Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry sat on his bed in the empty Gryffindor dorm. His calm demeanor didn't give away the wild storm going on inside his head.

Why did he get put in this stupid tournament? Why did nobody believe him? Why did Ron not- Why did no one care? Were the Dursleys right? Was he really a waste of space? And food? And air? Would everything get better without him here? Would they care? Would he be less of a burden on McGonagall? On Dumbledore? Would they all be better off with him dead?

Death was a familiar thought for Harry, in first year, he thought Snape was going to kill him -even though Quirrel was the real culprit- in second year, he thought he and his friends would get killed by the basalisk, in third year, he thought he was going to get murdered by Sirius.
But it wasn't just at hogwarts, when he was 5 and the dursleys starved him and locked him in his cupboard for a week for the first time because he teleported a few meters back when Dudley tried to hit him. When he was 7 and Dudley decided to beat him until he could barely move.

Point is - death isn't an unfamiliar subject for Harry James Potter's mind to focus on and neither is craving for death. The only thing different this time was that now he had the means to do so because, under his bed lay a knife he took from the great hall without realising.

He had never properly cut himself, the worst he had been able to do was scratch until he bled, so his skin had no self-inflicted scars on it.

Harry's hand snuck under his bed and grabbed the hilt of the knife, then hid it up his sleeve, in case someone walked in and saw him holding a knife.
Then his legs led him towards the bathroom door, which he opened then locked behind him.

He put his arm up onto the sink and raised the magically-sharpened knife to just above the pale, unmarred skin of his wrist and pressed down. Harry breathed in sharply at the pain, seeing beads of ruby-red blood seeping around the blade. He swiped the blade to the side, more pain. But after the pain came a feeling of relief, of freedom, of pleasure. Harry saw the blood dribble down his arm into the sink, staining it red.

Harry repeated the action but pressed down harder, this time he saw white at the bottom of his cut before it filled with red.

He repeated the pressing and slicing again, then again, then again, then again, until black spots began to obscure his vision and the knife fell out of his hand, making a loud clang. Harry shook his head, trying to fix his vision and turned on the tap to clean himself up, and to feel the stinging of the water against his fresh cuts. But then

There was a knock at the door.

"Harry? You okay in there?"

Harry couldn't identify the voice. Panic gripped his heart, he just about managed to grab a towel and wrap it around his arm, causing him more pain, before his vision gave out and he fell to the floor, unconcious.

Chapter Text

Seamus and Dean stepped into the dorm, holding hands. Dean tried the bathroom door, it was locked. Probably Harry in there, Ron was downstairs in the common room.

They started to head towards Seamus's bed, when they heard a loud clatter coming from the bathroom. Seamus, not thinking much of it, knocked on the door and asked if Harry was okay, no reply.

Then a thud came from the bathroom.

Seamus, concerned, knocked again.

"Harry?"

And again, no reply.

"if you dont answer me, I will alohamora this door open."

No reply.

Dean took out his wand as Seamus warned Harry they were coming in.

"Alohamora." The lock clicked and the two boys opened the door and burst into the room. They stopped dead.

There, in front of the sink, lay Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the fourth triwizard champion, covered in his own blood, with a knife on the floor next to him. The sink was on, the bloodstained water starting to drain from the sink. Harry had a towel wrapped haphazardly around his arm, his blood seeping through it.

Seamus said something about getting a professor, Dean absently nodded and stepped closer to Harry. Noticing that he was abnormally pale - almost Malfoy levels of pale - in stark contrast to his hair.

Dean couldn't remember what happened next very clearly. He remembered McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey running in with Seamus, Madam Pomfrey levitating Harry out of the room and McGonagall giving him some potion 'for shock'.

Now he and Seamus were sat on his bed, telling Ron and Hermionie what had happened to their friend.

After the two boys had finished explaining, Ron and Hermione jumped up and ran to the hospital wing.

--------------------------

Harry woke up to the fuzzy ceiling of the hospital wing. He survived. He didn't want to do that. Now he had to deal with people calling him selfish, weak or, god forbid, caring about him- feeling sorry for him...

Anyway, he did it now, no timeturners, so now he had to deal with the consequences.

"-no you're not, you're a dumbass." Someone -Hermione?- said, Harry wondered what she was talking about.

"Hermione-" -so it was Hermione- "-I'm allowed to blame myself! I said he was lying to me." Ron replied, almost defensively.

