Weird chapter guys, weird, weird chapter. There's a bit of child abuse, something that's very triggery -I had to stop writing, because I actually cried a little, but I had to put it in there- so beware of the last few paragraphs.
I'm posting the two chapters now because I want to make up for the week -or two- of no posts, so I hope you guys will like them! But if you don't, review and tell me how bad it is -some help with spelling errors or just plain errors would be nice!- and don't worry, I won't cry or be offended, I welcome any corrections!
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!
(Do I really need to point out how obviously talented and beautiful the amazing J.K. Rowling is? Jeesh, I thought we covered this already!)
-oOoOoOo-
It was colder in the forest than out in the open, Harry found, as he trekked down the old beaten path riddling the forest floor. It was just as creepy in here now as it was when he was human, if only a little more dangerous now that he knew that Greyback's werewolves were roaming about. He'd long ago lost his enraged mind, having found that it was far more detrimental to his health if he didn't even know where he was going because of the red haze. He was far more lucid now, thankfully.
"Good going Harry, you got yourself lost in the Forbidden Forest on your second day back. Absolutely bang up job," he muttered to himself, eyeing the darker than normal shadows that clung to the trees sides with open suspicion. There were only too many dangerous creatures in here that could kill him, that could snap him like a twig and not care less about it. He really didn't want to find another nasty little surprise that Hagrid kept as his pet, the Acromantula's were enough.
And let's not forget the Centaurs, they were enraged enough with the Ministry's restrictions. They would -with no doubt in his mind- attack or even kill him on sight, and they wouldn't be merciful about it.
If it weren't for the immense feelings of sadness and emptiness in his chest, Harry would have already turned back. But as it was, he couldn't. He'd seen the looks on the faces of his friends and family, the disappointment that they held, and he knew that it was all for him. They were disappointed in him, and at a great level. And rightly so, he always managed to bungle everything up, whether it's attempting to rescue someone, or prevent someone he loved and cared for from dying, he always botched it up. Cedric was proof enough.
He shivered as a great gust of cold wind rushed around him, whipping his hair wildly around his face as it went. "Stupid prat ... should've at least taken that bloody robe, could've helped the cold - ahhh- !" he sneezed loudly, a harsh chill taking hold of his spine. He really could have done with that robe. He winced slightly when he heard the harsh sound of his sneeze echo back to him in the woods. That was way too loud, if the creatures in the forest hadn't already known that he was in here, then they would now.
"Child of man," came a deep, rumbling voice from behind him.
Harry froze where he stood, his shoulders hunched and shaking slightly from the aftershocks of that huge sneeze, and felt his innards freeze with fear. It was a Centaur. Centaurs have bows and very sharp arrows that always seemed to replenish in numbers, no matter if they'd already let fly a hundred of them. It probably had one aimed at him right now. He slowly exhaled and inhaled.
"Have we not warned you that we will not tolerate any trespassing on our land. Have we not warned Albus Dumbledore that we will not spare any who dare to test our patience? Are you so arrogant in your ignorance as to brush aside our warnings? Speak briefly human, before you feel the agony of our arrows, " said -or snapped- the Centaur, pawing at the ground with open hostility, his hoofs tearing up the forest floor and clacking against the collection of rocks.
Harry slowly turned around, fixing his haywire instincts to the back of his mind to not be tempted to arch up to the challenge the Centaur had so clearly issued. He held his hands up in plain view, offering them as a surrender of sorts so that the - the group of five very large and muscular -and not to mention highly dangerous- Centaurs knew that he wasn't going to do any magic. Centaurs hated magic with a passion.
He cleared his throat of an instinctual growl, and tried his best to keep himself as calm as possible in the face of five angry Centaurs. Three of which had arrows aimed at his head. "I don't mean to trespass -" he held his hands higher when one of the Centaurs snorted and pulled back the already taut string further, making the large bow creak under the strain and bend almost to the snapping point. "- I'd just had a ... a clashing with a vampire. I didn't know where I was until I recognized the fork in the path that leads to an Acromantula nest, and by then I was already too far in to go back. I just had to run."
