Authors Note: Rotten Writer here again gang, a little late this time around but it's been a rough week, to be fair. I actually had something wrong with my eye the other day that made any light excruciatingly painful. Sucked balls, lemme tell you.

Anyway. This chapter was difficult, extremely difficult for me to write. On the one hand, some reviewers have commented, rightly, I think, that there's a little too much of falling apart broken Harry. I'm not trying to beat a dead horse here, I swear. But there is a plan and he is and WILL be getting better. I am also, again, not an expert in any psychological field. A lot of the description of what Harry is feeling I took from myself, to be honest.

I'm one of those rare people that fears nothing, really. No heights, depths, darkness, enclosed spaces, nothing really bugs me. But I don't like crowds. I don't like being hemmed in or trapped by other people. Like Harry, I like my personal space. And when I get boxed in like that I get fidgety, and anxious, irritable and cranky and I snap at people and say things I don't mean. In that state if I'm grabbed suddenly or if I can't get away from the crowds I have become violent and out of control, something I try to avoid to an extreme degree as I dislike not being in control of myself.

So hopefully this chapter meets with much approval. We'll get a better idea of the punishments that Harry has to deal with in the next chapter and I believe we'll actually be wrapped up with year one in the next three chapters to be honest. Next for dealing with a few last minute things, the stone in the chapter after, then the wrap up. I think that's doable, we shall see.

Apologies for the slight delay, it is still Tuesday, so I've met my schedule, just much later in the day than I prefer.

Disclaimer: I own not Harry Potter. Do not sue me. You won't get much.

Soul Scars

By,

Rtnwriter

Harry had been confident, firm, when he told them that he was going to play in the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. As the day drew closer, though, he found himself getting more and more nervous about the entire thing.

The night after he'd spoken to Daphne, he came clean, and explained to Hermione and Susan that he had taken up his status as Head of House. They'd taken it well, understanding that he didn't like yet another thing that would set him apart from his peers, and agreed that it was probably best that he didn't advertise it. He already got so much attention, and some people might be tempted to try and use his new status to their advantage, somehow.

When he woke the next Saturday morning, he was in a foul mood. The night before had been his first assigned meeting with the Mind Healer Gant, whose first name Harry realized he still didn't know. It hadn't been an easy session. Gant had posed probing questions about his time with his relatives before starting school that Harry really hadn't wanted to answer, despite knowing it was a necessary evil in the process of getting him removed from the Dursley's home.

In the end, he had discussed a lot of what happened. Not all, by any means, but a lot. More than enough, Gant said, for the report he'd needed to put together for the DMLE. Then he'd pulled out a wizarding camera and explained that he needed to photograph the scars to add to the report as proof of the treatment he'd suffered. That had nearly pushed the young Potter over the edge. He'd come close to storming off, running away to wallow in his misery in peace and quiet.

Harry had to remind himself of Gant's final word of warning, one of the reasons he'd explained these sessions were so important for him and for the people around him. Harry knew his temper was becoming a problem. He'd never had this issue when at the Dursley's. There he'd been able to control his temper, since losing it usually meant a beating, or worse. But since re-entering the wizarding world he'd found his rock solid grip on his anger slipping more and more. With Malfoy's constant taunting in classes and with his potions professor hating his guts for some unidentifiable reason, his control was taking a constant battering. And here, he had a wand, a means to defend himself that he hadn't had at the Dursley's.

He found that he was far more prone to lashing out in anger when pressed than he had been before, and he wasn't entirely certain he liked what he was learning about himself. That's part of what these sessions are about, Harry, Gant had told him. You don't want to hurt anyone, but your situation is different now and you are reacting differently to it. You need to get some control over yourself or you could be endangering the people around you.

Only adding to his frustration, was the continued presence of his nightly nightmares. Sometimes three or more times a night. Unlike at the Boneyard, though, he couldn't go check on the girls to reassure himself of their safety and the fear and continuing lack of sleep was slowly driving him batty. He'd spent so long not giving two shits about anyone, but now these girls were in his life, in his head, in his dreams, and he just longed for the days when he didn't care.

He climbed out of bed, trying to shove down the memories of Gant and his camera. The bright flash of the bulb and puff of purple smoke as he took photo after photo of Harry's torso and back. He assured Harry that his face wouldn't be in any of the pictures, and in fact, his name was being kept out of the reports and the investigation as much as possible. Some people would eventually need to be informed, but at present any official documentation had him listed as 'minor victim'.

He took up his wand and cast a quick Tempus spell. Glowing numbers appeared floating in the air in front of him showing that it was barely a quarter to four in the morning. Well, that worked for him. He needed to work off some energy and the more time he had to do it the better. He dressed quickly, pulling on a comfortable set of black sweats and a long sleeved black shirt. Socks and trainers followed and he tucked his wand up his sleeve before he eased his way out of the dorm and down the stairs to the common room.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, one foot on the bottom step and the other on the floor of the common room proper as he saw Daphne, Susan, and Hermione sitting on the sofa by the fire. The sofa and chair that Harry usually occupied had unofficially been dubbed as the 'quad's spot' as most of Gryffindor called them. They were frequently left open for them to use, and if another student was using either seat, if the four of them entered the common room they were quick to vacate the space, despite all four of them insisting, repeatedly, that people didn't have to move for them.

"What are you three doing down here so early?" he asked as he walked up to them.

Daphne and Hermione looked up from their quiet conversation, eyes bright and alert. Susan was slumped against Hermione's right shoulder, her eyes closed as she snored quietly. A quick shrug of her shoulder had the red head jerking awake and she sat up sharply, her hair sticking out at odd angles and her eyes open, but barely, as she blinked blearily around at the otherwise empty room.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said, almost bouncing in her seat for some reason he couldn't quite identify. She felt eager, excited, across their bond while Daphne was as composed as she usually was. Daphne and Susan echoed her greeting, the last in a mumble that was barely coherent which ended in a huge yawn that she covered with one hand.

"Good morning," he said. "You didn't answer my question." He really wasn't in the mood for guessing games, and though he knew they didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of his bad mood he couldn't quite keep a touch of irritation from his voice.

"We've been thinking," Daphne said. "And we've decided that we want you to teach us."

He blinked, confused. "Teach you what?"

"All this extra training you've been doing. Reading ahead in defense. After the incident with that troll, we realized that we are rather under trained for situations like that and you had the foresight to think ahead and to read ahead in our books for spells that could help you. We want you to teach us what you've been learning."

He immediately thought to deny them, but paused when Amelia's words suddenly echoed in his mind. I can't always be there to protect her. What if, sometime, he wasn't able to be there to protect one of them? Wouldn't it be better if he taught them to defend themselves?

He bit back a yawn and nodded, waving for them to follow him as he turned and made his out of the common room and into the school. They followed along in silence until the reached the classroom he'd been using to practice and he pushed open the door, letting them precede him into the room.

