Chapter Text

First part

Death

Beginning

May 2018

The wind was flowing through his tangled hair. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had brushed it. while the cold air was stroking his constantly wet cheeks, the man sighed. 

He was tired, he couldn’t go on anymore. What was the point? Death didn’t want to let him go, so why refuse her any longer? If death wanted him so badly why not give himself to her now? 

His dulled eyes looked at the beautiful landscape before him. It was mesmerizing. Up on this bridge railing, he could see water and land dying quietly to the horizon. The warm orange sunset assaulted his retina, the feeling of calm spreading in his chest, almost making the feeling of his own body disappear. 

A last tear fell on his cheek while his eyes closed making the world around him go dark. 

He takes one last deep breath filling his lungs of pure fresh air, the silence of the place looking at his body soundlessly falling into the void. As the emptiness surrounded him in its loving arm, the air tried its best to stop his fall with its weak strength. 

He smiles, time stretching for him, giving him all the time he needs to appreciate the moment. The gravity calling him excitedly, he watched his tears leaving his cheek to go to the sky. They didn’t want to die with him. Why?

Where there is no time

This white place was once again in front of him. But this time it wasn’t King’s Cross. It was Hogwarts. An immaculate, quiet,  Hogwarts.

‘Harry.’ 

With a snap of his neck he turned to face Dumbeldore who, even with all this time passed, looked the same. The same aged white beard man. 

‘You come to us quite early my boy.’

His voice hadn’t changed either, still calm and wise. ‘38 years, some would think this is early, I don't. I think it’s pretty late actually.’ Harry wasn’t a boy anymore, he was a man, a man who didn’t have the time to see his first white hair in his untended beard and hair.

A sad smile stretched Dumbledore's facial features, making his wrinkles more visible. They both seemed so dark around the white walls of the great hall.

‘It’s too soon Harry.’

The man could feel himself starting to shake as he felt his eyes getting hot with emotions. So what? Yes it was too soon for nature, but who could blame him?

‘It’s already done anyway’ he says angrily.

The former headmaster looked even sadder as the background disappeared around them like smoke. The place became as dark as the void can be, only illuminated by them.

‘I can’t let you come so soon’

Frozen by his words, Harry felt tears falling again. As his headmaster turned his back to him, panic flooded his chest making his breathing hard and labored. 

‘Please!’

It was like being pushed away faster each second.

‘Please Dumbledore!! You can’t do that to me!! Please, I’m begging you!!“  His words vanished at the end of his mouth, unable to travel through the void and destroying his heart even more. Even if he could talk in this place, Dumbeldore was too far away to be reached by his cries. Becoming smaller and smaller to finally only resemble a little dot in Harry's eyes, vanishing into the dark at last.

May 1991

His eyes tore open violently, letting him see the pure darkness in front of him. His breath labored and his sweat soaking his shirt, Harry didn’t recognize where he was. As his eyes got used to the dark, the smell of old wood and damp hit his nose, quickly followed by the sounds of a house waking up. When was the last time he had heard that? The sound of the people living in the apartment above him. The sound of footsteps not muffled by his overwhelmingly loud thoughts. 

Listening to the sound of footsteps getting closer to him and as he got used to the dark enough to see the light beneath the tiny door. He saw the shadow of two feet creating a line of darkness. The person at the other side of the door begins to knock harshly at the wooden piece, startling Harry violently, the confusion overwhelming his senses and freezing his body. But the feeling only grew stronger as the high pitched voice of his aunt reached his tired brain. Cold sweat slid down his fuming hot temple.

As Petunia commanded her nephew to wake up and begin his chores, Harry couldn’t think straight. What was happening? Was he not on the bridge, or at least in his apartment? Hugging his overly tiny fragile body, he felt panic trying to overcome him. Some new tears gathered in the corner of his eyes burning his skin with their salty water. 

What year was it? 

No.

He didn’t want any of that. 

No. 

Why?

It was his fault.

Everything was HIS fault. 

His view blurred by the lack of oxygen, he grabbed his now shorter hair pulling it painfully. His foggy, familiar, anger darkened his mind, his thoughts screaming fiercely in his brain. What was going on? What was happening to him? He ignored the blinding light as Petunia dragged him out with a painful twist of his arm. ‘What in god's name are you doing?! I ask you to get up!’

Hair hiding his face from his aunt, Harry didn’t move, watching his tears dying on the carpet at his feet. 

That’s how he wanted to end. His body, spread evenly, dead, a pretty red stain in the green of nature. 

He felt his breath leaving his lungs hot with anger as his magic crackled energetically around him. His aunt let go of his arm letting him fall to hang lifelessly. She didn’t understand why she wanted to get away from that boy so much. The air felt so heavy and hot, leaving her shaking and scared without knowing why. She stepped away as slowly as she could, trying to breath as quietly as possible. Her pride had disappeared, shut down by her instincts, she felt like being in front of a black hole about to be eaten up by the void.

So she left, a tear of fear fell down her cheek, her heart crushed painfully as she turned her back to the boy. Harry hadn’t moved an inch, but he managed to snatch away all the control she ever had on him. Destroyed by his presence. She went to the living room getting away from the boy’s magic that was slowly moving back into him. 

But Harry didn’t notice his aunt's state, his ears were filled with cotton, his bloodshot eyes unfocused on the several dark spots on the carpet made by his tears. What was he supposed to do? He had to go back and beg Dumbeldore. He didn’t want to be here. What did Dumbeldore mean by throwing him here? Did he have to do this all over again? His mind was intoxicating. How could he? 

His heart and mind were destroyed. All his life, he had tried his best to keep them together, gluing them and changing them so they could fit. And there he was, wearing a heart made of glue more than muscle. He was empty. He was over. 

Walking without meaning to an unknown destination. 

And now that he had turn to choose, the door was closed. 

What has he done to deserve that? Why does even death refuse him? It hurts constantly. All he ever wanted was for his guts to finally stop burning, to stop seeing all this when he closed his eyes.

He looked up, cracking his neck as he watched the ceiling. His warm tears falling delightfully into the back of his head. 

He wanted to be empty of everything, from his emotions, his memory, his own self. He wanted peace. Even if it means floating in the void for eternity because he was not fit to live again, anywhere. 

He didn’t want all this. Once again Dumbeldore was selfish. Once again he wanted to control him, after his life it was his death. When was he ever going to leave him be?

Without really noticing it, Harry was doing what he was told, his brain was not even sure he had heard the command, but he was doing it anyway. He was some kind of pale fragile puppet, expressionless, doing what he was told without ever talking back. Vernon obviously didn’t wait to insult the child with his greasy mean tone. But Harry didn’t react. The sound of his voice not able to get through the cotton in his ears. It was like drowning deep in the ocean of his mind, the universe deciding to use his body since he had abandoned it. The cold water killed his soul, little at a time. 

But sometimes Harry could make out some words. ‘Walking corpse’ being one of them. Harry would have laughed if he was aware enough to actually process any words. Even without taking his mental health into account,  he does look like a corpse. It was true. 

But it wasn’t his fault.

Harry let his eyes fall on the outside window. It was a rainy day, Harry like those days. As he let the broom fall on the ground, the young man stood in front of the window watching the drops falling on the glass. It was so soothing, the sound was so amazingly effective in silencing his thoughts and to shut up his brain. It was weirdly fascinating, the cloudy dark sky giving his sensitive eyes a bit of rest by blocking the sun. This perfect excuse to stay at home and curl up in a blanket.

Ignoring his aunt screaming at him to resume working, Harry walked straight to the kitchen.  He didn’t ask to be here, he couldn’t stay. He couldn't go along with Dumbeldore’s orders any longer. Not again. 

Stepping into the room hurriedly, Harry stopped to look at them. They were there. Those beautiful and well sharpened knives, waiting in their wooden base. 

As Petunia was ready to shout all her venom to her nephew having weirdly enough forgotten about her irrational fear only some hours ago. She got up to follow him in the kitchen, but as soon as she could see the inside of the dark room she froze. The young man was barely noticeable, his frail figure holding a way too big knife for his tiny hands. As dark as the room could be, Petunia still manages to see the white blade touching the too pale skin of the boy’s chest not even protected by his too large clothes. He was smiling, his chapped lips showing some marble of this fascinating red as they got cut by the gesture.

He couldn't wait. 

Outside of the kitchen all Vernon could hear was a loud metal bang and the sound of a body falling heavily against something. Petunia had violently wrenched the knife out of the boy’s hands letting him crash against one wall before slapping Harry across the face with all her might. The boy had fallen against the wall not enough strength, nor will, to fight the force of the slap. Lifting his hands to his now hurting red cheek, Harry gave to the incoming Vernon the same expressionless face he has served them since this morning.  

‘Petunia Dear, is everything ok?’ The woman looking horrified was panting, overwhelmed by the fear she just got. ‘This child is sick!’ Vernon frowns watching the boy's cheek. ‘Get out!’ Petunia yelled again. Harry did what he was told once again. ‘Did you slap him?’ About to finally step out of the room Harry turned to watch his aunt taking every dangerous tool of the room to lock them in the alcohol cabin. ‘Yes! He deserved it!!’ Harry smiles faintly again, his eyes on the ridiculous locker.

Yes he was sick, in every way possible. But he didn’t care. 

It has been pretty idiotic to forget the family he was living with, to do that in broad daylight. He had been in too much of a hurry, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. After all a suicide was a intimate moment. Or at least that's what he liked to tell himself. It was better than saying  he felt so terribly ashamed, that there was nothing worse than being in front of someone at this moment. Someone who could see how pathetic and broken he was. 

He will wait then. But only a tiny bit. Three days actually, he’ll only have to wait until Saturday for the family to go out. Those were probably the most long and painful 3 days of his life. Everyday Petunia tried her best to give him as many chores as she could, never leaving him alone as he was working. She even refused to let him go to school so she could keep an eye on him. She sure had been a bit traumatized by the kitchen incident. Not that Harry would doubt that really, but it still was pretty surprising to see how hard the woman prevented his death. 

While before, she wouldn’t mind not feeding him, she almost forced him these days. And unfortunately Vernon seemed to agree. After hearing her hesitate to leave him behind on Saturday, Harry had worked hard to be ‘back to normal’ telling her that day he had been feeling sick and he didn’t really remember much, but now he felt fine. 

On Friday night, after a long talk with a very upset Dudley, they even ended up giving him his second bedroom. 

Dudley couldn't understand why his parents had ‘changed’ so much about his cousin. They weren’t nice per say, of course, but they were careful. Probably afraid the kid would make another attempt. Probably thinking it was their fault he had made the first one. If not them, what else could make him want to kill himself honestly? The boy was ten, with no friends and without having seen much in life. It had to be their fault right? 

So Harry couldn't wait, Petunia and Vernon were careful with their nephew and Dudley was even more frustrated than ever as he was now unable to hit his cousin since the boy vanished everytime Dudley thought about ‘playing’ with him.

Perfect, Harry was forced to stay in an upside down world.

OoO

And finally Harry was watching them go, Vernon wasn’t feeling overly confident about it so the couple ended up asking Miss Figg to let him have tea time with her. Harry felt a bit bad to make them go through that, he never liked them much but he could understand that finding the corpse of a boy you were supposed to raise, was unsettling.  

But he wasn’t like he cared anymore. He wasn’t going to stay because Petunia and Vernon were a bit worried.

Enjoying this delicious tranquility Harry walked to the kitchen letting only some quiet step follow him. He was smiling, ignoring the blood coming from his chapped lips. Harry liked knives, always precise and useful, it was so satisfying when one finally mastered them. 

Getting on his knees in front of the cabinet the physically young man took a deep breath. The slow Morbid excitement flowing through his vein, he moved his hand as magic gathered at his fingertips grabbing into the ridiculously small locker, and finally destroying  it. 

But nothing happened. 

He had felt it, the soft warmth of his magic around his hands ready to transform the object to dust. 

But it had vanished the moment his skin touched the cold metal. ‘What?’ Letting an ironic scoff get through his lips Harry didn’t let the panic take him. He probably had been too excited and not concentrated enough. ‘It’s fine’ 

The man took a new deep breath concentrating to channel his magic in both his hands this time. As much as he tried, contracting his fragile muscles in the effort, blocking his breath to concentrate more and make his body as still as it could ever be. But nothing happened. 

The locker only got warmer from Harry's normally warm hands. 

Panting, tears of frustration in the corner of his eyes, Harry felt the breakdown coming back. Why? Why didn’t his magic move from his guts when Harry called it?? Was he magically broken as well?

With a burst of energy given by his anger Harry tried to rip the locker from the cabinet hurting his thin pale arms in the process. 

But nothing again. 

He was too young and small to win against wooden furniture. 

His figure half sitting half lying on the floor of the kitchen let out a desperate sob before hitting violently the wood in front of him. 

Trying once again to rip the locker out of the little door, and even with the help of both his legs, the boy only managed to hurt his hands pretty badly. With a teary whine he brought his bloodied hands close to his chest, the pain screaming in his arm with each heartbeat. 

As the drip of blood was dirtying the floor of the kitchen Harry tried to call his magic once again and get her to grab and crush his heart. ‘Move for god's sake!!’

But it didn’t. 

Watching his tears mix with his blood on the white floor. Why was it so hard? Why was dying such a hard task? His whole life had been a nightmare, all his childhood had been to fight death, to avoid it at all cost even though it had been chasing after him. And now that he didn’t want to fight anymore, he couldn't? 

‘Fuck’ his broken whining voice cut the silence of the place as his sob getting muffled by his sweaty hands.

He was a pure mess, broken and crying, blood on his face getting slowly darker as time pass unnoticed. 

And finally he got to his feet, tired and face blank, he walked upstairs not caring about that vase he just knocked off and broke. The frustration still firing his blood he got to the bathroom, closing the door shut with his foot, and emptied every cabinet and drawer on the floor not bothered by his injured feet. The blood and tears drying on his face, he couldn't see anything strong enough to kill a fragile magical 10 year old child.

Petunia had removed anything dangerous. ‘Now you give a shit about me do you?’

A surge of anger filled Harry’s head like a winter fog, a burst of magic surged from him destroying the bathroom. Harry watched the mirror in front of him get broken into a million tiny pieces, his reflection duplicated on all those pieces of glasses. And finally disappearing as the sand falls on the ground.  

The explosion had probably been loud enough to be heard by the neighbors, but that thought left the boy as his eyes fell on Vernon's razor blade. 

His mind was cleared of all his anger to be gently replaced with sweet relief, it wasn’t those tiny ridiculous razor blades from the future. Vernon always had used the old fashioned razor blade his father gave him. Stepping into the dust he took the object carefully with his tiny bony hands, smiling gently to the inanimate object.  

Letting himself fall on the messy floor the boy took some time to appreciate the object in his hands. This blade was so sharp and shiny. 

Finally. 

An angelic and relieved expression spread on his face but changed to something morbid when he stared at the blade slightly touching his skin. Blushing and letting out some hot and excited breath as he could see his bluish veins dancing underneath his skin. It was mesmerizing really. 

And he cut his wrist with a quick harsh movement of the arm. 

He took a deep breath looking at the ceiling, waiting with tears falling down his cheeks. 

But no burn. 

No feeling of blood dripping down his skin. 

No cold from the loss of blood. 

Nothing. 

His gut hurts again as he saw his wrist was fine and uncut, only showing a simple white line given by the blade. 

Frustrated Harry violently assaults his arm again and again unsucessfully. It was like his skin had become rock hard. He tried his thighs as well, even his neck. 

But the blade never gets to cut. 

In one last attempt Harry took the razor blade with both hands, the weapon facing his torso, and with one last scream stabbed himself.

The sound of metal falling on the tiling resonated in the bathroom, Harry seated in the middle of it panting.  

The blade had broken in half against a magical shield. 

Sob came out of the tiny desperate figure of the boy on the ground as he understood. 

He couldn't die. 

His magic was protecting him.

‘Why?’ He whined tiredly. ‘Why don’t you let me die?!’ The wooden broken handle on the dusty floor. ‘WHY!!’ But his magic never replied, softly lying deep in his core. 

‘Please’ the boy curled up on himself hiding in his hands, tired and sobbing.

OoO

After several days acting like a broken doll without will, Harry snapped, throwing every single thing in front of him during breakfast. Screaming and cursing while the Dursleys watch him having a tantrum, lost and afraid. Dudley, terrified, got out of the table. In front of him, his cousin screamed while Vernon finally got to his feet and grabbed the boy with force to stop him in front of a very frightened and shaking Petunia. ‘Stop it boy!!’ Struggling himself off of his uncle’ arms, Harry couldn't stop himself from screaming his lungs out. ‘Jesus, Stop!!!’ Dudley too was crying behind the couch. ‘You gonna hurt yourself Harry stop!’ His aunt finally screamed and panicked. ‘Fuck you!!! You never gave a shit about me before and now you're gonna make me believe that I matter to you now that I'm breaking down?!! Fuck you both!!’ 

The couple look at each other, Vernon still holding the boy. ‘Get you hands off me Vernon!!’ Petunia goes fetch something in her bag before coming back obviously angry but still crying as she looks at her nephew. ‘Try to hold his head Vernon, Dudley go to your room.’ The boy hesitated but after a sharp look from his mother, went running upstairs. As her husband tried to do as she said, Harry tried to get his head out of his uncle’s grasp. ‘Let go off me I said!!’ The fat sweaty hands of his uncle grab, with force, his chin and cheek stopping him from talking. ‘Open your mouth now!’ Fighting as much as he could to not, Harry cursed as he felt his magic going to his mouth and forcing him to open it. 

It was probably the reason why the pills took effect after only several seconds after it made him swallow it. Those medicines took time to be assimilated. But his mind was too foggy to actually think about it. 

He couldn’t do that, he couldn't get up and live his life once again, not after all this. All his life had felt like hanging on a cliff with the rock he was gripping on slowly breaking in front of his eyes. After the end of the war he had managed to keep it together, thanks to his friend and Ginny. He had taken years getting through all those deaths he had seen and done. 

But now he had fallen. 

Diving in a cold deep and dark ocean. 

And what now? He had to do this all over again because HE asked him?  It was out of the question! Why would he have to go through that? That was unfair, the man could say all he wanted, could say all this was for him, for his sake. It only gave Harry more will to not listen. When had that man done anything FOR him? 

He never wanted Harry to be happy, he only had used him, from beginning to end. Letting him live in misery for the greater good. 

Harry couldn't see the wise, soft and nice old wizard everyone saw anymore. For Harry he was only an old man too eaten up by his own righteousness.  

So, no, Harry wasn’t going to follow his rules anymore. He would try everything he knew to get back and finally get through him. His magic couldn’t possibly protect him from everything. 

Unfortunately being with the Dursley was problematic for now. His relatives, as much as he hated it, grew to care about all this mess. The interest put in his well-being was making him very uncomfortable, so after some weeks in which Harry had acted totally normal, the man had slowly but surely removed those incidents from their minds. Harry had never been really good at ‘mind magic’, even more without a wand, so he had to wait for new memories to take root in their mind so he could hide those he had targeted. And when the new ones were present enough to make them more fragile he would gently rip them out and destroy them. 

Unfortunately their feelings had stayed longer, it’s only after 2 months that his aunt had stopped watching over his meal and wasn’t carrying calming pills constantly on her. 

Harry was now waiting to go to Hogwarts. With the new term beginning his fight against his headmaster could finally start.

Let’s start this fight

24th July 1991

Finally the first letter to Hogwarts had arrived. And like the first time, Dudley had stolen the piece of paper from his cousin. Harry had been tired these past few weeks, constantly working on his chores and unable to really sleep, Dudley had been as discreet as a ninja in the middle of an infiltration for Harry.

And it was without any interest that Harry had watched his uncle trying everything he could to stop the letter from coming. As the man was watching Vernon burn the letters with a sadistic smile on his face, Harry laughed. The man was ridiculous. If he feels any pleasure at doing that, great he was going to receive plenty of them soon enough.  

Waiting patiently for the time to pass, well patiently wasn’t really true, Harry was very bad at waiting, but he did wait anyway. Most of his nights were filled with writing and searching in his crazy tired mind, since he couldn’t sleep the now ‘boy’ was working on noting every single spell, potion or things that could kill him with magic. And since his mind was too much of a mess he was writing it down on a notebook he had protected with several spells so it couldn’t be read or destroyed. The spells were a bit wobbly since he had done them at a time when he had been particularly tired, but they would do the job for now. He’ll probably change them when arriving to Hogwarts anyway. 

Talking about this school, Harry did know he was about to get there at some point, but how? That was a mystery. The lack of sleep was slowly eating his brain alive and remembering such old memories was nearly impossible. Several times he had thought of taking some dreamless potions while back in the wizarding world, but it felt kind of wrong. What was the point of taking care of himself anymore? But the constant tiredness was way too inconvenient. 

OoO

Arriving on this little island after his uncle's breakdown, Harry laughs in the silence of the sleeping place while remembering the room. He didn’t notice the first time but the whole event had been a pretty good tangible illusion. The letters had probably disappeared some short minutes after they left. 

Hearing the storm trying to go through the stones of the walls, Harry was looking at the dirty, full of webs, ceiling unable to sleep again. 