"Vampires are not creatures of mercy, child, one would not release you until you were drained and they properly fed, do not take us for fools!" barked a severe looking brunette Centaur, his face mangled and gnarled with old but painful looking scars that ran from the uppermost middle of his forehead to the bottom of his left cheek. His pale brown eyes burned into Harry's. "Lie to us again, and you shall find yourself with an arrow between your eyes and your body beneath my hoofs."
Harry was unable to stop the small growl from leaving his throat at the threat issued by the brunette Centaur. He snapped his head to the left and swept the sticky blood covered hair over his shoulder, allowing his smarting wound to take in the freezing air sweeping through the trees. "Well this one did release me," he said through grit teeth, the growl still in his voice. "However unwillingly."
"You are not human," said a pale Centaur, though he voice it like it was a question. He seemed to be the only cool headed being in the group, and reminded Harry magnificently of Firenze, their new Divination professor. He even had the astonishingly blue eyes that Firenze was known for. One of the three armed Centaurs lowered their bow, seeing no reason to attack the pale injured boy in front of them. The other two pawed nervously at the ground, their weapons still raised and ready to fire.
"No," Harry admitted, eyeing the other Centaurs suspiciously. "I, like the other students at Hogwarts, went through a creature inheritance. I'm a Valerian."
The gnarled and seething Centaur who had previously spoken stepped forward, his muscled posture tense and rigid as if wishing to strike him. "A Valerian? There is no such being. You lie," he snarled, his hoof clacking on the flat rock that separated them as he pawed angrily at the ground. It made the other tense Centaurs nervous.
"The stars did speak of change," mused the pale Centaur thoughtfully, his expression neutral in spite of the tense atmosphere. Harry growled low in his throat when the brunette Centaur made as if to charge him. "In fact, they were unusually bright and active the night of the Potter boy's birth. I was drinking from the stream when I noticed the moon glowing magnificently -"
"Have we not sworn to do away with any stray human in our forest, Keenan? Or have you already forgotten the oath you yourself swore to in the dabbles of your childish mind?" the brunette Centaur snarled, rearing back on his thick hind legs and turning on the pale half-man beside him. "He should not be spared for your compassionate nature, he has violated the conditions on which the oath has been set! We must do away with the humans who dare -!"
"Silence your tongue, Noma, it speaks too quickly for your mind to comprehend. This boy is not a human, he is a Valerian," Keenan, the pale Centaur, said lowly, his voice dark. "I suggest you take your leave before you make a fool of yourself."
"The only fool here is yourself, Keenan. You blind yourself with the false light of others, you believe their lies and you will reap the rewards of your negligence upon your return to the herd. I shall see it done," snarled Noma, the severe brunette, his deep baritone voice booming and echoing in the trees as he once again reared up on his magnificent hind legs, kicked his front feet in Keenan's direction twice and took off over a small bend in the pathway, his hoofs clapping the ground as he went until only a few dull thuds echoed back to them.
The other Centaurs seemed to think that his disappearance was for the better, as they relaxed their uptight stances until they were more comfortable in the way that they aimed. Harry, however, was still tense.
"You won't be in trouble for defending me, will you?" He asked quietly, looking in the dark direction that Noma had just disappeared in. The shadows had shifted and curled around the Centaurs form, almost as if acting like a curtain. It unnerved him greatly.
Keenan shook his great head, his long shimmering white-blonde hair flowing in the wind gently. "One must sacrifice for the better of others, Mister Potter. That is a lesson I carry very close to my heart," he said softly.
Harry gave a small smile, despite the fact that Keenan had just inadvertently told him that he would be punished. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Firenze, would you? I swear that I've heard him say that before," he said instead, allowing Keenan to change the topic of their conversation.