He closed the door and stepped around them to place one of the defense books he'd received for Christmas on the rickety, teetering teachers desk as the girls looked around the room. Susan still appeared barely conscious, but Daphne's and Hermione's eyes were wide as they took in the state of the space. Nearly every student desk had been reduced to kindling that was scattered across the floor and the walls were marked with divots, cracks, scorch marks, and several long cuts carved into the stone at random angles.

He turned and leaned against the desk, almost tilting over as the whole thing leaned precariously to one side because of his weight.

"Are any of you familiar with the cutting curse, Difindo?" he asked without preamble and when they shook their heads he launched into an explanation of the curse, covering its creation, intended use, alternate uses, and the wand movement and incantation. After he finished his lecture Susan was looking far more awake than she had been and he pulled his wand from his robes.

He turned and faced the far wall and his wand snapped up, moving in a sweeping gesture as he intoned the word, "Difindo." A scythe shaped streak of blue energy left the tip of his wand and impacted against the wall with a sharp crack, leaving a six inch long groove carved into the ancient stones of the castle.

"All right. Who wants to try first?" he asked.

#####

They worked for two hours, the girls attacking the spells that he showed them with a single minded determination that would have startled him if he hadn't been concerned with his own studies in between showing them new spells to practice. Harry had found, that he had something of an affinity for fire based magics, those spells simple came easier to him than others and he searched every text he could for such spells to add to his arsenal.

As the girls were perfecting, what had become, his signature curse, the Reducto, he was working hard on a flame whip spell. The intended effect of the spell, when used properly, would have a thin tendril of fire extending from the tip of his wand that could be used to devastating effect against any number of opponents. It was supposed to be particularly useful against something called inferi, that he had thus far not come across in his other reading.

To his consternation though, the spell had remained outside of his reach, no matter how many times he practiced it, which did nothing to better his mood. By the time they left the, even further destroyed, classroom, he moved as if a heavy dark cloud hung over his head and even the girls were beginning to snap at each other, affected by the dark emotions filtering from him through their bond, muted though they were by his pushing down on their link.

They slipped into the common room and quickly separated, the girls heading to their dorm room as Harry made for his and the hot shower that awaited them. Harry stood in the shower, the water turned up so that it was practically scalding as it pounded down on his back and shoulders his fists clenched against the wall.

"I really didn't expect it to be that hard," he admitted to himself as images of the past floated, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind. The maniacal grin and gleam in Vernon's eyes. The stinging pain, the searing agony of the grease burn on his shoulder. His ears were filled with the whistling of the leather belt cutting through the air and the loud smack as it struck his flesh. The meaty thud of fists. The panting, rancid, alcohol laden breath as he was overpowered time after time and the loud crack as bones snapped under the onslaught.

Voices impinged on the edge of his awareness. Crying, pleading, practically screaming voices.

"…n't be in here! This is the boys dorm!"

"-ut it, Weasley! No one gives two shits what you-"

"-Harry! Harry, what's wrong? Please, talk to-"

"-id anyone see him go in th-"

"-ust woke up when you girls burst in he-"

"HARRY!"

The last roar of a voice broke through, and Harry snapped to full awareness. He was sitting on the floor of the shower, huddled in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his shins. His heart was pounding away at a frightening pace and his breath came in deep, heaving gasps. Terror gripped him, a wild, torrential wave of it that swept through him threatening to pull him under, into the dark once again. Dimly, he was aware of the girls, trying to reach him through their bond, trying to push out to him, projecting feelings of comfort, safety, warmth, compassion, care.

A part of him wanted to reach for those sensations. Wanted to immerse himself in them, revel in the care and comfort of those people that cared about him.

It was exactly for that reason, that he couldn't. He knew it was wrong, somewhere. But the largest part of him feared that contact. Feared to let go. To trust. To give anyone that kind of power over him. He was already letting them further into his life than anyone had ever encroached before, and it terrified him.

So, he reached out, grasped hold of the link between them, and ruthlessly quashed it. Shoving down the emotions flooding toward him from the girls.

Suddenly, the three girls voices outside the bathroom ceased. He stood and turned off the shower, drying himself quickly as only quiet muttering from his dorm mates made it through the closed door.

"Should I go in and check on him?" he heard Neville ask.

"No, thank you Neville," Hermione answered, her voice softer and more muffled by the barrier between them. "I think he'll be okay, we were just worried."

"Still don't know what you thought you were worried about," Weasley snapped. "Would you get out of here? Girls aren't supposed to be up here."

It was to this argument that Harry broke in when he yanked open the door from the showers into the dorm. Dean and Seamus were sitting up in their beds. Dean appeared confused, and not entirely conscious, while Seamus just observed. Ron was red faced, standing beside his bed in his maroon pajamas and Neville stood closest to the door in his own Gryffindor red sleeping clothes of a pair of shorts and a tank top. The girls were still wearing the clothes they'd been in earlier, he guessed they hadn't gotten to their showers before they'd noticed the emotions he'd been unable to suppress, and had come to investigate.

Hermione, Daphne, and Susan, by far, looked the most concerned and… hurt? He wasn't positive but he thought he detected a hint of hurt in their eyes, as if he'd done or said something painful. It reminded him, dimly, of the look that he'd caught a glimpse of in Daphne's eyes when she'd rushed down the stairs after the weasel had insulted her on Halloween.

"Harry, are you okay?" Susan asked, taking a faltering step forward before she froze in place at the stony expression on his face.

"I'm fine," he muttered and brushed past them towards his bed. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on his socks and trainers before he grabbed his broom and gave it a quick once over.

"Harry, we felt it…" Hermione trailed off and he heard whispering from the other boys in the dorm. "I mean, after earlier, we thought something might be wrong and just wanted to-"

"I said, 'I'm fine'," he repeated, his tone harsher than before. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He needed space, he needed to breathe, he needed to be alone, god dammit!

"You aren't fine, Harry. Something's bugging you-"

"I'm fine!" he roared for a third time, spinning to face them. "There's nothing wrong with me that a little peace and quiet won't cure." The fierce glare he fixed them with cowed the majority of the boys with only Neville standing tall under the onslaught. He felt confident in the friendship they were building. He might not like that Harry seemed angry with the entire room, but he would weather, and still stand beside Harry Potter when the storm passed.

The girls flinched and he felt nothing coming through the wall he'd built around their bond. He was, once again, blissfully alone inside his own head. He felt a brief pang of guilt, but it was overwhelmed by a self righteous fury. He'd dealt with his pains for years. He'd been alone for years. He didn't need them butting in now.

You can't trust, he reminded himself. People only hurt you. Only use you. Only abandon and leave you.

"I'm going to breakfast," he snapped and strode quickly from the room, his broom slung over his shoulder.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the occupants of the room in stunned silence.