Harry looked down at his arm and saw thick, white bandages wrapped around them, only then noticing a faint aching feeling, he resisted the urge to scratch through the bandages.

"Ron? 'mione?" He said, instead.

Hermione gasped "Oh, Harry!"

Ron said "I'm so bloody sorry, mate, I understand what I said was-"

"-Shut up Ron!" Hermione inturrupted, Harry had started to cry. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and quickly getting wiped away by his shaking hand.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry" Harry repeated, "'m sorry, 'm sorry."

"Harry, mate, its okay."

"'m sorry- 'm- 'm sorry-"

"Harry-"

"'m sorry-"

Madam Pomfrey rushed over to the trio, grabbing a potion on the way. When she got over to them, she knelt down next to Harry's bed and put her hand on his arm.

"Potter, you're safe, you're not selfish-"

Harry starts shaking his head "'m sorry- 'm-"

"Potter, nobody blames you." She said firmly. It did not help, Harry continued to repeat and shake his head, so she uncorks the potion, held Harry's head up and poured the potion into his mouth, he immediately swallowed, calming down.

Waves of exaustion overwhelmed Harry as his head hit the pillow and his eyes slid closed, and he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Harry opened his eyes again, still facing the blurry hospital wing ceiling, but this time it was dark and Harry couldn't hear Ron and Hermione. He could, however hear Madam Pomfrey doing something.

His arms were itchier than they were before, so this time he couldn't stop himself from scratching at them. Whenever he scratched near a cut, he could feel a sharp pain coming from that area, making him scratch more, and more, and more, until Madam Pomfrey moved his hand from his arm, making him let out a low whining noise, he didn't even notice her appearing.

"Potter, I understand that you might be a little stressed right now, but please don't do that, you're hurting yourself." But didn't she understand? He wanted to hurt himself, he needed to. He needed to change his mental pain into physical pain because he didn't know how to handle mental pain, and hes all too used to phyisical pain. All he did was shake his head, tears once again falling down his cheeks.

"I need to change your bandages, okay?" Harry didn't respond, so she took that as a go ahead. She summoned a fresh set of bandages and a potion. "The potion is to make your skin less itchy, alright?"

She carefully unwrapped Harry's arms. Harry looked down at them and saw many scars running down both, he couldn't resist running a finger down his arm, feeling all the bumps. She, again, moved his hand away and wiped a cloth soaked in the potion down his arms. Then carefully re-wrapped his arms.

"There, done." Harry nodded and went to scratch at his arm again, but Madam Pomfrey stopped him. "I'll go find you another dreamless sleep potion, stay here."

She walked off, oblivious to Harry's spiralling thoughts. He was a burden to her, he isn't letting her sleep, Dumbledore is forcing her to take care of him, he can take care of himself, he-

Harry bashed his head against the wall to shut his thoughts up, it worked, if only for a second, so he did it again. Madam Pomfrey was by his side in moments, putting a pillow behind his head, which only made him want to hit it harder, tears rolling down his cheeks. The last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him was Madam Pomfrey pouring another potion down his throat.

Chapter Text

Poppy would say that she has learned to distance herself from her own emotions duming situations like these, but when he saw the 14 year old Harry Potter, the boy who she saw go through so much pain and suffering throughout his school years, try to end his life, so many emotions threatened to overwhelm her, pity, guilt, shock, and so many others. The poor boy doesnt deserve as much much pain and hardship that he does, especially at his age.

Most people she helps after they try to end their lives are 7th years, maybe the occasional 6th year, many others of many different ages self-harm but do not intend to kill themselves, but, she supposed, if anyone younger was going to try, it would be Harry, or maybe Ginny Weasley, her first year was horrible, but she's gotten better, Harry has gone year after year after year with horrible things happening to him, she's honestly shocked he didn't do it sooner, now that she thinks of it, honestly, she probably shouldn't be thinking of it, but oh well.

Anyway, the poor boy was now unconscious, again, he's unconscious more than hes conscious these days.

The door to the hospital wing opened, and in came a calm Albus, a concerned Minerva and a reluctant Severus. Why Severus was here was a mystery to Poppy, he hates the kid.

"-probably doing some more of his attention seeking bullshit." Said Severus, completely unaware that trying to kill yourself, even if it was for attention - especially if it was for attention - is increadibly concerning.

"Severus, don't swear, some of the students might be awake." Minerva said, "And you're being childish."

