Iam so screwed Iam so screwed chapter 5, a harry potter fanfic

Iam so screwed chapter 5

The next day, as Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. *Even though I'm the Master of Death, Daphne still controls me with the life debt. I'm still married to her, and nothing can change that. * He took a deep breath, preparing to confront her with the weight of his thoughts.

"Hey, Daphne," he called out, a mixture of confidence and frustration in his voice. "Just so you know, since I'm Master of Death, you're also now Mistress of Death. Look into your pocket; you'll find your own Hallows—your own Invisibility Cloak, your own Elder Wand, and your own Stone of Resurrection."

Daphne looked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Seriously. Check your pocket," he insisted, a smirk creeping onto his face. "I hate to break it to you, but since you're now Mistress of Death, you're also immortal. Congratulations."

Daphne's eyes widened as she reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing against something smooth and familiar. Pulling it out, she gasped. "What the hell? How is this even possible?"

Harry leaned back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, but it seems the Hallows have a way of binding us together, even with the life debt. Unfortunately, with the marriage, you can still use the bond to give me orders."

Daphne's expression shifted from shock to a mix of irritation and intrigue. "So, I'm stuck with you forever, and now I have this power too? This is ridiculous, Harry. You think this is some kind of joke?"

"No joke," he replied, his tone serious. "You're just as much a part of this as I am. We're both bound by the Hallows now."

Daphne's mind raced, processing the implications of what he was saying. "So, what does this mean for us? I didn't ask for this power, Harry. I didn't want to be tied to you in this way."

"I get that," Harry said, his voice softening. "But we need to figure out how to navigate this together. If we're both immortal, we need to understand what that means for our lives and our relationship."

Daphne took a deep breath, her expression shifting to one of determination. "Then let's make sure we use this power wisely. I don't want to be a tyrant, but I also don't want to feel powerless."

Harry nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them. "Agreed. We can't let this bond control us. We need to find a way to work together."

The next day, as Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, his thoughts turned to the implications of Daphne's newfound immortality. *I hope Daphne isn't too pissed when she realizes that now she's immortal. She'll watch her family die, her sister die, her friends die. Her whole friend group will become old hags while she's still in her 20s for all eternity. She might realize that with the Hallows, she'll go from looking 16 to looking like she's 20 and stay that way forever. Sorry, Daphne, if I aged you by a good four years. But on the bright side, at least you'll be 20 forever. What chick wouldn't want that? How many women would kill for that?*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a surge of conflicting emotions. She turned to Harry, her expression a mix of shock, anger, and something else he couldn't quite identify. "You think this is a joke, Harry? You think I should be happy about being 20 forever while everyone I care about grows old and dies?"

Harry met her gaze, his confidence faltering. "I didn't mean it like that, Daphne. I was just trying to find a silver lining. I know it's a lot to take in, but there are some positives."

Daphne's eyes narrowed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. "Positives? You think watching my family and friends die is a positive? You think eternal youth is worth that kind of pain?"

Harry sighed, his frustration bubbling over. "I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation. We didn't ask for this, but we have to deal with it. I get that it's hard, but we need to find a way to make it work."

Daphne stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "You don't get it, Harry. You've always been alone, but I have people I care about. I have a sister, friends, a family. This isn't just about looking young forever. It's about the cost of that immortality."

Harry felt a pang of guilt at her words, realizing the depth of her pain. "I'm sorry, Daphne. I didn't think about it that way. I just… I don't know how to handle this either."

Daphne's expression softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. "Then let's figure it out together. We can't change what's happened, but we can decide how we move forward. We need to support each other, not tear each other down."

Harry nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them. "You're right. We need to be there for each other. I promise I'll try to understand your perspective better."

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steady. "And I'll try to be more patient with you. We're in this together, whether we like it or not."