Keenan chuckled, and the other three Centaurs relaxed, the remaining armed horse-men lowering their bows and dislodging their arrows. "Firenze happens to be my elder blood brother, as is Myron and Fillium. However, I regret to say that Fillium has long been cast out of our herd, and Myron is always patrolling our forests borders," he said sadly, a small sad frown on his lips. "How is my dear brother? I have not seen him in many a moons aging, is he well?"
"I haven't seen him yet, but I know that he's fine. Professor Dumbledore still has him on staff anyway. I know that much because Trelawney, the other Divination professor, whinges about him all the time," said Harry, smiling slightly. He shivered again when the wind blew around them fiercely. He was very quickly losing warmth, he could feel his fingers and toes numbing.
"Perhaps you should go back to the castle," a grey and white speckled Centaur suggested, his pale white face frowning at Harry's chattering teeth.
Harry began to nod, but stopped when he shivered too violently to manage even a tilt. "P - perhaps I should," he muttered, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and murmuring a warming charm, rubbing his clothed elbows all the while. The charm provided little to no relief, even if it was cast strongly.
"Your lips are the color of ice, bluer than the sky," murmured a tawny Centaur, examining Harry's face intently with his wide and ethereal chocolate brown eyes.
Harry didn't say anything to that, the memories of Blaise and his words still fresh in his mind. His lips were apparently blue then as well. But as long as no Centaur tried to kiss or bite him, he reckoned that he'd be fine.
"You are not concerned?" asked the Centaur, confused by the intensity on the boys face.
Harry snapped out of his inner thoughts and blinked rapidly. "I'll be f - fine. Just need to get back."
"Then we shall escort you," said Keenan firmly, gazing at Harry intently. "You could fall, and we will need to be there to help you," he said, as if expecting Harry to disagree or fight him.
Harry agreed, to their surprise, and they trotted forward to meet him, their hands already extended to nudge and rub at the his shoulders in an effort to create warmth and to push him in the right direction. Though Harry is a creature, like them, they still would not let him ride them. That was one law that they would not break.
"Lift your feet, Mister Potter, we are walking over sharp rocks,'' warned Keenan, one hand guiding Harry's shoulder and the other pushing aside any low hanging branches that might smack them in the face. The tawny Centaur followed his lead.
"How do you know my name? I don't remember ever giving it to you," Harry asked distractedly, trying his hardest not to stumble on his jelly legs while they were still walking over the many sharp rocks that he'd somehow managed not to notice on his way in. Well, there were a lot of things that he hadn't noticed. Like the fact that he'd probably been smacked in the face by plenty of the vines that Keenan was diverting.
Keenan replied readily. "Firenze often regaled me of your adventures during your time in the forest. He always spoke of your Light, the way it outshines all who were near. I find myself agreeing with his observations, however understated they are."
"M - my Light?" Harry asked, stumbling slightly over a wickedly curved rock that stuck out of the ground vertically. A large hand steadied him, and he sent the tawny Centaur a quick grateful smile, which was returned graciously.
Keenan smiled at the young creature, and couldn't help but to pet the boy's silky head. "Your magic, one would say. We Centaurs are not just stargazers, we are also beings of perception, we can see and observe your magic. Even from afar. Firenze had been ... obsessed with your glow."
"And you call it our Light?"
"What else would we name it? I should not think to say that it is an aura, that would lower us to that Trelawney human's level," Keenan replied, a large grin upon his face.
Harry really was coming to believe that Keenan was an identical brother to Firenze, they had the same white-blonde hair, the same pale milky skin, the extraordinarily blue eyes, the calm temperaments and compassionate natures, and even their smiles seemed to match.
"Fair enough," said Harry, a smile stretching his lips as well.