This was a pretty cool night for a summer, probably because they were in the middle of the sea, in the middle of a stormy night, in a lighthouse. That could be an explanation. 

In between the loud wind noises around them and Dudley snoring, HArry hears heavy footsteps before a loud bang crack against the door. At least now his cousin wasn’t sleeping anymore. It took Harry four loud bangs and the Dursley to get down with a rifle in hand to finally remember. Hagrid was coming to get him. 

The gatekeeper, not receiving any response, ended up losing patience and made the door fly away from its frame, making the poor Dudley panic even more if possible. It was pretty theatrical really, Harry could easily see the scene in a horror movie. With the quality of a movie filmed on a smartphone, Harry could see a perfect wizarding parody of paranormal activity. It was obviously not a ghost standing in the frame of the door, it was a half giant living in a hut close to a school for magical beings. For some people the reality could be probably more frightening, especially the Dursleys. But knowing the man, Harry could never be afraid of him, he was as sweet as a kitten. 

Harry did appreciate the scene regardless. 

‘Oop sorry for that! That door wouldn't open.’ The big man said cheerfully, almost giving Harry a smile. ‘That’s the point of a door, thanks.’ The savior said in between the panicked ‘conversation’ between the Dursley and the tall man. Nobody was paying attention to his lack of panic probably due to a lack of interest for his person. 

The weapon of this poor Vernon ended up broken by Hagrid's strong hands and the man finally turned to Harry excitedly. ‘You’re pretty skinny by the way. Are you guys feeding him enough!!’ Hagrid asks, turning to the family. ‘Or are you giving everything to his cousin?!’ Harry let out a dark laugh before those obvious harsh insults about Dudley's weight. 

As Petunia scoffed, outraged, Harry let out a strong sigh. Petunia had to stop lying to herself, Dudley was fat, and for his age it wasn't healthy. And with his bad and mean personality it wasn't doing any good to his image. At some point in his life Dudley would probably care about other people's opinion and his features would probably be the first thing people are going to point out.  

‘I am Hagrid, keeper of keys and ground at Hogwarts’ as the man began to make a meal in front of the fire he had just summoned, Harry watched him without a word. The man wasn’t supposed to use magic, which was rubbish really, but he couldn't do anything about it unfortunately. Not that Harry would report him to the ministry. Hagrid offered a plate to Harry who refused with a hand gesture. 

He loved the man, he really does. But seeing him now just makes him feel nauseous. 

‘We'll go buy your school supplies tomorrow I'm afraid, the storm is too strong.’ To that Harry only nods while the Dursley begin to scream again. So Harry watched them fighting emotionlessly. He was so tired. 

Vernon continues to insult the wizarding world and especially Hogwarts and its residents. It was funny really Harry could think that Vernon and Petunia still care for him. A school with a deadly forest at barely 15 minutes walk away from the kids, a giant old basilisk hidden deep in the castle walls and pipes, a three head dog this year, and every single defense teacher being bad or just dangerous and malicious. Yeah the safety of the school was not as amazing as everyone said. 

But Harry knew that the man didn’t ‘care’ about him, he was just a racist who hates anything he called ‘weird’. There wasn’t any particular reason why they didn’t want him to go, it was probably just them hating him.  

‘I refuse to pay for a madman to teach my nephew all this crap!!’

So the man knew Harry was his nephew, interesting. With all the ‘boy’ and insults he took through the day, Harry thought he was some kind of homeless kid the Dursley charitably took under their care and couldn't throw away anymore. 

Leaning against the hard wall, Harry thought he’d only blink, but when he had opened his eyes again Dudley had his lovely little pig tail attached to his butt. The place assaulted by the scream and the panic thanks to Hagrid magic, Harry watches Dudley and Petunia running around the place. What was the point really? Does Dudley honestly think if he could run fast enough, his tail would just disappear? And Petunia, what does she think she can do? Does she plan to violently rip the tail from her son’s butt, letting the blood of the boy spread all over the place adding more horror to this ridiculous movie. 

OoO 

Getting through his first year school books, Harry wasn’t surprised to find nothing he hadn't already written down in his notebook. First year was pretty much the basics. Not many spells were practiced, even less dangerous ones. He knew the programme even at NEWT level was not going to help him in his journey against Dumbeldore, but he didn’t lose anything by looking at it. 

‘Already studying ‘arry?!’ The half giant asked awkwardly, in front of his lunch Harry gave him a smile. ‘We can say that I guess’ 

Hagrid didn’t know how to talk to him, he wasn’t stupid, he knew something was off with that kid. That he wasn’t ok. But what was he supposed to do? Every attempt to get closer to him seems to wash through him without being heard.  

He wanted to help him, but how?

1st September 1991

And then Vernon dropped him off at Kings Cross station, not bothered with how heavy his luggages could possibly be. With a long, tired sigh Harry grabbed all his things putting a non verbal, wandless, weighless spell on everything. He obviously didn’t need any help to find his way to the platform. And as he heard some kid excitedly telling their parents how happy they were to finally be able to do magic, something clicks in Harry's mind. 

Watching his hands warmed by the fog of his magic, he scoffed. The mark wasn’t on him anymore. Which made sense really. The mark wasn’t following the body age but the magic maturity, because magic also goes through puberty and it was way more precise than the body. That was why wizards and witches were legally adults at 17 years old. Because their magic becomes mature at this age. Physical puberty was more uncertain, girls could have their period to 9 to 16 years old sometimes. 

Harry’s magic was certainly mature. 

So no mark for him, it was convenient. Not that he cares about the Ministry. He didn’t. But it was less of a mess to handle. After 26 years of using his magic daily, he wasn’t about to control himself on a little mindless spell he could have done to summon the salt to him without having to move from his seat. 

‘Mom, we should be more careful the muggle are going to see us’ Harry turns his attention to a young man with his mom just passing through. ‘Come on Finny, it’s fine muggles don’t see anything’ 

That was rubbish. It was a miracle that nobody had noticed anything by now. The anti-muggle spells on the passageway were slowly cracking down each year, and nobody ever came to build them up again. In his times muggle had smartphones which was a problem and a blessing at the same time, because all their attention was taken by the device, but could also easily take proof if they noticed anything. But right now, the only thing to divert their attention was their train they were about to miss, or the newspapers. 

But Harry didn’t care. After giving his bulkiest luggage to the elf, he goes into the train to find himself an empty compartment.

Once found he harshly snapped his fingers to put his things in the luggage rack above his head. The snap was not necessary but it helped him to focus and give a precise moment to cast his spell.

Seated and feeling the train finally starting to move, he turned his attention to the landscape before him. He could have tried to jump in front of the train. He had thought about it, but he quickly forgot the idea. It was way too much trouble and preparation, he would have had to arrive way earlier to first, find a spot on the train road so there would be anybody, and for the train to take enough speed to make lethal damage. He also would have to deactivate or destroy the spell work around the rails, which would have taken him 2 or 3 hours at least. Without even being sure of the result knowing that the train itself had spells around himself that were checked every time the Hogwarts Express was about to depart. 

So yeah, too much trouble. 

‘Hm… hi can i come in? Everywhere is full?’ 

Feeling his heart stop, Harry tried his best to breathe normally as he turned to see the small figure of Ron in the doorway. The red on his puffy cheeks were letting his million spots show even more than usual. His blue eyes not knowing where to look end up looking at his feet, sometimes looking up at the other boy. 

Feeling way too much at once Harry turns his attention to the window considering running away from the other boy. But he hmm an agreement anyway. 

The boy thanked him, closed the door and came seating in front of him putting his bag on his left. ‘Hi, I’m Ron by the way. Ronald Weasley.’ I know Harry said in his mind, too scared to look at the other boy. ‘Harry, nice to meet you’ he mumbled without really being able to stop himself. 

‘Nice to meet you Harry!’ He had looked at him this time, watching the other boy's cheerful bright smile he was giving him, Harry tried his best to ignore the turmoil in his mind and stay emotionless. 

Was it really it? Dumbeldore really wanted him to do this all over again? Even this, his friends? Those people he had grown up with? He couldn't, that was terrifying, Harry wasn’t the same person Ron had met when he was 11. Back then he knew Ron and Hermione weren’t going to let him down, ever. But now he wasn’t sure of anything. What if the people he loves come to hate him? He had worked so hard not to think about it, but now that Ron was in front of him he couldn't ignore those thoughts.

He wanted to be alone, to talk to no one. He hated the idea of Ron or Hermione seeing him the way he was now. Even if they didn’t know him. He wasn’t about to get close to anyone. He had made his choice and he couldn’t let anyone get in the way or suffer from the consequences.

‘…Are you ok?’ Looking away from Ron’s eyes he cleared his throat taking shelter in the background behind the window. ‘Yeah… sorry. I’m just not good at socializing.’

As he tried to forget the other boy's presence, Harry could feel his stare on his cheeks ‘Oh… ok… that’s fine.’ The attention was heavy on Harry, it felt like his cheek was being precisely cut by the sharpest scalpel made by human kind. Leaving his cheek open and bleeding, the piece of meat that was once his skin, getting lost in the abyss with those world mysteries like the lonely sock. 

Even trying to look unapproachable and as mean as he could be, Ron still seemed eager to talk to him. Even though Harry hadn’t specified his last name and looked like some dirty homeless kid. Ron wasn’t disgusted by him. He was eleven years old, he was supposed to feel frightened by how different Harry looked. 

‘What is it?’ Harry ended up asking, unable to live through his burning guts any longer. ‘You’re coming for your first year too?’ Ron asks, stars glistening in his eyes. ‘No I was actually waiting to jump in front of the train to let my bloodied inside spread across the rails.’ The black hair boy said, looking as annoyed as he could be. He hated it but he had to push him away. Ron looked horrified and taken aback by the image letting a quirk smile spread across his cheeks. ‘Of course I come for my first year.’ Harry turns to the window again as Ron laughs weirdly.  

If he had to be honest the boy in front of him was gloomy and terrifying, but Ron felt like he had to talk to him. To befriend him somehow. It was a weird feeling really. ‘Do you have an idea of which house you’re gonna be sorted in?’ The red hair asks with excitement. 

Harry felt exhausted and on edge. 

‘I don’t know.’ He responds with a sight without looking at Ron. ‘I hope I won’t be put into Slytherin. I don’t want to end up like You-Know-Who.’ Feeling anger built in his unstable mind Harry snapped. ‘Rubbish!’ jumping to the sudden burst from the other boy, Ron got straight on his seat. ‘Excuse me?’ Harry this time gave Ron a heated glare. ‘Dark wizard don’t turn dark because they were sorted in Slytherin.’ 

His emotions were out of control, not that it was anything new. ‘But You-Know-Who was a Slytherin’ Harry scoffed. ‘Yes he wad, but that’s not the reason why he turned mad. Slytherin house may seem mean and arrogant, but the reality is that they are hated since Salazar, every single house hates them. So yeah they protect themself and rarely try to get along since most of the time it’s useless. But if you look at the first war each house got their own dark wizard and death eaters.’ The red hair didn’t know what to say. ‘Being in a house does not define you, it just puts you in touch with a certain type of people and gives you a false unfounded image of others and of yourself.

And since it’s something you’re put since really young, it’s hard to get yourself out of this mindset.’ 

Feeling like he had been scolded by his father, Ron shut his mouth looking at his hands on his knees, his cheeks red from embarrassment.  

It was pretty stressful for Ron, talking with this kid. It felt like walking on eggs every time a word came out of his mouth. He was pretty certain the other boy was hating him for just being here. But somehow he couldn’t leave. 

The tension building in the tiny place was beginning to give Ron severe anxiety but thankfully someone had the great idea to open their door. ‘So the rumors were true then?’ Harry turns a quirk face to the blond boy in the doorway. 

It was so strange to see that kind of expression on Draco’s face. With time they had learned to like each other, having Butterbear here and there after work, Harry had discovered a sweet man with a bit of soft sarcasm. Past 22 years old the blond had left his overly rich robes and suit to mostly hang out in soft comfy clothes most of the time.

His friend wasn’t in front of him. The only thing Harry could see was a tiny version of Lucius Malfoy. Which was unpleasant. 

‘Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts’ shock appeared on Ron’s face as he turned his attention to Harry whose scar was barely visible behind his messy fringe. ‘Weasley what an unpleasant encounter.’ The boy said with a sneer as Harry’s magic started to get excited again. ‘Shut up Malfoy we don’t want you and your snakes here!’ A loud slap of magic made Ron and Draco jump, turning all their attention to Harry who was still watching the moving landscape behind the window. 

‘If you want to bicker I'll ask you both to leave.’ With an angry glare Harry turned to Draco’s reflection in the glass. ‘And for Morgana’s sake get that poor imitation of your father Off your face! This is pissing me off.’ Both kids could feel Harry angry magic whipping the air around them stopping them from arguing. ‘I’m sorry.’ The blond says embarrassed looking at the floor too aware of what powerful wizards were capable of. ‘…I just wanted to say hello…’ he said in a tiny voice.

As Harry turned to him again the boy could feel his blood getting cold in his veins, the savior was right now unable to show a calm face. ‘And you really think that’s a way to say Hello ! Taking people for some piece of garbage it’s not a way to introduce yourself.’ 

It was useless to get angry like that to Draco, the boy was young and raised like that. But Harry couldn’t stop himself. 

He was getting too emotional and invested in this.

As Harry turned away again, Draco couldn’t say anything. The boy seemed to know a lot about him and his dad, and Draco couldn’t understand how. But the magic Harry was letting out was too scary and powerful to let him really think about it. The blond boy didn’t even pay that much attention to the brown hair kid's clothes. Harry looked filthy, poor and unworthy of the rumors around him. 

But he was powerful, and Draco loved that. 

Leaving the place disturbed and deep in thoughts he couldn't hear Crabbe and Goyle talk to him, too much emotion flowing and heating up his body. 

OoO

The Sorting.

That moment in which those new students would know which type of school life they're going to have for the 7 next year. 

The life of the one that nobody ever noticed despite all the good deeds they spent their life doing. The one who held you the door or gave you the water during lunch. The one you don’t remember at the end of the day. 

The one who prefers to spend their free time in those wonderful worlds offered by books. Who were well known by Madam Pince, and were mocked for it. The one everyone turns for help in their study even though they are struggling as much as everyone else, if even more because of the pressure put on them.

Or the proud always known for throwing themself in danger without thinking. Always there to make people laugh even if it means making fun of their ‘stupidity’, ignoring that they could be hurt by those laughs. Ignoring that they could have problems looking at themself in the mirror, or be afraid of what was in front of them. 

Or those with their head high, always being seen with a little smirk in the corner of their mouth. Hiding that deep down they were lonely and frustrated. Doing their best to be worthy or just competent in their passion but always ignored. Feeling crushed by loneliness and everyone's jugement, when all they wanted was some praise for what they were proud of.

And all that during 7 long years in a boarding school.

As Harry eyed the four hourglasses in the back of the great hall, he suppressed an urge to blow them up in millions of tiny colorful pieces.  

Tradition was it?

Rubbish who just manage to break people and family apart. Not that the world would have been a paradise without all it, of course not. Humans would always find reason to destroy each other, but Harry wasn’t about to forgive this school system or would see its good part. His view was blurred by sadness and black leaking hate. 

‘Harry Potter!!’ The man could hear all the gasp and breath cut off by hearing his name. He was familiar with all the attention people could give him. He wasn’t ok with it, he hates it especially now. Now that everyone thought they knew but the important one didn’t. Now that Harry Potter was only a celebrity. 

With his hands hidden deep in his pockets shaking from his emotions, he tries his best to ignore the nausea in his stomach. And made his way to the tiny overexposed stool.  

He hate it. 

Why did he have to go through this again?

The rage dancing with his fear and shame made his way to his head as he could feel Albus' old calm magic in his back. But his shame was stronger as he could see the whole great hall attention turn to him. 

He felt sick. 

Out of place. 

Disgusting. 

‘GRYFFINDOR’

OoO

The rumbling about Harry continues in between the reunion and meetings. And even if everyone was eager to meet the Boy Who Lived, lots got disappointed with receiving no response. And at some point people had stopped trying after Ron explained his ‘difficulties to socialize’. The thoughtful gesture only gave Harry more nausea.

There were too many people he knew and loved. Too many emotions in his head. 

And not enough sleep.

The talking became too loud, too overwhelming, eating his sanity with their excitement. The laughter breaking his ears, the tinkling dishes stabbing his nerve system. 

He couldn’t remember when his breathing had become hard, he only noticed it when the lack of air had made his view blurry. 

His shaking hands had come covering his ears at some point. But it didn’t help. Not enough. 

And nothing. 

Not a single sound anymore. 

Finally quiet. 

As a single tear left his eyes Harry recovered his breathing noticing a soothing and warm bubble head charm around his head.  

OoO

His memory was a mess, he couldn't remember how he went to class, when he had fallen asleep, when he had got to the Gryffindor tower. All his first week had been a blurry dream. Like jumping from scene to scene without real sense between them. The only tangible memory was his sleepless night, motionless in his bed watching the canopy above his head. 

It was like someone was driving his body while he rested in the deep comfortable nest of his consciousness. Would somebody going to ask for him? Asked for him to meet the world outside his eyes? Probably not.

It was too comfortable anyway. Best to stay curled up under the cover of his mind. 

‘Ah yes.’ Feeling forcefully woken up from his nap by Snape harsh deep voice, Harry looked at his teacher for a sec before looking away. Snape was dead, years ago. ‘Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity .’ The sneer in the tall man’s voice became so familiar to Harry. He tried to ignore the man and go back deep in his mind but found that he couldn’t. ‘Potter!’ The whole class turned to him again. ’What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?’ 

As Ron was getting mad for the brown hair kid, Harry’s shoulders relaxed. He knew that. And for once his mind was quiet to concentrate on the question. 

‘The Draught of living death sir, a sleeping potion.’ 

But the moment he gave the answer the noise came back, overlapping memory and feelings getting his attention barely impossible. ‘Oh, interesting. Good answer Potter.’ The teacher says in his clear tone voice who arrived muffled with missing bits to Harry. 

‘Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?’ Again the man seemed to have said something before but Harry was unable to catch anything but the question. ‘In the stomach of a goat sir.’ The boy responded with his eyes attached to his table. ‘Good again, but I would appreciate it if you look at me, Mister Potter, while talking to me.’ Harry watches his knuckle getting white slowly getting overwhelmed by his mind again. ‘10 points given to Gryffindor nevertheless. And you’ll stay after class, Mister Potter, I believe my class is the last one of your day.’ 

The first class was practical, the boy managed to stay ‘awake’ most of the time he remembered quite well making his potion. And it must have been well done because his teacher didn’t come for him a second time, or Harry didn't remember it. The potion had been a pretty simple one, the type of brewing you can give your first year without worrying too much about your classroom. It was a quick way to know who’s going to be a danger in the class. 

But Harry doesn't remember anything after he finished his potion. 

O

O

O

.

.

.

‘Mister Potter…’ watching his feet Harry came back blinking in surprise to have dozed off again. ‘I asked you to look at me Potter!’ His tired lost eyes land on the teacher weirdly hating the silence of the room now empty of students. ‘Do you sleep at night Potter?’ The man asked him, obviously wanting to ask something else. ‘No I don't sir. But it’s none of your business.’ Could Snape hex him with the killing curse? 

As he watched Snape face getting torn into an angry, shocked expression, Harry felt his magic detach itself from his will. He hates it. ‘You got some cheeks as I can see Potter! I guess I’ll have to tell the headmaster or you want to tell him yourself?’ 

As a loud crack of magic broke his words Severus gripped his wand in a reflex. The boy's attitude had drastically changed to the mention of the headmaster, but not in the way he was supposed to. Kids were getting afraid and most of the time, red from embarrassment, But Harry Potter had become furious and unstable. His magic whipping the air angrily around him, his eyes once again on the floor almost entirely hidden by his messy hair. 

As the surprise of the magic burst finally wears off, Severus could hear the boy mumble frantically. Some angry tears seem to leave his eyes to die on the cold floor, his hands tighten into fists. ‘Mister Potter, calm yourself down!’ The teacher brought his left hand quickly to his torso as a wisp of magic came close to it leaving a bit of crackling magic on the desk. ‘I can’t calm down! I never can, ok! I’m ALWAYS …’ in between mumble Severus cast a shield around him as he got closer to the boy. ‘Potter…’ 

The man didn’t have the chance to get very close that Harry stopped him with a desperate scream. ‘GEt ThE FuCK aWAY frOm ME!’ Severus stopped every movement, keeping his magic close to him. ‘Nobody knows me anymore…’ the boy said in a flat low tone. His magic was getting way too out of control, at this rate the boy was about to badly hurt himself. 

Trying his best to reach the boy, Severus could hear him repeating ‘why’ the meaning of the word lost in the depths of his mind. 

‘WHY!!!’ Severus 3 feet away from him watches him looking up at him in a slow movement as the time seems to stretch with the boy’s magic dissolving around them. 

And the kid fainted, his fall safe from injuries as the professor caught him gently. 

