Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the Harry Potter series. And I most definitely do not own Tom Felton. But hey! A girl can dream!

Shards Of A Diamond

By Emerald Riddle 4/05

Chapter Seven: Escaping Hell Part II

I need to think,

I need to feed,

I need to know if I still bleed,

I need a place,

I need a time,

'Cause I need to step outside that line...

Just One by Hoobastank

Harry lay there for a long time. His head was buzzing agonizingly, failing to register everything that had happened. It was so embarrassing... So humiliating... So completely odd and out of place in Harry Potter's life that he did what most boys his age did- he pushed it out of his mind. Usually, it would take longer to erase all the haunting questions and memories away... but with only a twitch of a finger on the serpent ring and it all vanished easily.

Harry shoved himself up and cleaned up a bit, because the mess around him and on him made him shudder. If Vernon saw that...

He rubbed the ring in his pocket, and the thought floated away.

The next moment, Harry was in the shower, pretending not to notice how the blood and cum slid down his body. Or how his wounds reopened and his bruises throbbed as he rubbed a bar of soap against them. Everything was in a haze and the boy with the now dull green eyes did his movements in an automatic state. Even if his body cried in protest.

Taking a second's glance the bathroom mirror showed him that his face on one side was swollen and that he had a rather large bump right above his brow. Harry was not ever sure why he did what he did next. Perhaps it was the ridiculously sadistic day that he had endured. Or maybe it was his mind finally shattering under all the strain, and all the injuries to his head, he received through all the years.

But he laughed.

Harry James Potter laughed so hard he was doubled up in pain with tears slipping from beneath his lids. He laughed so hard his throat felt as if it was being shredded with a butter knife. He laughed so hard he fell on the floor, curled on the tiles, laughing while sobs shook and rattled him further...

Then, the laughing died down slowly, and he got up with a sad, watery smile. With no intention to sleep he left the bathroom and roamed the house. Harry didn't really care if his Uncle saw him or not. He didn't care about a lot of things anymore.

How many times did he examine the same exact things in that torture cell they called a house? How many times had he found something he had long forgotten about that uncovered memories he built brick walls around? Eventually, he found a place that tickled his mind in a funny way. Some place that he always thought to remember but forgot the instant his letters came and a better place for safety and privacy came with them.

He remembered the attic.

His attic.

It was not really his, of course. But it might as well had been. Harry only went up there at every available moment until they found out. The instant they did, they forbade him to ever take step into the dusty, spider web ridden place "little Harry" had ever really considered as close to a home he would ever get.

Now things were different. Now Harry was older, stronger, and smarter than he once was. He was also a well trained wizard, not to mention a famous one, and was not nearly as afraid of his family's wrath as he once had been. That was saying a lot, since Uncle Vernon just beat him mere hours ago. Rubbing the ring in his pocket, Harry turned the door to the "sacred" attic...

And found that it was locked.

Harry began whispering frantic profanities under his breath as he struggled with the door. He wanted it open, no needed it opened. It had something in there to preserve his sanity. How else could he had survived all these years? There was no memory of the time he spent up there except that it was good. It was a very good place.

Failing to open the heavily locked door, Harry searched his pockets for the handy bobby pin, or a straightened paper clip.

Nothing. Nothing there except for his necklace and Harry had the distinct feeling it could not help in situations such as this.

On the opposite side of the hall, he slid slowly down the wall, staring at the locks and wishing they would melt right of the door because-

Those fucking Dursley's leave me with nothing of worth. Nothing at all. No happiness, no health, not even one friend! They couldn't even let me have a small, old space they don't even use! How could they treat any child- any human- any living being like this? Like they deserve nothing else BUT TO ROT IN A FIERY HELL?

Those words, thought with such a raged passion, made Harry feel like he was back in school for fifth year, screaming at his friends and making Hermione tear up more than once. But he always felt so... powerful while he was angry. That was how he felt now, only he was slightly more perceptive. There was a wind floating around his ears and gently lifting his hair. Then he felt warm, just like he was in Hell, or at least walking into it. On instinct, Harry looked up at the attic door.

The locks were all melted. They dripped into a puddle on the floor and a memory slapped Harry in the face.

He looked down...

Puddle...

Floor...

Sirius...

"How could you-"

Harry snatched the ring and tightened his fist around it and started blinking rapidly, for tears were already welling up in them. Then he kicked open the door, stepped over the mess, and walked into the attic- a place he hasn't been in for over six years.

