Chapter Text
Harry's depression started back in his 2nd year, he really felt like a freak because he could speak Parseltongue and even worse, the darkest evilest wizard could do too. The students at Hogwarts use to ignore him and whisper cruel things about him, they still do but mostly the Slytherins. But Harry could ignore his depression that year, all he really needed were his two best friends that didn't care what flaws he had because they accepted him for it. He was grateful for them.
The Dursleys were much meaner than they were in Harry's third year. Abusing was all they did to him, whether it was something little or big that he did. Like if he didn't hang out the washing, didn't clean the dishes right, burnt food, didn't clean the entire house.
Throughout summer holidays before Harry's 4th year, Harry had been feeling more depressed than ever. And oh, how he hated the Dursley's guts so much. Aunt Petunia always woke him up at 6 am in the morning and having to cook food for three people in the morning, and sometimes at dinner time, was really annoying and exhausting. He wasn't allowed to cook for himself, it was just pure slavery for what the Dursleys put Harry through.
It was one early morning; Harry was up at 4 watching the bright yellow ball rise over the land in the distance. He could never get enough sleep.
"Harry!" Aunt Petunia screeched, followed by her bony knuckles tapping against the door. "Get down here and start making breakfast!"
Harry groaned from under the blankets. It's too early for this! He thought as he got up and looked around for some clean clothes.
"Are you awake, boy?" Aunt Petunia screeched again. She banged the door with her broomstick. The noise was so loud and annoying, Harry couldn't go back to sleep even if he tried. With a spark of annoyance, Harry ran his hands through his messy hair and put on his glasses.
"Potter!"
"I'm awake!" Harry shouted with an eye roll. Oh, how he wished he could just be dead sometimes, so he doesn't have to do these chores or even live life. He'd rather be at Hogwarts, but even so, he would still have to complete all his work and study for little exams.
Aunt Petunia opened the door and wrinkled her nose at the mess called Harry's room. "Come down and start breakfast before your uncle wakes up, unless you want a morning punishment from him," she ordered. She was about to turn around and close the door when she added, "and clean this room after your chores today!" She gave her nephew a disapproving glare as she shut the door and left.
It was another summer day of cooking and cleaning; however, Harry did not mind as much because chores meant that he was busy and being busy kept his depression away for a few precious moments. Harry was starting breakfast when his aunt came in and started cleaning the countertops and the table. It was her pre-breakfast scrub down while Harry cooked. It was a routine that happened every morning since the summer started. A routine they followed in silence as Aunt Petunia ignored Harry, only speaking to him if she caught him cooking something the wrong way.
Harry would have eaten Dudley's leftovers, but he just wasn't hungry, he was never really hungry anymore, so he started the dishes. Can't they just sodding cook for themselves, and not force orders for me to do like a house-elf, Harry thought, feeling a rush of anger boil inside him as he was washing the dishes. He just finished washing a plate when Uncle Vernon came into the room in his yellow checkered Pajamas and orange sleeping gown.
Uncle Vernon gave Harry an angry glare, picked up his favourite mug and walked over to the kettle. He looked down into his mug and grunted. "Boy, what is the meaning of this?! There is black stuff in the bottom of my mug! Are you trying to poison me?!" he shouted angrily, letting spit fly out of his mouth which made Harry wince.
Harry quickly shook his head. He hated how angry his Uncle could get even if he didn't do anything wrong. "N-no sir," he stuttered out of fear but tried hiding it. He didn't want to appear weak in front of this man. "I would n-never do such a thing!"
"Lies!" Uncle Vernon shouted again.
Harry frowned and shook his head again, but quicker as he stared into the cold eyes of his Uncle. "I'm n-not lying!"
Uncle Vernon grunted angrily and walked out of the room and into the lounge room. He wandered over to his lounge chair and pulled something long out from underneath.
Harry saw it was the belt he'd always get beaten with, he quickly walked back slowly towards the stairs for an escape but Uncle Vernon came rushing into the room and grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him upstairs to his room. Harry struggled to get loose and knew it was going to be as bad as it was before. Uncle Vernon shoved Harry into his room, yanked the belt hard with each hand to test its strength and sneered at Harry.
Harry backed up, scared for what was coming next. He nearly tripped over a book that was laying on the floor. N-no! Not again! He watched as the figure of his Uncle walked over to him with the belt in his hands. The next thing he knew he was in pain, a lot of pain.
