Sorry for the slightly long hiatus, I was in mental hospitals. Then I started school back up again, that's been hell. This isn't the best I could've done, but I really want to continue this work so please enjoy what I've got left in me lol.
-Lemon Nugget
There was a knock at the door that startled Harry awake. His head lay on a puddle of drool. He blinked around, his head was killing him.
"Harry? Is that you? I need to piss, mate." Called the familiar voice of his dorm mate. Harry's blood suddenly chilled as he noticed the reddish-brown stain on the floor and the rather deep cut on his wrist.
Everything came flooding back in an instant. The fierce burn of the fire whiskey on his tongue and the salty sting of tears down his cheeks. Harry's eyes went wide, and he tried to stand up quickly. That was a mistake. His entire world shook as he barely managed to stay on his own two feet.
The knocking switched to pounding. Harry had to fix this situation fast.
"Harry!" Harry searched for his wand and found that he had left it outside the bathroom.
"Fuck." He cursed under his breath. This would have to be done using manual labor. He grabbed a towel off the rack and wetted it in the sink. He rung the towel out then bent down to scrub the mess.
No matter how much strength Harry put into it, there was some dark brown staining. The cloth hung in Harry's hands limply as he stared down at the evidence of his crime. A crime against himself.
Harry felt like laughing, he felt like crying. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. Who needed Voldemort when you had Harry fucking Potter. Harry was going to take himself out, just not today. Not today.
Harry stuffed the shard of glass that was lying on the floor into one of his pockets, deciding to just get it over with and open the door. Harry took a deep breath and pulled the door open. There stood Seamus Finnigan, almost in the act of knocking on the door again. Thank God it was only Seamus Finnigan. Anyone else might've noticed the stain and Harry's nervous attitude, but no way would Finnigan. The boy was a bit dense, but Harry was grateful for the fact.
"Taking a shit then, eh?" Laughed Finnigan shaking his head. Harry chuckled weakly pushing past Finnigan.
"Oh, Harry?" Harry froze in complete terror, expecting the absolute worst.
"There's a large owl waiting for you over there." Finnigan pointed to an open window in their bedroom, and perched on the windowsill was a frankly gorgeous bird. An entirely black bird, which Harry didn't see quite often. It preened its silky feathers before staring intently at him as he approached.
"Hello, pretty bird." Harry cooed; the owl didn't like that. It looked at Harry up and down before looking away and sticking out its leg with a letter tied to it. Harry gently removed the letter, and the bird took off without a second thought.
Harry tore open the letter, and the familiar scrawl of Dumbledore's writing greeted Harry. Harry groaned, fighting the urge to slam his head into something. He'd missed that stupid lesson. Now Dumbledore would never leave him alone.
Harry walked over to his bed, sitting down on it heavily with the letter still in hand. He read the words, but he didn't process them. His mind was a million miles away. Harry still got the gist of it though, Dumbledore was very disappointed, like that was new.
Harry didn't even realize he'd been biting his lip till he tasted metal, he'd chewed through layers of skin without even noticing. He couldn't think about this now, he couldn't worry. He had to get to class, it was probably too late for breakfast. Not that Harry was very hungry.
He stood up, searching momentarily for his wand. Harry found it in the most random of places. He glanced down at his attire, the same clothes from yesterday. Even if he cared enough to change, he was going to be late for class.
"Ah! Harry Potter!" Slughorn exclaimed as Harry burst through the doors, just a minute or two late. Harry cursed under his breath as he huffed and puffed, all the eyes in the room were on him. Some malicious, some curious, and the worst of all was the concern. Slughorn didn't seem to notice any of this, focusing entirely on Harry.
"Please take out your book and we can begin now that our star has arrived!" Slughorn said brightly, but it made Harry feel like shit. There were a couple snickers from the Slytherins, Harry could feel his blood boiling.
Harry was about to park his bottom, but he remembered he didn't have a book. He'd been borrowing the community books alongside Ron for the last couple of weeks, but by now all the good ones would've been taken.
He sighed and marched his unhappy ass to the bookshelf where a single ominous book still lay. He picked it up, feeling the worn cover slide over his fingertips. This book was ancient. He sighed, walking back to the only open desk and sliding into the seat. The girl already sitting there made a face. He must've looked as shitty as he felt.
"Alright, you'll be making a simple potion today. It'll be due by the end of class." Slughorn announced with a grin. Suddenly there was a flurry of motion and talking all at once that hurt Harry's aching head. He clutched his skull, wishing there was a way to massage his brain.
He peeled open the book once the worst of the agony passed. Harry let out a scornful noise once he got an eyeful of what was inside. Every printed word was covered up with scribbles and notes. There was no way to read what the book said, only the 'instructions' the previous owner left behind.
Harry was about this close to slamming the book shut and calling it quits for the day. Would it be so bad to storm out? If not for the huge scene it would've made Harry would've done it. A pepper-up potion would be good, easy and useful.
He collected his supplies and returned to his table. He opened the book once more, flipping the pages till he arrived at the defiled pepper-up potion. Despite not having an affinity for potions, this came to him naturally. Harry unconsciously diced each ingredient and mixed them together.
Harry realized his mistake too late; he hadn't been following the book's instructions, but instead the instructions the vandal had left. He cursed underneath his breath, there was no time to restart. He glanced into the cauldron hoping it wasn't about to explode onto his face.
"Class is almost over! Present your potions to me in the vial given." Just as Slughorn spoke he waved his wand and whispered underneath his breath as vials appeared on every single desk. Sometimes Harry was still startled at what magic could do.
Harry sighed and retrieved his vial scooping some of the liquid into the flask. He placed it down where the girl had placed hers. Slughorn came by each desk, and Harry's anxiety grew rapidly. He was already failing pretty much every other class, Slughorn had been giving him special treatment and Harry couldn't afford to lose that.
Finally, Slughorn was grading the girl's work. He squinted at her dark blue vial, uncorked it and sniffed. He gave her a fifty out of seventy. How far would Slughorn's favoritism go? He turned towards Harry with a large grin, picking up the small bottle on the table with dark red inside.
Slughorn's face shifted, and his expression turned serious as he examined it. Harry audibly gulped.
"This is..." Slughorn trailed off as he sniffed the mixture before putting a single droplet on his finger. He placed that droplet into his mouth, steam billowing from his ears.
"The best pepper-up potion I've seen from a student in decades! I couldn't have made it better myself." Admitted Slughorn, his grin returned tenfold. Now this confused Harry, he was utterly convinced that Slughorn would've said something along the lines of 'What dogshite did you give me? Leave the classroom and never return, Potter!' Instead, he was being praised?
As Slughorn was rambling to the entire class about how they should all be more like Harry, which Harry heavily disagreed with, Harry checked the book again. He turned to the very first page, checking on who could've possibly owned this item. He wasn't met with a name, instead a title. 'The Half-Blood Prince'. A cheesy moniker, but somehow Harry could feel the power from it.
It made him think of Tom Riddle, of Voldemort and his stupid name. You'd think Harry would be done with dark books, but he pocketed it as Slughorn was wrapping up his speech. Something in him told him he needed it. Whoever this Half-Blood Prince was, they're going to save Harry's life. Or at least his grades.