Carry On

Chapter 9

   The weeks passed and, thankfully, the rumors and gossip seemed to slow. At least rooms didn't go silent when I walked in, clearly meaning they had been talking about him.
   The Christmas holidays, along with the school break, quickly approached. When the mail came in that morning in the Great Hall, I immediately saw Errol and groaned. I had sent an owl the previous week to Mrs. Weasley saying I was staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. Since then, I have received an owl from almost every member of the Weasley family attempting to convince me otherwise. I had almost given in when it was George's turn, the guilt nearly suffocating me. But with that guilt came a swift denial. I couldn't face any of the Weasley's, let alone George, knowing what I did to them.
   When their owl landed in front of me, I quickly grabbed the letter tied to its leg, and sent him away with a bit of bacon from the table. I briefly glanced at the letter, noting that it was Charlie's turn this time to try to guilt trip me.
   "I'm leaving Harry." I heard Hermione's voice say from behind me. I looked back and saw her eyeing the parchment still on the table in front of me. "Are they still trying to get you to change your mind?" She asked.
   "Yes." I said shortly. I felt bad for ditching them this year, but I couldn't stand to be surrounded by people I had betrayed in such an awful way. I couldn't stand to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley near tears most of the time. And there was no way I could stand to see the pain in George's eyes. "You should get going or you'll miss the train." I said without looking up. I could practically feel the weight of my friend's concerned gaze.
   "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I'm sure the others would understand." I couldn't help but snort. I finally looked up and gave her a skeptical glance.
   "I seriously doubt that. But it's fine. I'm fine. Really, Hermione." I tried smiling at her. Over the weeks at Hogwarts I had become quite good at faking being happy, especially with how persistent Hermione can be.
   I quickly waved away her protests and told her to leave. After a few minutes she finally listened and left to board the train. I immediately headed up to the common room, hoping to be able to enjoy the two weeks I had alone. There were far more people going home for the holidays than there normally was. It made sense, parents were probably closer to their kids more than ever, due to the war. So when I entered the common room and found myself alone, I wasn't surprised. I quickly settled in on one of the couches, trying to get at least some schoolwork done. Wouldn't Hermione be proud, I chuckled.

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Trigger warning! Child abuse!

   "Get out here you little freak!" I heard Uncle Vernon shout. I quickly scrambled off my cot and ran down the stairs, trying not to anger my already enraged uncle any further. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was met with a sharp slap to the face.
   "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" I asked timidly, rubbing my stinging cheek. I dared not look up, it usually lead to worse beatings.
   "What do you call this?" He shouted, stepping forward and pointing in the direction of the kitchen. I looked over and blanched, surprised by my own stupidity. Stacked high in the sink were dishes from the breakfast I had made this morning, dishes that should've been washed an hour ago. Uncle Vernon started towards me, and I instinctually took a step back.
   "I'm sorry Uncle Vernon. I f-forgot." I stumbled over the last words, fearing what was to come. I heard him chuckle; never a good sign.
   "You're sorry? Sorry doesn't fix it, boy. Sorry doesn't do your chores!" He shouted, making me cringe. "Now go do those dishes, and then go to the bedroom!" He yelled, getting louder with every word. I quickly scrambled over to the kitchen, hoping that by doing them quickly, I would get out of the inevitable punishment coming my way. When I completed my task, I darted up the stairs to the bedroom. No one in the house ever referred to it as mine. I was simply borrowing space until they could be rid of me.
   When I opened the door, Uncle Vernon was already there, waiting with a belt in hand. I looked at it, eyes going wide. The reason I had forgotten to do the dishes in the first place was because the marks on my back reopened from the lashing I had received a few days before. Even now they were barely scabbed over.
   "Get over here, freak." He said, and I hastily complied. If I hesitated it would only make it worse. He looked at me, and I tore off my too big shirt. The belt was soon cracking over my back, the buckle leaving even deeper scars. I gasped in pain, tears flooding my eyes. The belt kept coming down. Over and over, ripping open old wounds. I finally let out a loud cry of pain.
 
Trigger warning over!