Uncle Vernon whipped Harry on the torso with his belt, snickering at the pain he could see all over the boy's face.
Harry yelled in pain, crying out, wanting someone to help him but he knew he deserved this pain. The second whip of the belt hit Harry on his stomach, he felt like he was going to be sick, so he laid on his stomach and tried to get up. He then knew that was a bad decision because Uncle Vernon then whipped him with the belt on his back before Harry could try and escape.
Harry screamed in pain again, wanting to curl up into a ball and cry forever. He thought that his friends would call him a freak if they knew what the Dursleys all did to him. Then the fourth whip of the belt came, hitting Harry harder over the back. The young Gryffindor tried to hold back more tears, but they just kept falling from his eyes. He waited for the last whip to come, but it didn't. He slowly looked over his shoulder but still saw Uncle Vernon crouching over him.
"You get no food for a week, boy!" Uncle Vernon roared at Harry, hit him with the belt again then left the room.
Harry just lay there, crying silently, he hated this. He just wanted to die, none of his friends could help him. Harry believed that his friends probably wouldn't try helping him because they thought he was a freak.
He started having an episode, and a bad one. It was about a year ago, getting caned by Uncle Vernon in the bathroom. He remembered bleeding lots as well as spewing up his own blood. The tears just kept on falling off his face and onto the carpet at the pain he is in and has been in.
Once Harry had enough energy, he got himself up and crept to the bathroom. He locked the bathroom door behind him, walked over to the sinks and stood in front of the mirror. He looked at his self in the mirror; a pale, messy, black-haired boy stared back at him. His hair was damp like he had just come inside from the rain, though Harry knew it was sweat.
Harry felt more tears run down his cheeks, he looked away from the mirror and opened the cupboard doors under the sink. He just looked through everything in the cupboard until something caught his eye, a shaver. It was brand new, still in its packet and looked really sharp. Harry then felt this familiar feeling come over him, he felt so down, so depressed and he really needed to cut.
He's been cutting himself for a while now. Almost five months. He deserved every cut he slashed into his skin. It all numbed him from the pain he was feeling on the inside. He really liked the numb feeling too. It was like a break from reality, a break from the pain.
Harry rolled up his sleeve and stared at his bare arm. His arm had a few little scratch marks from weeks and months ago when he used his nails for harming himself when he didn't have his scissors with him. He crouched down and looked through the bathroom cupboard and grabbed some scissors from the back of the shelf, looking at the sharpness of the metal. He sat down and before he knew it, he zoned out, still staring blankly at the scissors. He started slicing at his wrist, watching his skin form marks and then a small line of blood. It was so beautiful, like raindrops falling down a window in a storm. The overwhelming wave of numbness hit him. He wanted to see more and feel number. He sliced, again and again, the last cut the hardest, most painful and the deepest. I deserve this pain. I'm just a freak who shouldn't even be living, he thought as he sliced one more time to make five cuts in total.
Harry got up off the floor, washed and dried the blood off his arm and then rolled his sleeves back down. He put the scissors in his trousers pocket, unlocked the bathroom door and went down to the lounge room.
Harry snuck into the lounge room where Aunt Petunia was watching the news and hid behind a chair. He heard a news reporter say that a girl committed suicide due to her mother being an alcohol addict and was abusing her. The news reporter says she had been suffering from depression and anxiety and that she'd had self-harm cuts all up to her arms due to a razor blade.
Harry heard Aunt Petunia say, "What a disgrace her mother is! Poor child, she doesn't deserve that treatment." Harry cringed at his Aunt's statement, and how Uncle Vernon treats him and how she does nothing but snicker as she hears his screams of pain.
That night, Harry was up in his room with his curtains and windows open. He felt the cool breeze against his skin and looked out at the moon. It was shining beautifully amongst the stars in the night sky. The moon kind of reminded Harry of a certain silver-eyed blonde Slytherin who's given him such a weird warm tingling feeling in his heart since the end of the second year. Even the thought of the Slytherin gave him butterflies in his stomach, but those butterflies flew away as he started remembering what Uncle Vernon did to him.
Harry felt the familiar depression drown him deeper into his sadness, so he scratched at his arm. He scratched and scratched at his arm, feeling the pain numb him of his emotions. He was then feeling a little sleepy, so he lay his head on his pillow, felt the cool breeze against his skin and drifted off.