#####

Hermione felt as if she was lost in a daze. The instant Harry had shut down their link, cutting off all sensation of him in her mind, had been like cutting her legs out from under her, taking her sight, her hearing, her ability to feel. No, she could still feel, and what she felt was raw and painful. If it hadn't been for Daphne's and Susan's presence in her mind she might have shut down entirely, becoming catatonic as a near crippling sense of lonely isolation threatened to overwhelm her.

"Wh-what did we do?" she whispered, brokenly, looking to two of her bond mates just as they looked to her with equally pained expressions on their faces.

Susan stepped forward and enveloped Hermione in a hug, pulling the shorter girl close and pressing a kiss to her temple without thinking. "We didn't do anything, Hermione," she whispered as Hermione clung tightly to her, her fingers clutching at Susan's shirt. "Other than try to help him, we haven't done anything. I don't know why he reacted that way, but I don't think we can do anything to help with this one." Her breath hitched and she pushed the words out past the lump forming in her throat, "Whatever it is that's bothering him, I think he needs to work his way through this is on his own."

"Get your bloody arses out of our dorm!" Ron demanded and Neville rounded on him, his face flushing with little seen anger.

"Shut that giant hole you call a mouth, Weasley. You've got about as much compassion as a Hypogriff with a head cold, so kindly, fuck off," Neville snapped venomously at the lanky red head. Ron's mouth dropped open and he gaped at Neville as the young scion gently took Daphne by the elbow and place a hand in the center of Susan's back, leading them both, and Hermione, who was still tightly clutching Susan, toward the door.

Outside, in the hall, he continued to direct them down the stairs and across the common room to their sofa where all three girls slowly sank onto the cushions in stunned shock. Neville really wasn't sure what to do. His total sum of experience in dealing with distraught girls was approximately the last five minutes of his life.

"Look," he tried after a few minutes, "obviously something isn't right here, and I don't have the slightest clue what that is, but do you three hate him now, or something?" He did his best to hide his confusion about the entire situation in favor of trying to shock them into motion.

Daphne shook her head. "We couldn't possibly hate him. We just don't know what caused all of this."

"So you still support him, and care about him?" Neville pressed.

"Of course we do," Susan almost snapped at the young scion. "What's this all about, Neville?"

"He's got his match against Hufflepuff today," Neville pointed out. "The one that Snape is refereeing? If you still care, don't you think maybe you should go to the game to support him? Even if he's being a bit of a tool right now?" Susan considered that for a moment before she nodded, her face set in determination.

"He's right, Hermione, Daphne." She squeezed Hermione's shoulders and gently pushed the other girl away so she could stand and turn to pull her and Daphne to their feet. "He is being a tool at the moment. But we've been worried about this game for weeks now. Personally, whatever's wrong with him doesn't matter during the game. So come on, girls. We need to clean up and get changed so we can get down their and support that idiot. He might want to push us away, but that doesn't mean we need to make it easy for him."

"I'll grab a shower and change and meet you three back down here. We'll head down together," Neville said and started to head back for the stairs until Susan reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Thank you, Nev," she told him in heartfelt tones, her eyes glimmering slightly. "We needed that."

Neville grinned and shrugged one shoulder. "He may be acting like a prat, but he's still a Potter, and I'm still a Longbottom. More than that, I think we've been building a pretty good friendship. I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't try to help." He glanced around at the empty common room, making sure no one had entered while they were talking before turning back to her. "I'm not really sure how this bond of yours works with the four of you. I don't think I could even begin to really understand it. But whatever is eating at him, it's causing him to hurt you three, and I think I know him well enough by now that he'd never intentionally hurt you. Something isn't right. You know my friendship with Harry extends just as much to the three of you, right? If there's ever anything I can do to help, please, don't hesitate to ask."

He gave her a comforting smile and patted her hand where she still gripped his arm then quickly made his way upstairs and into the shower. In record time he was back downstairs, dressed casually without his school uniform or robes, waiting for the girls.

They weren't far behind him, arriving just minutes after he did and together, the four of them made their way out into the halls and down to the Great Hall. The match wasn't set to start until eleven that morning, and it was just barely past seven but the Hall was already filling with students coming down for an early lunch. They knew that number would thin after a while before swelling again with the late risers on a normal weekend.

This was a Quidditch weekend though, and people were excited. Second match of the year, and after Harry's showing during the first match, there was a buzz around the school, wondering if his amazing catch had really been a fluke or if the Gryffindor boy really did have what it took to be a star Seeker.

To the girls disappointment, Harry was nowhere to be seen when they and Neville entered the room. At first, they wanted to go and track him down but Neville was able to talk them out of it, instead getting them to sit and eat. It seemed like Harry wanted a little space to himself, and either way, they were going to see him at the match. Neville watched, worried, as all three girls pushed their food around their plates, barely eating anything as worry gnawed at them. Whatever this is, he thought, I hope you figure it out, quick, Harry. They don't deserve this.

"Hey, have you guys seen Harrry?"

Neville turned to find the red headed duo of destruction, Fred and George Weasley standing behind him, their eyes on the three girls where they sat across the table.

"Earlier this morning," he said for the girls. "He's been upset about something, but right now we're not sure where he is."

Fred and George shared a worried look as Neville looked back and forth between them. He really couldn't find anything different between them. Could they even tell each other apart?

"Oliver is looking for him. He wants the whole team down at the pitch an hour before kick off to go over some last minute strategies."

Neville shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you guys. I'm sure he'll turn up, but if I see him before then I'll let him know."

#####

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The words tumbled over and over through Harry's mind as his body tumbled, end over end, soaring and diving, tearing through the air on his Nimbus 2000. He'd gone down to the Great Hall and shoveled a quick breakfast down his throat, barely tasting the food that passed over his tongue. His guilt built more and more the longer he kept the girls blocked from his mind. He'd almost turned around at the bottom of the stairs leading down to the Gryffindor Common Room, but he'd continued out of sheer stubbornness.

"It's not their fault that you're a fucked up mess, Potter," he growled at himself as he came out of a steep dive, his vision greying slightly under the forces straining on his body.

But they keep butting in. They're always there. All the time. Everywhere I turn. I've got no peace, no solitude.

"They care about you, you dumbass. Not that you deserve it."

They only care because magic is forcing them too. I don't care what Hermione said, if it wasn't for this damn bond that's forcing them to be near me they wouldn't have ever said a word to me. I'm nothing but a Freak.

"That's Vernon talking."

Isn't he right?

"NO!" Harry pulled up again, skimming the grass with his toes and threw one leg over the broom into a running landing which quickly slowed to a job before he collapsed on his back on the grass, staring up at the brilliantly blue sky above. The cold air burned in his lungs and his mind spun and twisted in turmoil.

"You're a mess," he muttered. "That stupid meeting last night. It just pulled up bad memories. Shit you haven't thought about in months, really. That's no reason to shut them out. No reason to hurt them because you're a mess."

But would they stay, if they knew?

"They keep saying that they want to know. Susan said they wanted to know."