They walked in silence, the only sounds being the clapping of the Centaurs' hoofs on the ground and the slight ticking noise of Harry's chattering teeth, along with the occasional muttered warmth charm that had little to no effect. It was weirdly cold for a thick forest. Fortunately for Harry, the rocky part of the path had ended, but they were soon traipsing over thick layers of dried leaves that crunched under their feet and dulled the sounds of hoofs thudding on the ground. Not that Harry complained, he was too busy trying to stop himself from chipping away at his teeth.
"The castle is just beyond those trees," said Keenan suddenly, pointing a large hand at a thinning collection of trees that hid the rays of whatever sun was visible and the castle grounds that stretched on forever. They stopped at a small boulder. "I believe that our services are no longer needed here. However, dear Harry, I must warn you that you should not attempt to come back, Noma will only allow you this one visit, the only reason for his restraint being that you are not human. But I fear that if you should attempt to enter our forest again, he will do as the oath demands. He will not spare you a second time."
"But if I'm a creature, don't I have the same rights to this forest as he does?" Harry asked pensively, turning to look up at the faces of the four Centaurs with a small frown on his face. "The oath shouldn't consider me a human if I'm a Valerian, right? So that means that I can come back."
"I do not know," replied Keenan, a frown shaping his ethereal face. "But you would do best not test to the limits of its reach until you know in your mind and heart that it will not affect you. Bear it in mind that no one understands what a Valerian is, dear Harry, you could very well be considered a human. Tonight I shall gaze upon the heavens and consult with the stars on the matter of your being, but I dare not promise that their secrets will be shared."
With a small nudge from the tawny Centaur, Harry was moved rather forcefully towards the trees. "How will you tell me if I'm considered a human or not if I can't reach you?" he asked, frowning over his shoulder at them, the coldness of the wind pushed to the back of his mind for the time being.
"We will find you, dear Harry. You needn't worry," said Keenan, smiling as placidly as ever. "Now go, I believe your human friends are awaiting your return. I shall be seeing you soon."
Even though he was slightly unnerved by the events of the day, Harry still found himself waving to the four Centaurs and allowing for a small smile to sneak across his face. It was concerning just how easily he was able to brush off all the bad things that had happened to him, but he didn't find it worrying. Not really. Because he's used to being on his own, used to healing himself after a bad thing had happened - like uncle Vernon's foot somehow finding its way into his side while he was sleeping, repeatedly. And he was used to fixing himself after completely breaking, in fact, he was so used to it that he was basically immune to the fractures in his heart and mind.
No one knew what happened inside his mind, no one other than Voldemort had even the faintest of clues what it's like, but now he's dead. Not even Dumbledore knew what he thought, and now that he was actually thinking about it, Dumbledore had tried for years to pry open his mind whether subconsciously or unintentionally. His mind, however young and untrained in Occlumency he is, is impenetrable.
"See you later then," he said, waving once again at the smiling Centaurs as he made to pass through the last couple of trees. Keenan smiled widely and inclined his head deeply just as Harry disappeared from view.
And just as fast as he blinked, his smile was gone. He was back at the beginning.
-oOoOoOo-
"Where the hell have you been?" Asked Hermione at the very moment she spied Harry, her tone fierce and demanding, and her expression no different. Ron was stood close to her side, his arm wound loosely around her small waist, which meant that she was unable to put her hands on her hips like Harry knew she wanted to, but she looked no less the protective mother that she was known to be even when wrapped up in her boyfriends arms.
Harry's back tightened with stress, and he knew that he'd be soaking in the Prefects bathroom until the early hours of the morning to relax, there were just too many things happening. "Not right now Hermione," he said wearily, walking around them and into the brightly lit Great Hall. It was already dinner time, something that surprised and pleased him, seeing as his stomach felt like it was eating itself.
"Don't you not now me, Harry! You worried us all sick when you disappeared! Especially after what happened between you and Zabini! What on earth were you thinking? You nearly gave poor Mrs. Weasley a heart attack when she turned to help you, only to find you gone!" Snapped Hermione, following after him with a vicious determination to make him see the error of his ways.