*****
The Dursleys all ignored Harry like he never existed the next week. Harry believed that being ignored by them was good, he always went up to his room to read over all of his textbooks from when he first started at Hogwarts. He read books on transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, Charms, Herbology and Potions. Harry actually learnt more when reading than actually being taught by a professor. He read over the potions he made during the first, second and third year of Hogwarts. Potions actually looked easy, it was just when Snape was breathing down your neck, that it was harder to do because of the pressure. Transfiguration seemed easy as well, just picturing the spell in your head and what it will do then casting that spell. When reading, it took his mind off his depression a little bit. It helped him, but after an hour it became useless.
He suddenly felt like Hermione, reading as her only hobby. As Harry got to know Hermione when starting Hogwarts, he always wondered how someone could read that much and not get bored at all. Now he knew why she loved reading, learning new things was kind of fun. Even if it was some muggle book about friendship or love, you can always learn something new by books.
One day Harry felt like he had literally nothing fun to do, (even though he liked reading) whilst living with the Dursleys. He could go for a walk to just head into town, but he had no money to buy a coffee or lunch. He could have sat outside in the gardens, but no, he was just feeling too depressed to do anything he'd like to do. So, he just stayed in his room, doing nothing unless Aunt Petunia wanted him to do something productive.
Harry was down by the gardens, weeding the last of the plants as instructed. He was picking up the bits of grass that started growing around the rose bush. It took him a good five minutes of weeding until he was done. He decided to go for a walk but didn't exactly know where he was headed.
He passed barking dogs and neighbours mowing the lawn until he reached a destination. An old graveyard. It was just a plot of land with a large black spiky fence, dead grass, mausoleums, and tombstones. He walked through the large black gate and followed a stone pathway until he was in front of a large statue of an angel. He sat down in front of it, staring up at it and wondered what it'd be like to be in heaven until he heard the sounds of knuckles being cracked. He quickly got up from the ground and turned around, Dudley Dursley and his friends were there and ready for a fight.
Dudley had a smirk to his lips and his stance made him look taller than everyone else. "Well, well, well. Who do we have here? Little Harry. All alone, so vulnerable," he said in a baby-like tone. Dudley's friends all snickered at Harry, and Harry frowned and turned away. He just wants to be alone. Is that all he can ask for?
"Go away, Dudley," Harry said when staring up at the angel. If only guardian angels exist, then would one be looking after him? How he wishes so. "All of you, just leave me alone."
"Or what?" Dudley asked as he cracked his knuckles again, clearly amused at how brave his cousin is. But all Harry wanted was to be left alone. Probably for eternity so he can die and rot here in this graveyard.
Harry got out his wand, pointed it directly at Dudley's face. He knew he wasn't allowed to use magic, but he'd mock his cousin any day just to see him run away and looking all scared. And if it is the only way to get his alone time, then so be it.
Dudley's friends all laughed at Harry and how brave he was being. They have never seen such bravery before, especially in their victims.
"Oh, what's Potter going to do?" asked one of the brown-haired boys, pouting at the black-haired spectacled boy. The pout turned into a sinister smile as he said, "Throw a stick?"
"Oh my, I'm so scared!" teased a blonde shaggy-haired boy, and he waved his hands in the air in fake surrender.
"fa*ggot," shouted another boy with short brown hair as he saw Harry looking at his best friend, Justin, who's the richest in the squad. He knew Justin was gay, and he secretly accepts it. He's the only one who knows Justin is gay. They've grown up together for most of their life.
Dudley backed away for a few steps and raised his arms in surrender. He knew just how dangerous this wand was, especially in the hands of a wizard. He also knows that his little cousin can't use magic outside of Hogwarts. "Get him!" he suddenly shouted as he didn't want to appear scared in front of his mates.
Harry took that as a cue and ran for his life. Running through the black cemetery gates, turning a corner as he reached a cul-de-sac and ran straight to a park, surrounded with a lot of trees. He looked behind him and still saw his cousin and his friends chasing after him. Dudley's friends were a lot faster than Dudley was since they were all skinny.
