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seven | dodge

~no pov

The word boys being yelled was an instant trigger for Harry.

His uncle often yelled it to summon Harry, and most conversations the two had ended up with the younger brunet on the floor, hurt.

When Harry's pe teacher barged into the changing room screaming, Harry stumbled back into the stall he'd changed in. No one noticed his obvious change in mood because they hadn't noticed he was there in the first place.

Being invisible was something Harry adored, yet sometimes it got frustrating. Like when his friends would talk and act like Harry didn't exist. Being left out by most people was annoying and he didn't mind much. But being left out by his best friends? That hurt.

Fixing himself up after a quick panic attack, he realised he was late. Seven minutes late. His pe teacher wasn't entirely fond of him, meaning he was sure to get in more trouble. The thought of that alone made him want to return to his previous position: crouching into a ball on the floor.

As most parents/carers do, Vernon didn't like when Harry got in trouble. When it was Dudley, it was fine. Harry always hated how unfair it was, but of course he'd never say anything.

"Oi, Harry, come on mate, sir thinks you're bunking." a familiar redhead appeared. Upon seeing Harry, his tone changed. "Are you alright? You've been here for quite some time and you look a bit red. Have you been crying?"

"I stubbed my toe and it set me off." Harry chuckled, completely changing his mood. "Maybe I'm on my man period. Hormones."

Ron laughed and accepted Harry's excuse. "Come on then mate. Sirs mad already. Crabbe pissed him off."

The brunet groaned. Whenever teachers were mad, they loved taking it out on him. Quite like his uncle. One of the reasons why he'd never trust teachers.

He dragged himself out of the changing rooms only to be met with a red-faced man screaming in his face. It took every bit of strength in him not to collapse back into a ball and relive every horrible memory of his uncle screaming at him the same way.

Looking up, Harry realised all eyes were on him; attention was something he always hated. "Sorry sir. Lost track of time." He mumbled before walking off to the bundle of people in his class, 11G, who were talking shit about 11S.

"Harry are you dumb?" Hermione scolded, as if she was his mother. She is not. My mum is dead. "You just lost us another 10 points and got yourself another detention."

"I did?" He asked, surprised. "I didn't pay attention."

Hermione groaned. "We're in year eleven now. Fix your behaviour, its getting frustrating."

Honestly, it hurt to hear that. He was late because he had a panic attack. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help that he didn't pay attention. He was trying not to have another panic attack.

"She's right mate. We can't keep losing points. And you can't keep getting detentions. You could get expelled." Ron stated.

Harry sighed. He needed his education. How else would he escape the hell-hole he lives in? "Sorry."

A whistle blew and the two forms stood on opposite sides of the gym, a line of soft, red balls in between. A second whistle blew and suddenly both forms were lunging towards the middle.

A majority of the balls were taken by Slytherins; they liked to play dirty. However, the few Gryffindors that did get the balls were athletic and knew how to play the seemingly harmless game.

Harry stood back, merely trying to dodge the number of balls thrown at him before getting shouted at to go join in. He was already playing. He was doing the dodge part of dodgeball.

Reluctantly, he picked up a ball and threw it blindly. It hit Goyle, one of his most violent bullies, square in the face. Harry would have to watch out when walking alone today.

Despite being scrawny, unhealthy and shy, Harry was a natural at most sports. In year seven, he became Gryffindors star striker, creating competition with Malfoy. Eventually, his beaten body didn't allow him to play as well as he could, and he dropped out.

"Go on Harry!" Ron high fived him for his accuracy and encouraged him to continue.

Hesitant, he continued. Praise, despite him hating attention, was something he craved for. Call it daddy issues or whatever, but when he had a chance to be appreciated, Harry took it.

About a minute later, Dean and Harry had gotten most of the other form out, leaving a remainder of two people: Crabbe and Malfoy.

Crabbe was aggressive and had been getting rid of Gryffindors rather easily, leaving Dean, Harry and Ron left. Malfoy, however, was more gentle with his touch. He still did play rough and didn't hesitate to try win.

A second later, Dean and Ron were both out, leaving Harry stuck with two bullies. His PE teacher couldn't give two shits whether they cheated and hurt Harry, so he was alert.

Besides, living in an abusive household did make you hyperaware to your surroundings.

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish."

Harry picked up a ball and went straight for the blond, who defected it with another ball.

"Missed." Malfoy taunted.

Harry simply rolled his eyes and picked up another ball, dodging a lethal shot from Crabbe. To be honest, it seemed more like a murder attempt than a winning shot.

Malfoy turned around to pick up a ball, and Harry took this as an opportunity to hit him. He scowled and sat down with the rest of his friends, who were laughing at something.

This made Harry feel rather anxious. Were they laughing at him? Was he being ridiculed? He thought he was doing well, but now he was second-guessing himself.

His doubts were confirmed when Crabbe threw a ball as hard as he could at the brunet. It went straight for his stomach and hurt way more than it should've.

Harry, who was now on the floor, dazed, picked up the red ball and found that there was an opening. A rock had been stuffed into it.

"Did you just throw a fucking rock at me? Are you trying to kill me?" He shouted at the larger boy who'd walked up to him.

The ball was snatched out of his hand.

Harry scoffed and picked himself up. No one had even watched the game after they'd gotten out, meaning his failure wasn't seen. It saved him embarrassment of getting hurt and humiliated, but the fact that no one acknowledged his existence and didn't check up on him made him want to cry.

i'm so sick of myself and this place. i'm gonna do it tonight.