An Unhealthy Escape
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters that are used in this story. Harry Potter belongs to the amazing J K Rowling!
Chapter 3:
Harry felt the familiar feeling of relief as he dragged the sharp blade across his arm. He watched the blood run down his arm and pool in the crook of his elbow before dripping down onto the cold wooden floor. He knew he needed to be more careful. At Privet Drive it was easy; no one there cared about him. N one checked on him, no one noticed his strange behavior. Here it was going to be a lot harder. Remus and Sirius were definitely suspicious, and Harry didn't want to imagine their reaction if they found out about the cutting, the nightmares, the abuse he had received from the Dursleys.
No one knew precisely how much the Dursleys hated him. Vernon Dursley would frequently beat him within an inch of his life. Harry was certain that if it weren't for his magic he would be dead by now. Harry had somehow managed to heal himself on numerous occasions, usually when the beatings were very bad. They also starved him and kept him locked up in his room for very long periods of time.
Harry watched the blood drip from the three fresh cuts that he had made on his arm. They were deeper than the other cuts he had made, and there was a lot of blood. Harry found that he didn't really care at that moment, as long as the pain and the loneliness were gone for the moment. It was strange; Harry knew that the cuts were hurting, he could feel them stinging. But he found he didn't mind the pain. He relished the pain. Harry tried to convince himself that it hurt, that he didn't like it. Only sick people liked pain. But he couldn't. He liked the pain. He enjoyed it. Harry knew there was something wrong with him, but as he watched the blood drip down his arm, he just could not bring himself to care.
"Harry? Your Hogwarts letter is here!" he heard Remus call him from downstairs. Harry, not in any rush to go downstairs, slowly cleaned the blood from the floor with an old towel he had found in a cupboard. He wrapped a piece of cloth tightly around his arm and pulled down the sleeve of his black jacket, before stashing both the cloth and is razor blade back underneath his pillow. Harry struggled to move the desk away from the door, and then went downstairs to get his letter.
+ . . +
"Here is your letter Harry," said Sirius throwing the envelope at his godson when he walked into the room.
"Thanks for that," said Harry, rolling his eyes as the envelope hit him in the face and fell to the floor. Sirius really was just a big kid.
"No problem!" replied Sirius grinning. Harry opened the letter and read the book list. Harry frowned as h saw the last book on the list. Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard. They must have found a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher then. Harry only hoped it was a good one, after the disaster last year. Harry still couldn't believe that his last defense teacher was actually a Death Eater. He tried not to think about last year.
Harry looked up from his letter and realized Sirius and Remus were watching him closely.
"What?" he asked nervously.
"Nothing," they both replied. Remus returned to his previous task of cleaning the kitchen, but Sirius kept watching him. "Are you okay Harry?" he asked after a while.
"I'm fine," Harry told him curtly. This just made Sirius look at him suspiciously. It was very obvious that Harry was lying. He always looked down and fidgeted with his shirt when he lied, just like James always did. While Harry was playing with the chord on his jacket, Remus took the book list off the table and read through it.
"Molly told me that Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins were going to go to Diagon Alley in a couple of days, if you want I can take you there to meet them?" said Remus.
"No," Harry answered quickly. Sirius and Remus looked at him suspiciously. "I'd just rather go on my own." Sirius and Remus looked at each other as if asking the other what was going on with harry. The Harry they knew would never miss an opportunity to see his friends, especially when they wouldn't be coming to Grimmauld Place for a while yet.
"Okay then," said Remus uncertainly. "I can take you later today and we can get all your books and things. You'll need new robes; you'll have grown out of yours."
"Okay," mumbled Harry already making his way up the stairs to the top floor.
When Harry reached the room he was looking for, he opened the door and stepped inside. Buckbeak the hippogriff looked up at him as he gently closed the door behind him. Harry looked the large creature in the eyes and bowed down low, not breaking his eye contact. Buckbeak looked at him for a moment before bending his head down to the ground and bowing to Harry. Harry walked across the room and sat next to Buckbeak who was lying on the ground. Harry leaned against the hippogriff's large feathery wing and stroked him absentmindedly, thinking to himself.
