Cursed
Chapter 5: Self Mutilation
Harry sat on the floor of the bathroom staring at his bloody fingernails. "Why is this happening", he whispered.
The last couple of days had been hell. First he was severly ill, and had to spend the night in the hospital wing. Then he thought he was going mad when he kept seeing things that weren't really there. He shuddered, trying to forget that one image of Hermione dangling an infant by its leg.
And Snape...He thought the man was going to burn to a cinder, but instead he remained enflamed, and kept coming closer.
And now... he sighed heavily, as if trying to will it all away.
Noticing how bloody his legs were getting, he got up and grabbed some toilet paper and started to wipe some of it off.
"Oh my god", he croaked quietly, seeing how deep the wounds really were. He prayed that some form of magic could take care of the scars.
Carefully he worked his way around each scrape, trying not to put too much pressure on the already sore open wounds. Grabbing more tissues paper he continued wiping more vigorously. He wiped and wiped harder, not realizing it. Before he knew it his nails were once again digging into his skin. "Agh", He pulled his hand away quickly. "What is this!"
Getting up from the floor, he walked to the mirror to check on his gruesome reflection. He stared at himself, almost expecting to get some sort of answer.
He looked at his face. Pale, tired, bloody. He ran a finger over one of the cuts, following the length of it. He hissed in pain as his finger suddenly dug deeper on its own accord.
"Aggh!" Harry cried out, as his fingernails dug into the already opened wound. "No!" He tore his hand away from his face.
Panicking, he ran out of the bathroom. He wasn't sure where he was going. But maybe if he just kept moving, he wounldn't wind up hurting himself.
'Snape', he thought. 'He's the only one that knows something is going on.' Before he knew it, he was running towards the dungeons. But as he got closer, the more anxious he got. 'It's the middle of the night.' He really didn't want to disturb him. Him of all people. Suddenly, his sprinting slowed into a quick stride. Different scenarios ran through his head, wondering how Snape would react to being woken up by a student.
Before he realized it, he was shuffling his feet right infront of Snapes door. He stood there for a while. Just him and the small flicker of a few torch lights. Cringing, he tapped gently on the door.
He waited a few moments, though he knew that no human could have heard such a faint noise. Taking a deep breathe, he knocked again, this time perhaps a little too loudly.
He bit his lip, waiting to hear the grumbling from the man within.
He was shocked when the door creaked open suddenly, revealing the grumpy Professor. His dark eyebrows furrowed in confusing. "Potter...Don't try to tell me you are sleep walking", He spoke just as dry as ever.
"Um", Harry suddenly felt uneasy. "...Professor...I.."
As soon as Snapes eyes adjusted, he quickly noticed the horrible gashes on the boys face and chest.
"Merlin, Potter."
Harry stood uncomfortably, while the taller man looked at the boy in disgust.
Something about the size of the wounds disturbed Snape to the core. Eye'ing the boy suspiciously, he grabbed one of his hands and examined it closely. Sure enough, his intuition was correct. The boy's own flesh and blood were indeed encrusted under his own fingernails.
"...I didn't mean to", Harry tried to explain.
Snapes silence only sufficed in making Harry more uncomfortable.
"Infermary Mr. Potter", Snape spoke cooly.
"Yes sir", Harry nodded, feeling foolish that he hadn't gone there in the first place.
"Hold it right there", Snape spoke to the retreating boy. Harry looked back in confusion. "You will not be going alone" He beseeched, pulling on a heavier robe. "I will escort you myself."
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Harry followed the taller man in silence.
Beginning to feel a bit twitchy, he strayed behind. He itched all over. And he didn't know why, but he knew that if he just hit his head a couple of times against the walls, he'd feel better. He shook his head to try to brush that feeling away. Where did that come from anyway?
But the feeling didn't go away, instead it only got worse. And eventually his head was irritating him to the point of insanity. Making sure Snape wasn't looking, he punched the top of his skull a couple of times. The pressure and the pain seemed to relieve the itchiness slightly. He sighed in relief as he tried to catch up to the older man.
