His last class had just ended. Harry was walking back to the Gryffindor common rooms. Dinner was to be served quite soon, but Harry simply didn't feel like eating. In fact, he didn't feel like doing anything at the moment. Once Harry got to the common rooms, he sat in front of the fire place and began to stare at the walls. Here came that awful moment, where he had nothing to do, so he was left to think. He honestly didn't want to think at all. Every time his mind got a moment to rest, negative thoughts came to his mind endlessly. Everything was just so...tough. He couldn't stop but wonder if he had been someone else, if he hadn't been born when he did, could things have been different? Would he actually have the urge to live at all? Would he have supportive parents, who would be there for him no matter what? Sometimes, these thoughts haunted him, knowing that he had no one. Harry had no one to rely on. He was alone...
"Harry!" Hermione called as she came into the common room with Ron. "Oh Harry, we've been looking all over for you! We kind of lost track of you after you left, so we thought you must've gone to the great hall early or something! Then we noticed that you weren't there, so we came back." Hermione sure did look out of breath, as if she had ran for 30 minutes.
"Yeah mate, you really should wait for us, if not at least tell us where you're going." Ron also chirped in. "Sorry guys. I was kind of tired and all I could think of was getting back." Harry chuckled trying not to look as if he had been lost in his own thoughts for the past few minutes. "S'okay mate. We understand. After all, who wouldn't be weary after a class with the greasy bat?" Ron made a frown with his face, then proceeded to laugh at the fact that he had just roasted Snape. "Ron! That is a teacher you are talking about!" Hermione scolded. "Yeah, but it's true, isn't it?" Ron told Hermione. Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something, but remained silent.
"Anyways, let's go get dinner Harry" Ron said, looking as hungry as always. "You guys go ahead. I'm not that hungry." Harry spoke. Hermione frowned "Harry you've been skipping a lot of meals lately. You know that's not good for you, right?" She truly looked concerned. (BTW this is not an eating disorder. When you're depressed, some people just loose appetite) "Don't worry Hermione, I'm fine. Really." Harry gave a reassuring smile. "Well...If you say so Harry." Hermione responded. Soon, they both left for dinner, leaving Harry alone in the common room.
Harry went upstairs to where his bed was. Near the bed was a chest where Harry kept some of his small belongings. In the chest, there was a razor. Harry picked up the razor, and simply looked at it. He had only began cutting during summer break, but this razor was almost like his best friend. He knew that it would be there for him no matter what. This small item had helped him get through several bad days, especially after facing the dementors on the train. He walked into the bathroom while holding the cherished object. He took off his uniform, and slowly brought the razor to his bottom wrist. The razor slid across his skin, leaving a red line and a few drops of blood. Harry felt the tension being relieved. He washed the blood away, and put on his Gryffindor sweater. He tried to not cut so much, as it would get more difficult to hide and take care of. He felt satisfied with one today.
YOU ARE READING
With the help of Remus Lupin
FanfictionThe famous Harry Potter is in his 3rd year of Hogwarts. His life? Not as perfect as people think it is. His self esteem has dropped so low that it possibly can't get any lower. He has discovered a new way to comfort himself, but is it necessarily a...