OoO

‘I can’t believe you're bringing me as a student for the first bloody week, Severus!’ Close to the bed in which he had put the boy, the man watched his colleague arrive on the side of the bed with a frown. ‘He is not there because of me, Poppy. He had a panic attack.’ The woman gave him a glare. ‘Thanks for your consideration for my work anyway.’ He finishes with sarcasm only for her to scoff. ‘A panic attack? And you thought it would be a good idea to knock him out?’ She asks, reading a magical parchment. ‘I didn’t!! He fainted in front of me.’ She turned to him with a quirk expression on her face. ‘Then who cast the bloody spell then?!’ She said showing him the result of the diagnostic spell. ‘Not me!! Trace the magic before accusing me!’ 

Both sending each other heated glare, Poppy traces the spell anyway. ‘What in Merlin…’ she said after casting her spells. ’What?’ Why does she stay silent, she knew Severus wanted to know what in heaven had happened to the boy. The teacher was pretty sure the woman was doing this just to piss him off. 

‘He hexed himself’ She finally enlightened him while giving him another parchment. ‘Look at the mental diagnostic’ 

And Severus wished he hadn’t. 

‘How can a 10 year old have all the symptoms of depression?!’ he asks, confused and obviously not believing it. ‘Early age depression is not that uncommon, it’s a taboo but it exists. My question is, why HE developed it?’ They share a look knowing exactly what was implied by that. Severus sighed as so many new questions and worries built themself in his mind. 

‘First things first he needs to sleep. His brain chemistry is totally messed up, it’s a wonder he could have attempted his first week of school.’ Severus only nods knowing that he’ll have to prepare a long term sleeping treatment. With a thoughfull face the teacher watched the sleeping kid, Harry wasn't even there for one week and he was already laying in a hospital bed with a depression diagnostic. 

With another long tired sight the man passed his hands through his face before combing his hair back in frustration. The whole thing was going to give him gray hair for sure. 

OoO

Around their tea, Albus and Minerva were silent, only the sound of them sipping, breaking the silence in the room. 

‘How was this first week?’ Minerva put her half empty cup on the desk in front of her. ‘Calm… as calm as it can be with Harry Potter in the school’. It was pretty common for Minerva to come after class on Friday for tea. It was a habit they both had taken without really saying it out loud. It was just to spend some time with each other and talk a bit about work. It never had been a stressful or tense moment, Minerva just spent some time with her best friend who happened to be her boss. 

But on that particular Friday, the first Friday of 1991 term, the Gryffindor head of house felt uneasy in front of her Headmaster. 

She always could figure when the man was feeling down. They had known each other for too long, she couldn’t miss the signs. But right now the man wasn’t even trying to hide it. It had been some months for the wizard to be odd, but each time the woman asked him he always told her ‘everything is fine my dear, thanks for worrying. I’m just a bit tired.’ She didn't buy it of course but didn’t force anyway knowing very well that the man wasn’t ready to talk.

She could see it, the sadness on his face. He didn’t even seem to be there sometimes, and as scary as it was Minerva didn’t feel powerful enough to be able to do anything about it. 

‘You SAid hE’D bE FinE!’ 

Jumping on her feet Minerva watched Severus burst in the room, her breathing quickly erratic because of the surprise. 

Albus didn’t move, his eyes still glued to his almost full cup of tea.

Severus, now in front of the desk, waits, his breathing hard and his knuckles white from anger. ‘SaY sOmetHIng!’ Again Albus remained silent. ‘You assure me that wherever he was placed, he was going to be fine! Then why does he have clinical early age depression, Headmaster!!’ Minerva on his right let out a gasp knowing fair well who Severus was talking about. But what stopped the woman's blood stream was how the old man looked up to Severus, not a bit of surprise on his face. 

He knew. 

‘You… You …? Why haven’t you done anything then?!!’ The younger teacher shouts made the wall and furniture wince to the sound of his angry voice. ‘Albus, what is this all about?’ Minerva asked, feeling very uncomfortable in front of this man wearing a cold emotionless face. 

‘I know what I’ve done.’ Was his only answer he gave to his angry and confused colleagues.  

After that the man didn’t say anything else, asking them softly to leave if they didn’t have any more questions. 

OoO

Emotions finally settled down, letting him float gently around them like a calm quiet lake.

Finally. Peace. 

As his eyes blinked open his blurry sight was surrounded by white. But not a dazzling white, a soft bluish white. The type who’s only lightened by the cold light of the moon on a late night out. Was he in Hogwarts hospital wing? 

A long sigh brings a bit more clearness to his mind as he snaps his finger calling his glasses to his noise. He could feel the Calming Draught and Sleeping potion in his system, unfortunately they didn’t manage to stop the memory from smashing back into his mind painfully. 

He felt truly awake after weeks or months of constant blurry existence. Neither way was easier to live than the other. It still felt horrible to be in his body. 

But now at least he could form enough coherent thought to solve this problem. 

Seated on the side of the bed Harry stayed like that, watching the light of the moon reflect against his glasses. It didn’t really occur to him how weird it was to have such a clear focus of an object so close to his eyes, he only cast a soft tempus above his right hands, observing a lightning 04:23 floating quietly in the air before disappearing in an obscene flesh like pop. 

A scoff broke the silence of the infirmary before letting the shadow of the boy who lived slide off his door.

All this was ridiculous. 

OoO

It has been only 16 hours since Severus had put the young Potter to the infirmary. His burst of anger in the headmaster’s office left him without any answer to his million questions, breaking his mind since yesterday. He couldn’t sleep, so he had spent most of his time preparing the treatment destined for the boy but unfortunately even though the potion was quite intricate to make, it didn’t manage to calm the flow of thoughts in the teacher’s head. 

In front of his morning tea with his blanket still on his shoulders the man already felt helpless and useless. He had vowed to protect him and he was already failing to do so. 

As he sighed, his eyes watching the cool browny water of his tea making small waves in his cup, someone burst into his apartment breaking his door and his heart in the process. His chest aching painfully, his blood ready to break his ribs any moment, he could see the mediwitch of the castle coming straight to him in the loud clack of his front door. ‘You USelEsS PotIoN MAsteR!’ With a slam of her hand on his kitchen table, the man could feel his soul leave his body, no doubt too squished by the sudden energy and panic, to go fly in another country. Uzbekistan probably. 

‘Can you stop screaming at me for two seconds, and explain what’s going on for Heaven sake!!’ The woman leaning on the table gave the still seated man a glare. ‘You’re sleeping potion didn’t work you genius.’ 

Severus blinked, his tea still locked between his hands, Poppy's words getting through his brain. ‘What do you mean, it didn’t work? Is he having nightmares? It’s not a dreamless potion yo…’ cut in his sentence by the woman sighing while getting up. ‘He left the infirmary during the night.’ 

Severus gave her a dumb look not buying it, while the mediwitch began to fume a vein of anger on her temple. ‘Rubbish.’

They stay like that for several long minutes glaring at each other, one trying to piss the other off, while the other tries to calm their temper, as they were ready to go wild. 

‘You’re not joking…?’ Poppy scoffed lots of insults written all over her face. ‘Did you find this on your own Sherlock??!’ She snapped loudly. Yeah she was pissed. ‘But how is that even possible?! He was supposed to sleep for at least 1 day, if not two!!’ Getting to his feet the man began to walk to his personal lab followed by Poppy. ‘I don’t know, you’re the one who’s supposed to tell me that!’ 

Their relationship had always been like that, heated, even when Severus was a 13 years old boy coming to heal his dad’s or the Marauders' harshest injuries. They always had communicated while bickering, that was their relationship dynamics. ‘Oh come on, when did I ever give you a bad potion?!’

His blanket still hanging on his back the man took a vial of potion coming from the same series as the potion given to the boy. He put it down on his centered working desk picking a tiny glass saucer from underneath, and a wooden quite big vial. 

With an experiment gesture he let a drop of the sleeping potion fall in the saucer quickly followed by the potion from the wooden vial. A hiss came from the little unmixed drop while Poppy stayed in the door frame watching. And with a quick spell with his wand a parchment full of writing appeared in front of Severus. 

And silence follows.

A long, frustrating silence.

‘Oh come on!! Tell me if you fucked it up already!’ Poppy says, tapping her foot on the floor angrily. ‘I didn’t, the potion is perfectly normal. He is supposed to be asleep.’ They both look at each other confused with a lot of questions getting through their eyes. 

OoO

In front of his notebook Harry couldn't concentrate, his thoughts were constantly turning around his awakening in the infirmary. He had no idea how he had ended up there. Was it before or after Potion class? Who dragged him there? All his memories were blurry, nothing made sense, and when he had the scene in mind he didn’t even know if it was real or not. 

He was tired, physically and psychologically. 

With all that Harry was pretty sure that the mediwitch of the school knew at least a minimum about his state. He had clearly felt the potion in his cup the night after his awakening. He had been pretty sure it was a sleeping potion or some kind but couldn’t figure out which one. 

And even though it felt wrong and dumb to take it, he had drunk it anyway. He couldn’t fight death without sleep. 

But who else knew about him? How much does the woman know? 

Why does it matter that much to him? 

All those questions messing up his mind Harry had felt oppressed. Watched constantly. He hated it.

So he had left for the Room of Requirement to finally be alone. It didn’t stop his thoughts of course, but at least he didn’t feel all the attention the entire school was giving him. It was the best place to do what he wanted anyway. 

Pushing his notebook aside angrily, Harry let out a long painful sight. He couldn't leave this place. He knew Ron was eager to get close to him, and seeing that boy grabbing his arm with his desperate blue eyes staring at him, was way too painful. Harry could shout at him to leave him alone, insult him, or even punch him. The boy didn’t seem to care, he always ended up watching him with worried eyes and apologized before leaving. 

It felt horrible, seeing him genuinely concerned even though he didn’t know him. How could an eleven years old be so patient? So understanding? 

So Harry locked himself up in this room, eating his meals in it, sleeping in it. Weirdly enough he managed to go to class anyway. He was fairly sure it was his magic doing, because why would he want to go to class? He was in first year, those classes couldn’t help him in his quest. 

Sometimes he left the room to go to the library. Most of the time during night, to gain access to the restricted section, but sometimes during the day too. 

‘Mister Potter you will stay after class’ had said Professor Snape one week after the infirmary episode. Harry stopped himself from growling at that, he couldn't wait to go back to the room, tonight he was finally beginning the practical experiences. ‘Yes sir?’ 

In front of the desk of the teacher, the class now empty of students, Harry had his backpack ready in his hands. ‘After the… incident of last week and with Madam Pomfrey's expertise, you will have to take treatment for your sleeping issues.’ 

So Snape knew. But what was the incident? What had happened? ‘I know you’ve been putting potions in my drinks every evening.’ Snape flinched a bit apparently not expecting that. ‘… Yes, it’s a long term sleeping recovery potion…’ Harry nods. So that was what he was drinking every day then? He was a bit disappointed, it would have been funnier if it was some kind of long term poison. One made by Snape would surely do something right?! ‘Where are you hiding after your classes, mister Potter?’ 

The boy locked his eyes in his teacher’s cold expression on his face. For a moment Severus felt frightened. 

‘With all due respect sir, that’s none of your business. I’m doing just fine, I sleep, eat and do my homework. If you don’t have any other questions sir I will take me leave.’ 

Stunned by the student, Severus let him have the time to arrive at the door before hearing his reaction. ‘Potter!’ The boy, his hands on the handle, turned his head to give an eye to the teacher now up on his feet. ‘When you entered this school as a student, you were put under our care … Where do you go when you’re not in class?’ Harry kept his eyes on his teacher for several long quiet seconds. ‘Isolating myself…’ 

It was his only response before leaving the classroom. And even if Severus hurried behind him, when he left the class, nobody was in the corridors. He didn’t hear him run, even if he had run Severus would have been able to see where he had gone, he would have felt it. 

But no, nothing. 

OoO

Where was the Boy-Who-Lived hiding? That was the question constantly on Severus' mind since the beginning of term. The whole Potter subject was literally eating his brain alive, hundreds of questions on that boy crushing his mind palace without enough knowledge to actually answer them. 

And Severus was the type of person that usually sleeps very well, but not when a subject obsesses him. And after spending several weeks controlling himself to not engage himself too much in the boy’s life, he finally gave up and started spying on him. 

It was creepy and very unprofessional, but nobody seemed to care and tried to get answers. They all follow the headmaster's order to leave him be, that ‘he is young and famous it’s normal that he tries to isolate himself’. Severus loved the man very much, even though he never voiced those feelings out loud, Albus had saved him, so yeah he valued him. But on that particular subject he doesn't agree. 

It wasn’t by leaving him on his own that the kid will be able to heal his depression, he wasn’t socializing at all, he actually ran away from people. Whenever Weasley tried anything Potter seemed ready to burst again. 

Potter was alone. 

Constantly. 

Severus wanted to be neutral with the kid, protecting him only by duty and not for some kind of affection. 

Well it seemed to be screwed already. 

OoO 

It was hard, nothing was working. Already 6 weeks that he was here, and nothing seemed to work against his magic. He had tried every muggle attempt he could think of, he was now beginning curses and hexes, but even if his magic sometimes didn't stop from casting them, it still managed to protect and heal him. 

The good point was that, at least, Harry felt good , physically he was recovering from the last couple of months and the state he got from the Dursleys. He knew that his treatment had been pretty much more complete after some days, probably the time needed to brew the potions. So yeah his shape was going back. He was more focused and had more stamina.

But it was only physical.

‘He is such a dickhead geez…’ Harry’s attention had been picked by those words coming out of Seamus' mouth as the class was waiting to go into their following period. ‘Seamus come on…’ Ron had responded tiredly. ‘What, he is horrible with you! You’re being the nicest with him and he is not even polite to you!’ 

Does Seamus know that the distance between them wasn’t important enough to not be heard? Maybe he was doing this on purpose. 

‘Mind your own business will you mate’ with the cold answer from Ron who turns to not face him anymore, Seamus sighs angrily, his arms crossed on his chest. And apparently the attention Harry was giving wasn’t welcome since the boy sent him a very heated glare. 

It was ridiculous, not even a bit frightening. 

But Draco’s angry eyes on the Scottish boy were way more interesting. Was Draco angry for him? Why? The boys didn’t seem to want to befriend him. Though he didn’t seem ready to fight against him either. 

He shouldn’t care.

OoO

With Harry James Potter, was another question mark on Severus' mind. Quirinus Quirrell. The man had always been fragile, quiet and stuttering. He never really was close to him in any way, the man was just his only colleague close in age. And with the constant stress everyone could feel from him every time someone tried to talk to him. The potion master never tried to converse with him for anything other than work. 

But since his little year out of Hogwarts and his request for the defense post, Severus never felt calm around him. Something had changed around him and the man didn’t like it. 

So while spying on Potter, the man starts spying on his colleague too. He didn’t think he would be spending so much time spying on others. But the stars, this year, seemed perfectly aligned to trigger his sick curiosity around the dark corners of people's private lives. 

On his way to get the pack of books he asked Madam Pince to get for him, Severus could see a familiar figure between two alleys. Comfortably seated on a window sill the first years was eagerly reading a thick old looking grimoire. Trying to read the title Severus didn’t pay attention to the way he twisted his body. 

‘What on earth are you doing…?’ Completely caught in the act the man put himself into a better standing position, pretending to wipe some imaginary dust away from his robes. Clearing his throat he felt his cheek heating up from embarrassment. You’ve seen anything weird? That must be a hallucination. ‘ Nothing, thanks for the order.’ Eager to leave the place as fast as he can he took his stack of books from Irma who was watching him a brow up in the air, clearly suspicious. 

That was so embarrassing, he was supposed to be some kind of double agent for Albus, and here he was being totally obvious while spying on a child. 

Making his way out of the library Severus could feel the librarian's glare on his back. ‘Severus, wait!’ It wasn’t Irma. Severus’s brows quirk as Poppy grabs his shoulder as she arrives on his right.  He hasn't seen her in the library. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ 

ooo

The stack of books lying quietly on the table full of books in the entry, Severus serves Poppy a tea in his living room. ‘You’re spying on young Potter are you?’ Freeze in place, apparently she had seen this ‘incident’ as well. 

‘… yeah, and it’s not your opinion who’s gonna stop me.’  When the man turns sight to his colleague's face, he finds himself surprised to find a cheeky smile. ‘I’m in!’ 

What? Taking a seat on his couch Severus stayed quiet for some second. ‘Excuse me what?!’ The man’s confusion seemed to make her even more amused as she let out a small laugh. ‘I said, I’m in. I’m helping you. I’m the mediwitch of this school, I am not letting an 11 years old kid with depression without trying to cure them. Albus can say whatever he wants. I am not going to leave him by himself.’

This time it was Severus who showed a cheeky smile. He wasn’t the only one not totally blind by Dumbeldore influence. That was convenient. 

31th October 1991

Harry never paid any attention to the date, he only knew when weekends were about to come. So when Harry went out of the library that night, he didn’t really understand why a whole bunch of Ravenclaws were walking quickly in a corridor close by. Nor why most of them were pretty much panicked. He hesitated a bit to go ask one of the students, but decided to not after all. It wasn’t like he cared. 

Going back into the room, the boy finds an elf putting his dinner in an invocated table like every evening. 

‘Mister Potter sir! You’re arriving late tonight!’ Putting his books on the short table he was using to work Harry only responded with a hum. ‘The castle is very upset tonight, Harry Potter sir should stay here until the teachers take care of the troll Sir.’ Harry hums again to the little female elf without much reaction before freezing in place. 

‘It’s Halloween…’ a little sound of surprise came from the elf as she tilted her head, her big eyes full of questions. ‘Yes Harry Potter Sir, it is…’ the little creature didn’t seem to understand the sudden panic of the student. 

Ready to ask the wizard, where was the matter, the elf didn’t have the time to voice her questions that Harry was already running away with his wand in his palm. 

He forgot Halloween, the troll and Quirrell. It’s not like he actually forgot it per say, it was more that he purposely forced himself to not think about it. It was too frightening, too hurtful, to think about what was happening around him. 

But staying in his little room while Hermione was attacked by a troll? How could he not be worried? Even though she didn’t know him for more than a quiet gloomy kid, she was part of his life. She was this woman who had taken care of him like a sister, who had helped him when he was at his lowest. 

What if he arrived, and it was too late? Would it be his fault that a young, full of life, Hermione would have died? Because he didn’t care enough to even think of the things he knew. Would he be responsible for her death? 

His erratic breathing and loud panicked footsteps resonated into the empty corridor.

What if he was too late? 

Hermione's young bloodied face flashed into his head, the fear bruising through his bare bones. The club of the troll, stained with her red essence. 

Screams reached his ears as the door of the women's bathroom appeared before him. But there was not only Hermione’s screams.

Out of breath the brown hair boy appears on the door frame to see those two loves of his life terrified and in tears. The time seemed to have stopped itself, the club of the monster aiming to Hermione’s head Ron’s screaming for him to stop some blood escaping from his sleeves. 

Neither of the kids understand why the troll had been violently thrown to the opposite wall by some invisible force, nor why Harry was standing there, out of breath the face flushed and a terrifying anger in his eyes. He, who was always frighteningly emotionless and pale. 

His right hand cuts the air with his wand and a thin line appears on the troll throat before weird stinky green blood spills out of the cut as the creature growls in pain.

During the instant Harry had taken to slaughter the beast, only one little tear had the time to fall down Hermione’s cheek. The place was left with an awkward silence as the things died slowly on the ground. ‘Are you alright?’ Harry asked, his voice strangely sore and wanky, probably because he rarely uses it anymore. 

And Hermione burst into tears, the relief finally overtaking her, quickly followed by footsteps in Harry’s back. He wanted to go see Ron’s wounds but stopped himself as he could feel Poppy coming with the other teachers and staff. Stepping away from the doorstep he let them get into the place. 

‘What on earth has happened here!!’ Minerva asks, yelling in confusion and obvious concern for her lions. Hermione was still crying too much, unable to form coherent phrases while Ron patted her back gently. ‘Mister Potter, explain yourself?!’ She turns to the first year on her left. The only kid who seemed able to respond to her. ‘I heard screaming so I came to help. Ron’s hurt by the way.’ Harry says to Poppy who takes a look at the red hair before walking quickly to him and Hermione.

Minerva sighs with frustration while Quirrel wears his usual fake concern on his face. ‘We’re sorry Professor!!’ Ron says finally waking up. ‘Hermione stayed in the toilet the whole day because of me, she didn’t know about the troll since she didn’t come for dinner. I got worried and didn’t think of asking an adult. It was supposed to be in the dungeon. I thought it was safe…’ 

As the boy was rambling, tears still in the corner of his eyes, Harry chose to look away, too aware of his headmaster’s glare on his tiny body. He didn’t know how but he knew this man was the man he knew. He was the Dumbeldore who forced him to be here. And this only fact could only prove his desire to control him once again. 

Snape

24th November 1991

Most of the time Harry was spending his free time in the little room the Room of Requirement was giving him, it was pretty cozy and small really. Not that he cares of course. 

But when he had to test what he had found on his tiny table in the corner of his room, he had to ask the room for another one. A larger, cleaner one. Only to destroy it with spells, jinxes and curses. 