Harry ran and ran, looking back again and kept running until he was at the park. He raced through the park, jumping over small shrubs, ducking from low tree branches and zig-zagged through the lines of trees. He looked behind him for what felt like the 30th time, didn't see Dudley or his friends and ducked behind a tree. Panting, he glanced around his surroundings again but there was still no sign of his cousin.
Harry felt something hard hit him, he collapsed onto the ground and heard someone shout. But he couldn't quite catch what they were saying because he was a bit dizzy. He looked up to the person above him and saw that it was none other than Dudley. He tried his best to slowly back away, but someone grabbed a hold of him and yanked him up off the ground to his feet.
Harry blinked a couple of times, his vision blurry. Suddenly, a hand crossed his face and placed his glasses on his nose. "Thanks," he mumbled even if he knew he shouldn't be thanking these idiots. His vision came back, and he noticed that he was crowded by Dudley and his gang.
Dudley and his friends snickered at Harry. He then took a swing at Harry, punching him in the stomach. One of Dudley's blonde friends punched Harry in the jaw and another friend with brown hair punched him in the back.
Harry yelped in pain, falling back to the floor with a loud 'thump' and feeling something runny in his mouth. He spat at the floor, revealing a lot of blood, and crawled over back to the tree. He didn't make it as the blonde shaggy-haired friend of Dudley's started kicking him in the ribs.
"Stop! That's enough!" Dudley seemed a little apprehensive now, and Harry had no idea why. "Let him suffer here, he's the least of our problems," he said as he hesitated at the sight of his cousin, turned around and began walking back towards home.
"Oh, C'mon! We just started!" yelled the blonde shaggy-haired boy, who sounded extremely delighted at the sight of Harry who was all bloody and covered in dirt.
Dudley turned back around swiftly and shouted, "No! We had our playtime. Let's see if we can find someone else!" Harry thought that he saw... guilt in his cousins' eyes but he knew he was mistaken. It must have been the sunlight reflecting off his glasses.
Harry coughed up more blood, spitting and spluttering more. He hurt all over, his mouth, stomach, and ribs. He tried his best to get back up, but only managed to fall over. He lay there, wheezing for air and feeling his eyes burn with tears. He wanted to die right here and to be eaten alive by animals during the night. He wouldn't care about what happens to his body, he just wanted to be gone from this world. He is a burden and a freak after all. He was a mistake. He should have died instead of his parents.
Another one of Dudley's friends, a tall skinny boy with short wavy black hair and a pointy face with a strong British accent didn't leave with his friends and frowned at Harry. He turned his head to look at his departing friends. Well, so-called friends. He really didn't know why he was friends with those gits, the only reason why he was so close to them is because of his mother and father who are filthy rich and want him to have strong 'sidekicks'.
Harry managed to look up at the boy, whimpering and hoping the boy wasn't going to give him something worse. But he had to admit, that face was very handsome, and those soft brown eyes stared down at him with concern were very pretty.
The boy moved around the tree, so his 'friends' couldn't see him and crouched beside the boy whose name he knew was Harry. He stared down at Harry with that same frown, seeing the familiar emptiness in the boy's eyes as he did with his deceased big sister. He missed her so much. Killed by suicide because of bullying. He pulled those thoughts away and moved his hand up to Harry's forehead. Harry flinched, which made the boy pull his hand back an inch.
"Shh..." the boy whispered, staring into bright green eyes with worry. "I'm sorry...for what they did to you. I wish I could stop them."
Harry just stared at the boy in disbelief, not knowing what the boy was doing. "Then w-why are you, friends, with such...idiots?" he whimpered with a shaky breath but tried to hiss out the words. He didn't want to have anything to do anything with Dudley's friends, no matter if they are handsome or not. Well, this dude was the only handsome one in the gang.
The boy sighed and shook his head. He really doubts why he's friends with them too. "You don't understand what being rich is like, Harry," he said softly, giving a little smile. "Having a father and a mother who wants you to be friends with a certain type of people. Father calls them sidekicks, even if Dudley's the main boy of the group. I just wish I could...hex him into oblivion."
Harry stared at the boy in disbelief. He didn't know Dudley had wizard friends. But if Dudley knew, wouldn't he be scared of Justin? "You're a...?"
"My name's Justin, and yes," Justin said with a quick nod. He winked at the younger boy, grabbed his black wand from his coat pocket and pointed it at the other wizard's forehead, muttering a cleansing and healing spell.
