Scarhead

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The next day was when many things changed at school. That morning Harry was digging through his locker, trying to find his geometry textbook, when he was shoved into it. The cold metal pierced his arms, startling him, and making him look up.

"Hey Scarhead." Said Karofsky. "How it going?"

Harry flew on his broomstick, looking for the Golden Snitch, then suddenly a green and silver blur shot past underneath him, making him lose his concentration for a second.

"Alright there Scarhead?" The voice asked. Draco Malfoy. Who else would it have been? But what Malfoy didn't notice was the Snitch dart behind his head. His evil smirk was still plastered on his face, but he was oblivious of the loud clicking noise to the right of his head.

People were shouting from the stands, and Harry took the chance to lunge at the Snitch.

Harry was sucked back into reality as a cold, wet liquid was poured on top of him. It ran into his eyes, making them sting painfully. It seeped down his clothes with a frozen burn, and he shivered, bringing his arms across his chest. Karofsky and his gang left, laughing evilly.

Loud footsteps echoed down the now empty hallway. "HEY! Karofsky!" Someone yelled, then rushed over to him. Harry's eyes were glued shut from the slushie, so he didn't know who it was.

"W-who is it?" Harry asked, his hands rubbing his eyes vigorously.

"Its Finn." He said, and Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, the burn will stop after a few hours."

Harry chuckled. "I guess this is my official welcome to the Glee Club."

Everyone knew that the Glee Club suffered countless spouts of bullying, and abuse, and Harry knew that it would start coming to him eventually, considering that he had just joined the Glee Club. Apparently being in the club was a bit of a death sentence.

"Don't sweat it dude. You get used to it after awhile." Finn replied with a half smirk, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now come on, I'll give you some spare clothes to get changed into."

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Harry almost didn't make it to his first class on time, but he was able to sneak in just as the annoying bell rang loudly in his ear. He scampered to his table, which one side was occupied by Blaine. Right, this was History, the class that they met in.

"What happened?" Blaine whispered, so quiet that Harry wasn't sure if he heard him right.

"I got slushied."

Blaine nodded ruefully, then looked up as the teacher strode into the room. "Ok, today we will be talking about World War I." She said, starting to write on the grey-black chalkboard.

That statement then sparked a memory. The first Wizarding War, when his parents were killed, and the famous scar on his forehead was created. Nobody knew why and how he survived the killing curse, except for him and his close friends of course. And as much as he would love to get out all of this information to Blaine, and Kurt too - he couldn't. He wouldn't even consider it, knowing the consequences.

"Harry? Are you paying attention?" The teacher asked, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

He plastered on a fake smile. "Yeah." He looked down, pretending to take notes on his open notebook. The teacher narrowed her eyes then continued writing on the board.

Blaine shifted next to Harry, causing him to look up. He started writing on his notebook, his handwriting neat and legible like Hermione's.

Are you okay?

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