The next day, Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, his thoughts simmering with frustration. *She said yesterday that I was always alone. That's not fucking true, Daphne. I have Sirius, my godfather, and Remus Lupin—they were my dad's friends. The Weasley twins, Tonks, McGonagall, Hagrid, Neville, Luna Lovegood, Ginny, Molly Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Andromeda Tonks. Never seeing my parents in the afterlife, Katie Bell, several nice Muggles I've met, and even people I hate like Snape or Dumbledore. You think I have no one, Daphne? That I just have you? But you're wrong.*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a mix of irritation and guilt. She turned to Harry, her expression a blend of defensiveness and regret. "You think I don't know that you have people who care about you? I was angry, Harry. I said things I didn't mean."

Harry met her gaze, his frustration evident. "You think I'm always alone, Daphne? I have people who care about me. I have friends, mentors, even people who've stood by me through thick and thin. You're not the only one who has a support system."

Daphne crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. "I get that, Harry. But sometimes it feels like you're pushing everyone away, including me. You act like you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone."

Harry shook his head, his voice rising. "I'm not pushing anyone away. I'm trying to protect the people I care about. You think I want to be in this situation? You think I want to be bound by a life debt and forced into this marriage?"

Daphne took a step closer, her tone softening. "No, I don't think you want this. But we're both stuck in this together. We need to find a way to make it work, not just for us, but for everyone we care about."

He paused, the anger in his chest beginning to cool. "I know. I just… I feel like I'm losing control of my life. I don't want to lose the people I care about, and I don't want to lose myself."

Daphne's expression softened further, her voice steady. "Then let's figure it out together. We can't change what's happened, but we can decide how we move forward. We need to support each other, not tear each other down."

Harry nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them. "You're right. We need to be there for each other. I promise I'll try to understand your perspective better."

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice firm. "And I'll try to be more patient with you. We're in this together, whether we like it or not."

The next day, Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, his mind swirling with resentment. *I have to remember, Daphne forced me into this marriage. I remember her saying I'm hers forever, the look on her face when she said there is no divorce. The look she had was, 'I know what I'm doing, I just don't care.' Wow, real mature, Daphne. Rush into a marriage, then suddenly realize Voldemort could return and he could be after my ass, and because I'm married to you, he'll be after your ass too. Hahahaha, I hope you realize now, bitch, your own arrogance was your downfall. And that look on your face, you were so happy to marry me—fuck you, Daphne.*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a surge of anger and hurt. She turned to Harry, her expression a mix of fury and pain. "You think I forced you into this marriage for my own amusement? You think I didn't realize the risks involved?"

Harry met her gaze, his frustration boiling over. "You didn't care about the risks, Daphne. You just wanted to bind me to you, no matter the cost. You were so happy to trap me, and now you're stuck with the consequences."

Daphne crossed her arms, her eyes blazing. "You think I'm happy about this? You think I wanted to be tied to someone who resents me? I did what I thought was necessary to protect us both."

Harry shook his head, his voice rising. "Protect us? You didn't protect anyone, Daphne. You just made things worse. Voldemort's return means we're both targets now. Your arrogance led us here."

Daphne took a step closer, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't been dealing with the consequences of my actions every day? I'm not proud of what I did, but I can't change it now."

Harry felt a pang of guilt at her words, but his anger still simmered. "You were so happy to marry me, Daphne. You didn't care about what it meant for me. You just wanted control."

Daphne's expression softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. "I was wrong, Harry. I see that now. But we can't keep blaming each other for what's happened. We need to find a way to move forward."

He paused, the anger in his chest beginning to cool. "I just don't know how to trust you after everything that's happened."

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steady. "Then let's start by being honest with each other. No more secrets, no more lies. We need to build trust if we're going to survive this."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them. "You're right. We need to be there for each other. I promise I'll try to understand your perspective better."

Daphne nodded, her voice firm. "And I'll try to be more patient with you. We're in this together, whether we like it or not."