He had tried every physical, non magical, way to kill himself. Hanging himself, shooting a bullet right at his temple, drowning and so much more…

Nothing has worked so far. He had scared some students after being forced to swim back to the surface of the Black Lake in broad daylight. His magic had taken great fun putting him into stasis and waiting until practically every student was in the park to present them this ‘shit show’ as he had called it. Obviously the man had been called to his head of house only to be yelled out because of the danger he wished he had put himself in. Unable to say ‘That was the whole point professor.’ 

And he knew that the way his magic had floated around him that day was her way of laughing at him. 

Several times he had found himself lying on the ground of his ‘testing room’, cold and in a very uncomfortable position. Most of his experiences, as well as being unsuccessful, were really painful. He was fighting his own magic, and it wasn’t always a matter of speed. Sometimes it was also, untangling himself from the rope his magic was forming. He had screamed so much slur to the thing only to be responded to by pure, insulting silence. Most people who would see that would think him mentally ill. And they were probably right. But even if the thing didn’t talk he could sense their heated answer to his insult. It was not a one sided argument.

And the battle wasn’t only behind the four walls of this room, it was also when he was outside. During the lesson, floating around his wrist while performing basic spells. With his burst of anger and arms swinging, nobody was sitting close to him. Because nobody could see how much of a pain his magic was with him. Its favorite thing was to levitate the wrong ingredient in his cauldron during potion. It knew what to take to make the thing explode in his face. 

Surprisingly Snape didn't shout at him about how incompetent he was. The man only seemed tired and disappointed. 

His little piece of parchment in his left hand and his wand in his right, he checked the incantation once again before throwing the thing on the ground. With a long and quite impressive breath the ‘boy’ put himself into position and finally cast the spell with a gracious move of his wrist, the incantation a mere whisper in between his breath. A quiet murmur really. Even the stones of the place haven’t heard him.

Flame came breaking the room with a violent, bright, wave of warmth. The light blue, almost white, flames seated peacefully in the center of the room, ‘observed’ Harry in their gracious dance. 

It seemed gentle. 

If he reached it the flame was probably gonna softly stroke his arm, hands and soul. 

Right? 

Everything happened so fast. 

Too fast. 

One little innocent step into this light, and everything was eaten with eagerness. Clothes, sweat, hair, skin, muscle, bones. 

The sight could be quite fascinating if it wasn’t for his consciousness leaving him. Skin and muscles melting into each other before disappearing into nothingness. 

It was a painful yet beautiful picture. Time, almost frozen by his rapidity. The blood didn’t have time to spill, even less met the ground. Flesh brown, only for a split second. A poor body being burned to appease his mind. 

As fast as it had appeared, the light disappeared for darkness, leaving him standing in the center of the room. And fall on his poor limbs assaulted by the fire. 

If his magic could feel emotion it would have felt guilty, worried and angry. The fire had been alive for only 3, poor, seconds before it made it disappear. 

He was lying on the floor, wounds scattered across his body, what was still him, black and crusty. Air wasn’t entering or leaving his body, it would have been pointless anyway, both his lungs were very much perforated and burned from the inside. His blood was spilling on the ground, finally, leaving his panicked body. 

He was dying. 

OoO

Saying that he was conscious wouldn’t be right. As his chest curled painfully for air in the middle of this cold room, what was left of his mouth let out horrible gasps. 

It had finally made him breathe again, it had worked so hard to keep his brain alive and protected from the flames, it had to heal his lungs and heart, it couldn't do their job for too long. His skin was rebuilt as quickly as possible to escape septicemia. Muscle barely remade from scratch. It was an amazing and harsh work for his magic.

It needed help. It couldn’t do this alone. Hugging what was left of his body as his soul rested softly in the pit of his blacked out mind, it made him stand up. 

It was like guiding a doll you want so hard to be alive. Every step was difficult, not enough muscles to support his poor weight. It could deal with this, It could make him float, ignore gravity, and ask for help. 

Its green foggy arms holding him, managed to bring him out of the room to meet the cold, late corridor. Dusty unsanitized air entered his lungs ruining them even more. The room Harry had been in had been sanitized by the fire, but not the corridors. And his immune system was already busy with his intestine bacteria hanging around his body and so many more urgent issues.  

But she made him walk in the corridors anyway, his eyes unfocused, his heart beating only because he was told too, sometimes squeezed by it when he was too tired to listen. 

Incapable of going through the wizard’s memories, It chases the mediwitch magic across the school.  

OoO

Since the halloween incident, Weasley and Granger seemed to be close. And even if Severus wouldn’t normally care who was friends with whom, even more for first year, the fact that now Weasley wasn’t the only one trying desperately to get close to Potter, eases the teacher’s mind. 

They didn’t seem to succeed for now, but they seemed quite motivated to go through Potter’s social protection shield. Some of the staff thought that the two Gryffindors seemed to have finally let Potter go and left him to his loneliness. But Severus was sure that they did not. They were both constantly keeping an eye on him, they had just stopped trying to approach him from too close. Which was pretty clever honestly. Keeping their distance when Potter was obviously overwhelmed by their concern was the best way to let the boy take his time to slowly accept their friendship. 

It was soothing to see those two being so patient with Potter. When the boy will be ready, he’ll have friends ready to stand by his side. Severus tried his best to shut down those thoughts but he was terrified to see the kid alone when he’ll most need help. 

The sound of his sighs echoed into the empty corridor. It was three in the morning, the man was pretty sure to not find anyone wandering in the quiet castle, but it was his turn. Feeling lazy to go check the main corridor, Severus stayed on his corridor ignoring the intersection on his right. 

He was going to check some abandoned classrooms for some sleeping lovers before heading back to his bed. 

He would have probably done that if it wasn’t for the sound of a falling body on the main corridor. Controlling the urge to curse, he sighed again and went back to check this corridor he intentionally ignored. He was already planning to take several dozen house points from the idiot only to get his words stuck in his throat as he found himself in front of a painfully panting Harry Potter on the ground. 

His quick footstep didn’t manage to hide his concern while his face managed to wear his usual harsh expression. ‘Mister Potter are you alright?’ His voice was professional as always as he helped the kid to get on his feet. The boy, wearing some overly large clothes that Severus had never seen before, seemed fine. Out, but fine. No bruises, no tremor in the hands. He does seem a bit skinnier but the dark corridor doesn’t make it clear. It was probably because of the clothes. The kid was fine earlier that day. 

Trying to get the boy's attention, Severus moves his hands in front of his unfocused eyes. Was it some reaction to the treatment? Maybe the boy was only sleepwalking, though it didn’t explain the labored breathing. Watching the unmoving kid from head to toe, Severus finally made a decision and brought the sleeping looking kid to his apartment. 

It was surely a reaction to his sleeping treatment. No need to wake Poppy for that, he knew how to deal with this. If needed he’ll magically pump the kid's stomach and cast some spells to help him breathe for the time the treatment wear’s off. And after that he’ll bring him to the infirmary around some spells to watch over him. 

Getting the kid to sit on a stool in his private laboratory, Severus went to fetch a vitals crystal . It was a pretty expensive item, but very useful. It acts like some monitoring machine, showing the body state and refreshing constantly. It was used for hospitalization most of the time, with some alarms to bring attention to the medistaff on the patient. It was Magical high tech. And thanks to Poppy, every head of house had one in case the woman wasn’t there. 

He could have just cast a diagnostic spell on the kid, but right now it was late, and even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, he was kind of bad at those spells. So vital crystal it is. 

Channeling the crystal to the boy's magic like some kind of magical IV Severus turns to his potion shelf the time it settles. He will probably need a potion to clear his stomach or at least to ease his digestion. 

Ready to pick the potion he needed, Severus almost drops them while loud alarms rang in the room. Controlling a curse Severus turned to find himself in front of very panicked, red and loud vitals. ‘What the …’ shutting down the alarms Severus read them through. The vitals were nonsense, his heart and lungs were the only organs working normally, they were infections, burns, inflammations. That couldn't be right. Approaching his hands to disconnect the crystal Severus let out a tiny hiss as he got stung by Harry’s magic. 

He felt lost, what was going on? Those vitals couldn’t be right? After some second thinking the man goes to his knees and tries the boy iris reflex. 

Nothing.

‘Fuck’ he open his mouth to check the beginning of his throat, but the teacher’s breathing stoped when his eyes land on the burning tissues of his mouth. How could his mouth be empty? How! 

Watching the boy’s emotionless face Severus felt his guts collapse. 

The vital crystal wasn’t broken, the kid was dying.  

OoO

Woken from her deep comfortable sleep by a voice coming from her leaving room, Poppy cursed tiredly walking out of her room, the light from the fire assaulting her tired eyes. ‘What the fuck do you want !! It’s fucking late dickhead’ the rumbling of talking coming from the fire place finally begun to make sense as Severus started to articulate more. ‘The KiD iS dYInG In mY LAb, COme!!’ She frowned, letting out a lost ‘ha?’ In front of Severus' breathless panicked face. ‘COME! FOR FUCK SAKE!’ She jumped a bit and finally moved forward ‘coming, coming!!’  Walking through the fireplace they get out of Severus leaving room to enter the lab. The man had let the kid on the stool, fearing to cut his breathing if he lay him unsupervised. 

‘I don’t know what to do…’ Severus' soft voice echoed in the back of Poppy’s head as she watched, suddenly very focused, the vital crystal beeping restlessly. 

Leaving her dress robes that she threw in Severus' entry, she takes a deep breath, before casting spells on the room. Every movement was precise and quick. Air sanitized, walls covered with powerful cleaning spells, the central pallet transfigured into a surgery table heating spell on it, assistance table transfigured, strong light on top, and Harry’s body floating on top to lay on a transfigured chirurgical mattress. 

‘Undress yourself, t-shirt and trousers only, tie back your hair, I’ll cast a sanitizing spell on you, after that you’ll cast bubble hands and head spells on yourself.’ Severus watches her transforming his lab into a surgery room in a silence that was the only indication of his lost and shocked emotions. ‘Quick!’ He finally moved and threw his clothes outside the room and tied back his hair like ordered. The warm wind of the cleaning spell brushed his cheeks and he cast his bubble spells. His hands felt stiff. Were they about to perform surgery on the boy? ‘Go stand on the side where there is not an assistance table.’ 

She was calm, professional and organized, while his breathing was starting to go crazy. He wasn’t a mediwizard! He had some notions, but he couldn’t help in a surgery! But the boy was dying, the vital crystal still ringing in his overwhelmed ears. 

Poppy kept commanding him with her sharp emotionless voice, he tried to do his best and follow her lead, but his breathing was so hard, his view was starting to become blurry and with his hands unable to stop shaking. 

What if he messed up? 

His magic tripped on his spells and lost his hold on whatever he was holding on. 

What if, because of him? 

He tried again, but tripped again. 

What if…

‘SEVERUS!’ He looked at her. ‘You need to calm down.’ His hands shook even more. ‘I’m trying ok! It’s not everyday there is a student dying on my FUCKING LAB TABLE’ she never let her gaze off him. ‘You have to shut down your emotions, Severus. You know how to do that, now it’s the time to prove it. You can have a panic attack as much as you want after, but now I need your help to save him.’ Her sharp eyes send glints of her own emotion restrained tightly behind her mind. 

With a hard deep breath he shook his head taking some second to finally get a hold of himself. 

Deep breath, locking his emotion in a silenced room, and FOCUS. 

‘Ok I’m good, let’s go’

She nods and resumes her orders.

.

.

.

OoO

They had spent 5 entire hours to get the boy in a stable state. They were both exhausted and sweaty, but he was alive. ‘Thanks god his magic was with us.’ Severus said on his stool, still breathing a bit heavily. ‘Yeah, I agree, it’s impressive how much it helps us independently from Potter’s will.‘ 

They could still feel the magic working on the boy for a full recovery, but now it was way calmer than those 5 hours of surgery. ‘Do you think it’s his magic that made him go ask for help?’ Poppy gave a weird look to her colleague. ‘Forget that, it’s ridiculous, there is no record of magic capable of doing such a thing, he probably had a strong will to live and it gave his magic the order to save him…’ Poppy snorted in front of Severus' pink spot on his cheeks. 

Severus was a romantic type of person, but he never said it out loud. It doesn’t fit with the image he was trying to present to everyone. But sometimes, when the man was tired, he might slip out some thoughts. 

‘There is no record, YET.’ Surprise Severus turned to her, the mediwitch leaning her elbows on her knees was watching the magically comatose boy on the bed they transfigured. They need some time to recover before transferring him to the infirmary. ‘The question that I keep asking myself is why was he in this state to begin with.’ They share a look before Severus turns to the boy as well. ‘An accident?’ He didn’t really believe it to be honest. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, he is very much depressed, to be in this state the curse must have been very powerful. And neither of us can find him after class, there is a 90% chance that he was alone. And if something THIS had happened when he was alone, it can’t be an accident.’ 

Was he trying to kill himself? ‘He is eleven, he can’t have been able to cast something like that.’ Poppy got herself straight on her seat bringing some of hair back on her ponytail. ‘Like he ever had been a normal child. First time he had been in my care, his magic knocked him out.’ They both sigh, eyes on the boy. They had spent most of their night saving him, and they were not even sure what caused that. ‘His magic is taking care of him.’ Poppy finally said in a soft voice. 

The silence of the place was only broken by their breathing, the air still smelling of cleaness, which was unusual in this room. It always stank of multiple, more or less pleasant, smells, coming from potion, experiences, sometimes fails in brewing. It wasn’t cold either, even though they were in the dungeons, the spells and their living body were warming the place. But there was also this little foggy warmth softly emanating from the boy. This fog had never left him, protecting the tiny body from death. But now it was partially leaving it, reaching out softly for the two older wizards. Floating around them in nothing but warmth. 

‘You’re welcome’ Poppy said softly.

O

O

O

O 

After spending 3 more hours monitoring the kid in the infirmary, and therefore, not showing themselves for breakfast nor lessons for the potion master. Eventually Albus appeared in the hospital wing. And for Severus and Poppy, who didn’t have the chance to have a peaceful night's sleep, seeing him coming and looking so calm and innocent was quite annoying. ‘So, you’ve both been taking care of young Harry then? We were wondering where the two of you had disappeared. Pomona even suggested some night sta…’ the sharp sound of Poppy fist hitting her metal table stopped Albus from continuing. ‘…not that I would care… my Dears.’ Both of the younger witch and wizard sighed heavily, making their anger obvious . ‘Mister Potter had spent 5 hours if more in critical state Albus!’ Minerva’s gasp made her presence behind the head master noticed. She apparently just arrived. 

His blue old eyes glue to Poppy’s show a light surprise before being illuminated by a kind quite happy smile. ‘But as I can see you two managed to save him yet again! I’m proud of you two.’ 

‘Oh for fucks sake!!’ Severus finally cracked, turning his back to Albus to keep what was still of his composure. ‘Are yoU FUc.. KIddInG Me!! That’s your reaction to that statement?! A boy!! One of YOUR students.’ Severus, facing the old man again, starts pointing at the sleeping boy with anger and a resentful face. ‘Had spend 5 hours in surgery and that’s how you react?!’ Her arms crossed on her chest Poppy was saying nothing but meant so much by the look on her eyes. Only Minerva looked shocked. ‘What had happened to you for Morgan's sake Albus!! Why don’t you care?!’

A long silence spread in the room, Albus not answering, making some kind of apologetic baby face to the two saviors of the night. It only pissed them off more. 

‘What happened?’ Finally Minerva asks, stepping forward with her shocked worried face never leaving her. ‘We don’t know.’ Poppy said, giving a look at Harry. ‘I find him at 3 am wandering in the corridors like some sleepwalker creep. We think he was searching for help.’ Severus said, the mix of emotions and sleepless nights starting to overtake him for good. ‘I took him to my lab to clear up his stomach thinking he might have some sort of allergic reaction to his sleeping treatment. He was like a zombie… not reacting to anything.’ His breathing beginning to feel labored, Severus took a breath trying to control his emotions as well as he could. He could show anger, frustration, even tiredness. But breaking down? 

‘I check his vitals with my crystal. The thing went crazy, I thought it was broken. And I took a look at his reflex and throat…’ leaving the wall for Minerva’s eyes, Severus did his best to remain emotionless. ‘It was empty…’ The woman let out some kind of disturbed laugh, giving a look at a very serious Poppy. ‘What do you mean empty?! I don’t understand...’ Alternating her gaze to her two colleagues to control the building panic in her guts, she tried to wait for the explanation, because what she could imagine was ready to mess her up. ‘67% of Mister Potter's body had disappeared. And judging by the burn mark I could see on some organs and remain flesh… It has been a very powerful fire spell.’

The red and gold head of house let out a shaky breath seeing the potion master looking away from her. ‘And…’ she felt so nauseous. ‘And you two managed to keep him alive?’ 

Poppy let her arms fall on her side. ‘His magic helped us. It’s a miracle he is still alive honestly.’ 

In the end Harry had spent 3 days in a forced magical coma for his magic to finish her jobs and finally rest. The whole event, as confidential as it could have been, had inflamed all hogwarts. Harry Potter was in a coma after an incident during the night. Everyone was talking about it, whispering, theorizing. But few were genuinely  concerned for the boy.

Not that he would say that out loud, but this whole thing had made Severus terrified for the boy. And so, everyday he stops by the infirmary. At first he had used the excuse of needing to talk to Poppy. But the woman wasn’t blind. 

So he had started coming just to check on the boy. He never acknowledged what the woman obviously knew about his softness, but he still came anyway. 

And of course all this made his way to the headmaster’s office. And the discussion on the first day had been heated. Minerva and Poppy had been the most energetic, but of course they weren’t the only ones against Albus' way of protecting young Potter. And even with all those voices fighting, the man didn’t change his mind. They had been talking to a wall for 4 very exhausting hours. 

Already on edge, tired, and very emotionally invested, Severus had been so close to punching the defense teacher across the face when a smile appeared on his lips. It had only been thanks to Poppy quick thinking that the man hasn't done anything he would regret. 

‘You need to sleep, Severus.’ the woman had told him, giving him a cup of hot chocolate. ‘I know. It’s just …  I can't fall asleep, ok. I have too many things on my mind.’ All his thoughts were about the Potter case of course. He couldn't stop thinking about that first Friday the boy had slept in the infirmary. What if Quirrel had turned bad like Severus felt like, and tried to hurt the boy while neither Severus nor Poppy was nursing him? What if the boy was in this bed because of the teacher?  

So no, Severus couldn't sleep.

The second meeting in the headmaster’s office, already half of the staff had given up, and stayed silent. Only one day and the least talkative staff had closed their mouths shut for good. Severus couldn’t understand what on earth was happening. Was he too invested? Was it normal to listen to Albus? Was he mad, or was he the only one sane?

What Severus knew was that again, he felt like being alone to defend something he thought was right. And most of the time this feeling was quickly followed by grief, shame, and failure. 

OoO

Floating in nothingness he couldn’t understand time. What was it? Why should he care? what was caring?

It was so weird. He doesn’t really feel anything, he was like curled in some warm invisible blanket without knowing why he was there. If there was a place to begin with. 

Nothing really happened, no light, not that he could see. No sound, again was he even capable of hearing. 

He was being. 

At some point some voices echoed around him. But he couldn’t understand what they were saying. He knew before he could understand those words the voices were speaking. 

‘Now it’s time to prove it!’

Were they people? People he knew? 

‘He’s eleven, he… cast something…’

Sometimes the voice is low and hard to catch. 

‘Oh for fuck sakes!!’ 

Sometimes not. 

And one time, everything felt calm soft and quiet. He didn’t noticed it before, it was a normal state for him. He didn’t imagine things being more quiet than it was. 

But apparently that was real calmness? 

Then what was it before? 

‘Even if he doesn’t do anything to take care of you, we will.’

Who were those people? And why didn’t he know anything? It felt like having everything about him and everything, locked outside this whole place.

‘And then what?’ This voice again. ‘I don’t know, we do something I guess?’ ‘Everyone is leaving us! Just like before!’ ‘I know!! But it’s not like we could force them can we?’ A long painful sighs fill the place around him. Was this a conversation? ‘You’re not leaving him as well are you?!’ ‘Of course not.’ 

And then nothing. The excitement he had felt for hearing so much quickly made place for disappointment. And boredness again. He didn’t understand what he felt when nothing happened. But now that everything was quiet again, it only made sense now. 

He was bored and alone. 

‘Mister Potter’  

Was this person calling him? It felt like it. But then why nothing happened after? 

Why was it silent again?

Hey come back! Did you call me? 

And then a light, tiny and far. It seemed to be green, quite a pretty soft green. 

And it approached him, becoming a fog of light floating towards him. Even with the light finally in front of him, nothing appeared around him, they were nothing to brighten. Not even a body he could wear. 

As the light seems to float around him. Almost like it hugged him. But how could it hug him if there was nothing to hug? 

The light took his hand. 

He was floating away from this place. 

Even if he didn’t feel it. 

Nothingness 

Became

Mind

His mind

‘Mister Potter, waking up is going to be hard, but I need you to focus on my voice.’

Oh yes, right, he was Harry Potter. 