Snape walked with a quick grace, trying to get there as soon as possible, but also managing to retain his cool demeanor.He knew there was something wrong with the boy. These patterns of affliction were not just a coincidence. There was something evil at work here.
Feeling the boy's presence drift away, he turned around to allow him to catch up... But what he saw, severely disturbed him.
Barely still within eyesight, there he was grasping the stone walls desperately, pounding his head repetetively against the stone.
"Potter!", he gasped, forgetting his demeanor and running over quickly. He grabbed Harry from behind and pulled him away from the wall.
"Agh!" Harry cried, holding his bleeding head, sobbing in pain.
"Shh!" Snape hushed, holding him close, trying to calm him down.
His head was killing him. All he could feel was the throbbing pain that seemed to seep into his skull. He couldn't even feel the person behind him holding him close, The person who had torn him away from the wall which now streamed with blood. Unfortunately his arms were still free, and those spiteful hands which seemed to hold a mind of there own worked their way up to Harry's already bleeding forehead and clawed all the way down, bringing down flesh and blood in the process.
"AaaaH!" He screamed in torment at the new pain his body was recieving.
Snapes heart jumped at the sudden outburst, and tried to cover Harry's mouth, to prevent him from waking the entire student body.
Reaching into his robe, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the boy. "Stupify!"
He waited for the charm to take affect. A strangely prolonged amount of time. As Harry seemed unaffected, he wondered if perhaps, in the dark he'd missed his target.
"Stupify!"
Once again, the boy stance remained unchanging.
Snapes heart rate quickened. Potter was unaffected by magic. Which could only mean one thing. There was a curse upon him.
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Poppy was just about to settle after a hard days work and sip her herbal tea, when the door was kicked open.
She had her mouth open to yell at the person who'd practically broken the door down, but instead her mouth hung open, when she saw Severus Snape walk in, carrying a severely injured student.
"Harry!", she gasped.
"Bind him!" Were the first words out of the Professor's mouth.
Though confused, the Medi-witch took out her wand.
"Not with magic" Snape uttered, holding the twitching boy.
"What's wrong with him Severus?"
"Get something to tie him down with!" Snape hollered, trying to hold down the struggling boy on the bed. For a moment she didn't move, when she noticed Harry try to tear a chunk of his own hair out.
"Now women!" Snape beseeched.
Quickly, she tore her gaze away from the hospital bed and went to look for something to bind him with.
In the meantime, Snape was struggling to keep Harry's arms down. "Come on Potter", he argued. "Stop this." Harry arched his back, as Snape held his arms down. Not being able to cause physical harm to himself was causing him just as much discomfort as if he were to hurt himself.
"Rrrr...Professor", he whined. "Let me go", he begged, writhing as much as he could.
The older man, turned his head away from the 'train wreck' before him. Between the wounds on his head from the stone walls, and the previous gouges he'd made in his face, there was hardly a spot on the boys face that was not covered in blood.
Finally, The Medi-witch returned with a large roll of gauze. "This will have to do."
"Do it quickly."
Tie-ing a knot to the bed post first, she grabbed Harry's fidgeting arm and wrapped the gauze around his wrist, securing it to the bed-post. To his horror, both of his arms were tied to the bed. Leaving him unable to scratch, claw or punch himself.
Taking a step back, Snape looked at him with a heavy frown. As he stared at the boy, he didn't notice the extremely disturbed Medi-witch looking at him.
"Well!.."
Snape turned his face, almost forgetting she was there.
"What the hell is going on!"
He tried to think of what to say to the panting woman, who was now wearing some of the boys blood.
"I"-he began, but was cut off by the sound of Harry now slamming his head against the bed post.
"Merlin!" He hollered running over quickly to Harry's side again. Grabbing the pillow, he tried to block Harry's head from the beatings he was giving himself.
Thinking on her toes, Pomfrey began to tie the boys feet to the other end of the bed, to restrict his movements.