The next day, as Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, his mind churned with a twisted sense of satisfaction. *I had those Muggle chemicals, and Daphne would have no idea what that means. With me being on those chemicals, I should be infertile. No way am I giving her children. Forcing me into a marriage I couldn't get out of—fine, I just got my revenge by making sure I can't give her children. She also can't have children either because she is now Mistress of Death. It's fucking priceless—all part of my master plan. Next goal is making sure Dumbledore dies. That old bastard needs to fucking go, him and Voldemort. I might be stuck with Daphne, but no kids—great.*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a surge of shock and anger. She turned to Harry, her expression a mix of fury and betrayal. "You think this is funny, Harry? You think making yourself infertile is some kind of revenge?"

Harry met her gaze, his satisfaction evident. "You forced me into this marriage, Daphne. You think I'm just going to roll over and let you control every aspect of my life? No way."

Daphne crossed her arms, her eyes blazing with anger. "You think you've won some kind of victory? You think making yourself infertile is going to hurt me? You're only hurting yourself, Harry. And what about the future? What about the people who care about you?"

Harry shook his head, his voice rising. "I don't care about that right now. I care about not being manipulated. You wanted control, and now you have it. But you won't have everything."

Daphne took a step closer, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "You think this is about control? You think I wanted to trap you? I was trying to protect us, Harry. I made mistakes, but this isn't the way to fix them."

Harry felt a pang of guilt at her words, but his anger still simmered. "You were happy to force me into this. Now you have to live with the consequences. Just like I do."

Daphne's expression softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. "We both made mistakes, Harry. But we can't keep tearing each other down. We need to find a way to move forward, or we'll destroy each other."

He paused, the anger in his chest beginning to cool. "I just don't know how to trust you after everything that's happened."

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steady. "Then let's start by being honest with each other. No more secrets, no more lies. We need to build trust if we're going to survive this."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them. "You're right. We need to be there for each other. I promise I'll try to understand your perspective better."

Daphne nodded, her voice firm. "And I'll try to be more patient with you. We're in this together, whether we like it or not."

A day later, Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watched Daphne. *She has no idea* he thought, his satisfaction palpable. *I'm infertile, and she'll never have children because she's now Mistress of Death. It's all part of my master plan.*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a surge of shock and anger. She turned to Harry, her eyes blazing with fury. "You think this is funny, Harry? You think making yourself infertile is some kind of revenge?"

Harry met her gaze, his smile widening. "You forced me into this marriage, Daphne. You think I'm just going to roll over and let you control every aspect of my life? No way."

Daphne's expression twisted with a mix of hurt and rage. "You think you've won some kind of victory? You think making yourself infertile is going to hurt me? You're only hurting yourself, Harry. And what about the future? What about the people who care about you?"

Harry shrugged, his nonchalance infuriating her further. "I don't care about that right now. I care about not being manipulated. You wanted control, and now you have it. But you won't have everything."

Daphne took a step closer, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "You think this is about control? You think I wanted to trap you? I was trying to protect us, Harry. I made mistakes, but this isn't the way to fix them."

Harry's smile didn't waver. "You were happy to force me into this. Now you have to live with the consequences. Just like I do."

Daphne's eyes narrowed, her resolve hardening. "We both made mistakes, Harry. But we can't keep tearing each other down. We need to find a way to move forward, or we'll destroy each other."

Harry's smile finally faded, replaced by a look of contemplation. "I just don't know how to trust you after everything that's happened."

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "Then let's start by being honest with each other. No more secrets, no more lies. We need to build trust if we're going to survive this."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them. "You're right. We need to be there for each other. I promise I'll try to understand your perspective better."

Daphne nodded, her voice firm. "And I'll try to be more patient with you. We're in this together, whether we like it or not."

A week later, Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, his mind occupied with his secret transformation. *Well, the next goal is underway. The chemicals are already slowly changing me to the way I see fit. My face is getting softer, fewer pimples, chest growth, hair is slowly getting longer. I'm training my voice to be higher. My hips have moved around, less hair growth, and less chest hair. I'll get a laser to remove that and also get a laser to remove the hair permanently on my chin and face. Thank God the Muggle way works for me. I could have done it the magical way, but Daphne would have noticed. She has no right to know. She and her friends are bigots.*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a surge of confusion and shock. She turned to Harry, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Harry, what are you doing to yourself?"

