You are not a God

I.

1.

I awake to find no peace of mind
I said how do you live
As a fugitive?
Down here, where I cannot see so clear
I said what do I know?
Show me the right way to go
Spies, Coldplay

He opened his eyes, and like always, he couldn't see a thing. His glasses weren't on his face. He didn't know where they were. Hell, he didn't know where he was himself.

He was on the floor, probably in an obscure corridor that nobody ever visited. His body was slowly starting to ache. The more the memories came back, the more his head throbbed.

As light made its apparition, he could remember everything. The painting, the feeling of falling through space so unlike apparition but strangely so similar at the same time. He remembered the feeling of dying, unable to breathe because of the pressure. The light became brighter, and Harry couldn't see the face of the person approaching him. Was it a man, a woman?
He didn't know and right now, couldn't find it in him to stand up and focus to see more.
He couldn't move a muscle, the pain in his head was unbearable, more so than when Voldemort tried intentionally to hurt him through his scar.

So when the person approaching spoke, Harry swiftly fell unconscious.

He was so very tired. Like always, when he came back from the summer holidays, he was nothing but a shell of his school self. If only people actually paid attention to him, they could have seen that Harry wasn't well. That he was far from it.

Under his smile was a deep depression and if his eyes were twinkling, it wasn't because of happiness but because of the constant pain he was in. He was actually surprised when Dumbledore came the evening before, to help recruit a new professor. Ho, he wasn't surprised by Dumbledore's presence; he was surprised by the lack of acknowledgement.

How did the man not notice that every time Harry walked, he was ready to pass out? How did he not see the bruise on his palm and up his neck, barely hidden by his hair? How did he not notice his student's will of dying? No, Harry really couldn't understand the man and so, he didn't try to talk to him about the pain in his chest.
The pain, so much worse than the cruciatus. The pain he felt since Sirius died. Instead, he smiled and somehow convinced the professor to come to Hogwarts.

In the train, he made the foolish mistake of following Malfoy, the task ending with a worsening of his condition. So after his remarkable entry in the great hall, after all the stare had calmed down and he had begun to eat, Harry once again began to think about his future or his lack of, therefore.

It was because of his thought that he didn't notice the worried glances of Hermione and Ron or saw the blackened hand of the headmaster when he drank a bit of pumpkin juice. As the feast ended, Harry ran to his dormitory, closed his curtain, put on a strong silencing spell and, exhausted because of his injuries, began to sleep.

Only to be awoken five hours later due to nightmares. They were always guilty. Harry knew he wouldn't sleep anymore. In the darkness surrounding him, he suddenly had an idea.

He would sneak out to Hogsmead and try to buy more dreamless sleep potions, now that he had access to the wizarding world and his money.
Pomfrey couldn't give him more than what he had received for his summer vacation after... after the battle.

He shuddered. He knew the substance was controlled, but with enough gold, he was sure he could get everything. He put on his uniform, one of his Wesley's jumpers, forgetting his tie and cape in his haste. Out of his trunk, he took his invisibility cloak, the marauder's map, his wand and about one hundred Galleons. Without ten minutes, he was already on the second floor.

Everything would have been perfect if he hadn't seen on the map the name of one Severus Snape. Slowly because his back hurt so much and made it impossible for him to run, Harry hid in a secret alcove, only visible on the map.