The three professors approached Poppy, still standing by Harry's bed. She put the empty dreamless sleep potion on Harry's bedside table and smoothed out her robes and Harry's duvet. She then lifts up Harry's head, checking if he hurt it much when he hit it, she concluded that he hadn't, fortunately, before talking to the professors.

"Hello, Poppy." Albus greeted.

"Albus." She replied.

"How's Harry?"

"Not as good as he could be," Poppy answered, Minerva shifted on her feet and Severus rolled his eyes, "but that is understandable, given the circumstances."

"It is," Albus agreed, nodding his head.

"Do we know what drove him to do something this- this-" Minerva stuttered, trying to find the right word, "this- extreme?"

"Obviously, its his attention seeking behaviours from his fath-" 

"Shut up Severus." Minerva inturrupted, "Why are you even here? You don't care about Potter."

"I requested him to come." Albus answered for Severus, who looked like he was about to yell at Minerva.

"To answer your question, Minerva, I do not know, though I do have some theories." Poppy glared at Albus, who didn't seem uncomfortable in her gaze at all, "it could be because he has been through several traumatic events while here, with Quirrel, that crazy bludger, the chamber of secrets, Sirius Black, and the triwizard sent him over the edge."

"That would be the most logical conclusion, yes," Albus nodded.

"He could also be having problems at home, you never know," Poppy added, Minerva shifted again, looking guilty. "Have you got something to share, Minerva?"

"I have reasons to believe that his family were not as... accepting of magic as some other muggle families," Minerva started, "Potter didn't reply to the letters until we sent Hagrid to give him one in person, and Hagrid said they were... Well, they forced him to sleep on the floor with a thin holey blanket, while his cousin had two thick blankets and slept on the sofa. So definitely extreme favouring. Also, Potter's uncle said, and i quote, 'I'm not paying some crack-pot old fool to teach him magic tricks', so they clearly don't like magic."

"Thank you for telling me Minerva, authough it would have been useful 4 years ago, but i digress," Poppy summoned a pen and some paper, wrote something on it, then banished it. "I will have to do a full diagnostic spell, just in case there was any physical abuse." She then dissmissed them.

Chapter Text

Harry sat up, he was kind of bored of waking up in the hospital wing-

"Bloody hell!" Oh, Ron is here, okay. "Good morning Harry, Hermione 'couldn't come' because shes soing 'homework', ugh,"

Harry nods, absentmindedly, not really focusing on what Ron was saying. His mind was oddly quiet as he stared at the wall opposite. Actually its more fuzzy than quiet... Like a fizzy drink when its usually choppy water, or something.

Madam Pomfrey had arrived and Ron had left while he had been trying to figure out his stupid metaphor, she was waving in front of his face, Harry blinked and looked at her blurry figure.

"Hello? Potter, can you hear me?" 

He nodded.

"Thats good, okay," Madam Pomfrey paused, before continuing, "So, I ran a full diagnostic spell on you- do you know what that is?"

He shook his head.

"Oh, it tells me all the physical injuries and illnesses you have had throughout your entire life, and how they have healed, if they have healed, do you understand?"

He nodded. Anxiety started building up in his chest, does she know about the Dursleys?

She continued, "I used that spell on you, and before i tell you what i've found, do you have anything you want to tell me, anything you think i need to know, anything you're worrying about... I can get you paper if you don't want to speak."

Harry shook his head and wrapped his arms around his body. 

She nodded, "Okay," she summoned a peice of paper, "Well the most important thing is that you have been acutely malnourished since the age of five, but that has been getting better since you were eleven, but you still don't eat nearly enough and will still have lasting damage from that."

He curled into himself and nodded, does she know why? 

"Thats easy enough to help, nutrient potion with your meals, anti-nausea potion afterwards because you're not used to eating regular sized portions..." she paused, "Moving on, you have several bones that healed wrong, i will have to re-break them and heal them in the correct position,"

She continued to explain his fucked up body, so Harry just zoned out, he didn't really care what happened to him, as long as she didn't hurt him. He was still getting the urge to scratch his arms, but he couldn't because Madam Pomfrey was still here and she would stop him.

Before long, she had left and returned with a bowl of plain pasta, two potions, labelled 'nutrient' and 'anti-nausea' respectively, and a glass of water on an overbed table, which she put on Harry's bed. She then told harry to drink his 'nutrient' potion first, then eat and drink, then drink the 'anti-nausea' potion. She then left to tend to another patient.