She also said they were afraid to know. Wouldn't they be disgusted? You're weak. You let that beast of a man treat you that way.

"I couldn't do anything to stop it."

You should have tried harder. Once they know… they won't believe you can protect them, anymore. They'll abandon you, just like every one else did.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!" Harry pounded the heel of his hand repeatedly against his forehead, attempting, physically, to banish the voice, the doubt and fear that lurked at the back of his mind, always whispering in his ears.

After a moment he lay still, his arms at his sides, head throbbing, eyes closed against the bright glare of the morning sunlight. Eventually he stood and made his way over to the changing rooms, intent on finding some water, just as the rest of the team approached from the castle. He joined them, ignoring the looks Fred and George sent his way as Oliver launched into his pre game strategy session and pep talk.

Harry sat and mostly stared blankly at the older boy as he spoke. Now and then he would nod, or mutter something when anyone spoke to him, but for the most part, he hadn't a clue what anyone had said or done in that hour before the game. Outside, the sound of students entering the stands started to filter in as more and more of them made their way down to the pitch for the game.

"Snape is refereeing today's game," Oliver said, just before they made their way onto the pitch. "You know he'll take every opportunity that he can to foul us or screw us up. Harry, you need to catch that snitch as fast as possible. Don't give him time to mess with us. We're playing a clean game. Everything by the rules."

Harry nodded, still hardly listening and stood, grabbing his broom with one hand, before he started down the tunnel leading out of their locker room. Oliver stared askance at the space the youngest member of their team had just vacated for a moment before he turned to the rest of the team at large.

"All right, anyone know what crawled up his arse and died?" he asked.

"Neville said something's eating at him, but he doesn't know what," Fred offered and beside him his twin nodded.

"Great," Oliver muttered. "Fingers crossed that doesn't get in the way of things." He clapped his hands together, sharply and grabbed his own broom. "All right," he said. "let's get out there and show them all what we can do.

With a cheer the rest of them grabbed their brooms and shot out of the tunnel as the crowd roared and they took to the sky.

#####

The game got underway relatively quickly. Harry floated up and out of the way, his eyes darting around the pitch as he searched for the elusive glimmer of gold. Outwardly he appeared calm, but his mind still roiled with turmoil. Guilt ate at him and he wanted to drop the barrier he'd erected around the link he shared with the girls, but shame prevented him.

He suddenly started, jerking to the side as Sommerby, the Hufflepuff seeker buzzed by him and all the turmoil, all the guilt and shame, the fear and pain and self loathing that had filled the young Gryffindor coalesced into a new emotion. One given a target and with a singular determination he latched onto the feeling.

Anger.

He glanced around the pitch, spotting one of the Weasley twins hovering at the far end near the Gryffindor hoops and he urged his broom forward, speeding across the pitch toward them.

"Fred!" he shouted as he approached, catching the red heads attention. "Down town!"

Fred smirked and turned, hefting his beaters bat. Harry did a look around the hoops as Fred maneuvered his broom into the path of one of the bludgers. He reared back and gave the little iron ball an unholy wack, sending it hurtling down pitch toward the Hufflepuff goals as canary yellow and crimson clad forms darted back and forth through the air.

Harry shot forward, getting in front of the bludger and let it latch onto him. The magic in the bludgers meant they would target the nearest body to them and then move on. Harry shot through the sky, keeping close enough that the bluder followed behind him.

"I don't know what Potter is doing," he heard Lee Jordan say over the noise of the crowd, "but it looks like he's had enough of just floating around looking for the snitch. Ooohhh that has got to hurt."

As Jordan was talking, Harry had charged the Hufflepuff chasers. They were in the middle of a wedge formation, making their way up the pitch as they tossed the quaffle back and forth between them, keeping theGryffindor chasers from taking possession. At the last second, just before he would have crashed into the lead chaser, Harry pulled up, hard. Behind him, the bludger couldn't correct fast enough and continue on, ploughing into the other player with crushing force.

The quaffle fell from his hands and a streak of crimson ripped by as Angelina Johnson snatched it out of the air.

"Gryffindor back in possession after that stunning play by Potter. Johnson has the quaffle, back passes to Bell. Bell passes to Spinnet. Spinnet goes to throw- NO! It was a fake as she passes back to Johnson again who throws and… SCORE! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

#####

"I don't like this," Hermione said a few minutes later. Daphne and Susan nodded in agreement. After the initial play where Harry had used the bludger to disrupt the Hufflepuff chasers he started to fly like a man possessed. Swooping and diving through the Puffs ranks, disrupting plays, drawing bludgers in to slam into the Puffs over and over. Once, he even charged the Keeper, pulling up at the last second to let the bludger following him slam into the other player.

"This isn't like him. This… this is brutal," Susan murmured so quietly Hermione almost didn't hear her.

At first, there'd been a degree of excitement when he first started integrating himself into the plays instead of just floating above it all, searching for the snitch. But as time wore on the crowd started to mutter and murmur amongst themselves. The Hufflepuff contingent in particular were muttering darkly as Harry continued a truly brutal, one man assault against their team.

After ten more minutes of play, there wasn't a single uninjured Hufflepuff and even the other Gryffindor players seemed to feel like something was amiss. The score continued to rise in favor of Gryffindor but the chasers played with noticeably less zeal. They started to miss passes, distracted by Harry's mad antics on his broom. Twice, the young seeker misjudged the location of a bludger and took a glancing blow to his left shoulder and the right side of his chest as he threw himself into danger with reckless abandon. It had ceased being a game, and became a slaughter, and only the Slytherin side of the stands seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Multiple times Snape tried to call a foul against Gryffindor, but, as ruthless as Harry was being, every move he made was in the rule book.

"Look's like Potter really has snapped his wand," a haughty voice sneered from behind them and Neville, Daphne, Susan, and Hermione turned to find Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle sitting behind them in the Gryffindor stands.

"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron snapped from the next row up. "Get back over to your side of the stands."

"There's nothing that says I can't sit here if I want to, Weasel," Malfoy sneered and his bookends snickered as Ron's face started to match his hair in his growing anger.

"What were you going on about, Malfoy?" Daphne demanded as Ron spluttered and stammered indignantly.

Draco gave the three girls a smug smirk. "Oh, nothing much. I just heard that Potter's so fucked up he's been ordered to see a mind healer or the Board of Governors will demand his removal from the school." He put on a mock pitying expression. "I mean, who knows how that curse that hit him all those years ago affected him. It's no wonder he's finally showing what a crazed lunatic he really is."

The girls paled and with an enraged growl, deep in his throat, Neville turned and launched himself over the seat at Malfoy. Above them, Ron followed, throwing himself into the air to land across Crabbe and Goyle, bearing the two bigger boys to the floor as the five of them started rolling around on the ground, fists flying.

"Harry spotted the snitch!"

The girls spun around from the fight as someone in the Gryffindor stands screamed their bond mates name only to see him diving vertically for the ground.