Harry thought the other wizard would hex him, and he wouldn't have cared. He let the boy named Justin heal him, feeling the warm calming magic overwhelm his senses. "You've kept this from Dudley and his friends all this time? And aren't you Dudley's age?"
Justin shook his head and brushed a few bloody strands of Harry's hair out of his green eyes, "Harry, you know it's illegal to use underage magic and why would I risk my life to tell Dudley and his gang of idiots?"
Harry could have laughed, and the gentle touch from Justin suddenly calmed him down but it wasn't enough to make his pain go away. "Thank you, Justin." He tried to smile at the boy, but he could only muster a fake smile. It's all he really did now. Fake a smile. He even pondered if his friends are fake and are only friends with him because of his fame. What friends they would be... It's not like he needs them when all he needs is the sharpness of his scissor' blade. And they wouldn't care that he cries himself to sleep every night. It's something he has done for a while now. He has contemplated suicide too. There are sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet in the kitchen above the fridge... If only he could steal it and take it to his room... That will be the end of it. Just like that.
Justin smiled at Harry. At least he couldn't read minds. "It's no problem, Harry." He looked deep into those dull green eyes, either a forest green or an emerald green but he couldn't tell, "I hope this makes you feel a little better by saying it, but you have really pretty eyes."
Harry felt his cheeks warm up from the compliment as he stared into soft brown eyes, and a tinge of red appeared on his cheeks. "Thank you, again." It honestly didn't make him feel any better. This was only one person out of a whole world of seven billion people.
Justin nodded and placed a soft kiss to the wizard's cheek, hearing the sharp intake of breath from the younger boy. He stood back up, looked around his surroundings for muggles in view, smiled at the boy and apparated away.
Harry gave a small but fake smile and cupped his hand over his cheek the boy kissed. It lingered there, like if you stuck a lollipop to your skin but it was a nice feeling. He felt bad for liking the kiss. Was it acceptable to like guys? Harry didn't know but he hoped it was. But even if it weren't, he would just feel worse about himself. His self-esteem lowers every day.
The ringing of another one of Dudley's friends shouting 'fa*ggot' kept repeating itself. Harry frowned and really felt like a freak. The pain came back as he moved his leg. A sharp pain it was. He felt like a weak idiot and tried to get back up again. This time, he managed to stand up but felt the dizziness overwhelm him, so he quickly leaned his whole body against the tree. He stayed there for a while until the dizziness left, then he limped his way back to the house. God, he hated his life.
That night, Harry looked down at the floor in his room and thought back a week ago to the news and how the girl used to cut her wrists. He thought about that for a moment, his scratching and cutting with the scissors helped him a bit but not a lot. Harry did want to die, and he wants to stop his emotional pain and feel anything but sad and lonely. So, he quietly got up off his bed and headed to the bathroom.
He walked over to the bathroom sink cupboard and opened it up. He saw the new shaving razor inside the cupboard, grabbed it and then quietly hurried back to his room, silently closing the door behind him.
Harry sat on his bed with the razor, took off its packet and studied it carefully. He ran a finger down the blades of the shaving razor and noticed it made his finger bleed a bit. He smiled sadly and sighed. He wanted to undo the blades from the razor, so he grabbed his scissors and cut off the head of the shaving razor as well as the top rim. He grabbed a blade and took it off, and just like that it came off. Harry managed to get the other blades out as well and hid them in different places in his room in case the one he would use became lost.
Harry returned to his bed with the single blade in his right hand, he rolled up his left blue pyjama sleeve and studied his bare scarred arm. He brought the blade to his left arm and slowly but quickly sliced the blade across his arm vertically. He let out a hiss of pain as he watched the blood slowly form in the cut he made. This is good, this pain is good, he thought as he watched the drops of blood slowly fall down his wrist.
He felt like he needed to make more and so he did. One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four. Harry watched his blood form in his new cuts, watching as they ran down his arms. He got a whiff of his own blood, a strong metallic smell and he liked this feeling of numbness, so he rolled down his sleeve and placed his new friend into a hole in the neck of a teddy bear that he had always had. He tried getting some sleep but couldn't, so he just sat up in bed and stared outside at the street below him.
*****
Harry sighed miserably as he hopped into the back seat of the car. It was shopping day which means he'll be doing most of the heavy lifting. Merlin, he hates his life.