He complies, drinking his nutrient potion. He takes a bite of his pasta, then, realising how hungry he was, he started wolfing it down, quickly growing nauseous. Within a minute, Harry had finished the pasta, and felt like he was about to throw up, so he downed the nausea potion, unsure if he was able to keep it down, but as soon as he drank it, his stomach calmed, making him feel a whole lot better.

He began staring at the wall, as there wasn't much to do in the hospital wing, it was quite boring, and the itch was back. It felt like there was something burning underneath his skin, begging - screaming to be let out, so he scratched. On the scars, off the scars, it didn't matter, he just had to get rid of that itch.

He scratched and scratched and scratched, until Madam Pomfrey came back to him staring at the wall, completely dissociated, with scratch marks all down his bandages.

Chapter Text

Harry hasn't spoken since he got released from the hospital wing. He could often be found zoned out, with Hermione or Ron trying to get him to do his homework, eat, sleep or go to his lessons.

He was sat in his bed, staring at the duvet as he fiddles with it. His hands were shaking. They do that a lot.

Hermione had told him to read his standard book of spells grade 4 before bed, so that was lying, open, undread, next to him. He'd tried to read it for an hour, but he hadn't gotten past the first paragraph. He used to love learning about magic... He doesn't anymore. Is he less of a wizard because he can't learn anymore? Hermione told him he wasn't but... Coming from her, it wasn't very reassuring.

Ron didn't seem to care. Harry knew he felt guilty but whenever he tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault, no words came out. No words come out whenever Harry tries to say anything, actually. His voice had left him.

What would the Dursleys say when he went back for the summer? Oh no- he was even more of a freak now. Would they lock him in his cupboard again? All summer? They'd call him attention seeking because he needed to roll up his sleeves for gardening. They'd call him rude because he can't say thank you. They'd starve him -oh god- what would madam Pomfrey say when he came back?

Harry's breathing began to pick up, his hands dug into the mattress, tears began to prick his eyes and all he could think about was how the Dursleys would react, how they'd hurt him. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt.

Someone touched his arm.

Harry flinched violently away from it, his hand hitting it away before he gripped his upper arms. His breathing got quicker and tears ran down his cheeks.

"-ar- -Ha- -r- -ry-" He shook his head, covering his ears, not noticing that the person had called him Harry and not 'boy' or 'freak' like the Dursleys.

The hand reached for him again and this time it held onto his wrist. He tried to shake it off, it didn't work, he grabbed onto it and scratched at it, it did not come off. He pulled at it, he scratched at it, he yanked at it, but nothing worked. Harry could not breathe. He was suffocating. Had the Dursleys finally decided to make his cupboard airtight?

His hand found his bed curtain and ripped it open, stumbling off his bed. There was a yell and the hand on his wrist vanished.

Harry ran.

He ran out of the dorm, out of the common room, up several flights of stairs until he found himself on the astronomy tower and he could finally breathe again.

He stared up at the stars, admiring how bright they were. How, even though everything changes, the stars don't, or at least, not as often.

A cold breeze ruffled his hair, making him shiver as he sat down. Harry wiped his still-wet tears off his face, his breathing stuttering as he remembered the hand. Who's hand was that? He'd have to apologise in the morning... He really didn't want to go back to bed, he didn't want to sleep, or deal with their concern, or deal with anything. He just wanted to sit here, and enjoy the stars.

So he did.

And he wasn't found until half past noon the following day.

Chapter Text

Sirius had written him a letter. It was lying on his bed, looking innocent. But Harry knew it probably involved something about his whole suicide thing, maybe something to do with him not talking. Dumbledore definately told him what happened.

Ron sat on his bed and picked up the letter, before patting next to him, where Harry then sat.

"Do you want me to read it to you, mate?" Ron asked, "I know you've been having trouble reading so... I- yeah."

Harry nodded, not wanting Ron to further embarass himself, so Ron cleared his throat and began.

"'Dear Harry,
I would say that I hope you are doing well, but I know you aren't. Dumbledore told me about your attempt and how you have been acting recently. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there to help you through it.
Dumbledore also told me that McGonagall is working on changing your guardians, but shes having trouble choosing who to pick, i'm obviously not an option, Remus isn't legally allowed because he's a werewolf, and the Weasleys already have too many kids,' - wow thanks Sirius - 'so, what do you think? I was thinking maybe Minerva could take you in, but she has a school to teach. Maybe my cousin, Andromeda, would like to take you in. She already has a kid, think shes called Nymphadora, with this muggleborn bloke called Ted.
Anyway, please get better soon,
All my love,
Snuffles
P.S. I could be back in the UK for Christmas, hope to see you then!
P.P.S. Be at the fire at 1am on Saturday night' - that's today, by the way."