Harry knew that if he went to Diagon Alley with his friends they would no doubt pester him, asking if he was okay and how he was doing and how he was dealing with everything that had happened. He knew they would ask about Cedric. There was no way that harry would be able to hide his deteriorating mental health from his two best friends, and he knew that.
It would be easier at Hogwarts where he could easily blame it on the stress of exams or just being back at school.
Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there before he heard the door open and saw Sirius come into the room. Sirius sat down in front of his godson.
Sirius just sat and looked at Harry for a while. Harry was still staring at Buckbeak while stroking him. Sirius saw a haunted look in Harry's eyes that had never been there before when Sirius had known him. He saw the dark circles underneath his eyes, and wondered how often it was that Harry couldn't sleep.
"Harry?" Sirius asked quietly. Harry didn't respond. He simply sat there, staring off into space.
"Harry, are you alright?" At this question, Harry seemed to come alive. Something snapped inside of him. His head whipped up so fast Sirius was sure he would have a sore neck. His eyes were made of emerald fire as he looked at Sirius, rage evident on his boyishly handsome features.
"I am fine! There is nothing wrong with me!" Harry yelled at a thoroughly bemused Sirius.
"Harry, calm down please," Sirius said looking into the young teen's eyes. "Remus and I are worried about you. You haven't been yourself. We just want to make sure that you're happy Harry, I wasn't suggesting there was anything wrong with you." Harry visibly calmed at his words.
"Sorry," he mumbled quietly. "I don't really know what came over me." Harry looked down at the floor, a slow blush spreading across his face.
"Harry, do you want to talk about anything?"
"It's just – I – I can't. I'm sorry."
"There's no need to be sorry Harry," said Sirius sadly. He knew that there was something wrong with his godson, but he wouldn't talk to anyone. "But if you ever need to talk about anything, no matter what it is, Remus and I are always here for you. You know that right?"
"Of course," replied Harry softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
"You'll come and tell us if there's anything wrong?"
"Yes," Harry lied. Harry hated lying, but he had become quite adept at it over the last few years of his life. He was constantly lying to people; his friends, his teachers, Sirius and Remus, everyone. It was always the same lies as well. I'm fine, I slept fine, I ate enough, I'm not hungry, no I didn't have a nightmare, I don't know where the knife came from, it's just red ink, Crookshanks scratched my arm, Hedwig cut my wrist; the list goes on and on. Harry was sick of lying. Harry hated lying. But he didn't really have another option, he thought.
He had considered talking to Remus. He had seen the faded white lines that decorated the werewolf's arms. But if he talked to Remus he would surely tell Sirius, and Sirius would surely tell Dumbledore. If Dumbledore found out, then soon everyone would know. 'Just what I need,' thought Harry, 'Another article in the Prophet about the Boy-Who-Lived gone mad'.
Harry was brought out of his thoughts by Sirius.
"Remus is waiting for you downstairs; he said that it's time to go to Diagon Alley."
"I'll be there in a minute," Harry said before walking out of the room leaving Sirius looking sadly at the spot on the floor his godson had just vacated.
+ . . +
"Come on Harry, we'll take the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron," Remus told the dejected looking teen who was trudging down the stairs as if he were walking to his own execution. "What's wrong?" Remus asked.
"People are going to stare at me," Harry whined, sounding a lot more like a fifteen year old than usual. Remus smiled a little at this.
"Well, you are the Boy-Who-Lived; you should be used to it by now. Also the Prophet's not helping, telling people you're a nut job and whatnot," Remus sad.
"Oh, gee thanks Moony. I feel loads better." Harry grumbled as he walked over to the fireplace and took the pot of Floo powder from the wall, perhaps a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary.
"Careful," Remus chuckled as the greenish powder spilled on the floor. Remus waved his wand and sent the powder on the floor flying back into the box. "And Harry?"
"Yeah?" Harry placed the box back on top of the fireplace and turned to look at his ex-professor.
"Don't get lost this time," Remus smirked at Harry, who stuck his tongue out. Harry threw the powder into the flames before stepping in and shouting "The Leaky Cauldron!"
A/N: A bit of a boring chapter, but the next one should be a lot more interesting. Sorry! Please take the time to leave a review; I would really appreciate your feedback! Milo.