Harry met her gaze, his expression unreadable. He chose to say nothing, letting his silence speak for itself.

Daphne's voice trembled as she tried to process what she had heard. "You're changing yourself? Why didn't you tell me? Why are you hiding this from me?"

Harry's silence was deafening, his eyes cold and distant. He felt a mix of defiance and frustration, unwilling to share his motivations with her.

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steadying. "You think I wouldn't understand? You think I'm a bigot because I'm a Slytherin? You're wrong, Harry. I might not agree with everything, but I'm not here to judge you."

Harry's expression softened slightly, but he remained silent, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Daphne stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. "If you're going through something, you don't have to do it alone. I know we have our differences, but we're in this together. You don't have to hide from me."

Harry felt a flicker of doubt, but his resolve remained strong. He wasn't ready to share this part of himself with her, not yet.

Daphne sighed, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "I can't force you to talk to me, Harry. But know that I'm here if you need someone to listen. We need to find a way to trust each other, even if it's difficult."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them despite the barriers. He knew that opening up would be a challenge, but perhaps it was a step he needed to take.

The next day, Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, his thoughts drifting to the strange and powerful universe he had discovered. *The Imperium is still strong. The Emperor is still alive despite being a vegetable. When I went through the veil at the Department of Mysteries, I found this other universe—the Imperium of Man, a galaxy-spanning empire which is also now a theocratic monarchy. I love the Emperor like any loyal citizen of the Imperium. I wondered if Daphne would be able to travel there to harass me, and unfortunately, yes, she could. Because when I became Master of Death, I was able to teleport from this dimension to theirs.*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a surge of confusion and curiosity. She turned to Harry, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and intrigue. "Harry, what are you talking about? Another universe? The Imperium of Man? What is this?"

Harry met her gaze, his expression cold and distant. "Mind your own business," he said curtly, offering nothing more.

Daphne's eyes narrowed, her frustration evident. "You think you can just throw out something like that and not explain? You think I'm going to let this go?"

Harry's silence was deafening, his eyes locked onto hers with a steely resolve. He felt a mix of defiance and frustration, unwilling to share the details of his discovery with her.

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steadying. "You think I'm just here to harass you? You think I don't have a right to know what's going on, especially if it affects both of us?"

Harry's expression softened slightly, but he remained silent, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He knew that opening up would be a challenge, but he wasn't ready to share this part of himself with her, not yet.

Daphne stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. "If you've found something important, you don't have to face it alone. We're in this together, whether we like it or not. You don't have to hide from me."

Harry felt a flicker of doubt, but his resolve remained strong. He wasn't ready to share this part of himself with her, not yet.

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them despite the barriers. He knew that opening up would be a challenge, but perhaps it was a step he needed to take.

The next day, Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, his thoughts consumed by his newfound responsibilities. *I can teleport to the Imperium when I sleep. As Master of Death, I don't need sleep—not when the Imperium needs me, not when the Emperor needs me. Now if only that bitch Inquisitor wasn't up my ass, accusing me of being a "rogue psyker," wanting to bring me in. What the fuck? I'm a loyal servant to the Imperium, to the Emperor. Now I'm married to a dirty, disgusting heretic who at least is not a mutant. That's fucking something, I guess. At least she's not a follower of the old enemy, the Dark Gods.*

Daphne, sitting nearby and catching his thoughts, felt a surge of anger and confusion. She turned to Harry, her eyes blazing with fury. "What did you just call me?"

Harry met her gaze, his expression cold and unyielding. "Mind your own business, you filthy heretic."

Daphne's eyes narrowed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "You think you can just throw around accusations like that? You think I'm some kind of enemy to you?"

Harry's silence was deafening, his eyes locked onto hers with a steely resolve. He felt a mix of defiance and frustration, unwilling to share the details of his discovery with her.