He knew now. 

Why did you bring me back???

.

.

.

Yes I know, stupid question.

‘Can you move your hand to show me you’re awake?’ 

Though, this time it seems to have had Madam Pomfrey help at some point.

‘Ok good, try to open your eyes.’ 

Hey! Don’t move my hand without my consent! 

Again only silence answered him. 

As light assaults his retinas, he brought his hands to his eyes, trying to rest his just opened, tired eyes. 

Some harsh groan left his throat the feeling of his heavy body coming back painfully to him. Yeah burning yourself to this level wasn’t fun. I hate you . 

He failed again. 

As his view got used to the light around him, the ‘boy’ could finally see Madam Pomfrey on his right. ‘Can you tell us your name?’ Us? Who was ‘us’? Turning his eyes to his left, he got his question answered by professor Snape standing 3 feet away from him. ‘Harry James Potter, 11 years old, my parents are dead and I'm a wizard celebrity.’ He turned to Pomfrey again. ‘Is that enough?’ His magic had done a wonderful job again… Amazing! ‘You didn’t lose your arrogance, that’s good to know.’ 

As harsh as professor Snape was supposed to sound, Harry didn’t quite feel it. ‘What had happened?’ he finally asked the two adults. He dropped unconscious in the Room of Requirement, he would very much want to know what his magic had done while he was floating in the deps of his mind.

‘You’re the one who’s supposed to tell us that, Mister Potter.’ The potion master asked, still standing 3 feet away from him. The man seemed exhausted. ‘If I’m asking, it’s because I don’t know.’ Harry finally lied. ‘Last thing I remember was drinking my evening tea earlier today.’ He wasn’t dumb he knew several days had passed. He wouldn’t feel so much like shit it wasn’t the case. And it wasn’t the kind of feeling he could get from his magic just to pissed him off. 

What was the most disturbing, was that, as much as Harry acted like the most arrogant dickhead to the teacher, he didn't seem to react too much. 

‘Professor Snape found you in a very poor state 3 nights ago in the corridors. Do you have any idea how this could have happened?’ Madam Pomfrey wasn’t the type to sugar coat thing, though now she was. It must have been quite the scene then. ‘No I don’t. I can’t even recall finishing my tea.’ He never had tea that night. ‘You spent 5 hours in surgery, and then we put you in a magical coma. If you're feeling ok you can leave for tea time.’ 

5 hours of surgery and 3 days of coma?!?! Wow, that was impressive, probably his record so far. In both of his lives. ‘Should I say, thanks or sorry?’ He finally responded sarcastically, and while he thought Snape would respond to it, and with Poppy probably smacking him on the elbow for making jokes on that. But no, he only finds himself in front of two stunned Hogwart staff members. ‘You should be a bit more concerned about what’s happening to yourself, Mister Potter!’ Snape says breaking the uncomfortable silence between the three of them. 

What he felt right now, was disappointment, anger and tiredness. ‘Well I'm not, since both of you saved my life, everything is fine isn’t it!?’ 

Before either of the adults could say anything else, a student entered the room. ‘Hum sorry… I hurt myself during quidditch practice.’ He said looking embarrassed at Madam Pomfrey. The boy wasn’t older than a 5th grader, looking all filthy and untied by the wizarding sport. 

Only Poppy sighs filled the silence in the room. She gave a look to Severus who nodded at her before heading to the new student needing her services. 

Still lying in the bed moving as little as possible, Harry looked at his tiny newly regenerated hands. His skin was a bit more transparent, he guessed. Probably because this one hadn’t seen the sun yet. Did it mean it was more fragile now? It was weird to see all his veins so clearly under his skin. Some weren’t even blue but have more of a reddish violet color. 

‘Is your sight alright Mister Potter?’ The teacher asks, looking through his vital crystal. Giving him a bored look the boy takes his glasses off for a few seconds before sighing. ‘Still unable to see my hands in front of my face, So yes everything is as usual sir.’ The teacher gave him an unreadable look, and even if Harry bothered giving him a fake smile, the man didn’t seem to react. ‘Don’t force yourself to stay up and eat as much as you can, an elf is going to bring you your meal.’ Harry only nods, not really comfortable with this man being so careful with him. He knew how much the man had sacrificed for him before, but he also knew how much he hated him. So why? Snape had always protected him from afar, never right in front of his depressed face. 

‘At some point you’ll have to talk to us.’ They shared a look, anger building itself in Harry’s mind. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ As Harry looked away, the teacher didn’t say anything else and finished his checking. His timing seems to be perfect because Poppy arrives when the man gets his hands off the crystal. ‘Everything is fine for me.’ The woman nodded to him. 

Harry didn’t like all the attention given to him. He already was the type of person that people were going to turn around, without discretion, to take a look at. But right now, it was just ridiculous. The way people tended to look at him was just giving him goosebumps. And it’s not like Harry was a lot outside of his room.

No he was never outside this tiny, crappy room, and he still feels like he was constantly looking at. It even begins to be a problem whenever he wants to return to the room. With all those people overly aware of him, he had to be discreet. Thankfully none of them seemed to have the courage nor interest in coming to talk to him. 

He was the freak again. 

After all those years, what Harry had learned from all the attention he had, was that if he wanted to be alone and in peace again. He had 2 options. Something so much more interesting for teenagers comes up, or, he never, ever, acts on the matter. And people will simply lose interest. 

And even though it was as unnerving as it could be, Harry had become a master at being ‘boring’. 

What Harry didn’t notice, since he didn’t care, or at least forced himself to not care, was all the arguments going around the staff member. Of course the adults were doing it quietly but some seventh or sixth year, tended to have witnessed some of their … ‘Talk’. Especially with a very invested professor Snape. The man was heated when nobody was looking at him. 

‘He is your student Minerva !’ The woman turned to him as angry as he was. ‘I know that Severus!! He doesn't want to talk! To anyone! We don’t even have proof he did that to himself!’ It was only when slow footsteps had been heard by the two adults, that they looked behind them, abandoning their angry facial expressions, to witness a embarrassed student. ‘Are you not supposed to have divination Mr Bright?’ Minerva had said to turn the conversation on the student as soon as possible. ‘Sorry professor.’ But even if the young man had left without saying anything, he still heard some of their conversation. 

Adults were tense, but Harry was way too good at hiding himself for them to actually have any chance to do anything for him. And even when professor McGonagall tries to talk to him at the end of her lesson, it was always useless. ‘I know that this incident has made the whole staff worried for me. And I'm touched, really’ no he wasn’t, it made him feel anxious and oppressed. ‘But it was only a mere incident. I'm fine, professor.’ Thankfully she didn’t know him enough to know that his smile was forced. 

And maybe he was too formal and well behaved for a ‘kid’ of his age, but all Harry wanted now was for all the attention around him to finally disappear. But adults wouldn’t let it go if he just acted ‘boring’. Unfortunately they cared, and making them forget about him was more tricky. He had to make them believe they had mistaken and everythings was fine.

And for that Harry forced himself to slowly come eating in the Great Hall with everyone. At least for dinner. Of course the whole Weasley group didn’t wait to come sit around him. But for some reason they never talk to him. He didn’t understand what they were doing, and he hated it. 

More than dinner, Harry also started to show himself more in the library. Of course he was always totally isolated but he still showed himself to the world. 

14th December 1991

After 2 very quiet weeks, in Hogwarts, things had settled down around Harry Potter. People had for the most part stopped believing in the rumors as not a single bit of proof had been brought up. It was funny, really, how people had tendencies to stop believing the truth but spent a whole lifetime letting lies bias their sight. 

But Severus knew the truth, unfortunately not the whole truth, but he had been there that night. He knew that this time the rumors were true. And after a long, exhausting, argument with his colleagues about the boy, Severus had finally given up. Gave up, trying to have his colleague’s help, not on the boy. He had made a vow to protect him. 

He always had to work alone anyway.  

Though with him watching over Potter and Quirrell, Severus didn’t really have any more free time. Not that he had a very exciting life outside his work really. Most people would say that he was boring. Boring to death even. Never going out, never partying. Only seeing his colleagues for a cup of tea sometimes. Having no friends aside from his books. Yeah his life was boring. But he likes it that way. He didn’t need anything else really. 

Now with his self-given mission, Severus got back into his apartment only late in the evening. Well not everyday of course, but most of the time he was watching his two targets. He, who never spent more than a quarter of an hour in the library, was now there for 4 hours a day.

‘You want to see me, Severus?’ Irma asked him as she walked close to the table he had sat. ‘I feel touched.’ No she wasn’t. Or at least that’s what her sarcastic tone was implying. ‘What is it Irma, you don’t want to see your younger colleague anymore? I thought you liked me.’ She gave him a quick laugh before turning her attention to the boy, as usual, in the very back of her library. ‘Very dedicated aren’t you?’ Closing the book in front of him the man sighs as he starts looking at the kid thoughtful. ‘You are surprised about that?’ She gave a glance to the back of his head. ‘I guess not, but try not to forget yourself too much. You tend to do that a lot.’ 

Giving her a glance as she pressed her hand on his shoulder he hesitated a few seconds before nodding to her. 

Nobody knew that Severus Snape and Ms Pince were getting along. It wasn't common knowledge. Because they rarely talk to each other. It wasn’t like Snape with Pomfrey, those two had some kind of friendship, and were seen quite often together, bickering, asking each other's services, and even sometimes working together. 

But Madam Pince and the Potions Master were never seen together. But they still had a close relationship. It was one of those secrets at hogwart that nobody voiced out loud.

OoO

It was a pretty sunny Friday afternoon. Most of Hogwarts was outside playing in the snow. Others were probably in class for the most unlucky, and for those not really fond of snow or gathering, were probably in their common room. 

The corridor was oh so very quiet. And Harry for once was quite grateful for this calm atmosphere. Because for once the man wanted to walk a bit around the castle. Hands buried deep in his pockets, a warming spell slowly dancing around his frail body. 

He was trying not to think, he couldn’t move forward in his fight and Harry had arrived to a point he became quite sure that all this was just some kind of sick play to make him go insane. Yeah ok, he already was quite insane. 

All this could even be some kind of afterlife punishment for all he knew, and Harry was trying so hard to die without knowing he already was burning in hell. Who knows? 

In a way those thoughts were nice in a way, but also frightening. And being locked up in his tiny crappy room only made him go insane faster. 

So this afternoon he wanted to take a walk. Wandering around this place. He realized since coming back he never really looked at the place. And for good reason. Even if he had stayed 6 short years in the place he always had missed it. Because even if his house was as comfortable and full of emotion as it had been, Hogwarts had a different smell to him. 

He loved this place, even the last battle didn’t manage to destroy that feeling. It had remained deep in his heart, grabbing his guts every time he heard of the place. 

He loved every stone that made the walls, every step of those endless stairs, those colorful windows crying with the rain and snow. Loved the park covered in white and happily assaulted by students. 

‘You know you shouldn’t be afraid to slide it.’ 

Taking aback and slightly jumping on his feet, Harry turned around from the window to face a young 3rd year, 2 or 3 stair away from him. 

‘Excuse me … what?’ He said to the girl. Sliding what exactly? The railing? Looking at the wooden railing Harry thought of how messy this kind of death would be. 

Still waiting for the kid to ask again, he turns to her and starts to ask again. But without having the time to let any sound out of his mouth the girl grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him against the railing hurting his back violently in a weird thumb . ‘Don’t be afraid’. 

Goosebumps flying around his skin and his magic alert behind his back Harry tried to get the girl's hands off his painful shoulders. ‘Let go of me before I decide to use my wand!’ She smiled at him, her lips curved in a sweet and cute way. 

Knowing full well something was wrong with this girl he still didn’t see her next move coming. Every sound seemed to fade, their bodies falling out of the stairs.

She had pushed them both into the void. 

The whole scene appeared to Harry in slow motion. Falling to his death was something he hadn't tried yet, and even if she gave him a little nudge, he couldn't feel grateful. 

Because she was falling with him. 

What kind of person would he be if he let a young girl die with him. 

Wrapping his arm firmly around her, his back facing the incoming floor, he unleashes his magic and starts to build his fuming power into a cushing spell. The putrid smell of Quirrel magic on the poor girl started to faint as the spell had fulfilled its duty. 

But before the man could finish his spell he felt someone else around them. 

Someone he learned to recognize so well that he didn’t need to concentrate. 

They both landed peacefully on the ground of the 1st floor, the time slowly coming back to normal. 

It’s only when Harry turned his attention to the student that he noticed she passed out. With a quick glance on her fragile figure he saw the leftover magic of the curse forced on her. 

But when Snape arrived walking fastly to them, all evidence of the spell was already gone in the intricate flow of the castle’s magic. 

Not that those evidence were of any use, Harry already knew who and why this spell was put on this poor child. If the smell wasn’t enough, who apart from Quirrel and his little parasite wanted him dead this year? 

Harry let out a quick laugh out of his mouth before Professor Snape came, breaking the silence of the place. 

Kneeling close to the two students, Severus helps Harry by taking the girl out of his tiny self and starts checking on her. Seating cross legs on the cold floor Harry watches the teacher do his job in silence. 

He had forgotten, but Snape was, right now, younger than him. It was a weird thought, Snape, younger than him. ‘What happened, Mister Potter?’ And that fact changed the whole perspective Harry could have of the man. ‘I don’t know, we were alone in the stairs and she started talking nonsense, before I could understand what was going on, she threw us both into the void.’ 

Severus gave him a puzzled look, still gently holding the faint girl. Almost seeing the man’s thoughts dancing behind his eyes, Harry stayed quiet, kind of amused by the whole murder attempt . With a bit of luck Snape will understand someone’s trying to kill him and will put the blame on them for the Fire incident. 

And Harry knew Snape wasn’t stupid, the man will understand this incident in no time. ‘Are you alright Mister Potter?’ The man finally asks, really looking at the student this time. ‘I am, Sir, thanks to you again. I didn’t even scratch my knee’ He said sarcastically with a fake laughing smile armed on his lips. 

But Snape seemed pissed by his smile and returned to the girl. Harry refused to believe the man could see through him. He simply couldn't, they barely talked and Harry was a grown adult that had learned quite well how to lie. Snape couldn't know. 

He was probably pissed because Harry looked like his father. That made more sense.

OoO

At some point in the evening Harry had to take a detour to his room to take a look at the infirmary. He knew the girl had left the hospital wing already, but the man had been curious to know if the mediwitch had seen any trace of the curse on the girl.

When he had to repeat his testimony to her, the whole incident sounded very weird to anyone. But without any proof, nothing could be confirmed. 

And with Snape being very much pissed at dinner that night, Harry wasn’t surprised by the outcome. ‘I’m sorry Mister Potter, but I don’t know what might have happened to Miss Belay I'm afraid.’ Hands in his pocket he nodded to her pensively. 

That was a smart move really. Harry wasn’t sure of who between Quirrel or Tom had the idea, but it really was a good move. It was the kind of spell that activated when a situation was triggered, in this case; Harry being alone in the stairs. The man didn’t need to be there, the curse might even be cast 3 weeks ago for all Harry knew. It was simply perfect to have an alibi. ‘Don’t be frightened, Mister Potter.’

Dragged out of his thoughts, Harry looked back at Madam Pomfrey trying to look as childish as he could. ‘With all those things happening around you since the beginning of the year, I'm sure you might feel afraid. But I can assure you that all Hogwarts staff are there to protect you.’ The woman gave him one of her rare smiles. 

Harry had to do his best to smile back at her. He hated it, he knew very much how genuine she was, she only wanted to ensure his safety. But Harry never asked anything. He hated the way everyone looked at him. He hated when people looked at him. 

He hated when people knew he existed.  

Too immersed in his thoughts, he didn’t really hear what Madam Pomfrey had told him in the end. All he knew was that she never blamed him for being out after curfew. The simple fact that he shows up to talk, even for a little bit, seems to have made her forget a few things. Like the potion she was reheating for a patient for example. Potions that end up totally ruined in the end, and Poppy starting to curse behind Harry’s back as the boy walked out of the infirmary.

Walking silently in the corridor Harry heard hurried footsteps approaching nearby. With a bored sigh he used his usual discreet spell and hid himself against the wall. 

It wasn’t a surprise to hear professor Snape tackling Quirrel angrily against the perpendicular wall to Harry’s. ‘L-l-l-let go-o-o-o-o of me-e-e Se-se-severus!’ With the sound of torn fabric, Snape’s angry breathing broke the silence as he dangerously approached his colleague. ‘Do you think I’m an idiot Quirrel?’ Harry almost laughed, his arms crossed against his chest. The defense teacher got so squashed against the wall that Harry could hear his breathing getting harder with his neck being crushed by Severus fist. ‘I know something is strange with you. Don’t even think I won't find out what you’re trying to do.’ 

The slow deep voice of the potion master slaps in the cold night air like a metal whip. ‘You don’t fool anyone Quirrel.’ Once again the sound of abused fabric broke the silence, quickly followed by the teacher violently coughing. Harry didn’t need to see them to know how his Potions Master sent a dark glare at his colleague as the man tried hard to breathe normally again. Harry lets himself smile at the sight of this whole conversation .

‘I’m keeping an eye on you Quirrel’ and the tall man left the place without any more threats, leaving his colleague panting in the middle of the corridor. 

While normally Harry wouldn’t show himself because of uninterest in socialization, this time he walked in the corridor, soft steps echoing on the stones. 

Not bothering to give the man an expressive glare he only stands before him quietly, his hands as ever hidden in his pockets. ‘M-m-mister Pot-t-t-tter. Have y-y-y-you heard-d-d our con-con-conversation?’ The drops of cold sweat falling down the man's pale face, Harry continued to stare expressionless. 

‘You stink.’ Taking support on his knees, Quirrel seemed to freeze on the place. ‘Excuse me?’ Harry almost laughed. Not stuttering now are you? And as Harry passed by the death eater he didn’t hear any more sound coming out of him.

Harry didn’t say this just to be mean to the man, it was an actual fact. The man smelled very bad. Other than the breathtaking garlic smell constantly on him, the man also smells weirdly like a corpse. But not the 3 or 4 hours old corpse, the kind that had been rotting for more than a week already. The garlic, compared to that, was French 1st class perfume.

It was a wonder to Harry why people never talked about it. During class Harry had to wrap his head around a bubble head spell to not vomit after 10 minutes of being in the same enclosed room as this man. 

30th December 1991

Christmas had passed, everyone happy and loud while opening their gifts. Nobody knew, nor heard, the savior's tantrum that day. Waking up in his room ready for another day of disappointment in his project , he finds himself in front of a pile of Christmas gifts.  

Nobody witnessed how Harry threw everything around the room against his walls. How he ripped his father’s cap into pieces. How the feathers of his pillow fall on the ground like snow. 

Harry had been alone that day, like every day, his scream quiet to the castle. But maybe on this specific one, the savior didn’t want to be alone. 

‘Let’s leave him alone.’ Serving tea in his living room Severus turns his attention to Poppy seated on the couch. ‘What are you talking about?’ She sighs at him. ‘You know very well what I am talking about. Mister Potter is doing well right now. I don’t think we can do much more for him.’

As he put his kettle on the table Poppy could see the porcelain vibrate with the shock. ‘You’re not seriously doing that, are you?!’ They share a look, Poppy not bothered by the tall figure of his colleague only 2 feet away from her. ‘You were there that night! You performed surgery on him! You can’t just stop because nothing happened in 2 weeks’

She sighs again giving him a hard look. She knew he wouldn’t like it. The man had been very dedicated to this whole self-given mission. 

‘Severus be honest right now, we can’t keep spying on him, at this point it won’t do any good. The kid will notice, and it only will make him feel more insecure. We don’t get any information while spying on him, nothing changes, we’re useless. I’m not saying let’s stop taking care of him. And yes we can’t stop keeping an eye on him since the stairs incident looks a lot like a killing attempt. But we NEED to stop spying on him. It’s becoming unhealthy.’ 

If anything, what Poppy just said made sense, he had been looking after the kid for more than a month now, and it had been fruitless. He couldn’t find out where the kid might be sleeping nor see anything out of the ordinary when outside this, yet to be found, sanctuary. 

But how the woman was saying it, only gave Severus the impression that the mediwitch was abandoning the kid. Poppy had quickly put the fault of the fire incident on the ‘stair killer’ but as much as the woman’s arguments might be good, he couldn’t believe it. Yes, the spell use must have been way too complicated for Potter to use it. Yes, the kid’s magic had to fight like crazy to save him. Yes since then Potter, apart from sleeping who knows where, was doing good. He was going to class even though he never really stopped, eating with everyone and even, sometimes, laughing with the Weasleys at dinner. 

But Severus didn’t feel like everything was fine. Something was still very wrong and he had to do something. 

‘Stop if you want, but I won’t…’ the woman watched him take a seat on his couch, the two cups of tea finally served. ‘Severus, come on, it only does harm to this point.’ The porcelain of his cup started to shake. ‘I made a vow!’ 

‘And you’re not a superhuman!!’ She gets on her feet and starts to get really heated. ‘I know that!! But what? Since I am only a mere wizard, let's just stop because I can't proTECT ANYONE. IS THAT IT?!!’ Facing her he doesn't remember standing again, the anger starting to intoxicate his mind. ‘You know that’s not what I meant!! As much as you vowed to protect him, you need to stay practical!!’ 