Soon Harry was unable to move at all. Though that did not stop him from trying. He still pulled and twisted at the binds, shaking the whole bed.
"Harry." Poppy suddenly put her hands on the boys chest calmly. "Relax", she soothed, pushing a few of his bangs away from his eyes. "Tell me", she spoke softly into his ear. "What hurts?"
"E..Everything", he panted.
"I'm going to the Head Master", Snape announced.
Poppy shook her head in agreement. "I'll do what I can, in the meantime."
He nodded quickly before leaving.
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Though he held the utmost respect for the man, Snape did not hesitate to barge into Dumbledore's office unannounced.
The old man looked up in faint surprise, before turning back to feed his phoenix a treat. "Severus, my dear boy. What do I owe the pleasure?"
"It's Potter Sir", he explained, getting right to the point.
Dumbledore appeared slightly more alert, at the mention of his 'Golden-boy'.
"He's...ill."
"...Ill?" The old man questioned, eyes boring into Snapes, demanding answers.
"I believe Mr. Potter is the victim of a curse", he spoke in his usual tone and demeanor.
The old man brow furrowed. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"Perhaps..." He knew there were no words to describe the boys present state. "...you should see for yourself."
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When the two men entered the infermary, Poppy was still trying to wipe the blood off the boys face.
"Madame", Dumbledore greeted.
"Headmaster", she nodded.
He came to a quick halt as he noticed Harry's condition. "Who did this?"
"He did", Poppy glared, wringing out her cloth.
The old wizards eyes widened briefly, before returning to their normal twinkle. "Well... I'm sure he'll remain safe here until the curse wears off."
Snape grimaced at the naive man. "Sir...If I may enlighten you to the situation...The boy's health has been rather inept for a few days now."
"Oh?"
"I'm certain that he's experienced a number of curses recently. And after what I've seen, I must express my concern."
Harry lay in bed, groaning in pain. And as the Medi witch turned back to her patient, she noticed that he was biting and chewing at his lips, witch were now bleeding.
"I'm at a loss", she sighed heavily. "This is beyond me. And you knew it when you brought him here", she looked at Snape accusingly.
"And just where should I have brought him women", he replied harshly.
"Settle down", Dumbledore interupted. "This is obviously the best place for him to be at the moment. He's in good hands", he looked to the medi-witch, reassuring his trust in her. Though she seemed to ignore his gaze.
"Severus, I'd like for you to browse around the library. Primarily the restricted section if you would, and find out what you can about young Mr. Potter's condition."
Snape nodded in consent and left quickly.
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Ron and Hermione were in 'Ancient History 2', both voicing their concerns to eachother about there absent friend. Ron knew that Harry had been in his bed the other night because the sheets were thrown off, but he'd not seen him all day. And Hermione last saw him getting dragged out of Potions class after reaching into a boiling cauldron.
Both were extremely worried and ready to go to the Headmaster. It was all they could do to not walk right out of their class and hunt the man down. However, Hermione, being a bit more level headed, had decided to wait till after class. Neither of them, however, could concentrate on their work, and were both, secretly, counting down the seconds to the end of class.
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Something did not settle well with the Potions Master as he headed to the library. The curses brought upon the boy seemed to be getting progressively darker.
He remembered the morning Neville had led him back to the boys dorm, and he'd found the boy ill in his bed. Honestly, though he'd never admit it to anyone, his heart had jumped when he saw him. Not that he'd been truely worried. It was just a faint concern, is all. Afterall, the boy had been practically blue.
But even though he knew his sickness, at the time, had been serious, it was a far cry from the Self mutilated form he'd become.
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Back in the Infermary, Harrys wrists were turning purple. The constant pulling and tugging at the binds was cutting off the circulation to his hands.
Madame Pompfrey had done well in aiding his wounds. However it was difficult to keep up with the new ones he was creating. His lips were swollen and bleeding. And there was little she could do to stop him.
While tending to his wounds, she would talk to him and try to get him to stop biting his lips and tugging at his arms. But nothing she said would get him to stop. Every once in a while he'd apoligize for not doing as she asked. But she'd just keep wiping away blood and try to soothe him as best she could.