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steadying. "You think I'm just here to harass you? You think I don't have a right to know what's going on, especially if it affects both of us?"

Harry felt a flicker of doubt, but his resolve remained strong. He wasn't ready to share this part of himself with her, not yet.

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them despite the barriers. He knew that opening up would be a challenge, but perhaps it was a step he needed to take.

A few days later, Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of wars and casualty figures from the Imperium. He was abruptly interrupted by Daphne, who had not spoken to him since he called her a dirty, disgusting heretic. Her eyes were blazing with fury as she confronted him.

"You called me a dirty, disgusting heretic," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "You think you can just throw around accusations like that and not expect me to react?"

Harry looked up at her, his expression cold and unyielding. "I'm not here to care about your feelings. Go talk to a fucking shrink. Don't waste my time, especially you, you heretic."

Daphne's face contorted with a mix of anger and hurt. "You think you can just dismiss me like that? You think I'm going to stand here and take your insults?"

Harry met her gaze, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't care what you think, Daphne. You're nothing but a distraction. I have more important things to worry about."

Daphne's eyes narrowed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You think you're so high and mighty, don't you? You think you can just push everyone away and handle everything on your own?"

Harry's silence was deafening, his eyes locked onto hers with a steely resolve. He felt a mix of defiance and frustration, unwilling to engage in a pointless argument.

Daphne took a deep breath, her voice steadying despite the turmoil inside her. "You think I'm the enemy, Harry? You think I'm here to make your life miserable? You're wrong. I'm trying to understand you, but you keep pushing me away."

Harry felt a flicker of doubt, but his resolve remained strong. He wasn't ready to share this part of himself with her, not yet.

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them despite the barriers. He knew that opening up would be a challenge, but perhaps it was a step he needed to take.

Harry stood in the corner of the primary school reunion, a tray of drinks balanced precariously in his hands. The Dursleys had forced him into this humiliating role, making him serve drinks to the very people who had tormented him throughout his childhood. The former students, teachers, and parents all eyed him with contempt, their memories of the "accidents" and the lies the Dursleys had spread about him still fresh in their minds.

"Hey, Potter!" one of the former students called out, a sneer on his face. "Still causing trouble, are you? Or did you finally get shipped off to that Brutus school for criminal boys?"

Harry clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. He hated being here, surrounded by people who despised him. The lies the Dursleys had told had painted him as a troublemaker, and everyone seemed eager to believe the worst about him.

"Yeah, Potter," another voice chimed in, this one belonging to a former teacher. "I always knew you'd end up in trouble. It's a wonder you haven't been locked up yet."

Harry's cheeks burned with humiliation, but he kept his head down, focusing on the tray in his hands. He hadn't told anyone about his marriage to Daphne, and the thought of sharing that part of his life with these people made him feel even more vulnerable.

Dudley, of course, was revelling in the situation. He strutted around the room, puffing out his chest and making snide comments whenever he passed Harry. "Oi, Potter, missed a spot," he said, pointing to an imaginary stain on the carpet. "Better clean that up before you get in more trouble."

Harry's hands tightened around the tray, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to yell, to fight back, but he knew it would only make things worse. The Dursleys had made it clear that he was to serve without complaint, and any outburst would be met with harsh punishment.

As he moved through the crowd, he couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation. Parents whispered about the "troublemaker" who had been a blight on their children's school years. Former students laughed about the time Harry had ended up on the roof, completely unaware of how it had happened. Teachers shook their heads, lamenting the "wasted potential" of a boy they had never truly understood.

Harry felt a surge of anger and sadness. He was stuck in a nightmare, surrounded by people who would never see him for who he truly was. The weight of their judgment pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe.

But he couldn't let them break him. He had faced worse and survived. He would get through this, too.

Harry stood in the corner of the small, stuffy gymnasium, a tray of drinks balanced precariously in his hands. The summer heat seeped through the cracked windows, adding to his discomfort. He was at his primary school reunion, forced to serve drinks by the Dursleys. It was a cruel reminder of his past, surrounded by former students, teachers, and parents who despised him.