   I woke screaming, tears were running down my face. I ran to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet, retching. Nothing more than stomach acid came up. I stayed in that position until the seemingly endless heaving lessened, soon stopping completely. I rolled over, leaning against the wall, one leg stretched out and the other bent. I was still breathing hard from the nightmare, more accurately, the memory. It had happened the summer before fifth year, and was one of the worst beating I had ever suffered from my Uncle. The dream was so vivid it was as if he had relived it.
   I sighed and stood, swaying only slightly on my feet. I stood in front of the sink brushing my teeth, hoping to rid the acrid flavor of stomach acid from my mouth. After ten minutes, it was the best I could do. I went to my dresser and grabbed a few pieces of muggle clothing. Even now I still prefer them over wizarding robes. I took a quick shower and threw on the jeans and slim fitting grey shirt. Over the summer holidays Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had finally grown sick of Dudley's cast offs and ordered me to buy clothes that actually fit me properly.
   I decided to go to the Great Hall to at least appear as if I were eating. McGonagall would notice if I didn't show up, with so few people staying for the holidays. When I entered the Great Hall I saw only a few first years sitting at the single table left in the large room. They had always removed the other three, likely another failed attempt at 'house unity.' I quietly walked over to the open seat at the very end closest to the door. I grabbed some Pumpkin Juice and a single piece of toast, putting it on my plate. I took another glance at my surroundings, noting that there were no eighth years at all. Even Mal...Draco and Zabini had left.
   "Mr. Potter, may I speak with you in my office?" I heard the headmistress say from behind me, making me jump slightly. I looked back at her and nodded, hoping that this wasn't about what I had thought it was. I quickly got up and followed her.
   We swiftly walked through the corridors toward the Headmaster's office. Once again, I tried not to think of the previous Headmaster. Professor McGonagall spoke the password and I followed her up the stone steps. She shut the door behind us as we entered her office, reminding me of the previous time we had spoken here. I sat down when she motioned for me to do so.
   "Mr. Potter, I see no point in dancing around the subject, so I will simply ask. Why are you not eating?" She asked bluntly. I wasn't surprised at this, she was always a bit direct.
   "I believe you know why, Professor." I responded, and I saw her demeanor change slightly, becoming more somber.
   "The war was hard on all of us, you in particular. I understand you went to see Madame Pomfery at the beginning of term?" I nodded. "And I also understand that you haven't been back since, scuffle aside, despite her orders to take certain potions?" Another nod. She sighed. "Why have you refused?"
   "I don't need them. I've survived without them this far, I'll survive without them now." I said, only partially answering. The headmistress sighed again.
   "Please, Harry. Take the potions. Your friends are concerned for you, even a fool could see that." I hesitated, did Neville and Hermione rat me out? "No one needed to tell me. It's quite obvious." She said, practically reading my thoughts. "Now, go see Madame Pomfery. I will be down later to ensure that you do as you're told." She said, dismissing me. I practically sagged in my chair.
   I dragged my feet all the way to the Hospital Wing, wanting to turn back. I almost did a few times, but quickly remembered McGonagall's warning. I walked in the front door and was practically attacked by the Mediwitch.
   "Mr. Potter! It is about time you make your appearance!" She said. "Now lay down, I will go retrieve your potions." I internally groaned, but did as I was told. She soon walked back over to my bed, potions in hand. Before she handed me any she took off my glamour. I panicked, not wanting her to see, though she had before.
   "You seem to have gotten worse, Mr. Potter. Care to explain?" I shook my head, and she gave an exasperated sigh. She took one look at my arms, and quickly walked back into her supply room, immediately reappearing with a cream of some kind. "You must stop scratching at them, Mr. Potter. They will become infected." She rubbed the salve on my arms, and anywhere else there were scratch marks. It stung, but I ignored it, almost relieved at the pain. She then handed me each potion, waiting for me to drink all of it before handing me the next. She set one down on my bedside table for when I awoke, and handed me Dreamless Sleep. I downed it, grimacing at the taste. I felt the effects take hold a few moments after. Madame Pomfery, satisfied for now, walked back into her office. I covered myself and allowed myself to drift off into the potion induced sleep. Hoping the potion would do its job and relieve me from my nightmares, if only temporarily.