#####

The wind whistled past his ears, his robes flapped and snapped in the wind just as his hair was blown back and his eyes almost started to water from the speed he was diving at. Harry gripped his broom tightly and willed it toward the tiny glimmer of gold that he could see flickering near the pitch below. Sommerby was lagging behind and he could hear the older boy blistering the air behind him as he struggled to keep up with the smaller and lighter Gryffindor.

The snitch, as if sensing their approach suddenly darted away and both seekers pulled up sharply chasing after the tiny winged ball. Harry grunted when Sommerby suddenly swerved into him, attempting to knock the smaller boy off course but he gritted his teeth, pain flaring in his side from the bludger that had clipped him and he shoved back, his eyes never leaving the bobbing and weaving golden snitch as he pushed his broom harder in an effort to close the distance.

They swerved again, the snitch now more on their right and Sommerby had the advantage. If they got close enough Harry would have to somehow reach across the other boy to get at the snitch. One more time, Sommerby swerved, attempting to hit Harry and he grinned when he noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye.

Harry suddenly lifted up on his broom, barrel rolling up and over the other seeker who swerved far out of alignment when the expected resistance suddenly wasn't there and Harry reached out, putting on one last burst of speed. The last thing he saw before his fingers closed with crushing force around the tiny winged ball was the look of utter surprise on Professor Snape's face, just before the Hufflepuff seeker slammed into him, sending them both tumbling fifteen feet to the pitch below.

"And Sommerby takes out the greasy git-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry Professor McGonagall, I mean Sommerby accidentally crashes into Professor Snape, could have happened to anyone and… wait a minute… Yes! Potter has the snitch! Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch and this game is over. Thank Merlin for that."

#####

There was little celebration after their win over Hufflepuff. The game had ended an astonishing 270 points to 40, and as the students left the stands most were talking in heated whispers over the actions of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Without waiting for his team, Harry had tossed aside the snitch, landed, and headed into the changing room to get out of his uniform. He showered quickly, washing away the sweat of his exertions and changed back into a casual set of clothes before heading out into the locker room proper to find the entire Gryffindor team sitting around, still in their Qudditch robes, waiting for him.

He stopped, staring at the six faces that all turned to him when he entered the room.

"What?" he asked, curtly.

"Potter, that was some amazing flying out there," Oliver started, "but…"

"But, what? I caught the snitch. I won us the damn game, what more to you want Oliver?" he barked, angrily.

"Harry, what you did out there was brutal, and unnecessary," Fred spoke up.

"Yeah, mate, we're-"

"more than good enough to stomp the Puffs-"

"without that kind of game play," he and his brother finished, looking at Harry with surprisingly serious expressions on their faces. He'd never once seen either of the twins with anything other than an easy grin and the somber, if not grave looks they gave him were a startling counterpoint.

Harry glowered at them. "I didn't break a single damn rule," he snapped. "Every move I made out there was in the book and totally fair. If you've got a problem with it, then kick me off the damn team. I don't give a fuck anymore."

Oliver started spluttering out some denial but Harry didn't wait to hear him. He just pushed his way through the room and stormed out, leaving the rest of them behind, staring at each other in confusion.

"Seriously. What the fuck crawled up that kids arse and died?" Oliver demanded.

No one had any answers for him.

#####

Harry stormed his way across the ground, muttering angrily to himself and shoving back the continued memories of his life at the Dursleys. All day, without his conscious thought, images from the past would assault him and he found his hands trembling and his nerves stretched tighter and tighter with every passing hour.

"Harry, wait!"

He stopped and turned to find Hermione, Daphne, and Susan waiting for him by the stands all three with expressions of mingled concern and irritation on their faces.

"What?" he snapped and immediately berated himself for his behavior. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He just needed to be alone, needed to calm down, shove back the memories to-

"We need to talk to you, and you need to listen," Daphne told him, insistently, cutting into his rambling thoughts.

"I don't want to talk to anyone."

"I didn't say we were giving you the option this time, Harry."

He glared at the blond, his eyes hardening angrily and stomped closer to them. "And what makes you think you can make me?" he demanded. "The three of you have forced your way into my life, into my head. I don't get any peace and quiet anymore. You're there all the time. I wake up every night, screaming in terror that Voldemort's killed the three of you!" He ignored the startled gasps that revelation pulled from all three of them and continued ranting, "I've gotten really good at silencing charms since we got back to school. At least at the Boneyard I could check in the middle of the night, make sure you were all okay, but I can't do that here! If I could see that you were still alive and not ripped to bloody pieces I could go back to sleep but I CAN'T!"

He stopped suddenly, panting hard, chest heaving up and down as he pulled in huge gulps of air and his knees suddenly gave out on him as he slumped to his knees. Daphne grabbed hold of Hermione's and Susan's arms as the two girls immediately tried to rush toward him.

"I thought we'd had a little moment, last week, Harry," Daphne muttered in a saddened tone of voice. "I thought you were starting to understand that you can talk to us. You can let us in."

He snorted, his hands trembling violently but he couldn't say anything. His chest felt tight, constricted, like a fist was wrapped around his heart. He couldn't see, a rushing sound filled his ears and muted voices crying out reached him when a hand suddenly landed tightly on his shoulder and Harry Potter knew no more.

#####

Harry opened his eyes slowly staring at the ceiling of the hospital wing. Even without his glasses the pristine white surface was easily identifiable as the only such space in the entire castle. He groaned and closed his eyes again.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered and went to lift one hand to rub at his forehead, hoping to push back the throbbing headache. When he couldn't move his arm his eyes shot open again and he tried again. He pulled at both arms but they appeared to be stuck to the bed and a rising sense of panic began to well up until a calm voice interrupted his frightened musings.

"You're being restrained with a sticking charm so you don't attack anyone again."

Harry whipped his head to his right to find a blurred form sitting in a chair by the bed.

"Healer Gant?" he asked, recognizing the voice. The figure moved, and arm reaching out from the blurred mass which came closer until his glasses were placed on his face and the Healer came into focus.

"You've caused a bit of trouble, Harry," the Healer told him, in a disappointed tone. "But I can't say it's entirely your fault."

Harry gaped at the man, his mouth moving silently several times before he finally stammered out, "I- I don't r-really remember. What the hell happened?"

The healer leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him. "Let's start with that," he said. "What do you remember?"

"Why can't you just tell me-"

"I need to see what you can remember, Harry," Gant cut him off. "It's important so just work with me here. You're in a little bit of trouble but there's mitigating circumstances that we need to take advantage of right now to keep you out of the worst of it, understand?"

Harry didn't think he did understand, but he nodded and thought back as hard as he could.

"I woke up this morning…" he trailed off. "Is it still the same day as the Quidditch match?" he asked.

"Yes, it's Saturday evening. Dinner is being served right now in the Great Hall."