"Harry, answer me!" She demanded angrily, her curly hair curling and frizzing even more with every second Harry didn't answer her. "Harry!"
Harry snarled, turning to face her angrily with his lips still pale and blue and drawn back over his teeth. He had had enough, too many things had piled up and happened too quickly. "I was in the forest alright?! Just stop -!" He faltered then, his body slumping when everything that had happened this summer crashed over him with wave after wave of emotion. He was tired of everything. "Just stop."
"Harry -" Hermione tried to say desperately.
"Just stop, Hermione. I can't do this right now," he said pathetically, his resolve to face them through dinner crumbling away and leaving him deflated.
Hermione sighed sadly, the fight in her draining away for another time. "I'm sorry for snapping, Harry. But you scared me so much when we couldn't find you, we weren't sure if you were in the Room of Requirement or some abandoned classroom, and I - we panicked," she said wearily, watching him try and pull himself together.
"You scared the shit out've me when you weren't there mate, the last thing I saw was you bleeding from your neck and Zabini crying about hurting you. And then you weren't there. I didn't know what to think," mumbled Ron, biting his lip and scuffing the toe of his show on the flagstone.
"Look, I'm really sorry for leaving like that," Harry began quietly, bowing his head and clenching his jaw instead of running his hands through his hair like he wanted to. "But I wasn't in the right state of mind to explain what happened, I felt like I could've torn something apart, I was literally seeing red. It was like something had taken over me, and I didn't know if I'd hurt anybody or not. I didn't want to take any risks, especially with you guys around."
"It must have been your inner creature coming out," mused Hermione thoughtfully, watching Harry intently as if she could see past his skin and flesh. "The instinctive reaction to Zabini's bite would have been instantaneous, you wouldn't have known how to react to it."
Harry was aware of the others seated at the table, of the fact that he was being stared at, but he honestly couldn't care. He felt like turning around and flipping them all -minus the Weasley's and Lupin's- the bird, even if his family ring burnt his finger off. Yeah, he was that type of careless.
His stomach growled loudly in the lapse of conversation, and he laughed awkwardly at the angry sound when Hermione's eyebrows raised.
Ron grinned widely, apparently over what had happened. "Well, the stomach has spoken," he declared playfully, clapping his hands loudly enough to gain the attention of his family and those that hated them that were seated at the table. "Let's eat!"
-oOoOoOo-
"I told you not to eat that pudding," said Hermione dryly, looking over at her boyfriend from her place by the fire.
Ron groaned again and rubbed at his slightly distended stomach, his face scrunched up in pain. "But it was so good, 'Mione. How can something so good be so bad? It was so chocolate-y and sweet and warm and tasted so heavenly ... can you get the House-elves to give you the recipe?" he asked hopefully, even when he groaned in pain again.
"I won't be making that," said Hermione, affronted by even the memory of it. "That pudding was so disgustingly sweet, it could rot the teeth out of your head if you ate even half as much as you did tonight," she tittered, returning to the half finished novel in her lap with a disapproving purse to her lips. She really had the overprotective mother thing down pat.
"Yeah, I still can't believe you ate the whole thing," added Harry, grinning from his position on the floor, where he'd been stretching and writhing about like a cat. They had retreated to Harry's new common room straight after dinner, wanting to be alone and away from the other students and parents -which all stayed in the Great Hall to talk- while they relaxed.
"Hey, don't mock my ability to eat so many things and stay in great shape just because you're jealous," grunted Ron, wincing when his stomach gurgled.
Harry scoffed at that. "Yes, because I want to get fat in my thirties like you will."
Ron frowned. "Who the hell said that I'll be fat? I'll still be in as great a shape as I'm in now when I'm in my thirties."
"Our metabolisms slow down the more we grow, Ron," said Hermione. "By the time you're thirty your metabolism will have just over half the speed you have now, and slowly that speed decreases and decreases until you die."
"You'll be the size of a house by the time you're sixty!" Said Harry cheerily, grinning up at Ron's disgruntled face.