‘Practical?! Don’t make me laugh!! You’re merely giving up on him like everybody else!! What’s the point in fighting since he doesn’t want help anyway? And Dumbledore says it's going be fine. So why not believe him and let him stew in his own misery?!!!’ Looking at him darkly she let the silence overtake the place before continuing in a low voice this time. ‘You’re being a child Severus. Try to really think about it, you’re a smart kid, don’t let guilt cover that.’ Getting her jacket on the couch she left the place without another word, leaving her tea untouched.

As the door snapped close Severus took a deep breath in a vain attempt to stay calm. 

February 1992

With students coming back from Christmas, their arms full of gifts they took great pleasure to show as much as they could to the entirety of the castle, including the staff. Nobody really thought about Harry Potter. 

Even students that had stayed for the holidays didn’t really wonder where the boy could be, it was just common to not see him at all. 

But then Christmas was over and class started again to everyone's disappointment. Of course there were exceptions. For example Hermione Granger couldn’t be happier than to be in front of a textbook again. 

But students were bored, especially during class. It wasn’t new that the kids quickly lost interest in school, but for the beginning of term there had been action in the castle. With Harry Potter having his first year here, disappearing from the Gryffindor tower, being very far away from any kind of social gathering, and being transferred dramatically to the hospital wing multiple times, there were things to talk about and being weirdly excited about. 

But during the 2 first months of 1992, nothing had happened. Potter was seen way more often with the Weasley crowd during dinner. And… that was pretty much all the news on the celebrity. And sadly for Harry, that also included the news on what the castle couldn't see.

He had tried the white fire malediction again, to spend so much time in the infirmary and worrying the staff so much it had to have at least worked a little. So he tried again. Locking himself up as much as he could so his magic couldn’t go find someone for help. Doing it the day he knew no one would walk around the castles in the next 3 hours. 

Conclusion: 

Harry couldn't cast much more than a tiny little flame barely able to lighten a cigarette. 

Brilliant. 

During those 2 months none of what he tried on himself worked. His options becoming thinner and thinner the man was fighting frustration everyday. To a point, Ron, who started to feel confident enough to talk to him even though the man never answered him, had simply stopped after seeing Harry’s face. 

Everyday he came to class with new bandages, hidden marks, all over his body. The first week he was simply hiding them under his clothes, but now he would plaster his skin with thick layers of charms to hide all this mess of a fight with his magic.

He wasn’t moving forward. 

‘For today, you’ll work in pairs… No miss Parkinson, I’m doing the pairs this time.’ The young girl sat down again, disappointment obvious on her face. Deep in his thoughts Harry observes all around him without listening. 

He didn’t like looking around him, but what else could he do right now? And with his shoulder hurting him quite badly today, all he wanted was to ignore his magic. It was all that things fault if he got his shoulder crushed like that. 

Partnered with Neville, Harry couldn’t stop himself from sighing as his eyes fell on the black board. Of course Snape couldn't choose a potion that didn’t need magic, it wasn’t like there was only one of those in the first years curriculum?! ‘I’m sorry, I know you don’t like working with someone.’ Dragged out, with quite a lot of force, from his anger by Neville's fragile juvenile voice, Harry took some second to understand what the kid was saying. 

‘Don’t worry, I’m not angry because of you.’ Neville blushed as Harry looked straight at him for probably the first time since September. ‘Could you please take the cauldron, my shoulder is quite sensitive today.’ Neville suddenly very happy, nodded energetically as he grabbed the big cauldron from beneath the table. Neville felt useful, a feeling that not a lot of his classmates or even dorm mates manage to give him. And Harry didn’t need to have good hearing to notice the babbling behind their back. 

He didn’t pay attention, but weirdly enough he remembered having Seamus and Justin behind them. And like pretty much every first year, discretion wasn’t their forte. Not like it was a first. Harry knew very well Seamus triggered him since the beginning of term. Nothing new here again. 

And really Harry couldn't care less, there were so many things in this castle that could anger him, make him lose total control of himself and his power, ending in all the windows of the castle breaking violently by the simple force of his scream. But Seamus is talking shit behind his back. No. 

But if Harry got to be honest, today his mood was particularly down, the nerves in the corner of his mouth were throbbing intensely with every heartbeat hitting his shoulder. 

So for once Harry forced himself to ignore him and start the potion with Neville. And as he starts to cut the first ingredients Harry also commands Neville around. Thinking it through, it was quite rude really, Neville was a capable young man, with not enough self confidence sure, but still very capable. But Harry didn’t really think about it, he just ordered around so everything could be finished quickly and they wouldn't walk on each other's feet. Yes maybe his tone was a bit cold, but Neville didn’t seem to react too much. He could recognize Neville when he was frightened. 

‘Could you please shut your damn mouth!!’ The man finally snapped to the group behind his back. ‘You sound like some kind of over-energized pixies. Stop. It!’ 

Harry could easily recognize the expression on Seamus' face. The kid felt powerful because he thought Harry was afraid of him, probably because Harry never talked back. So when Harry turned to finally make him shut up, Seamus became very red and embarrassed.  

The whole class fell into a heavy silence, the shock making everyone stop whatever they were doing to give all their attention to the group. 

‘Potter, Finnegan!! What makes you think you can disturb my class like this?’ Harry gave a look at the teacher walking to them, not the slightest bit disturbed nor afraid of this incoming storm. ‘Potter insulted us out of nowhere sir!’ Said Seamus oddly confident in his lie. The dark glare given by Harry manages to make him lower his eyes. ‘Is that true Potter?’ Would Snape have asked for confirmation before? Harry wasn’t sure, and really, having him on his side didn’t really matter to him, all he wanted was for Seamus to shut up. ‘I did insult them, but it didn’t come from nowhere’

Giving the man his calmest look Harry waited crossing his arms in a way he could support his left shoulder without being too obvious in his discomfort. ‘Do explain yourself then.’ Turning for a moment to give Seamus a look, Harry stayed silent for a second giving the kid a smile. ‘I’ve merely responded to Mister Finnegan's constant unwelcome mean remark against me. And I only hope for him to stop since I’m losing patience’ 

Already very embarrassed by the situation Harry almost laughed when he saw tears beaded in the corner of Seamus's eyes. ‘He is being horrible to Neville!! I’m only defending my friend!!’ Looking at his desk Harry sighs and spat harshly. ‘Neville is perfectly capable of defending himself! If there is something he is uncomfortable with he can tell me himself.’ And with that the man turns to a very full of emotions Neville. The kid looked at their teacher, not very sure if he was allowed to answer his classmate. ‘Mister Longbottom, is what Mister Finnegan says true?’ Harry could hear in Snape’s voice that the man was bored by the event. Not mad like he used to, just bored. ‘No-no Sir! Harry is being very decent.’ Giving a gentle smile, Harry could sense Seamus getting very frustrated in his back. ‘Wonderful then!! Mister Potter, 15 points for disturbing the class, and Mister Finnegan, detention with Mister Filch for digging your nose in other people's business!! Now all of you go back to your work!’

With a tired sigh, Harry took a quick look at his teacher who was still watching over him. They held their gaze for maybe too long to be natural before the man turned around to take a tour of the class.

OoO

In the end Harry and Neville manage to get a pretty decent potion, ending the lesson with a very surprised, well as much as anyone could see, Snape who granted Neville his first good grade in potion. 

When he left the classroom Harry locked eyes with Snape once more, the feeling of discomfort coming forth in his stomach. 

And he left. Cutting the eye contact the sense of their magic ripping off from each other. 

When did their magic start intertwining themself? 

Harry doesn’t like the way his teacher looked at him. He felt obnoxious, like the man saw beneath Harry's spells. Like the man knew everything about him. 

‘What is wrong with you?!’ Harry stopped abruptly, almost bumping into the child. ‘Seamus stop already, you’ve done enough today.’ Ron's juvenile voice echoed close to Harry as the child got closer, trying to calm the Irish boy. Why does it have to be today? ‘I won’t stop Ron, this guy is doing whatever he wants and nobody bats an eye! It’s unfair, what did you do for Snape to protect you?? Don’t you think you missed your house Potter?? Are you not supposed to wear green? That must be where you sleep, no? In the Slytherin common room. Or even in his bed for all we know.’ 

That was it.

With frightening speed Harry shoved the other boy harshly against the wall. ‘Do you think you’re clever Finnegan?’ He inquired, his face barely lightened by the daylight, his tone too deep for Seamus not to shake. The faint glowing of the man’s eyes illuminating those few hairs in front of his eyes.‘Do you think you are over-powerful? It must be due to your age that you think nothing can ever happen to you, is it not?’ Seamus' bag fell onto the ground totally ignored by his owner. ‘Always running around my leg screaming for attention. What is it Seamus? Do you feel jealous, abandoned?’ His false sweet, understanding tone made the child start crying, and as Seamus lowered his head Harry followed, stopping him from losing eye contact. ‘Now.’ Seamus yelped as Harry’s voice became louder and harsher. ‘You get. The. Fuck. Away from me before I force you to.’ Harshly, Harry grabs the kid's chin to force him to look at him. ‘Is that clear?!’ A red sweet drop of blood appeared on the child's skin as Harry’s nail had scratched his jaw. ‘…Y..yes…’ 

When Harry let go and left.

Seamus fell on his knees sobbing like a toddler. 

What nobody saw in the group was Snape a couple of feet away, stunned by the scene Harry had played out in front of him. 

His anger felt real….

The boy’s emotions seemed real, for the first time since the boy fainted in his arms the first week, the boy wasn’t faking…

If people had to describe Draco Malfoy most would say ‘Proud’, ‘Arrogant’ or even sometimes… ‘a twat’. The boy was always with his group of judgemental, immature, little Slytherins, and really few were those who actually liked them. 

But if people actually pay attention to Draco in particular they would notice that the boy was most of the time standing in the back, silently cheering Pansy Parkinson probably the loudest of the lot. 

What people didn’t know, not even his group of friends, was how, or why, the boy always looked at the savior. Whenever Harry Potter was around Draco kept an eye in his direction. Theodor had seen those looks, and weirdly enough the boy hadn’t asked anything to his friend, probably assuming Draco was searching for any weakness in the Gryffindor. 

But it wasn’t the case. And Draco had talked a bit to his parents about the celebrity. But nothing good had come up from this conversation. Lucius had been harsh in his words, saying how ‘vulgar’ the savior was, how ungrateful he was for refusing Draco’s friendship and a lot of other stuff that made the boy’s heart ache. 

And it wasn’t like Narcissa was very much more positive about Harry. So Draco had left the living room quite upset that day. Feeling like an idiot for having been so blindly impressed by the other boy. His heart hurted whenever he thought about the first time he had faced the boy, how thrilling the power he held felt. And like any fan, Draco had started to look for any interesting stuff about him. Who he was getting along with, what he liked, etc…. 

But it was apparently pointless, because as his mother had said, Potter didn’t deserve his attention. 

This christmas break had been filled with disappointment for Draco. Already dealing with the discussion with his parents still running in his mind there were also the parties. Of all the people invited by his family for the new year party and Christmas gathering, none of his friends were there. Draco had to spend the whole evening with kids of his father’s colleagues and ‘get along’ with them to not embarrass his father. But all those kids were simply unnerving, talking about useless stuff, and not getting half of Draco elaborate words. Even at eleven years old the blond had finished the evening with a headache and his bladder full of all the juice he had drunk to occupy himself. 

And then School had starts again. And even with all those hours of conditioning himself, when Draco had laid his eyes on the savior again, he still felt this amazing chill running down his spine. The power of the boy felt as wild as ever. 

So Draco thought. If he kept admiring him, pining for him, but in silence, only in his head. What was wrong with that? Nobody would have to know about it, not even the one concerned. It wouldn't impact him in any way since he wouldn’t have any ‘out of expected grounds’ types of interaction with the savior. 

Content with what he came up with, Draco yawned quietly in the silence of the empty corridors. His late night walk was finally doing its job. His mother was always worried because of his difficulties falling asleep and having real nights. Because ‘A kid your age is not supposed to hate his bed this much’. But apparently it always had been the case, Draco had insomnia ever since he was born had. And his parents had tried a lot of different types of potion and other treatments to help him, Lucius even asked for Severus's assistance. 

But the man had refused to brew the kid potion. He simply said to him. ‘If you can’t sleep because your muscles tickle, just go take a walk.’ kneeling in front of the very young Draco, Severus catches his look. ‘If you can’t sleep because your brain tickles’, he continued gently tapping on the boy’s forehead,‘Go read a book.’

And so far, it had been the only thing that had worked. Afterwards Severus had explained how much he hated drugging kids with potions before even considering a natural solution. For the man, healers these days were using way too much potions, it was almost automatic. Narcissa laughed at the criticism, ‘isn’t it good for you and your Potion Master’s fellow to have a lot of commissions?’ And yeah it was true but the man was way too meticulous in his work. In every aspect of it.   

As he walked quietly and entered the side of the astronomy tower Draco fell after bumping into someone. It was a short passageway not a lot of people knew about, that gave access to the tower via narrow intricate corridors. Draco always loved this passage since he discovered it. It felt like some kind of dark, epic, adventure to walk those stairs and abandoned rooms. He had never run into anyone before. 

‘Are you alright?‘ Asked a voice Draco could recognize amongst millions as a tiny hand appeared in his vision silently proposing his help. ‘Potter!’ Getting on his feet in a hurry Draco had ignored Harry’s hand, leaving the poor limb standing in the cool air of this chilly night. Harry retrieved his hand in his pockets, seeming not at all bothered by the gesture. ‘That would be me… what are you doing here this late?’

Even if the question wasn’t meant to be an attack Draco couldn’t help but try to defend himself in panic. ‘I wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything! I mean.. I was just… hum’ totally lost in his thoughts and panic, Harry gave the boy a puzzled look before sighing. ‘It’s fine, it’s not like I care, it was more rhetorical than anything anyway.’ And just like that, Harry walked his way out the tower by taking the passageway Draco had just come from. 

Left alone, his cheeks red from embarrassment and his brain numb by the panic, Draco stayed in the entrance of the tower feeling that going back to bed would require more than just a little walk now. Draco couldn’t stop his brain from forming too many questions on the savior’s whereabouts. What was he doing in the tower at this hour, was he also having insomnia ? Was he passionate about astronomy? Maybe had the savior left the Gryffindor tower to be able to watch the sky every night? Dozens of questions ran through his mind but still remained totally unaware of the two shoe marks on the fence of the astronomy tower.  

Research

March & April 1992

People would certainly find it weird. If, of course, they would be able to notice it, they would definitely be surprised of how, now, Harry Potter was looking around him. Well, more precisely looking at the kids around him. 

What was surprising about it, was because most of the time Harry Potter was looking at his shoes whenever he was outside, always running away from everyone's stare. Trying his best to ignore the life going on around him. 

But not anymore. Obviously the man was as discreet as anyone can be, and nobody ever noticed anything. But even without everyone questioning the look he gave to who used to be his friends, Harry couldn't shut down his mind, screaming at him to stop this behavior. He didn’t understand it himself. He knew very well that all those months the man had buried his thoughts and tried his best to ignore everything. Because he knew, very well, that the moment he acknowledged his feelings, his mission would slowly rot away and disappear.  

Looking around him was the first step to ‘acceptance’, he knew himself, he knew how much he had cried and missed his loss. But the man had made up his mind long ago, he didn't want to suffer anymore. He had enough of life.

But no matter what, his eyes always ended up looking at his friends whenever he could hear their voices. And he hates how natural it was. He shouldn't walk to where the voices seemed to be. Because, yes it was very late at night, and there were not supposed to be in the corridors. 

But Harry shouldn't care. Even less, get involved.

He walks to the next corridor anyway. 

The moonlight getting through the windows unlight the 3 kids healthy skin, the rest of their features barely noticeable hidden in the dark of the night. 

They were fighting in hushed voices. ‘What is wrong with you Malfoy?! Can’t mind your own business innit?!’ Ron and Hermione were both holding their wands tightly in their fist. What was the point? Except for a Reparo or a flying spell, what could they use to fight?

Careful Ron! Malfoy fixed your shirt!! 

‘You both are acting suspicious! You have nothing to do here!!’ Hermione let out a fake laugh. ‘Yeah, because, you, wandering in the corridors at night is totally normal is it?!’ The blond boy gripped his wand tighter, red spreading on his cheeks. His shoulder against the wall Harry sighted.

‘Who do you think you are to talk to me that way!’ And as Ron's face twisted into a very ugly, angry expression, Harry got his hand off his pocket. Ron’s wand now pointing at Draco, Harry snaps his finger calling the wand to his tiny hand. 

The 3 kids stayed in place, surprised by Harry’s presence, they never suspected it. ‘This is where I stop you all.’ He says in a clear yet low voice.  

He hates himself for intervening. 

‘It’s none of your business Harry. Give Ron his wand back.’ Hermione says her face clearly showing that she hadn’t understood the slur earlier. ‘I won’t.’ Harry says back calmly, walking slowly to them. ‘Why?!’ Ron asked, still very red from anger and very ready to punch Draco in the face. ‘Because fighting with a weapon this deadly when you barely understand how to use it, is stupid.’ 

Casting a look at Draco Harry got a bit surprised when the child looked away in a hurry. ‘Deadly?! Since when is it deadly to do magic?!’ Ron asked, getting very worked up in the conversation. And Harry let out a laugh. ‘’Since when does magic become deadly?’ Are you honestly asking me that?’ Ron, understanding how dumb his words were, started to turn even redder. ‘We’re first years, how could our spell be deadly?!’ He quickly says. ‘By messing up your incantations? You don’t know a lot of them, but who knows what could happen if you mixed up one, like the levitation spell by example. Draco could end up with only his right arm flying and by doing so get this shoulder hurt or worse, amputated.’ A cold silence took place around the kids as they became very pale at the image. ‘And before you cut me there, yes 11 years old has enough magic to do that. It’s not for nothing that Aurors have to get a license to use their wands on duty.’

Feeling very idiotic they didn’t talk back, looking at their feet blush spreading on their cheeks. ‘That is very clever of you, Mister Potter.’ The 3 children jumped where they were standing, fear now appearing on their faces. Harry turned around unsurprised. ‘But I'm afraid the four of you will have to follow me.’ Expressionless Harry couldn’t stop himself from sighing. Professor McGonagall's mere presence was enough to scare the 3 kids to the core. The first year fear of detention, or any kind of punishment given by the teacher, was insane now that Harry thought about it. Even Harry who never feared the parental consequences, feared, once, detentions. 

Now however, Harry only felt annoyed. 

OoO 

Hermione was obviously devastated by the detention. She, who only wants to be a good, successful student, ends up in detention after being caught. It was a weird thing with Hermione, she didn’t really mind breaking the rules. Whenever she refused to follow Ron, it was most of the time because she wasn’t sure of not getting caught. 

But it was something that took years for her to understand. Because she understood rules, and why they were made. But if she decides to break them for something bigger, something that made the rule worthless, then she absolutely doesn’t want to get caught, because getting punished was unfair. But until she understood that she could never explain why she broke those rules. 

At eleven years old she was far from understanding that, so for now she just stayed in the back sniffing her tears of frustration while the four of them walked to the forest. ‘The forest?! I thought it was a joke!!’ Filch let out a cold laugh to the terrified kids. ‘Hagrid has a job there tonight, you all will follow him.’ Draco's already pale face became almost green as the faint glow of the moon illuminated his scared eyes. ‘But we can’t go in there!! There are deadly monsters, I've heard there are … there are ... werewolves.’

This time it was Harry’s turn to scoff at the kid. Seeing everyone turn to give him attention he sighs now forced to explain his hilarity. ‘You can’t have a werewolf without a full moon.’ He says pointing at the night sky with his hands. ‘Oh…’ says 3 understanding kids, a bit of tension flowing out of their bodies. 

‘Ok guys we’ll have to go now.’ Exclaimed Hagrid, all excited as he was. 

Well no full moon didn’t mean no danger though. 

Not that Harry would say that out loud. 

Walking at the end of the group Harry looks around himself deep in thoughts. 

He had started making deadly potions recently, and honestly, the whole experiment had been a joke. For the First potion, Harry had the displeasure of having pissed himself only 2 minutes after drinking the potion. For the following one, the man had felt like some disabled kid with tourette syndromes unable to drink a single glass of water and spilled it everywhere. 

Another problem of this experiment was the supplies. He could steal from Snape's personal supply storage, but the man was already watching him far too much for him not to understand what the hell was going on. Without talking about the amount of spells the man probably put on his door and Harry’s magic being an absolute jerk. 

So Harry had to get his ingredients another way. 

Stealing from older students was one of them. 

Going outside to fetch them himself, was another. 

The Forbidden Forest should have been the first place Harry would have gone to have some ingredients. The thing was, as uncaring as the man was of his own life, he didn’t really feel like going there. The explanation wasn’t clear to him. All he knew was that whenever he looked at the forest, the forest he was right now walking in. 

Felt like the abyss. 