While the Medi-witch left to get more ointment and bandages, Harry was left to himself, lying uncomfortably in bed. His breathing was heavy and he was covered in sweat.
'I wish Hermione was here', he thought. Though he really didn't want his friends to see him like this, atleast she would probably be able to comfort him. His eye's watered as he bit through his lip once more. 'God, where is everybody?' He felt so alone. He didn't know why Snape or Dumbledore had left. He wished he'd heard what they were talking about. Even if his friends couldn't be here, atleast having Dumbledore here would make him feel better. For some reason, he didn't think that Madame Pompfrey was trying to find a way to cure him. She wasn't using any magic or brewing any potions. It was as if she were only stalling.
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Snape sat in the dark dusty library, pondering over the many books before him. There were far too many books on curses for his liking. But he read each one carefully.
He flipped through page after page, but none described any of the boys symptoms.
He breathed heavily, rubbing his forehead in frustration. If no one had seen a case like this before, than it was unlikely that it would be in one of the newer books.
Selecting the few older books in his pile, he sat down once again, and perused each one.
Curse after curse, hex after hex. Curses that blind, curses that invoke fear, cover you with boils, turn you yellow... and so on.
He turned yet another unavailing page and read the next curse.
"The Devils Plague"...he furrowed his eyebrows at the name. He heard that name before. But he was sure it was just a Myth.
Though skeptical, he read the page.
The Devils Plague
Little is known of the curse. Though many believe the curse to be invalid, multiple people have claimed throughout history that they were witnesses to the consumation.
All who claimed to have witnessed the curse, claim that there were multiple elements. Experts in the study of Ancient Magic believe that there were 5 steps.
The first is Sickness: Where the victim develops an unatural illness, which symptoms most likely include nauseau, high fever and vomiting. Though the duration of each step is unknown, it is likely that it is determined by the one who had placed the curse.
The second step is Halucination. In which the victim becomes delusional. Their Reality becomes destorted as various images are percieved as gruesome and morbid.
At this point, Snapes eyes were wide and reading intently.
The third step is Self Mutilation. Although the victims body is still able to percieve pain, they become driven on tormenting themselves. Almost as if possessed, the victim will use any means necessary to bring harm to themselves, for some, this means death, as they are unable to control their motions.
In 1692, Marryanne Poppet, claimed that she awoke one morning to find that her husband had gouged his own eyes out in the middle of the night.
Later in 1703 Dennis Brookestone claimed that his daughter bit her own tongue off, and eventually died of blood loss and infection
Many claims have been made. However, no evidence of a curse had been found, and eventually many were accused of killing their own loved ones, creating false accounts, and were put to death themselves.
Sickness, halucinating and self mutilation. There was no doubt. After browsing through hundreds curses, he'd found the one. Know, hopefully he could find the cure...
Those who survived the third step, would inevitably succumb to the fourth.
Insanity.
"Merlin." Hadn't the boy been through enough. He really didn't care to read any further. But for Harry's sake, he did.
Ranting, raving, screaming and moaning. At this point, there mind is lost, and in many cases, they do not recognize the people they once knew. Shouting profanity. This dementia causes them to forget all modesty or decency and reveal their darkest and cruelest nature.
A slight panick overcame the Potions Master, as he imagined the young boy losing his already fragile mind. He tried not to imagine what he'd say, what he'd scream to his friends if they happened to find him. ...For all he knew, the boy could be ranting right now. Screaming and saying god know's what to the Medi-witch.
He also was not looking forward to telling the Headmaster that the savior of the Wizarding world was only hours away from going mad, unless they found a cure. He really didn't know how the situation could get any worse. That is until he read ahead.
Once the victim experiences all these four curses, the fifth and final step is death.
AN: Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry, for the long wait. I know it was a little rediculous, and I'm sure I've lost a lot of readers because of it. But please keep reading, and I won't stop writing. :) Next chapter: Insanity