The days' first rays of sunlight streamed through the dusty window blinds on a single, small window. Dust thickly covered everything in sight. As he stepped tentatively inside, his footsteps were padded by it. Coughing and swatting spider webs out of his face, he continued to explore.

Why wasn't I allowed up here?

A small cardboard box caught Harry's eye. It was directly under the window and he knew there was something in there that he wanted. Maybe even needed. What was it? He knew he should remember. Why couldn't he remember?

Kneeling before the small, tattered box, Harry blew the dust off and gently lifted the folds.

Books.

Composition books and ripped up paper that looked like notes and doodles everywhere. Crayons. Paper so old it looked like lined parchment. Pens with rusty ball points and pencils with cracked lead. Harry stared at it all, the familiar nagging feeling screaming at him to remember.

But he did not remember, and he was starting to wonder why he was up there at all.

Picking up a folded note and examining it, Harry gasped.

The memories slapped him in the face.

I hope Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never find out about what I do in the attic. They won't ever let me come up here again. They might lock the door, too. Dudley saw me sneaking about yesterday and I think he knows. I have to find a better place to hide the key or they will find it and take it away then make me stay in the cupboard without food again. I don't want that. I get really hungry sometimes and think about eating the spiders. But the spiders don't do nothing to me and I might miss them when they are gone.

"Merlin. This is mine."

Then he heard a noise behind him and turned around.

Aunt Petunia stared at him with too-large eyes as he held the ancient note in his hands.

"You shouldn't be up here," she whispered somberly.

"Why not?" Harry replied, his voice cracking. "What else could Vernon possibly do that hasn't already happened?"

Petunia shook her blond head. "He'll kill you."

Somehow, the thought did not bother Harry. At all. "So?"

She shook her head as her eyes scanned the area. "You are leaving today."

Harry didn't bother to ask how she knew. He shrugged.

"Maybe you can take some of this junk with you?" Petunia looked odd. Resigned to everything somehow.

"Why would I want to do that?"

Aunt Petunia looked into his tired, green eyes. "There are pictures here. Old things from a long time ago. Pictures of you. Pictures of your parents. Some of your mother's things that weren't or survived being in her house when he- he came and killed her. Maybe stuff that belonged to your- your father as well. I don't know. I haven't really looked."

That's why I'm not allowed up here.

Harry nodded, trying to contain his anger. He's been up here so many times and never found anything of his parents' and now she tells him this!

Petunia walked over to some wooden chests. They had heavy, rusty locks the size of Harry's fist locking the heavy links of chains together that bound them. He watched her bend down and hold the dusty chains in her hands. Then she got up and left. Harry waited in the middle of the attic until his aunt came back holding a ring of keys.

Silently, she knelt on the floor and unlocked every lock on the several boxes. One by one, the chains sagged and clinked onto the wooden floor. It made such a clatter that Harry was positive Vernon would wake up. Petunia didn't look worried, though. Why would she be? Vernon never hurt her. Harry decided to asked anyway.

"I gave Vernon some sleeping pills last night after he came barging in. I snuck them into a sandwich. He'll be asleep until noon at the latest," she explained as she got up and started to leave.

Sandwich? I didn't see her in the kitchen. Then Harry realized it must have been while he was having a fit in the bathroom.

She turned back for a moment, her blue eyes regretful but her voice cold and bitter. "I want all this stuff packed and ready to leave by then, or else Vernon will raise all Hell. And so you know, I'm not taking the blame for any of this."

She still didn't like him, but it was better than hating him.

Harry waited until she was out of sight, then he approached the chests of his parents' things with caution. The first box was full of old photos and letters. Some were wizarding, some weren't. Many were singed and edged with black. Harry picked up a picture of his mum. Young and beautiful in Hogwarts school robes, it seemed it was her final year by the dates on the back. It showed her beaming as she brandished her wand like an expert.

She could have been a model, Harry thought as he watched her bright coppery hair gleam around her pretty face. The familiar almond shaped eyes startled him slightly. Those were the same eyes he looked into the mirror with everyday.

His grip on the photograph lessened and it slowly fluttered back into the box. Tears stung Harry's eyes, but he ignored them and shut the chest with an audible snap! A part of him wasn't ready to look at how life was for his parents.

They would be so ashamed of the way he turned out.

Heaving the heavy things in his arms, he carried his parents memories away and into his cupboard.

Half an hour later, Harry knelt in front of the other box. The one with his memories. His legs began to cramp, so he sat cross-legged. As he did, a sharp pain seemed to stab him from his backside up. Like electric lights, the words blared in his head.