A dark soundless hole, ready to swallow him whole. 

He watched his foot go past the imaginary limit, the sound of his shoe cracking the dead leaves beneath it. Hagrid babbling to Ron never stopping to fill the place.

Walking in the forest didn’t do anything. 

It was just like walking into any forest. 

But Harry still felt stressed surrounded by those trees. 

He wasn’t looking around for some new ingredient. He was looking around trying his best not to remember. 

‘Alright let’s break it into 2 groups!’ 

What?

‘Ron and Hermione with me, and Harry and Malfoy with Fang.’ 

Oh yeah, this happened before. The crossbow the half giant was holding became as clear as sunlight, the memory flowing harshly into the man’s brain. 

This detention. 

‘Ah!! But ?!…’ Draco says lost and terrified before giving a look at a very calm Harry. 

OoO

‘It’s servant stuff!!’ 

Draco hadn’t stopped talking since they left the group, probably a way to cope with his fear. A fear that probably wouldn’t exist so hard if the child knew what his classmate was capable of. But even without knowing so, Draco felt way more calm by just seeing his classmate walk. The reason behind Harry's lack of concern was obviously not for the good reason, but it still managed to appease the boy. 

Fang whines pitifully on Harry’s right, his loopy ear hanging very low on the big dog's cheeks. For such a big boy to be this scared of everything, Fang was just like his master, big but fluffy and full of love. Giving a scratch on the dog’s head, Harry sighs. He knew why Hagrid had chosen to give that kind of detention, he wasn’t so worried about the whole ‘unicorn’ incident, and he didn’t want to give them a real detention. So why not bring them on a little adventure? 

The problem was that, yes, it was even more dangerous for ‘young Harry’. 

Seeing the bright glade 10 feet away from them Harry felt a chill going through his arm. The clearing was lit by the light of the moon barely getting through the tall trees, showing every detail of the silver shimmering murder in front of the two kids. 

Feeling that Draco had frozen in place Harry sighs again. ‘Go get Hagrid.’ Snapping the boy out of his stupor Harry tried not to appear too exasperate as Draco went running desperately away from here.

The crooked figure holding the dying creature had his breath shallow, its mouth sparkling with the deadly liquid. Harry wasn’t sure if the ‘man’ had really had a good time drinking this stuff. His face twisted weirdly, could just as easily show a man trying desperately to come, as a suffering wizard feeling his inside burn everytime he took a sip. 

Drop of sweat falls from Quirrel skin to disappear in the immaculate fur of the creature. It was a very unfortunate sight really, the almost entirely draped face of the death eater drenched with the silvery blood. The man was seemingly frozen in place looking at the unmoving boy 5 feet away from him. 

Was he hesitating? Hesitating to kill a kid? The consequences on his conscience, probably ready to eat him alive only to make him pay for taking such a precious life?

Maybe.

Or maybe was he shocked by the lack of reaction on the child’s face? 

Nobody could have known since nobody, except for Tom of course, was in the man’s head. 

A drop of the unicorn’s blood fell to the ground as Quirrel stood rapidly on his feet running straight to Harry. 

How could the man, who seemed so exhausted, fallen desperately to the ground, run this fast? Unable to see the wand of the man any close to his hands Harry stayed unmoving as Quirrel’s hands rose ready to choke him. 

And he did. 

The force of the attack made Harry fall on the ground with a little puff and crack as his back squished the dead leaves. 

But his arms stayed on the ground beside his body. 

The man above him putting his all energy to choke the unmoving kid. 

Harry wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t struggling to get rid of the man, to relieve himself from the assault.

No, Harry was lying still on the ground staring at Quirrel dead in the eyes as drops of unicorn’s blood fell on his face. 

The labored breath of his teacher above him, the obscene noise of choking.  

‘Harder.’ But his view never grew blurry. Quirrel looked at him confused and in shock. He knew, Harry could feel it. This would never be enough. His magic was fighting back. Quirrel could not choke him to death. 

A whistling sound assaults Harry’s right ear as an arrow planted itself violently on the man’s left leg. 

And the pressure left his neck, the man groaning in pain starting to leave as Hagrid arrived with his heavy step, crossbow firmly in hands. In the mess of human panic Harry got himself seated coughing hard not seeing the red and silver marks on his neck. 

Why did his magic not save him from the pain ? It should know by now that wasn’t stopping Harry from trying. Or maybe it was mad at him from trying so hard to end himself. Maybe this was it’s way to tell him ‘fuck you’. 

Arriving in a room filled with shocked, confused, angry Hogwarts staff and students, Harry made his way to his seat nodding to everyone ‘hello’. Even though everyone had been called by the Headmaster, they weren’t in his office. There were just too many people and his office was just not made for that. They were all in the staff room, pretty much every seat had been replaced to host the event, facing one lonely seat beside the fire. Albus’s seat.

‘How are you feeling, Mister Potter?’ Asked Poppy on Harry’s back in between all the muffled chatter in the place. ‘I’m doing alright Madam Pomfrey, it didn’t manage to do much to me.’ The mediwitch only responded to him with a nod. She wasn’t buying it. Nor was Professor Snape on her side. And the simple fact that those two knew so much stopped Harry from looking at them. He felt naked everytime he was with them. And it wasn’t like he could look anywhere in the room. The place was filled with people so much that even Quirrel's intoxicating rotting smell had a hard time reaching Harry’s poor nose. 

‘So!’ The room went silent as Albus' clear voice cut through it.‘I’m sure you all know why you’ve been called for today.’ Some voices agreed as other’s got a look at the savior covered neck. ’First of all, why was Hagrid in charge of detention? It never had been part of his job.’ The question made its way through the crowd of staff, Harry waiting patiently for this whole shit show to finally come to an end and be able to go back to his room. He never wanted to be here anyway and he had studies to do. 

‘It was my decision, Headmaster.’ Professor McGonagall said after waiting a bit for the chatter to calm down. ‘The reason for this detention wasn’t, for me, important enough to require a real sanction.’ The headmaster frowned at that, showing one of his rare moments of anger. ‘Then why not just take some point and leave it there?’ Taking aback Minerva opened her mouth and closed it. ‘They were still wandering in the corridors after curfew headmaster, I...’ but before she could continue Albus stopped her. ‘And so you both thought that going into the FORBIDDEN Forest at night was a good idea?!’ 

McGongall and Hagrid didn’t respond, the gatekeeper lowering his head guilt obvious on his gigantic features. ‘Do I really need to remind you both of how dangerous this place is?!’ 

The room was heavy and stressed by the headmaster’s lecture. Albus was angry. Something not a lot of living being could have the misfortune to witness. And even with everyone's heads low trying their best not to be noticed, someone let out a quiet scoff. 

‘What makes you laugh Harry?’ The room was quiet, deadly quiet as Harry exchanged a look with his headmaster. ‘So you didn’t know about this incident, Headmaster?’ Asked Harry with a flat voice and expressionless face. It was a weird question to ask, didn’t know? Well he sure does right now right? But between everyone’s confusion Dumbledore, still looking straight at the first year, seemed to understand what he meant. ‘You think I would let a student get attacked?’ 

His chin resting on his palm, the younger one stayed still, it was like he didn’t feel the tension in the room. Like he was incapable of being scared of Dumbledore. But how could a first year not be?

‘Yes.’ His answer was soft and confident leaving everyone even more confused if it was possible. ‘Am I wrong, Headmaster?’ How could he say something like that? How could his voice be so soft? ‘All I want is your safety. To all of you.’ Albus said, looking at the whole room. But Harry only scoffed bitterly, finally looking away from the older wizard. ‘No you don’t…’

In the silence Albus looked at Harry sadness showing on his tired face. ‘I know you see me as the bad guy. And it’s ok … But no, I didn't know about this incident.’ He finally responded in his usual calm voice. And as the meeting starts again Harry clenches his fist his jaw cracking painfully, the sound only covered by the chatter around him. 

He hated it, when finally he had the courage to look at him, Dumbledore managed to make him look like a brat. Always wise, always knows it all. Nobody talked back to him. Dumbledore was simply the old knowledgeable headmaster of Hogwarts, he had to be right about everything? In comparison Harry was simply a gloomy unsocialize first year. 

Harry hated it so much. 

And he knew he shouldn’t, because he knew he was right. And who gives a damn about what those people thought about him when nobody knew shit about him? 

‘Mister Potter?’ Turning his head to look at Professor McGonagall, Harry took a breath. ‘Did you have the chance to see who or what attacked you?’ He could end this mess right now if he wanted to. ‘No professor.’ But why help them? ‘They were covered in unicorn’s blood, it was late at night and they wore dark hooded cloaks.’ He will let Quirrel continue his shit show. At least it would give a bit of entertainment to see the staff trying to take care of this mess.

At some point Harry was finally set free as the meeting didn’t need his testimony anymore. They were about to discuss ‘Adult stuff’ apparently. 

OoO

After the chaotic detention the staff was once again on edge. Because even if Harry had said not to have recognized who attacked him, he also portrayed them as human. Which only confirmed the most morbid theory about the ‘stairs incident’ . So the staff knew that a witch or wizard was trying to kill Harry Potter.

Pretty much the whole staff had asked him to go back to the Gryffindor common room by now. They all assume he wasn’t secure in his room now that all thought of the fire incident being ‘that person’s’ deed. 

Everyone except one. 

Snape still couldn't believe this incident had anything to do with this killer. His guts were telling him NO. ‘Mister Potter asked your classmate to start your fire for now on, I don’t want to end up with a new incident.’ When the teacher gave him this order Harry had stayed stunned in place. It was then that Harry realized the man never believed anything other than him hurting himself on this. But Harry had struggled ever since starting his fire in potion class. His magic seemed traumatized by what happened, so no more fire spells for now. How could the man believe he did that to himself when he literally saw the ‘child’ struggling starting a fire? Was he not thinking that Harry was just rubbish in those spells and then unable to create such an accident? Did it not make more sense that such a complicated powerful incantation would never be accessible to an eleven years old? 

Harry was walking on eggs with Snape. The man understood too much too quickly of the situation. Harry even doubted his own hiding charms sometimes. Was Snape capable of seeing the remaining bandages here and there on himself?

Yes because now Harry had stopped testing things. He had tried everything he could think of and had access to. And nothing had work as well as the fire. Not that he had stopped at all to fight. Of course not. But now it was a research fight. If just killing himself wasn’t working now was the time to study death so he could come up with something to counter it. 

Now his time in the library was even more important. Day and night the savior was in there, looking for anything that could talk about death.

It was fascinating how much this subject was brought up. In potion’s book, the word ‘death’ was pretty much everywhere. In defense books as well for obvious reasons. But in history as well, since history was the science of the past, how people die was very much what was written in there. And if it wasn't a human's death, it was a creature's horrible and graphic death. Any kind of living thing died at some point so death was everywhere. 

But what those books talked about was the consequences of death, how it affected people, how it was used. Never death itself. 

And that was what Harry wanted to know about. So he tried a different kind of book. There were stories of courses, like The Tale of The Three Brothers. And even if it was a children's tale, Harry had to take it into account, because he knew this had to have some truth since the Deathly Hallow had been once his. One already destroyed from this reality on Christmas day.

Stories giving a role to death were countless, muggles or wizards, Harry had ended up buried in piles and piles of them. Well at least he’ll have something to do on his dull days.

There were also all kinds of articles. And Harry had found those very fascinating and also kind of funny. Most of them being interviews of people having faced paranormal activities, Harry had even laughed remembering Hagrid dramatically arriving in the lighthouse. Most of the muggles' articles could be easily explained with wizarding science or even just knowledge. But some could seem more enigmatic or even sound fake.

One portrayed the story of a man in a hospital visited by a young man wearing all black, his hair long and dark, with a deep, almost unreal voice. And even if Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking about a certain someone, this story had somehow caught his attention. The young men had apparently come from nowhere and had just sat beside the old man to talk to him before leaving his side after his heart had stopped. People have described the man as fascinated by death. But not in a weird way like some serial killer or suicidal people like Harry could be. No the man loved his life, he had been devastated when he had to say goodbye to the person he had loved. He had been like everybody else. But he had tried his whole life to get to know her. He wanted to know what she looked like, how she sounded. 

And that was all about the man’s life. No record of any kind of book talking about his research. Nothing. Just this article.

Now whenever anyone saw Harry Potter at any moment of the day, they could see him with a book in his hands.

May 1992

With the incident in the forest Severus had put more effort in spying on his colleague. Potter's case was more or less stable, and really Severus was 99% sure the culprit was Quirinus, so taking his eyes away from Potter a bit wouldn’t hurt. 

Potter was depressed but the boy seemed to have found a whole new passion. Reading. And with his new passion the boy was outside more than ever. 

On the other hand, Quirinus seemed totally mental. Severus knew something might have happened during the year prior, he didn’t know what it could be but he got an idea, and he hated it really, but what else could it be. The man was totally unstable, he was talking alone, had monstrous mood swings and had a magical aura that gave goosebumps to the Potions Master. It was dark and messy, the whole thing had a sick tumoral feeling that seemed to want to get into other people's essence and eat them from the inside. 

One night both Harry and Severus left their rooms at the same time. Their door closes in a pleasant simultaneous clack . 

As one was tall, intimidating and strict. The other was small, untamed and gloomy. 

But both were deep in thought.

These past few days Harry had gone through books that only managed to unnerve him. It wasn’t news that humans were afraid of death of course, but being as insolent as to think themselves higher than death? Really? What kind of ego was that?

Death was, for Harry, the representation of an ‘end’, the end of living. A primary force that can’t be avoided since it came with life itself. It’s a representation of an unavoidable fact. Giving it a face only helps us understand it as much as we could, but it also helps people forget and think they got power over it.  

It was not a bad or good thing, it was a fact. 

In his anger Harry didn’t pay attention to the person entering the room. ‘Mister Potter.’ He jumped a bit on his seat ‘Professor Snape, what are you doing here so late?’ He asked, closing his book and putting it on the table. This one will not help him anyway. ‘That’s quite funny, I was asking myself the same question.’ He answered ironically. ‘You’re asking yourself what you’re doing here?’ Harry said with a discreet smirk in the corner of his mouth. And weirdly enough Snape didn’t seem to get mad. How much does Harry not remember of the man exactly? Yes he had died ages ago and those memories were definitely stained by his hate. But Snape couldn't have changed that much could he?

‘You seemed to have settled down quite well in the restricted section, don’t you Potter?’ Harry rested his cheek on his right hand with a sigh. ‘Yes it is indeed quite comfortable here I gotta admit.’ With time Harry had found himself having quite a lot of fun teasing Snape. It wasn’t to anger him. It was to call out his sarcasm, to make him do ‘jokes’. He never saw Snape anything other than angry or emotionless before. He wants to see the other sides of Snape, the sides only adults could see. It wasn’t fair that Snape had understood so much about Harry. ‘It is ?? I don’t really have the same image of the word ‘comfortable’ but all right.’ Harry let out a scoff. ‘What wooden chair and dusty air doesn't sound comfy to you?’ Crossing his arm the taller man gave him the shadow of a smile. ‘Weirdly enough it doesn’t.’ He said in a smiling voice before dropping his tone with a more professional face. ‘It’s three in the morning Potter you should go back to wherever you go to sleep.’ 

Without any other words Harry nodded and got up on his feet. The man was right, Harry was exhausted and wasn’t getting anything from those books anyway. When the savior passed through the door Severus stopped him. ‘Oh and don’t think you’ll leave without at least 50 points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter.’ Harry only scoffs and wave the man goodbye. 

June 1992

In the middle of the Great Hall, students were chatting loudly about hundreds of different things. The excitement each night brought by the hot food was pleasingly warming up their stomachs and minds as they smiled and laughed with their friends. 

As always the Weasley family was shielding Harry Potter from everyone without including him in their conversation. They never turned to him, but always paid attention to whenever he needed something. The man didn’t have time to wrap his magic around the jug of water before Hermione had already grabbed and placed it in front of him without even interrupting her conversation with George. Harry looked at it, a bit disturbed, whispering a soft thanks to the girl who answered him with a big smile. Maybe it’s because Harry only turned to the water without moving his hands? Maybe they thought he didn’t dare move between them to grab it?

With a sigh Harry took his fork again trying to forget what just happened and all the other times the Weasleys and Hermione had done anything for him.

Unfortunately his eyes landed on the twins bickering gently with each other. And the sight only brought sorrow in the savior. He tried but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about those people he didn’t want to think about.

And as he lowered his fork to abandon his meal, Percy turned a questioning look at him, but none of the students had time to ask him anything that Harry stood up and left the place in a hurry.

A heavy silence filled the space between the Gryffindors, dumbfounded before the sudden change of the man’s mood. ‘Do you think it’s my fault?’ Hermione asked worriedly. Fred patted her back gently. ‘I don’t think so, maybe the Great Hall is too loud tonight.’

But that wasn’t the case, and as Harry walked quickly to wherever his legs were taking him, he didn’t pay enough attention to the staircase he just entered. His foot slipped on the stone and his curse echoed on the wall as his tiny body fell down to the Dungeons. He cursed again, standing painfully on his injured leg, hissing as he saw his right sleeve stained with blood. ‘Brilliant, when I want to fall on the stairs, I end up without a scratch, but when I didn't pay attention you let my arm break?!’ His magic, seeming busy dealing with something else somehow, arrived lazily to arm and fixed it with a loud crack that made Harry scream again.

With a loud sigh Harry stood in place letting his magic attend his arms and leg as his brain assaulted him with thoughts again. What had he done to deserve all this? Why did he have to watch all this?

Harry felt like he was in purgatory, did he have to face all this only because he stopped feeling guilty for their death ? Because, at some point, he had listened to his family and had lifted the atrocious weight of the war off his shoulder? 

He wanted to hold them so tightly in his arms, never letting them go.

But he didn’t have the right anymore.

Walking slowly through the aisles of the school library, Harry was searching for a new book to ‘study’ with. If he had to be honest, he hasn't studied death in a while now. Most of the things he was reading these days were portraying death with the common side character death kind of scene. Never more than that, sometimes death had a face, but only for the sake of fiction, only to create tension in the scenario. But Harry kept grabbing onto these moments, repeating to himself that, maybe, at some point he’ll find answers to his thousands of questions.

Ignoring that he wasn’t searching anymore, he was basking in the blessed feeling of forgetting yourself and everything around you while reading.

And now he had to find new things to force his mind into, everything was getting too loud around him. But the choices available to him were getting smaller , really not having internet yet was so annoying sometimes. With his phone he would just have to go on the ‘book’ application and go buy some, or even go on Google and try to find new names, new types of books.

Right now Harry only had the Hogwarts Library, which was quite big and well managed. But it was still a school library, so most of it was for educational purposes. Harry was very much hesitating to go out of school at the end of his day to go to a real library. 

As he read through another boring summary his attention drifted to some low voice coming from the aisle just behind the shelf in front of him. Knowing very well why those voices drag his attention with such efficiency, Harry tried to concentrate again on the boring book in his hands. Just focus on the words written on the paper and ignore the noises. ‘Dumbledore is out of the school!! We have to do something about it!’ With a long and painful, yet soundless, sigh Harry closed the book, now giving his whole attention to the two children ‘in front’ of him.

‘Professor McGonagall won’t listen to us. If not us, who's gonna protect the stone?!’ says Hermione hurriedly to Ron? Harry couldn't tell for sure since the other child hadn't said a word yet. ‘With what happened in the forest and the three headed dog we saw, who knows what might happen to Harry.’  In the rumbling of Hermione’s hushed voices the child beside her sighed worriedly. ‘I don’t know ‘mione, don’t you think we should talk about this to professor Quirrel instead? He is our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher after all.’  Only silence answered him, and knowing Hermione, the girl was probably giving him a very judgemental look with how dumb his comment was. ‘I hope you’re joking Ron?! Quirrel jump every times Snape comes around. The man is terrified of everything and especially Snape. No we can’t and won’t ask him for help.’ Frowning Harry suddenly remembers their suspicions of Snape being the big Villain of this arc of their life. But really thinking back to it, it was ridiculous, Quirinus had been way more suspicious than the man really, but with a child-like mind and a hate for the Potions Master it was an easy conclusion. 

‘If he gets the stone for You-Know-Who, who knows what he might do to Harry, He is always there around him, always there if anything bad happens to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually caused Harry’s accidents.’ At that statement, Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. He saw their logic honestly, but there were way too many flaws in their thinking, not to mention that Harry already knew the truth. And it was way more romantic than this dramatic murderous tale. 

Hermione sighed as well. ‘Listen we don’t need to fight him, even if he is a Potions Master we definitely don’t know enough spells to win.’ Harry scoffed, what was that supposed to mean?? That if Hermione knew a few more spells she could beat Snape ??!! That was hilarious and kind of insulting, Snape was not JUST a Potions Master. Harry had spent years trying to build the man a good and deserved reputation. 

God. 

His effort on Snape had also been reduced to ashes. ‘We just need to arrive before him.’ Another deep sigh left Harry. At this age they didn’t understand how idiotic and careless they were. How could they think at any moment it was a good idea?  And if by any chance they could take the stones before Tom and Quirrell, what would they do with it? Hide it under their pillows? Throw it in the lake? 

