*TW SELF HARM*

CH9: Numb

After Vernon's last attack, Harry had not been the same. He felt empty, helpless and like the world was crashing in on him.

Harry wanted to be dead. He didn't see the point in life anymore, all he did was suffer.

More letters had arrived from his 'friends' but Harry still hadn't replied, he had even noticed Dumbledore's slanted writing in the last lot. Harry had thought about opening that one in case there was some important information about Voldemort that he could help with. But he couldn't bring himself to care enough.

Harry didn't really care about anything anymore, he didn't feel or think, he just existed.

Harry got up each morning when Vernon and Petunia's alarm went off, to make the family breakfast and start on his list of chores. He worked all day until tea-time when he cleared up the kitchen and returned to his room. He spent his nights staring at his ceiling knocking away the urge to sleep.

There had been a couple of times where the house had been empty where Harry had managed to sleep for a few hours before the Dursley's returned, always shoving a sock in his mouth just in case the Dursleys returned home early, and he had another incident. He did not risk sleeping while they were in the house, not after the last time.

Harry hadn't eaten since Vernon had hurt him last, he hadn't been able to hold anything down, and he decided he didn't deserve food anyway, he wasn't strong enough, not smart enough, and he deserved to suffer.

It had not been a week since the incident and Harry was sure he could feel his body shutting down, he could feel every rib though his sunken skin, even the broken ones. He could feel he didn't have much time left if things stayed the way they were, and he couldn't say that he cared.

Even Aunt Petunia had shot him some worried glances, he caught her watching him through the kitchen window as he mowed the grass earlier that week, though from that far away he couldn't be completely sure if the look was worry or disgust.

Dudley had even stayed clear of Harry the last week, keeping his attacks verbal rather than physical, though even his verbal assaults lacked heart, especially when Dudley received no sort of reaction from a dejected Harry, Dudley usually just shrugged and went back to watching the TV.

Vernon had acted like nothing had happened, he seemed rather happy actually, like he had finally won against Harry. Like he got satisfaction from seeing Harry so miserable.

As it was Saturday and the whole family was in the house on a Saturday, Harry remained in his room, staring up at the ceiling. Everything seemed so monotonous, he found himself craving to feel something, Anything.

He remembered back to the day before in the garden, when he had pricked his finger on a thorn. The sharp pain had broken through the haze slightly. He had been surprised he had felt the pain, he was sure he couldn't feel anything anymore.

He wanted so desperately to feel something.

Harry looked around his room, looking for ideas, his gaze fell on the broken shards or mirror in his bedroom bin.

What was he thinking? Did he really want to cut himself?

He decided he did.

He eased himself up from his bed, retrieved the glass, and returned to his bed where he shuffled himself up the wall and crossed his legs.

He raised both sleeves of his jumper, comparing his left forearm, with smooth and unmarked skin, to his right where the evidence of the resurrection ritual had scarred his skin.

He decided they should match.

Harry took the mirror and pressed it to the skin of his left forearm, applying more pressure until a bead of blood appeared. He then dragged the shard across his arm, watching as the red blood followed it.

The cut wasn't very deep, but it was enough to dribble down his arm slightly.

The pain was a welcome escape to Harry. He was feeling something, anything.

Harry sat just staring at his arm until the pain started to recede, then he made another cut parallel to the last. Again, he sat, in his painful calm and watched the blood ooze out of his cuts.

When the pain of the second cut ebbed away, he decided that was enough for today, he wasn't trying to kill himself... was he?

He checked the time and decided that the Dursleys would be downstairs, still wrapped up in whatever stupid soap drama was on at this time of evening and made his way as quietly as he could to the bathroom to wash his arm.

Washing his arm brought him some more pain, which he welcomed, allowing the water to run over his cuts for a few minutes until most of the red washed away. He then retrieved the first aid kit from the cupboard and bandaged up his arm.

Before leaving the bathroom, he inspected to make sure he had left no evidence of his activities, then he made his way back to his bedroom.

Things felt a little easier tonight, so he didn't go straight back to his bed. Instead, his gaze flicked to the letter still sat in a pile on his desk. Curiosity got the better of him and he picked up the letter from Dumbledore. The parchment was thick, with black ink on the front, which simply said 'Harry'.

Harry opened the letter and settled down at his desk to read it.

Harry,

I hope you are well.

I understand you have not yet responded to your friends' and godfather's letters, they, along with myself are growing increasingly worried for you.

We understand the strain the impact the events of the last year will have had on you, but now is the time to come together, to trust each other in this fight against the darkness.

Harry was about to toss the letter to the side, rolling his eyes at his headmaster's 'motivational' letter, when his eyes skimmed over the last sentence.

I understand you need time, however if you have not responded to this letter by Sunday, I will have no choice but to send order members to check on your wellbeing.

'Shit' Harry whispered out loud. It was Saturday today, He didn't want anyone coming to the Dursley's to check on him, they would know something was wrong, they would interfere, and Vernon wouldn't be happy for certain.

He quickly pulled a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink towards him and started on a quick note to send to Dumbledore, hoping to deter the man from sending someone to check on him.

Professor Dumbledore,

Thank you for your letter. Everything is okay here and there is no need to check on me.

See you in September.

Harry Potter

Harry quickly grabbed an envelope and rushed over the Hedwig. Hedwig looked excited to see Harry with something to send.

'Please girl, get this to Dumbledore as quick as you can'.

Hedwig gave a quiet hoot, then flew out of the window as soon as Harry had attached the letter to her leg.

Harry hoped the letter did its job.