"Then Hermione'll be the size of a shed when she's thirty, and you'll be the size of a planet when you're forty," replied Ron, rolling his eyes as Harry started laughing.
Hermione set her book face down on her open page. "And how do you figure that that'll happen to me?" She asked lowly, crossing her arms over chest. Harry wiggled around to face them so that he could watch Ron dig himself deeper into the hole he'd just made for himself.
"W - well," Ron began nervously, licking his lips. "You eat the same foods that I do - but not as much as me! No, no, you're really thin -!"
Hermione's eyes slowly narrowed. "Are you calling me fat, Ronald?" She asked slowly, dangerously.
Ron swallowed loudly, knowing that he was playing a very dangerous game. "No! You're absolutely perfect! I've never seen a girl more prettier than you! If you wanna see fat, just look at Lavender Brown! She's really laying on the pounds, isn't she?"
Ron was playing dirty, Harry realized when Hermione didn't reply. Ron knew all about the hatred Hermione had for all things Lavender, and he knew that whatever he said about Lavender was always closely watched by Hermione. And it's a smart move on his part, he thought, watching Hermione bite her lip with a conflicted frown.
"I don't care to talk about her," she answered primly, relaxing and picking her book up to find where she was up to. "She shouldn't even be in our conversation. Honestly."
Ron winked at Harry with a mischievous smirk. Works every time, he mouthed.
Harry rolled his eyes and flopped back over onto his back, stretching once again.
"You're going to ruin your joints if you keep doing that," tittered Hermione, turning a page with expert fingers.
"I always ache if I don't," he replied with a yawn, the warm fire beginning to lull him to sleep.
"I wonder if it has something to do with ..." Hermione's voice started to fade slightly, and the room began to fade into darkness.
A hand touched his foot and he jumped slightly, his eyes blinking open a little to see Hermione's slightly annoyed face. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, it definitely has something .." he yawned, arching his back slightly. ".. to do with being a Valerian."
Hermione rolled her eyes and removed her hand, going back to her book with a small huff. "There's no point in talking to you when you're ..."
Harry was asleep again.
-oOoOoOo-
"Boy!"
Harry woke with a start, his bruised arms already jerking up to wipe the crusted sleep and dust from his eyes. It was always dark and dusty in his cupboard, it was a given for dust to be in a cupboard, but the dust always multiplied whenever someone came stomping down the stairs, especially someone like uncle Vernon.
"Boy! You better be awake and cooking our breakfast!" roared uncle Vernon from above, feet clanking on the carpet covered stairs.
Oh no! I forgot to make breakfast! he thought desperately, shooting up in the small cot that aunt Petunia had found in a garage sale down the way. It was small and could barely fit their three year old toddler, let alone Harry, but he didn't mind. It was one of the few things that he'd been allowed to keep for himself. He only wished that it was bigger. He hurried to yank his grossly over sized shorts and shirt on, and scuffed his feet into the uncomfortably small and tight shoes that they'd given him 'out of charity'. Harry only wore them because they 'spoke' to him, which meant that they'd broken long ago and there was now a mouth were the sole of his shoe should be.
The metallic sound of the lock flicking open on his door had him shoving his glasses on, and he was very nearly blinded by the early morning light. Before uncle Vernon's blistering red face obstructed the view of the sunlit hallway. "You lazy, little freak," he hissed, his mustache wiggling on his upper lip. "Thought you could laze about the house while aunt Petunia slaves about, didn't you. Well I'll show you!" he growled, reaching in and yanking young Harry out by the neck of his large shirt.
"But I didn't -!" Harry tried to plead, but found himself on the receiving end of a backhand. He fell to the floor with a dull thump and cradled his red smarting cheek gently. He knew better than to speak out of hand.