Raped.

You were raped.

Then he clutched the ring and forgot. A box full of his childhood beckoned him like chocolate covered sweets. His stomach growled angrily, so he picked up another crumbling note.

A swirl of colors ran across it and he found himself looking at a picture of someone who looked like Hagrid, riding a flying motor bike and holding a bundle in his arms.

That's me, Harry thought, staring at the small bundle of blankets where a tiny face peered out happily. How many times had Hagrid told him about flying across England on a motorbike, holding a baby Harry in his arms? The drawing was crude, the colors abnormal, but Harry tucked it away in his jeans pocket and picked up the box.

Time to pack, he thought as he lugged the box down the attic steps. The melted metal was gone. Apparently, Aunt Petunia cleaned it before it dried.

Too bad.

As he descended the steps to the first floor, a shocking shade of pink hair startled him and Harry tripped, eyes drawn to the bright color. He held the lid of the box against his stomach so nothing fell out, but that didn't stop him from tumbling violently down the staircase. Tonks looked down on him as he lay on his back, stars dancing in front of his eyes. Her face a cross between amused and worried.

"You all right there, Harry? That was quite a fall," she said timidly as she held out a hand to help him up. She was staring hard at his face.

The bruise.

He got up and hid his face with his rapidly grown hair.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Harry glanced around. "Where's the rest of the guard?" he asked, feeling confused and left out.

Tonks giggled, then stopped when she saw he was serious. "We don't need a guard anymore, Harry. With the Ministry off our tail, we can just floo or use port keys again."

Harry didn't like the thought of either, but did not say so.

"So," she continued briskly, "where's your trunk?"

Harry pointed to the cupboard and shifted on his feet. "I have a lot more stuff than last time..."

Tonks brushed him off as she opened the cupboard door. Her eyes widened as she took it all in. A full trunk, three chests, and that wasn't counting the cardboard box at Harry's feet.

"Well..." Her cheery demeanor returned in just seconds. She coughed lightly. "Well, we won't be able to carry all this by port key. So lets just," she levitated his box so it was sitting near his trunk and banished the lot with a single wave of her wand.

Harry couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

Seeing his face, Tonks explained. "Don't worry, it's all just going to the Weasleys'. Luckily, my banishing spells aren't as bad as my domestic ones."

Harry silently agreed.

"Wait a minute, the Weasleys'? I thought I was going to..." He could not bring himself to say it.

Tonks laid a hand on his bruised shoulder and squeezed, thinking it was comforting rather than painful. "We, ah, as in the Headmaster thought it was a good idea to send you to the Burrow instead. Now that everything is a little calmer, you should be safe there. Oddly enough, Snape thought it was a good idea as well..."

Lost in thought, she said no more. Harry coughed and she started. "Oh! Well, I suppose you would like to say good bye first-"

"No," Harry interrupted.

She looked surprised. "Are you-"

"I just want to leave. Please," he added as an afterthought.

Tonks compliantly pulled out a small box. She opened it and inside shone a silver ring with an onyx gemstone in the center. Harry gasped.

It was Sirius's.

"He wanted you to have it," Tonks said lightly. "I was supposed to make it into a port key then give it to you after we landed. See? Hitting two birds with one stone," her voice wavered in uncertainty.

"It's all right," Harry said, smiling in encouragement though his heart felt like it was being squeezed with a fist.

Seeing the gleaming silver, Harry was reminded of Remus. He wondered why he didn't come to get him. He said so much to Tonks.

"Remus is still recovering from his monthly transformation," she said slowly.

"Oh, yeah..." Harry thought for a moment, then spoke again. "How could he touch that ring if it was made of silver?"

"It wasn't made of silver. It was made of iron and glamoured to look like silver with all types of enchantments." She giggled lightly. "Or else Sirius would hurt Remus every time he touched him," Tonks suddenly smirked. "And they touched a lot."

The comment rattled Harry. It was true. They had touched a lot. But they were friends, right? Of course they touched a lot!

Friends don't touch like that, Harry. They were something else.

Harry didn't understand, and the confusion was evident on his face. Tonks quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

"Oops..."

"What do you-"

"Portus," she whispered, holding the tip of her wand to the black onyx of the ring. It glowed a brilliant blue before fading quickly.

"C'mon, Harry, touch the ring."

Harry did so, but he had the distinct feeling she was hiding something from him.

"Five, four, three, two- here we go, hold on tight!"