"Okay. So I was in a really bad mood this morning when I woke up. I'm not really sure why but I couldn't shake it. I got up and went to go practice my spells like I do every morning and the girls were waiting for me. They wanted to learn too and I didn't really want to fight with them over it, plus, I figured it couldn't hurt for them to know some knew defensive spells, right?"

Gant nodded but said nothing, merely gestured for Harry to continue.

"They worked on a few spells I showed them and I spent a couple hours working on a new one that I couldn't get down. That just kinda pissed me off more. We went back to the tower and I went to shower…" There he trailed off again and frowned as he thought harder about the last few hours. "The rest is kinda blurry," he admitted. "I remember being scared, and angry. I think I yelled at the girls," he added the last in a pained voice. "Oh man, they're going to hate me. Umm… the game… I remember being angry again… but it's all really blurry."

"That sounds about like what I'd expect, to be honest." Gant heaved out a sigh and sat back in his seat. "Okay, Harry. Here's what I've been able to piece together, and what I think happened. Your young ladies explained all of this to me earlier. After your practice session in the morning they said you went to shower and within minutes they felt the same kind of blind rage and terror that they felt over the holidays when the Floo triggered your memory. They stormed the boys dormitory, trying to get to you and said that after you came out, dressed, and apparently calm, you cut them off. You closed down the link you share with them."

Harry groaned and closed his eyes again, letting his head fall back on the pillow. "Shite," he moaned. "They're really going to hate me, aren't they?" he tried to focus on his link to the girls and found it readily enough but the emotions he felt coming from than were far more muted than he was used to. Their presence in his mind felt… less than he was used to.

"I can't say for sure but I doubt they would really hate you, Harry," Gant assured him. "Upset with you? Disappointed? Most likely, but I don't think they could ever truly hate you."

Harry opened his eyes again but didn't say anything.

"Anyway, during the game you were rather violent and brutal against the Hufflepuff team according to all reports. Didn't break any rules of play, but still. The girls apparently tried to talk to you when you were leaving the pitch and you went off on a screaming rant at them which ended with Professor Snape, bruised and injured himself from a collision with the Hufflepuff Seeker, approaching and grabbing your shoulder from behind."

Harry winced. Even when he was calm he reacted violently to being grabbed unexpectedly, he could only imagine what may have happened.

"You became rather violent, attacking the Professor for some minutes until you were finally stunned and brought here."

"Crap. Snape was probably thrilled with that."

Gant couldn't hide a smirk. "Yes, he has been quite loudly telling anyone within hearing how he's going to have you expelled. But," he added when a look of terror flitted across Harry's face, "I have assurances from the Headmaster that you are safe from that, but not from any punishment."

Gant observed Harry for a moment as the young man lay in the bed.

"Are you calm right now?" he asked and Harry nodded, confused by the question. "If I let you loose so you can sit up do you think you're likely to go off attacking anyone?"

"No, I promise I won't do anything."

Gant grunted, but reached into his robes and withdrew his wand, dispelling the charms holding Harry in place. Harry sat up, noticing that he was still dressed in the same clothes from earlier in the day, and also that Gant did not put his wand away.

"So here's what I think happened, Harry. I think you had a panic attack. Different from what happened at the Boneyard. The girls interrupted it when you were in the showers and got through to you, but you cut them out before they could help you. Your nerves were raw and you were in a bad state and then went into an emotionally and adrenaline charged situation like a Quidditch match. Put all together, it was a recipe for disaster."

"I don't understand."

"You're under a lot of stress right now, kid. Lack of sleep, fear from these nightmares you've been having, everything else that's going on in your life." He shrugged. "You just couldn't take it."

Harry stared down at his hands in his lap and starting plucking at the sheet bunched around his waist. "So… am I getting kicked out of school?" he asked, terrified to hear the answer.

Gant shook his head, staring at Harry intently. "No, but you're going to be put under a few… restrictions going forward."

Harry sighed and nodded. "What kind of restrictions?"

"Well, first of all, you're going to have to serve a month of detentions with Professor Snape to make up for your attack on him."

"What! But I don't even remember it. And Snape hates me!"

"That doesn't matter, Harry. Yes, it wasn't entirely your fault but you still lashed out and attacked a Professor. You can't get away with that without some kind of repercussions."

Harry frowned but nodded.

"Madam Pomfrey also has a calming draught for you basically whenever you need but you can't abuse them, Harry. You need to start learning to deal with these emotions and work them out on your own. To that end I'll be offering you a few exercises you can try and also I want you to start including a workout regimen.

"We need to build up your body more as well as working on your mind." He shifted his weight in his chair and studied his patient carefully. "This isn't the end of the world, kid. I want to apologize for my part in this. I thought you had a better handle on our conversation yesterday but it looks like I was wrong and I should have seen that coming."

"It's not your fault I'm screwed up," Harry muttered.

"And it isn't your fault either," Gant pointed out. "You're going to have to learn to forgive yourself eventually, kid."

Harry didn't say anything for a time, and simply stared at the sheet in his lap.

Finally, Gant sighed and pushed on his knees, leveraging himself to his feet. "You're stable for now kid. Poppy will explain what you need to do going forward and I'll be back to see you on Friday for our weekly session. Listen to the people around you, try to forgive yourself, make the apologies you need to and move on." He leaned forward and patted Harry's shoulder for a moment. "Now I think there are some young ladies who really need to talk to you. I'll distract Poppy for as long as I can, okay? Good luck." He gave Harry a wink and quickly walked away as Daphne, Hermione, and Susan stood from where they'd been sitting against the wall and approached Harry's bed.

Harry had rarely felt more nervous in his life. He'd been horrible to them, that much he knew. And that fear that they would eventually abandon him, fed up with all his problems and issues… it wrapped a cold fist of fear around his heart and squeezed, tightly.

"I'm so-"

"Hermione!" Daphne and Susan cried out, nearly in unison as, before Harry could finish speaking, Hermione's hand flashed out and cracked loudly against his cheek. His head whipped hard to the right from the force of the slap and his cheek stung fiercely, eyes wide in equal parts shock and hurt.

When he looked back at them, Hermione was trembling, her eyes brimming with tears and her face fluctuating between anger. remorse, and fear. Without saying another word she spun on her heel and fled the hospital wing before he could even attempt to say anything to her.

"You really screwed up this time, Harry," Susan pointed out in a low, angry tone. "I get it, to a degree, but you're going to need to make it up to her, to us. You have no idea what you did to us." Her blue eyes were hard with anger and she quickly followed after Hermione as Daphne sighed and sank into the seat that Gant had left by the bed, taking in the gobsmacked expression on Harry's face.

"Do you understand what it is you did, Harry?" she asked gently.

"You're not pissed at me too?" he asked sullenly.

"Oh no, I'm plenty mad at you. But if no one explains to you what you did wrong, I realize you're too damn thick to really figure it out for yourself." He wanted to immediately deny her claim, but realized she was probably right so he sat back and waited patiently for her to continue.