No wonder the school staff were on edge with them.

With 5 silent steps Harry arrived in the entry of their aisle and rested his shoulder against the plain wooden shelf. ‘So, will we go tonight? around 10pm?’ Ron asks in a hushed voice to Hermione who nods full of confidence. His arm crossed, Harry stopped them with his sweetest voice.

‘You two are going nowhere tonight.’ They both jumped and turned to him eyes wide. ‘Jeez Harry !! you scared us to death!!’ Ron said, holding his chest but still keeping his voice low to not anger Madam Pince. Harry didn’t move and kept his glare on them in silence. ‘I don’t know what you heard but it’s none of your business Harry.’ Said Hermione only calling a snort out of the brown hair boy. ‘Right… like I didn’t distinctly hear that you were planning to do all this to save my life… yeah… I might have misheard then, sorry.’ His ironic tone and piercing glare gave a very clear subtext to the two kids. ‘You can’t stop us Harry, it's the right thing to do anyway.’ the little cheeky smile on the corner of his mouth left as anger grip his jaw. ‘Right thing to do?! you don’t even know what it’s doing there, how it’s protected and why anyone would want to steal it! You’re just being careless!! It’s way too dangerous for first years, don’t. Go!!’ A blush appeared on Hermione's cheek as she realized she was wrong again, she turned to Ron for back up only to find the boy looking away ashamed. Harry sighs again, passing a hand through his hair trying to calm his anger. ‘Listen, that is very cute of you to try and protect me, ok?’ even though it gave him goosebumps, ‘But all this is not yours to take care of, ok? Please promise me you won’t go. If you really feel anxious, go talk to Professor Flitwick or Professor Sprout, or even Filch. I’m sure he’ll take great pleasure in stopping anyone from coming close to this room.’ Giving them a hard look for confirmation Harry heard two quietly murmured ‘yes’.

Harry was used to dealing with children, but when those kids were your best friends you used to raise children with, it was strange to deal with. He wanted to talk to them normally, but he was almost 40 years old and they were 10. They would never have a normal conversation. He couldn’t communicate with them like this.

And it hurts to not be able to see them as his twin sibling anymore.   

‘I didn’t hear anything.’ Hermione sighs, playing with her hair angrily. ‘Yes, yes !! we won’t ! Happy?’ Harry nodded, pleased,  and gave them a last glare before leaving the alley to go search for his new book.

His hands in his pockets Harry sighs thoughtful, Harry had remembered this year as him being overly curious of this all stone mystery. For him, it was his idiotic savior syndrome that had dragged his best friends in this whole mess. But apparently they didn’t need him to put their nose in other people's business. 

Ready to give in and go search for something to read in the ‘History of Magic’ aisle Harry came to a stop. Looking around the library Harry saw that nobody seemed to be bothered by what Harry witnessed. Frowning in confusion Harry watched silently as Snape was calmly talking to Madam Pince at her counter. Snape came regularly in the library, that wasn’t new. What was new was him not appearing to be there for any order he could have made. The man was just talking to his colleague and with how he acted it wasn’t about anything serious, and he seemed … weirdly expressive to the librarian. He who always talked slowly, detaching each syllable, unmoving and cold. He who never needed to force the attention of others when he was talking. Was talking very fast while adding a lot of hand movements, almost like he was trying not to lose her attention. Unfortunately Snape was showing his back to Harry and rarely turned his head, so Harry wasn’t really sure what his expression was while talking.

And with this show of a very unusual Snape, playing in the library on this very sunny Friday afternoon, no one, except for Harry, seemed to care. 

Had Harry kept his head for too long under the water?

Left stunned by such a sight Harry wondered if Snape was … hitting on Madam Pince. But he withdrew this thought quickly. That was kind of disgusting, Madam Pince wasn’t anywhere near Snape’s age and Harry distinctly remembers the woman having some kind of relationship with Filch in his past. So no, Merlin forbid, it wasn’t this. And Snape loves his mom to the core right?

It still didn’t explain anything to Harry. He knew he never spent a lot of time in the library before, so maybe he just never paid attention to it in his past.

Taking a deep breath Harry finally takes another step into the aisle forcing himself to forget what he just witnessed.

OoO

‘You heard what he told us, we can’t just ignore him.’ Packing her thing in her little bag, Hermione angrily turns to her friend. ‘ Yes we can and we must, Harry is trying to protect us, fine !! We were already doing that, so he’ll have to wait for his turn!!’ Ronald whined pitifully as he went to fetch something in his dorm for tonight's operation. Hermione was on fire, but even if Ron agrees with her he couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling grabbing his guts.

And as he put his flute in with the rest of his stuff Ron didn’t pay attention to the movement coming from Neville’s bed as he whined in silence.

Hermione was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. They both got close to the dying fire for a bit more warmth while reestablishing their plan. It’s only when a tiny scared voice broke the quietness of the rooms that they turn around to face Neville wand at the ready. ‘y..you Guys…you guys can’t b.b.break the rules again!! I’ll fight you.’ The kid was obviously terrified by what he was doing but he kept his wand up, full of good intentions. ‘Neville please, you don’t understand.’ Ron tried gently but Hermione stepped in front of him, sending a strong Petrificus Totalus , on their friend.

When she turned around, she faced a very shocked Ron, his eyes wide, mouth opened he soundlessly said. ‘What the fuck was that?’ Hermione gave him an innocent face putting her wand back in her sleeve. ‘What?? We don’t have a moment to waste. It’s harmless, don't worry.’ And just like that she walks out of the room giving Neville a gentle kind of scary smile as she passes close by.


OoO


Harry had finally found something not that unreadable. It was also quite long which was a very good thing. He didn’t feel like leaving his warm blanket right now to go fetch something new to read.

An apparition pop echoed in his tiny room as ‘his elf’ arrived with tea. There was always only one Elf that came to give him dinner or whenever he asks for tea or for coffee. Now he didn’t need to ask anything, she seemed to know if the savior was asleep or not, and if not, then she would bring him a warm mint tea. What Harry never noticed was the sleeping potion slipped in that very cup. It was Snape’s order. if the boy wasn’t asleep at 11pm he has to take a sleeping potion. It wasn’t a powerful one but since the long term sleeping treatment had come to an end, they had to watch out for any relapse.

He thanks her magically turning his page as he takes a sip. ‘By the way, Mikky.’ About to flow away the elf stopped herself, giving all her attention to Harry. ‘Do you happen to know if any first year students left the Gryffindor dorms tonight?’ detaching his eyes from the paper Harry looked at her confused bulging eyes. Harry wasn’t the type to trace people. He had quite a lot of faith in the person close to him. But he also knew those two. ‘Hmm… Mikky is in charge of the Gryffindor tower activity, Mikky always has her mind of the movement in the Gryffindor Tower. And Miss Granger and young Mister Weasley left 20 minutes ago…’

A heavy silence took place in the tiny room, Mikky’s ear flapping the air as questions flew through her brain never to be voiced. And after a deep breath, his hands joined in an attempt to stay calm, the first year finally threw his blanket violently away in anger. ‘I FUCKING knew it!! Those brats!!’

Stepping aside to let Harry the space to put on his shoes and a light wooly jacket, she didn’t seem afraid of the wizard. She knew and sensed he was a powerful and capable wizard, but she also never felt him more stable. ‘I’m sorry Mikky, I have to go for a while. Could I bother you by putting a statis spell on my tea? I'll undo it when I come back. I feel like I'll need it.’

She nods watching leave the room in a hurry, and as the door is slammed shut she stares at it dumbfounded.

When Harry arrived at the forbidden room Fluffy was happily up on his paws again. But when his gaze found Harry and not his owner, his heavy tail stopped swinging. While his left hands closed the wooden door behind himself, Harry let his magic flow calmly around his body. Playing with the air in the room and with great effort he managed to create a quite passable melody. It was complicated magic but right now Harry didn’t have anything better. When finally the dog fell asleep on the cold hard floor Harry used his magic yet again to open the trap door and jump in the void.

He lands slowly on the Devil's Snare vine and as the thing starts to get agitated he doesn't let it the time to grab him as he raises his right hand, summoning a blindingly powerful lighting spell.

With the key chamber Harry only used the brute force of his magic on an attraction spell after finding out the key.

It's only when he managed to go through the chess piece graveyard that he was finally able to see the place entirely, and above all, the game.

Harry's blood dropped from his head to heavily fall in his stomach.


Hermione’s eyes and cheeks were wet with tears, her limbs trembling furiously as Ron's poor juvenile body had been violently thrown away from his horse. The blood already flowing from the several cuts on his head and his arm being twisted in a very unnatural way only prove that the fall had been harsh. But the chest piece wasn’t over. grabbing her sword upside down with both hands the queen turns on herself to face Ron and pierce the poor kid with her stony heavy sword.

As the sword heavily landed on the chest bord raising a cloud of dust in the action Hermione screamed in distress. But when the dust dissipated, Ron wasn’t there anymore.

The tension violently drops Harry’s and Ron's Heavy breathing finally audible in the chaos. Seated on the floor close to Harry's leg Ron turned to him the faint feeling of being magically dragged away from the chest plate remaining in his back. ‘Harry…’ Hearing her friend’s voice in her back, Hermione turned, panicked, to see Ron safe and sound beside a very angry Harry.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!’ His yell echoing all around them in a frightening almost godly sound. 

They both look at him afraid and panicked because of the situation. but even if Harry was really not in the best of mood, there was this sense of protection that made them calm down a bit. ‘You promise you won’t go !!! Yet I find the two of you here??!’ Hermione seemed to gather some courage and got herself in a better sitting position but never leaving her place. ‘Harry you are not our mother you don’t need to yell at us like that!!’ 

Breathing through his nose Harry clenched his fist looking at Ron's bloody face. ‘I hope you're kidding me?! I may not be your mother, But you are not mine either!! Who asked you to go save my ass and save the stone hmm?!! Look at Ron’s state for Merlin’s sake!!’

With the yelling and the anger Harry felt like his blood was boiling in his veins. ‘I told you it was dangerous, Professor McGonagall told you to stay out of it, I'm sure even Neville wasn’t ok with your little getaway!!’ If Hermione was not in stress right now, she would have asked herself how Harry could be this right. But she just stayed silent eating up her humiliation. ‘And what was the plan after you miraculously took the stone? Hide it in your school robes?!’ Harry took a deep breath passing a hand in his hair. ‘You scared the shit out of me.’ He sends the both a last angry look before falling on his knees to take a look at Ron’s head injury.

As he cleans up the wound with his wand, he slowly finishes the chess game in three moves, finally allowing Hermione to move and opening the door. ‘It’s not deep, you're lucky. Though your arm is another story.’ Looking at it Harry sighs. He then looks at Ron deep in the eyes. ‘I’m not good with numbing spells, that’s gonna hurt.’

Ron looked at him, then his arm, then at him. ‘ha?’ Harry then proceeds to rip a bit of his torn clothes for him to bite on it and push it in his friend’s mouth. Dumbfounded Ron looked at him confused before Harry grabbed his injured arm and moved his wand in front of him with his other hand. 

Ron's muffled, painful scream did not manage to cover up the gory sound of his flesh and bones twisting and crushing on itself as Ron’s arm took his normal shape again.

Not moving after his spell. Harry waits for the boy’s pain to be bearable again to then quickly clean and sanitize the wound.

‘Don’t move it, keep it close to your chest for now, Madam Pomfrey will take care of the rest.’ With tears in the corner of his eyes Ron nods.

Harry then stands on his feet and gives a look in the crack of the open door in the end of the room. The troll was laying there, dead, in a pool of his own blood. It was obviously not the same troll as his first time since Harry had killed him violently during Halloween. 

‘You two stay here.’ He turned to them, glaring at them with authority. ‘And this time you do as I say, Clear?!’ They didn’t wait and nodded at him shamefully. ‘Good… I’ll go take care of it.’ While Harry left the room, hands buried in his pockets, neither of them had enough courage to tell him anything. 

With how perfectly clean when he arrived Harry didn’t seem to have had any problems dealing with the first chambers. Harry was such a strange kid, always looking gloomy talking to the others like he was as old as Dumbledore. He had spent hours after hours of charms lessons unable to do a single spell with his magic going crazy, here he was using medical spells on Ron like it was nothing. People couldn’t figure out if Harry was a genius or an utter idiot with a lot of luck, but also no luck at all. 

When Harry passes through the last door totally ignoring the potion and just going through with a fire protection spell, he sighed as he sees Quirrel in front of the mirror, his putrid stench filling the place.

‘Mister Potter.’ He said, sounding all confident and mighty. He then turns to give a powerful look at the child at the top of the stairs. Seeing Harry plain bored face, the Death Eater almost felt himself stumble. ‘Quirrel…’ going down the stairs Harry kept his stare at his teacher not flinching for a second. ‘You don’t seem surprised.’ Holding his wand Harry chuckled. ‘Why, did you think you were being subtle perhaps?!’ Frowning, Quirrell watched him stop 6 feet away from him. ‘Snape was way more suspicious than I am.’ Seeing his anger the student only smiles, amused. ‘Not for me.’

They stare at each other, Quirrel confidence flowing away gently before the very calm first year. ‘You seemed surprised to see me arrive sir.’ The Death Eater glared at him before turning to the mirror once again. Before he could say anything else Harry stopped him. ‘Why doesn’t your guest come out and say hello?’ he said, looking straight at the back of the man’s head.  Harry's reflection smiled and looked at the shocked man through the glass. ‘Come on … he owes me at least that one.’ Just how could he be so calm? How could he know? And if he knew why was he even smiling? Was he bluffing? It has to be.

Caught up in his fright and surprise, Quirrel didn’t hear Tom talking to him. It was only after the third time that the man finally started taking off his ribbon. And while the man was burning his brain with thousands of questions, Harry, on the other hand, had to fight his nausea. He had understood that the stench coming out of the Death Eater had to do with the little parasite in the back of his head. But now that the famous turban was being undressed, it seemed as if the smell, overall pretty much just magical, was being released like a several week old festuring wound setting free from his damped clothes.

Honestly, Harry couldn't walk closer to the man.

‘Harry Potter…’ Said the barely alive wizard. ‘You knew I was there …  and you haven’t said anything to anyone.’ The disgusting piece of a man smirked at the child as his host looked at the scene through the glass. Harry snorted, confusing them yet once more. ‘Wow, you think I might have done that for your own good don’t you?!’ 

Harry’s smile grew wider and creepier. ‘No I just didn’t care. You can burn to the depths of hell. I wouldn't care, I would enjoy it actually.’ His left hand buried in his pockets Harry was holding loosely onto his wand with his right. He looked at them peacefully as their faces twisted into an expression of complicated, ugly anger. Two pairs of eyes stabbing death glare to one juvenile calm face. Tom screamed Quirrel’s lungs out, making the death eater finally move out of his stupor. Ordering to kill the first year Harry watched as the curse flew straight to his face but didn’t react.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

 

His hands had moved, and Harry would have loved to say it moved on its own. But it didn’t. He had protected himself and counter the curse with a smooth blocking spell. 

His grin left his lips as he watched his wand. Why did he do that? What was the point? He wanted to die anyway, Right?

Quirrel, taking advantage of his confusion, twists his wand once more, sending curse after curse. Harry’s wand starts to dance as well, blocking, breaking or pushing away every single assault. Eyes wide his gaze was concentrated on the battle in front of him, but his mind was in turmoil.

Faces flashed in the front of his mind.

He was afraid.

He was terrified to die again.

Because, if he dies.

He’ll end up alone. 

The sad whine coming out of his mouth at the realization went unnoticed, covered up by the loud crash of spells and magic colliding. Two steps back. Quirrell smiles. But as one tear fell down Harry’s cheeks Quirrell lost hold of his spell and tripped on his feet. The clacking silence of both magic disappearing assaulted their ears and before the man could feel the ground to regain his balance, a harsh explosive spell violently hit his belly and sent him flying across the room. 

The magical tension in the room dissipated, Harry’s heavy labored breath could finally be heard in the now quiet room.

The Death Eater couldn’t move anymore. The impact of the spell had completely ripped open his flesh, spilling his blood and guts on the dusty floor. His head and back had been crushed when he had been violently thrown against the wall. He was harmless, on the verge of death.

But Harry still walks to them, his calm gloomy composure back on his face, only the shadow of his tear remaining.

‘You are pathetic Tom.’ his voice was soft, undisturbed of the wizard coughing mouthful of blood and dying slowly on the floor before him. ‘That’s such a shame though.’ Tom's eyes grew wide as he saw Harry’s green one glow terrifyingly. The magic of the boy slowly making its way around his piece of soul to slowly but surely rip it out of the dying Quirrel. ‘If you had been just a bit faster, I would have let you kill me.’ Quirrel took his last breath and Tom felt as if the room had grown dark, only the light coming out of the boy’s eyes illuminating the space around them.

And just like that his soul got destroyed, the last thing he saw before dying being Harry’s green eyes. 

With his soul, the unbearable smell disappeared, But Harry didn’t pay it any attention. 

He didn't want to desperately die anymore. Hope and envy had come back crushing his heart with all the feelings he was trying to ignore. All the good things that came with this shitty and stressful situation.  

Turning around, Harry's gaze fell on the Mirror of Erised. The mirror that shows you your deepest desire. Without even realizing it, Harry was already in front of it.

Facing himself.

Facing himself old and happy. His gray hair softly coloring his head and beard. His smile was wide and full of emotions showing gently his myriad of wrinkles.

The old and full of life Harry watched the young breaking down one. Harry couldn’t stop the tears from falling, his heart was so painful, unable to stand it any longer, he fell to his knees trying as hard as he could not to scream in despair. But it hurt so much, all the things he ignored were painfully crashing into his brain. People hadn’t died yet, so many people he loved with all his heart were still safe and sound. Harry could still talk to them, hug them, love them.

He could still save them. 

His cries echoed around him, his wounded frail figure lay on the cold floor. Even if his sobs won’t let him breathe it still managed to release some pain from his chest.

He wanted to be happy.

He was angry, furious at him.

But he wanted to live.



‘Potter!...’ Harry felt his breath get stuck in his throat as he looked up to see Snape standing at the top of the stairs through the glass. The silence between them was heavy and awkward and as the man watched Harry pathetically sitting on the floor his cheeks wet from tears, both felt their faces getting red from embarrassment.

Severus didn’t know how to deal with a crying child, he never did. Most of the time when students had a breakdown it was their peers or even the head boys and girls that dealt with it. So Severus looked away, pretending to study the room and the situation. Harry used this time to hide his face and summon a tissue so, even if his face was red and puffy, he would be presentable.

At some point the Potions Master noticed Quirrel's disheveled bloody figure and ran to his corpse. Harry stood on his feet feeling suddenly very ashamed for how gory this whole battle had ended. And while Snape was quickly making sure the wizard was dead Harry slowly walked to him. 

‘What on earth happened, Mister Potter?!’he asked, shocked and somehow worried. ‘Self defense Sir…’ Harry answered him while looking away. ‘Self defense?!! I hope you’re kidding me Potter?!!’ getting on his feet Snape was starting to get very agitated by all this. ‘What were you even doing in here to begin with?! What were you trying to do?? Die a painful death?!!’ he finally snapped before realizing what he had just said. Harry kept his gaze away while giving a sad smile. ‘... Not anymore Sir…’ and as the silence fell between the two, Severus got the answer to his most painful question. 

The fire incident was a unsuccessfull suicide attempt.

‘Mister Potter…’ But Harry stopped him before he could say anything else. ‘But it’s fine now sir. You don’t need to worry and follow me everywhere.’  Severus didn’t say anything at that, he felt that the first year knew about his little spying, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so hard to follow. But even with what Harry just said, Snape wasn’t about to forget him just like that. The boy may have been doing better but healing was a slow tedious process.

‘I know you’re hiding something important, Potter. And after all this I feel like I deserve to know the truth.’ Harry eyed him thoughtfully. The man was right: of all the people around him, Snape was probably the one who knew the most about his situation.

He had gone through things he should never have because of him. Harry had to tell him something. But telling him the truth?

If so, how?

‘You know what Sir?! Let's play a game.’ Harry finally said with a cheeky smile to the confused Snape. ‘I beg your pardon.’ A game, Severus wondered, how could the child propose something like that right now. ‘Honestly telling you right now just like that would be complicated, and not very fun SO!’ Harry continued holding one finger in front of him. ‘What about you resume your spying this time concentrating only on not getting caught by others. I really don’t want to have to explain the situation.’ Severus agreed. ‘Then I leave you some real clues, you can then propose as many theories as you want, I’ll respond honestly to you.’ Harry’s smile grew wider as he proposed his tiny hand to shake. 'Deal?' The man looked at both Harry’s face and Harry’s hand warily, but after a few long seconds he finally sighs and shook the boy’s hand. ‘Deal.’

To this Harry let out a soft snort that left Snape speechless. It was his first real laugh in front of him. And this tiny sound manages to warm up the teacher’s heart.

Before Snape’s emotional glare, Harry turns to Quirrell’s body.‘So… what do we do with the corpse?’ Severus sighed.   

End of First part