Harry sat there as Ron finished. Sirius was coming? He didn't hate him? McGonagall wanted to change his guardian?

Harry grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment from under the bed and wrote 'When's Christmas?' on it, before showing it to Ron

"A bit over a month," then Ron seemed to remember something, "Oh! The first task for the triwizard- do you still have to compete in that?" Harry nodded. "That's shitty. Anyway Hagrid said he wants to see you tonight at midnight. Sorry i didn't say sooner... You only have an hour between that and meeting Snuffles." Ron cast a tempus. "You have about... 3 hours until you need to meet Hagrid."

Harry nodded.

--------------------------

It was a couple minutes to midnight when Ron decided to tell him that they needed to go. So Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and wondered down to Hagrid's hut with Ron by his side.

Ron pulled the cloak off of both of them and knocked on the door. Barking sounded from inside the hut before they heard Hagrid telling Fang to get out of the way, then the door opened.

"Come in you two!" Hagrid said, beconing them inside, "Would you like a rock cake?" Ron politely declined. "Harry? Do you want one?" Harry shook his head slightly, making Hagrid frown, but he asked if they wanted tea instead and got to making that.

He kept on glancing out the window - towards the Beauxbatons carriage - and set out two giant-sized mugs and 2 regular-sized mugs. This made Harry less-than-shocked when he spotted madame Maxime exiting the carriage, headed towards the hut and hagrid told them to hide under the cloak, holding their cups of tea.

Three bangs echoed through the cabin when Madame Maxime had reached the door, causing Fang to start barking again. Hagrid opened the door and invited her in, pushing Fang out of the way and offering her tea. She then told him that she didn't like tea, prompting Hagrid to start stuttering - honestly, his crush is so obvious even a baby could see it - then told her that they could go see 'them' early.

The two half-giants started towards the forbidden forest, the two teens jogging behind, trying to keep their tea from spilling. As the four got closer to the forest they heard roars and yelling.

They turned into the forest, causing Harry and Ron to stop dead and Madame Maxime to let out a sound of awe.

"They're beautiful, aint they?" Hagrid said, unable to take his eyes away from the roaring flames coming from the dragons mouths. In the forest, breathing burning hot flames at the dozens of wixen trying to subdue them, were 4 very deadly looking dragons.

"Beautiful? What is he on?" Ron whispered into Harry's ear, before getting dragged out of the forest by the boy, almost bumping into a spying Karkaroff, obviously going to tell Krum what the first task was.

Harry ran into the castle and up the stairs until they reached the fat lady's portrait, still holding their tea, which had spilled while they were running. Ron said the password and they both slipped inside, Hermione was waiting beside the fire, reading a book.

"I didn't expect you two back until way later, what happened?" Hermione said, looking up from her book and seeing the boys taking off the invisibility cloak, "Wow, did you run here?"

"Dragons! They have dragons Hermione! Dragons!" Ron started yelling, causing Hermionie to hush him, before he continued in a whisper, "Four dragons Hermione! Four! How many grown wizards does it take to defeat a dragon?"

"Depends on the dragon, four stunners-"

"-and then set three seventeen year olds and one fourteen year old to fight a dragon each! Dumbledore really has gone insane!"

Then Hermione just jumped up, dropped her book, grabbed the cloak and ran outside - probably towards the library - leaving Harry and Ron standing there, confused.

Harry stumbled over to the fireplace and collapsed into an armchair. Ron sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace and tucked his knees up to his chest.

"Ron? Harry?" Sirius's voice said from the fireplace.

Chapter Text

Sirus's head was in the fire. Harry slid onto the floor in front of the fireplace and Ron crouched next to him.

“Okay, boys, I don't have much time, I snuck into this random ass wizard's house - shit - I can swear in front of 14-year-olds, right? - oh well - I don't know when he’ll be back, so yeah.” Sirius said, looking up at them, “Um… how are you two?”

“Um,” Ron looked at Harry, who put his thumb down, showing he wasn't good, “I’m good, thanks, Harry isn't.”