"You know how you were explaining how you dampen your pain and emotions so we don't feel them as much?" she asked and he nodded. It wasn't that long ago, of course he remembered. "Well, when you do that, we can still feel you, just very dimly." She paused and looked up at the ceiling for a moment as she tried to figure out how to explain what she meant. "I mean, you're still there, but we actually have to focus to feel your presence in our heads. Otherwise you're just drowned out by our thoughts, and any distractions that are around us. Does that make sense?"

He nodded again.

"Well this morning, when you shut us down, you completely shut us down. We couldn't feel you at all. You blocked the link entirely and that was, I think, the singularly most painful experience I've ever felt in my life."

Harry cringed, his eyes widening even further than before. "Oh gods," he whispered. "Daphne, I.. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to… I didn't want… oh shite." He hunched over and dropped his face into his hands. "I was just… there was so much in my head," he moaned. "So many voices, so many memories, I just needed quiet. I couldn't hear myself think, I couldn't breathe."

"That's when you rely on us, Harry," she hissed, anger flashing briefly in her eyes. "Dammit, Potter, how many times do we have to tell you we're here for you and you just keep pushing us away."

"I've been trying," he pointed out, trying not to sound like he was whining.

"And we appreciate that, we really do. Hermione will come around, she was just extremely hurt by what you did. You might want to try not hiding yourself from us for a while. Reassure her that you're still here."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Daphne remembered something else that she hesitated to mention, but knew that if she didn't, it would only be worse for everyone.

"Harry, there's something else I need to tell you."

He looked up, a hint of fear in his face.

"Malfoy somehow knows about your meetings with the Mind Healer. I can probably guess how he found out but I don't have any proof."

Harry groaned and covered his face with his hands again. "How?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"Lucius Malfoy is on the Board of Governors. You mentioned they were forcing the meetings right?"

He nodded again.

"I'd be willing to bet he sent Draco a letter, gleefully telling him all about it."

He nodded again and she reached out to squeeze his hand. "It'll get better," she assured him. "But you're going to have to face the music first.

As she stood, he gave her a confused look, but when she walked away his eyes landed on the disapproving stare of Madam Pomfrey and all the color drained from his face.

"Oh, shite."

#####

"Hermione, wait!"

Hermione's quick, angry strides slowed, slightly, as she let Susan catch up to her. The two were a couple of inches different in height with Susan just enough taller that when she wrapped her arms around Hermione, she was able to comfortably rest her cheek against the red heads shoulder, her own arms coming up to wrap around Susan's waist in a tight embrace.

"I hate him," she whimpered and felt Susan shake her head.

"No you don't, love. You're angry with him, and you're hurt, but you know he didn't mean it, and you know he'll be beating himself up worse than anything we could do to him, really."

Hermione didn't say anything for a time and just relished in the feelings of comfort coming from the red head that was wrapped around her. More than anything, the day had shown her a new appreciation for the other girls in their bond. Without Susan and Daphne, Hermione was entirely certain that she would have completely fallen apart. If she really had been alone with Harry in their bond… she didn't want to think of it.

"Come on," Susan whispered. "Let's go back to the common room and just relax. I think we need a little Harry free and stress free time for a bit. In all the fuss I forgot to tell you that Auntie Amy finally sent those Occlumency books I asked for months ago. You can have first crack at 'em, how's that sound?"

"How many books did she send? Are they long?" Hermione asked, sounding a little more upbeat as Susan began to lead her down the hall, one arm still wrapped around Hermione's shoulders.

"There's three of them. One is on the longer side but the other two…"

#####

Sunday morning found the students of Hogwarts still talking in small huddles about the game the day before. Rumors flew rampant about the school, helpfully encouraged by Draco Malfoy. Wherever Harry passed in the halls, the whispers and stares followed him, worse than ever before and he did his best to ignore them, walking along with only Neville for company.

"You don't have to stick with me, Nev," Harry muttered morosely later in the morning as the two sat in the Library working on their homework. "I'm sure you don't want to be seen with a nutter."

Neville looked up from his essay, almost glaring at his friend. "I'm not saying the motto again, Harry," he muttered back, aware that Madam Pince was prowling the Library, looking for students causing a disruption in her domain. "So, quit fishing already. You're my friend, and I'm not going to leave you by yourself, especially while the girls are upset with you."

Harry gave him a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and turned his attention back to his essay. He could still feel them, at least, there at the back of his mind. He'd taken Daphne's advice to heart and kept the link as wide open as he could, consciously making the decision to open himself to the girls. They, conversely, were all three exercising the trick he'd explained to Daphne and were suppressing the link on their end. Not completely, as he'd done the day before. But enough that he had to concentrate to feel them and he was starting to understand just how disconcerting a sensation it was to have their presence suddenly so small when before they were a constant in his head.

He felt small, realizing the level of pain he'd put them through. He'd sworn that he would never hurt them, never let them be hurt if there was anything he could possibly do about it, and then he went and pulled that idiot move, cutting them off entirely. It'd hurt him to do it too, he'd been aware enough at the time to recognize the pain searing through him at their loss. But the fear and chaos his mind had been thrown into drowned it out.

He deserved that pain, he decided, but they hadn't. He really needed to find a way to make it up to them.

"They'll get over it," Neville told him quietly, without looking up from his essay.

"What?"

"The girls. They're upset with you right now, but give them time, and apologize, and they'll be back."

"They've been avoiding me since they left the Hospital wing yesterday."

"They're upset." Neville finally looked up again. "They need a little space. You can't begrudge them that. Give them time."

Harry nodded and the two boys spent the rest of the morning until lunch working and talking quietly. Harry knew he had apologies to make over a wide number of people. He'd screwed up, big time. And Neville helped him plan what he needed to do.

When they finally made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry hopefully looked down the length of the Gryffindor table to find his girls sitting together, and with no space anywhere near them for him to sit with them. His face fell, but he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and marched his way down the center of the wide aisle in the middle of the hall toward the Staff Table.

It didn't take long for people to notice him, and slowly, the noise level in the Hall dropped as people stopped talking, and stopped eating, to silently observe him. I wonder if I'm ever going to stop feeling like some kind of exotic fish on display for people to gawk at, he wondered.

Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster watched him with veiled curiosity, Snape with a sneer of disgust as he approached and Flitwick with naked interest as Harry stopped in front of Professor Sprout. He'd always liked the slightly dumpy little professor. She was cheerful, pleasant, and didn't treat anyone any differently. She'd always treated him as any other student, and for that alone he would always be grateful.

"Professor Sprout?" he asked, respectfully.

The professor eyed him, not without a little anger. She did not at all appreciate how the lion before her had treated her Badgers the day before, and while she knew he had already been punished, she still wasn't thrilled to see him.

"What is it, Mister Potter?" she asked in a curt tone.