Everywhere he looked, he saw familiar faces twisted with disdain. They remembered the "accidents" where he inexplicably ended up on the roof, and the lies the Dursleys had spread about him being a troublemaker. The whispers followed him like a shadow, each one a dagger to his already fragile self-esteem.

"Hey, Potter," sneered a voice, and Harry turned to see Dudley, his cousin, grinning maliciously. "Enjoying yourself? Bet you wish you were back at that Brutus School for Criminal Boys, huh?"

Harry clenched his jaw, saying nothing. The lie about him attending a reform school had been one of the many fabrications the Dursleys had spread to explain his absences. He had never told anyone about his marriage to Daphne, knowing it would only add fuel to the fire.

"Look at him," one of his former teachers whispered to another. "Still the same troublemaker. I can't believe they let him out."

"Probably up to no good," another parent muttered. "I heard he's been in and out of trouble ever since he left."

Harry felt the sting of their words, but he remained silent, focusing on the task at hand. He moved through the crowd, offering drinks to people who barely acknowledged his presence. Each sneer, each dismissive glance, was a reminder of the isolation he had felt growing up.

As he reached the far end of the gym, he felt a hand grab his arm. He turned to see one of his former classmates, a girl named Sarah, looking at him with a mixture of pity and curiosity.

"Harry," she said softly, "why are you here? Why are you letting them treat you like this?"

Harry forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It's complicated, Sarah. Just doing what I have to do."

Sarah frowned, her eyes searching his face. "You deserve better than this. We all heard the rumours, but I never believed them. I always thought there was more to the story."

Harry felt a flicker of gratitude but shook his head. "Thanks, but it doesn't matter. I just need to get through this."

As he turned to leave, he caught sight of Dudley and his gang laughing at his expense. The humiliation burned, but Harry knew he had faced worse. He had survived Voldemort, he could survive this.

Harry stood in the corner of the Dursleys' living room, a tray of drinks balanced awkwardly in his hands. The room was filled with former students, teachers, and parents from his primary school, all of whom seemed to take pleasure in his discomfort. The laughter and chatter around him felt like a cacophony of disdain, each voice a reminder of the torment he had endured during his childhood.

"Look who it is, the famous Potter!" sneered a former classmate, a smug grin plastered on his face. "Still causing trouble, are you? Or did you finally get sent to that Brutus school for criminal boys?"

Harry felt his cheeks flush with humiliation, the familiar sting of their mockery cutting deep. He had always been the odd one out, the boy who had ended up on the roof after a series of bizarre accidents that no one cared to understand. The Dursleys had painted him as a troublemaker, and now everyone seemed eager to believe the worst about him.

"Hey, Harry! Don't spill anything this time!" another voice called out, laughter erupting from a group of parents who had gathered nearby. They exchanged knowing glances, their disdain palpable.

He forced a smile, trying to mask his anger. "Just serving drinks," he muttered, avoiding their gaze as he moved through the crowd. Each step felt like a reminder of how trapped he was, forced to serve those who had made his life a living hell.

Dudley, of course, was in his element, strutting around the room like a king. He revelled in the attention, making snide remarks at Harry's expense. "Oi, Potter! You missed a spot on the floor!" he taunted, pointing to an imaginary stain. The laughter that followed only deepened Harry's sense of isolation.

Harry clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the way the Dursleys treated him like a servant. They had made it clear that he was to serve without complaint, and any hint of defiance would be met with punishment. The thought of retaliating crossed his mind, but he knew it would only make things worse.

As he poured drinks for the guests, he overheard snippets of conversation that made his stomach churn. Parents whispered about the "troublemaker" who had brought shame to their school. Former students laughed about the time he had ended up on the roof, completely unaware of how it had happened. Teachers shook their heads, lamenting the "wasted potential" of a boy they had never truly understood.

But he couldn't let them break him. He had faced worse and survived. He would get through this, too.