Harry had to even if he didn't want to. The ring seemed permanently glued to his finger as he got sucked in. Then, as soon as it started, it stopped. Harry lay in a heap on what seemed a very bumpy and disfigured cushion.

"AAARRGGGHH! GET OFF OF ME!" A shrill voice screamed and Harry was thrown from his uncomfortable spot onto a real cushion.

"Hmmm," Tonks laughed to herself. "Seems I miscalculated..."

Ginny Weasley lay on the floor with a red angry face, but didn't bother to reply. The rest of the room laughed at her. She glared at Harry and Tonks fiercely before stomping off.

"I swear," a familiar voice said.

"Her temper gets worse everyday," another voice finished.

Harry looked up to see Fred and George. He beamed at them, his heart lightening already. "Hullo."

He didn't get the reply he was expecting.

"Merlin, Harry! What happened to your face?" Fred exclaimed as George gaped.

Arthur elbowed him.

"Oh, yeah."

"Hi!" George said in false cheerfulness, cottoning on.

"So, did you have a fight with a bludger, Harry?" Fred continued conversationally.

Arthur shook his head and walked away. Keeping the twins in line obviously wasn't worth the will power it took.

Harry quickly glanced around the cluttered house. "I er, I er..."

Then he saw a pair of bright red boxing gloves laying in the corner of a room, along with a whistle and a rubber ducky. Refusing the urge to snort, Harry replied with, "Oh, yeah. That. I um, got into a fight." Seeing their doubting looks, he added, "Uh, several fights."

"With Dudley's friends."

Suddenly, Arthur's eyes widened. "Oh, yes! Albus explained to me about that! Is it true they stole your glasses, Harry? We'll have to buy you a new pair..."

"No!" Harry said loudly, not wanting to spend any of their money. "It's fine. I'm getting my eyes fixed by Snape."

"Professor Snape, dear," Molly Weasley said fondly as she strolled back into the kitchen to make lunch.

"Snape? Wow, I wouldn't want to be you, Harry," a voice behind him said. Harry's eyes lit up.

"Ron!"

"Hey mate," Ron greeted, smiling. His eyes lingered on the bruise, but he just lead Harry up to his room.

Harry loved being at the Weasley's, he really did, but it was so hard to hide things from them. Always wearing long sleeves... never eating too much... hiding his face with his hair every available moment in their presence... That was not even counting the nightmares that haunted his sleep... Sleep with that word, sleep with those memories...

Raped.

Raped.

Raped.

You were raped.

He was able to shield everything from the Weasley clan so far. Never getting undressed in front of them, wearing long sleeved shirts and letting his shaggy mop of hair cover his expressions. Mrs. Weasley tried numerous times to cut it off, saying it was unnatural how quickly it grew, but he would not let her. Instead, when they asked, he said it hid his scar. She left him alone, only prodding once in a while.

When morning broke, he jumped out of bed (Mr. Weasley transfigured it from a sleeping bag) and ran to the bathroom. The water was steaming hot and Harry scrubbed at his skin until it was pink. Then he rubbed shampoo in his hair so hard several loose strands curled themselves around his fingers. Then he got out and realized he forgot to get fresh clothes.

He looked down to see the ones on the floor were sopping wet with water, sweat, and-

"Shite."

Blood stains on the back of his shirt. His cuts must have reopened again! Making sure the towel covered his back completely, Harry tiptoed down the hall. It was nerve-wracking, but just when he thought he was home free-

"Oh my-Harry!" Ginny was looking at him with wide eyes.

"What-what are you doing here?" Harry asked, painfully aware of all the bruises and cuts on his arms and legs.

Ginny blinked. "I live here."

"You know what I mean!"

Then he saw Hermione peaking over her shoulder.

"It's time for breakfast. God, Harry, those muggles really did a number on you. And you're so skinny! I mean, yeah, you were skinny before but now-"

Harry ran for Ron's room before Ginny could continue in her pointless rambling.

It all seemed to go down hill from there.

At breakfast Harry looked at all the different kinds of foods. He had to be careful. Eating too much made him throw up more than once in the last week and Hermione never seemed to take her eyes off of him.

She knows. She knows how screwed up and weak you are. She knows that-

Harry grabbed the necklace around his neck. The ring a constant reminder to stay calm and clear his mind. Yet, Hermione's penetrating gaze never left him. She barely spoke to him, and that could mean only one thing- she was saving it for a long ranting talk... or a lengthy questioning.