"I was wondering if I might please address your house at some point today? I believe I owe them a few words." He and Neville had carefully worked out the wording before coming down. He needed something properly formal, but not pleading. He couldn't come off as a child begging. He was a child. But he needed to accept responsibility for his mistakes, and acting his age wouldn't help him.

She studied him carefully for a few moments, a glimmer of possible understanding in her eye before she gave a short nod. "After Lunch," she said. "Wait for me at your table and I will take you."

"Thank you, Professor." He nodded to her and made his way back to his table as the noise level slowly increased and he slid into a seat next to Neville. He glanced down the table to find Hermione, Daphne, and Susan engaged in a quiet conversation, not one of them looking his way.

"They were watching you up there," Neville said as Harry started to fill his plate. He didn't put much on it, his stomach was rolling and he didn't feel that he'd be able to eat a lot.

"Thank's Nev."

Neville patted his shoulder and turned his attention to his food.

In time, the Hall slowly emptied as students finished their meals and left for parts unknown. Some to play games or relax with their friends while others would likely be doing last minute bits of homework. Eventually, long after Neville had already left, as well as the girls, without a backwards glance at him, Harry heard a throat clearing behind him and he turned to find Professor Sprout waiting.

"Follow me, Mister Potter."

He stood and quickly fell into step with her as she led him down to the dungeons and down a hallway heading away from the Potions classroom and toward a wall where a stack of wooden barrels stood. She directed him to stop before she approached the barrels and whispered the password. A cleverly hidden door opened and she gestured for him to follow into the Hufflepuff common room.

He looked around as he entered, startled to find that it was very similar to the Gryffindor Common Room except for the coloring. It had similar furniture and more than one good sized fireplace. The couches and chairs all looked quite comfortable and the room was filled with the entire student body of Hufflepuffs. With so many eyes staring at him, many with open hostility, he suddenly found his mouth dry as the carefully prepared words he'd planned fled his mind and his nerves ratcheted up to a new level.

He turned and muttered quietly to Professor Sprout for a moment.

"Could I ask the Quidditch team to please come forward here?" she asked and pointed to a spot in the front of the assembled students. It took a few minutes, but eventual,y the entire team was assembled and the rest of the students fell in behind them in support, every last one of them staring at Harry who took a step forward and cleared his throat.

This was not going to be pleasant.

"Thank you," he said, "all of you, for being here. And you, Professor, for arranging this." Harry kept his focus mostly on the Quidditch team, but let his eyes move periodically to other students in the house as well. "I asked Professor Sprout for this opportunity to speak to all of you because I feel you all deserve an explanation."

"Not an apology?" a voice shouted from somewhere in the back.

"Mister Smith-" the professor started, but Harry waved her off.

"That too, but I wanted to start with the explanation." Some of the students shifted slightly, but no one said anything else. "I'm sure you've all heard the rumors going around school? That I'm seeing a Mind Healer?"

Again, no one spoke, but the shifting of bodies was even more than previously.

"Well, it's true." He shifted his weight from foot to foot, fighting to keep his hands at his sides despite the desire to stroke the scar behind his jaw. "I haven't had a great life," he admitted. "The books I've heard have been written about me? Whatever they said about my life before school is a lie. I've never spoken to anyone about it before Friday, and I've never given any interviews or anything. I would really rather not go into specifics, but it wasn't pleasant, where I was raised. Anyway, over the Christmas Holidays I had… an episode, one might say. Something happened that brought up a very old, very frightening memory.

"I blew a hole in a wall at Bones Manor as a result. Because of what I've gone through… well some people felt I should see a healer to try and deal with it. On Friday, I had to give a more detailed account of what my life has been like before now. That's something I honestly never wanted to talk about to anyone. And it hurt, a lot, to talk about it."

Harry's head was down. He couldn't look at the faces of the students as he talked and he just pushed on, eager to hurry up and finish. "Yesterday when I woke up in the morning, apparently I was still suffering from that talk. I was emotionally distraught and a lot of bad memories kept creeping up that I didn't want to deal with. I was scared and I was hurt. During the game I got angry, and it was easier to be angry than to be scared and I took that anger out on you.

"That's the explanation for what happened yesterday. And none of you deserved that. It isn't your fault I was a mess, and I'm very, very sorry for how I behaved toward your team and your House."

He fell silent, and for a time no one moved or spoke. Eventually, Harry noticed a pair of shoes stop in his field of vision and he looked up to find a handsome boy standing in front of him with an easy smile on his face.

"Cedric Diggory," he said, holding out his hand. "I can imagine that was a really hard thing for you to say to us, and I, for one, appreciate it. Thank you, Harry."

Shocked, Harry hesitantly reached out and accepted the offered hand. Slowly, one after another, the rest of the house came forward, thanked Harry, and shook his hand. When Hannah approached, she drew him into a hug.

"Thanks, Harry," she whispered in his ear. "And give Susan some time. They'll forgive you, don't worry."

After they'd all returned to their seats Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look up at Professor Sprout who was offering him a warm smile and a watery gaze.

"Thank you, Harry," she said. "Mister Diggory had the right of it. I can't imagine that was an easy thing for you at all, but it's exactly the kind of action that is appreciated in this House." She gave his shoulder a squeeze and turned her attention back to her Badgers. "As Mister Potter has told us all something very personal, I will be extremely put out if I hear one bit of this being repeated anywhere in the castle, am I understood?" she said in a suddenly stern voice that reminded him strongly of Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Professor," the entire house chimed out in unison.

"Very good. Off with you."

With that they all stood and went their separate ways as the professor lead Harry back out into the corridor.

"That was a good thing you did there," Professor Sprout told him as the hidden door swung closed behind them. "I will admit, I was quite upset with your actions yesterday. You didn't break any rules, but that was rather poor sportsmanship. I'm… pleased to hear that that was not what we can come to expect of you, Mister Potter."

Harry winced and shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure anyone can expect anything of me for long. I've been told that Professor McGonagall may be removing me from the team. I've got a meeting with her in a couple of days to discuss it."

She patted his shoulder again and offered him a warm, comforting smile. "I'm sure things will work out, young man. Now, off with you. Try to enjoy the rest of your day as best you can."

Harry gave her a nod and a small smile and started to walk away before he stopped and turned back to her.

"Did Professor Dumbledore explain to you what happened during the sorting?" he asked, startling the little professor with the unexpected question.

"Are you referring to your connection to the three girls that spend so much of their time with you?" she asked, and he nodded. "He did mention, after the flying lesson where you were injured, that you shared a bond with them."

"I just thought you might like to know, Susan would normally have been in your House. She's the rock. The constant that keeps us all on an even keel. She's loyal, and kind, she's warm and pleasant. I just think, she would have really made an excellent Hufflepuff. I think you'd have been proud of her."

He turned and walked away heading off to look for Neville. He'd promised to help him with his Charms work, and Harry knew that the coming days were going to be difficult.