Uncle Vernon loomed overhead, his hands already undoing the large leather belt wrapped tightly around his hips. It slithered from the loops with a sharp hiss, a sound Harry had accustomed to beatings and dangled before him. "It's your job to serve breakfast, boy," he said dangerously, his lips a thin line underneath the thick blonde mustache. "And what did I smell this morning when I woke? Nothing!" he roared.
"I'm sorry! I was tired, I -!"
THWACK.
"Did I ask you a question, boy?!" snarled uncle Vernon viciously, his hands tightening on the softened end of the belt until his knuckles were paper white. Harry paled at the sight of his enraged uncle, and the leather belt that gleamed wickedly in the morning light. "Take off you shirt and lay on your stomach!"
Young Harry did so immediately, knowing that if he made his uncle even angrier, the punishments would be worse. He bared his small scarred back to his uncle with no sound of complaint or pain, his baggy shirt bunched up in his small left hand. The first lash forced him to bite his tongue, his smarting cheek forgotten in the burning pain on his upper shoulders. It was uncle Vernon's favorite place to hit him.
"You're just like your bitch of a mother; lazy, stupid and good for nothing," snarled uncle Vernon from above him, raining the slashes down upon poor young Harry's back with reckless abandon, uncaring that some of the welts crossed over the others and drew blood. "A waste of space!" Harry's mouth welled up with blood from his tongue at the harsh blow.
"Your stupid drunk of a father was just as bad," sneered uncle Vernon, still raining lashes upon Harry's reddening skin as if he did it naturally. "He was always slapping your whore of a mother around, drugs in one hand and alcohol in the other. Pitiful, disgusting, worthless, a gutless little worm! It's a good thing he's dead, else he'd be slapping you around as well! You should be grateful that we're as kind as we are!" he spat, delivering a particularly loud and harsh lash that echoed in the house and had blood immediately welling up and sliding to meet the other stripes of blood on Harry's young skin.
All throughout the beating, Harry said and did nothing, only swallowing the blood in his mouth that he knew would make a return visit later that day. The pain on his back was unbearable, it seared and roasted his skin as if he was hovering over an open flame. There was no one that would help him. He was on his own.
Fortunately, the beating was coming to a close, as uncle Vernon had begun to pant and lose energy above him. He brought down the belt one last time, making sure that the little sharp spike on the buckle actually embedded itself into his skin, and dragged it slightly so that it pulled at his skin. Harry very nearly bit off his tongue at that, but it wasn't something he was unused to. "Clean this mess up, boy. I'd so hate to do this again," said uncle Vernon, clearing his throat and quickly re-situating the belt around his hips again.
Just as Harry had sat up, rather gingerly, and put his large shirt back on, Dudley came pelting down the stairs, his large pig-like face stretched with excitement. Harry didn't say anything as Dudley shoved him aside, feeling too drained to feel any sort of anger for his annoying cousin.
However, before Dudley could make it even as far as Harry's cupboard door, his foot caught on a rather wet patch of blood on the carpet, and before Harry knew it, Dudley was wailing at the top of his lungs, his hands already clutching his knee and his arse firmly planted on the floor right in the middle of the oval of blood where he had just lain in pain. "MUMMY! DADDY! HARRY TRI - TRI - TRIPPED ME!" He screamed.
"What?! Oh, my dear Duddykins!" Harry heard aunt Petunia screech from upstairs, and a small amount of ruckus was heard coming from the kitchen as uncle Vernon raced around, shoving his cup of tea so hard onto the table that it cracked and slopped the beverage all over the place, completely soaking his morning paper.
"POTTER!" roared uncle Vernon lividly from the kitchen doorway, the vein bulging so far out of his forehead that Harry wondered if it were about to explode and likely kill him.
"What have you done to my little angel, freak?!" screeched aunt Petunia fiercely, her bony arms reaching out to cradle and bother with Dudley's 'sore' knee. She had tears swimming in her eyes as she surveyed the 'damage'.
"Nothing! I don't know what -!" Harry tried to say.