Harry took out a piece of parchment and a quill, wrote ‘dragons - first task’ on it and passed it to Ron.

“Oh yeah… you know the triwizard?” Ron started.

“They can't make him compete, right?” Sirius said, “Look at him! They can't!”

“Yeah, that's what we said but apparently he has to,” Ron continued, “Anyway, the first task is dragons, like, getting past one, or something.”

“What the fuck?!” Sirius exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock, “Even most fully grown wizards can't take on a dragon, let alone a suicidal 14-year-old! What were they thinking?”

“Sirius! Be quiet, anybody could hear you.”

“Anyway, i have something i need to warn you about,”

“What? More dangerous than dragons?”

“Yes, if you'd let me-”

“Bloody hell”

“-continue, then you will understand-” Harry didnt think that he would, but oh well, “-Um… so, Karkaroff-”

“What?” Ron said, voicing Harry’s thoughts.

“Yes, Karkaroff, he was a death eater- wait Harry, you do know what a death eater is right?” Harry nodded “Okay, good. Well he got caught, but he got released, dogged a load of people in too, but we were in azkaban together, probably why Dumbledore picked Moody for your defense teacher this year.”

“Yeah, okay, what?” Ron said, confused.

“I think he put Harry’s name in the goblet, or-” Sirius turned in the fire, as if looking at something. “Shit!” Then Sirius’ head left the fireplace, leaving just a few smoking embers in his place and a really confused looking Ron and Harry.

Chapter Text

I'm so sorry

I literally only wrote one sentance in the last 2 weeks so i am so sorry but i think the updates are going to be much more random

Shool has been messing me up so yeah

Sorry again

Chapter Text

Harry stayed sitting on the floor while Ron got up and paced around the common room. Harry’s anxiety had only increased from Sirius’ talk, now he was worried about another thing, or, well, person. He started to rub his hand up and down his arm – Madam Ponfrey told him he should do that instead of scratching, he didn't think it was working but at least it kept his hands busy.

Ron muttered something then came back over to Harry.

“We should go up to bed,” Ron said. When Harry didn't move, he added, “It’s late.”

Harry got up and the two boys left the common room together and entered their dorm. They both got changed into their pajamas, got into bed and closed their curtains.

Ron had quickly drifted off, he could hear his snores, but Harry couldn't sleep. He was just staring up at the ceiling, wishing he was anywhere but here, wishing he never even existed in the first place.

Harry tapped his fingers on his leg, the anxious energy needing an escape, trying to resist the urge to run to the astronomy tower again. Everyone had told him they were worried for him and to tell someone if he went somewhere hidden again, but everyone was asleep now.

He turned over in his bed several times before he gave up and decided to try and do some homework. Most of it was potions because Snape wouldn’t take pity on him. Harry doubted he could get it all – or really any of it – done and dreaded the detentions he would get for it. If he skipped every potions lesson then Hermione and his teachers would be upset and then they'd tell him to go, it’d be too much bother.

He took out his homework and cast lumos, the bright light illuminated the paper. Which didn’t have the essay question on it. Great. Of course it didn’t, Harry wasn’t paying enough attention to the lesson to write it down let alone remember it now. He’s fucking stupid, and dumb. And he was pathetic as there were tears now running down his face and had to hold in sobs so he wouldn't wake anyone up.

Harry couldn’t stay in here any more. He had to leave. So, he grabbed a quill and wrote on his piece of paper, ‘Gone to astronomy tower’ then left the quill and paper on his bed and snuck out of the dorms and the common room, into the corridors.

Harry wandered around the corridors, passing sleeping portraits, climbing moving stairs and avoiding ghosts. His footsteps echoed off the cold, stone walls and floor.

At some point, Harry couldn't hold his sobs in anymore, joining the echoes of the corridor. He stopped walking and stumbled into a wall, behind a statue. He slid down the wall and buried his head in his arms, knees up to his chest. He felt his stuttering breaths against his legs and his wet tears on his arms.

He was stupid for crying. He wasn’t even upset about the homework! He's just so… idiotic and incapable for not even being able to remember what it was.

A hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him out from behind the statue, knocking his knee on the way. Before he could figure out who was gripping his arm hard enough to bruise, the hand let go and he had to stumble before standing.

“Potter.” Came a mocking drawl. Harry quickly wiped his eyes and looked up at who spoke. It was Snape. Fuck.