He nibbled on a piece of toast, unsure of whether he should leave the table early to get a head start or stay late and wait for her to leave. As it turns out, he left when Ron left. It was better to seem calm rather than anxious. Harry needed to lie, and lie damn well at that.

But when Hermione cornered him in the hallway, he had nothing to say.

"Harry, Ginny told me you got into a fight. Is that true? You should know better than that! And why haven't you let anybody heal you? Are you proud of your irresponsible actions?"

Harry looked Hermione up and down coolly. "Actually, Mr. Weasley thought it was good of me to have a reminder of what I did. You know, so it won't happen again. I didn't have a choice in the matter. Though, he did ask me if I particularly cared, which I didn't." This was a lie. Mr. Weasley never mentioned the bruise and Harry never prompted him.

She wouldn't give up. "Well," she started, narrowing her eyes. "why didn't you ask them to heal the rest of you? Oh, wait, I know why! Because you didn't tell them."

Heart pounding, Harry clenched his fists. Since when did Hermione become so vicious? "It is my business, Hermione, and I would prefer that you skive off and mind your own," he forced through his gritted teeth.

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't stomp off in a huff. Instead, she sighed. "Harry, I'm not here to hurt you, so you can stop being so self-defensive. I'm your friend and I want to help you. Ginny and I saw all your injuries, and we're worried. You haven't told any of the adults about it, which means you must be hiding something."

Not knowing what to say, he apologized and covered his face with his hair.

"Don't do that," she said, lifting his chin and flicking away all of the shaggy hair. "You have the most beautiful eyes, and to just hide them like that should be a crime..."

They were so close. So close. It didn't feel right to be like this with Hermione; Hermione of all people! But he was and he could not manage to walk away. But she leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You are my brother, Harry, and I love you..." she whispered softly into his ear.

Love me? She loves me? How many people have ever said that to me? Only a handful. How can she love me when I'm always lying to her and deceiving her...

It was not the right time for questions. So Harry replied, "I love you, too, Hermione."

Then a door slammed in the distance and everything was quiet.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Ginny, oh no, she thinks that-"

They locked eyes.

"I thought she..." Harry stuttered...

Hermione shook her bushy head. "Don't you know anything about girls? Oh, look who I'm asking!" she exclaimed before kissing him on the cheek and running down the hall.

"Hey," Harry yelled, recovering too late. "what is that supposed to mean?"

As it turns out, Hermione had a point. Harry didn't know anything about girls. Ginny was acting very cold and distant from him and he didn't know why. She was also constantly ignoring Hermione. Nobody knew what was wrong with her, for the exception of maybe Hermione, and she wasn't even telling anyone.

As the middle of August came increasingly closer, Harry eventually forgot about the hostile acting Ginny and began worrying about his own problems. His wounds were healing slowly. Very slowly. Sometimes they reopened completely and bled in unfortunate places. Like Mrs. Weasley's fluffly white towels. Harry was afraid of the questions that might be asked, so he did something foolish. He hid them in his trunk.

There were a lot of marks on his body now. Dark scars, pink scars, yellow scars...puncture marks and bruises. Well, most of the bruises were healed, but the bigger ones stayed.

It was getting hard to run about in the hot summer sun in full autumn wear. The Weasley's kept bothering him to wear something else, Fred even threatened to banish all of his clothes right off his body if he didn't. Thankfully, he didn't go through with his threat. Harry had to note that Ginny wasn't looking so displeased at the prospect of seeing him naked. Or letting the others see him naked and covered in marks. Hermione, however, intervened.

Like a proper friend, Harry thought indignantly.

A trip for Diagon Alley was scheduled the next morning and Harry went to sleep feeling as if everything was starting to go his way.

How wrong he was.

In fact, things were going to become about ten times worse.

A/N: Hey everyone. Sorry about the late update. School has been hassling me, but now that it's ending now I should be able to update more frequently. This chapter is a little longer than the others and it'sthe gasp second Harry chapter in a row. In fact, there'll be another Harry chapter before Draco comes in. Sorry for all the rabid Draco fans (waves banner) but a lot more happens to Harry that I need to write so you will all understand where he's coming from. I'm planning to write two or three more chapters before HBP comes out, but I might write more. Or less. shrugs You can never tell with the way I do things. But, take note that, this story will NEVER EVER be abandoned. I've been planning too long, and working too hard, to do that. All you Hazardous Sanity fans should be getting an update soon, as well. Reviews make me update quicker and they feed my muse, just so you know ;)

A/N 7/12/05: Okay, edited the weird spacing issues this was having ;) New update coming soon, btw!