on display
Go away- please, I want to sleep!

A gecko in a glass bottle-
A rodent in a trap.
A lion, held by poachers-
A dying, poisoned, rat.