Aunt Petunia screamed shrilly, and uncle Vernon rushed towards them, his arms outstretched as if unsure where to go. "What is it? Is he hurt?" he asked quickly, concerned.
"Look at all this blood!" she shrieked, tears making tracks down her face as she cradled Dudley's head to her bony chest. "My poor baby! My poor baby! We have to take him to the Hospital Vernon, he's lost so much blood!"
Uncle Vernon nodded furiously and raced about, gathering up the car keys and a blanket for 'poor little Dudley'. Dudley was crying so hard by now, that it was quite hard to see where his eyes were under all that fat. If Harry looked from afar, he would think that they were all the way down under his chin. The second one.
"This is all your fault, boy!" accused uncle Vernon lividly, almost throwing Harry into the wall as he helped Dudley and aunt Petunia stand up.
"But I didn't do it!" Harry denied, shaking his head frantically. It was the wrong thing to do.
Uncle Vernon whirled on him, his fists shaking at his sides and his eyes pure watery fire as they glared down at him. The buckle gleamed with promise. "You're going to get it when we come home, boy," he seethed, spittle flying out from under his mustache. He sent a fist flying into Harry's face, his knuckles cracking into his small nose with a harsh crunch, and down Harry went, where too many feet to belong to just uncle Vernon pelted into his stomach until he felt like liquid was oozing and filling his small chest. "I'm going to -"
"Harry, wake up!"
He snapped awake with a pained cry, his chest heaving for air and his body slick with sweat. His back burned under the expensive shirt clothing him, and he itched to claw at it with his fingers. He was panting, and still in the common room. Everyone had witnessed his nightmare, he knew it.
"Harry, you told me that you were fine," said a teary Hermione, her pale face covered by a small shaking hand.
"I - I am fine," he answered as best as he could, his tongue somehow numb in his mouth. His chest was still rushing to gather enough oxygen, and he fought to slow it down to a more normal pace in the hopes of calming down. It was hard knowing that he was being watched, but this was his punishment, this wasn't supposed to happen. There was a reason for taking those Dreamless sleep potions.
"You're bleeding, Harry!" cried Hermione, reaching out to touch his jaw with trembling hands.
Harry's back was against the closest wall before he even knew what was happening, and he was breathing in and out deeply, the memories still playing behind his eyelids and screwing with his instincts. To him, Vernon was still standing over him, still reigning terror on his body with that all too familiar leather belt. "Stop," he babbled, sweat dribbling down the side of his face profusely. "Just stop, don't - don't come near me yet. I'm fine."
"We're trying to help you mate, we wouldn't -" Ron began to say worriedly.
Harry shook his head frantically, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "No, there's no need. I'm fine. This'll pass." And it did, almost as soon as he had said it, his breathing slowed and he calmed right down. He had been caught totally unaware by that memory, and he felt a deep sense of shame stir in his belly when he realized that he worried his family and friends for no reason. He was fine when he had the potion.
He slowly gathered himself and stood on wobbly legs, mostly having to rely on the wall to keep him up. "See? I'm fine," he said wearily, opening his eyes to smile at his worried friends and family. He felt sick at seeing the Slytherin families standing near by, their faces blank but intense as they watched him. Ernie was wide eyed and teary, his mouth working silently as he watched on.
"I'm going to bed, okay? Good night," he said hurriedly, booking it to his room as fast he could move and ignoring the people still watching him. His door slammed shut by itself when he entered his room, and the fire roared into life almost in greeting. His magic seemed to be taking on a more helpful edge than the usual destructive one that he was used to, if he had been human, this entire room would have been destroyed and shredded into pieces. But he wasn't willing to think on that. He was quick to strip off and gulp down a Dreamless sleep potion, more than willing to forget that the day had never happened.
He settled under the thick duvet covering his bed, his arms wrapped around the knees that were pressed against his chest, and humming a calming and nameless tune to himself from out of nowhere.
The last thing he remembered thinking that night, was; Why does everything bad always happen to me?