"Stop your complaining, Harry, and shut up," Petunia spat, glaring at him through the rearview mirror of the car. Dudley hopped into the front seat of the car next to his mother and smiled viciously at his cousin through the mirror.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry says and gets "rewarded" by Dudley farting in front of him. Harry winces and moves to the other side of the car, behind his auntie. He frowns and looks out the window as the car starts and Petunia starts driving to the shopping centre.
He mainly looked outside at the views of every house, street, car, and buildings they pass on their way. He ignored Dudley's farts, rude words, and terrible singing for as long as he could. The unfortunate thing was that Petunia locked his door and window from the driver's seat so he couldn't wind down the windows when Dudley's farts start stinking up the entire car.
They finally get to the shopping centre and Petunia finds a parking space not so far away from the actual place. Harry hops out of the car and pulls his hoodie up over his head, pulling on the chords a little and not wanting to go in at all but he must. His hoodies are his way of feeling a little uncomfortable and blocking out the rest of the world.
Petunia locks the car after getting the shopping bags from the boot and gestures her son and nephew forward towards Aldi. Of course, Dudley gives Harry a hard smack across the head like always and then catches up to his mother.
Harry frowns and really wishes a car can come speeding through the car park and hit him hard enough to kill him. While scratching at his cuts from underneath his sleeve, he slowly catches up to his relatives and follows them inside. As instructed to like always, he grabs a shopping cart and begins the slow journey of following his aunt around Aldi, only stopping when she puts items in the trolley.
All Harry does is push the trolley around and follows his aunt. He even catches sight of a few boys that look his age but they're always with girls who are probably are their girlfriends.
Dudley elbows Harry hard in the rib, making Harry hiss and clutch at his ribcage. "You really think you will ever find love?" he sneers as they walk past a few more girls, and he stands tall and winks at them. The girls giggle and quickly run off. It made Dudley feel proud. "Because a face and body like yours, I believe nobody would love you. Your mother and father even died because of how ugly you are."
Harry begins to feel the tears well up in his eyes at what Dudley's telling him. He even is believing Dudley, even if he knows he shouldn't. Every word that pours out of Dudley's mouth is like a saw that will rip into Harry's flesh and bury the words deep inside him. Is he really that... ugly? No, he couldn't be. He must keep telling himself that. He is not ugly! But He's just starting to believe it, and it really isn't helping his mental health at all.
Dudley smirked, feeling his power of superiority increasing as he stalks away from his so-called cousin. Harry's frown deepens as he continued to follow Aunt Petunia around the aisles in Aldi until they got to the meat section. His emotional walls were strengthening and growing higher with every person that looks at him strangely and Merlin, how he just wants to run away to somewhere and just stay there. All he needs to do is dins a rope, tie a noose, and just... find a tree or find a bridge to jump of. It would just fix everything, won't it? No more judgmental people looking at him.
He hid himself well under his hoodie and kept his hoodie down and over his head where he feels a little safe and secure. People still were staring at him, and he really was feeling like he was close to dropping off the edge now. The tears began to fall down his face, so he quickly looked down so nobody could see. What was their problem? Did he have anything on his face- Oh, of course? The bloody scar. Thanks, Voldemort.
Harry's head then began to start spinning and he just didn't understand this at all. Not only that but he was also feeling a wave of dizziness hit him hard over the head. The walls, the people, the checkout, the aisles all started spinning around him and his heart was gunning against his chest as well as his breathing which deepened rapidly. The bloody hell is happening to him.
"Hey, are you okay?" a deep but soft voice asked.
Harry couldn't comprehend who said that. All he knows is that Dudley and Aunt Petunia don't sound like that at all. His eyes were trying to scan the room and what was around him, but he could only see blurry people around him.
He just couldn't take this any more. He had to get away so that is exactly what he did. He ran, back out of Aldi and around the corner into an alleyway to take a breather. He leaned his back up against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried his hardest to breathe. The only sounds that were coming from his mouth were slight wheezes. Merlin, he just hated this. He wanted to die, to just leave this earth and never return.
"Harry!"
Harry's eyes shot open when hearing his name being called and looked to who called for him. It was his auntie and cousin. He just simply could not hear what his Aunt said. The roar in his ears was too loud, the thoughts racing through his mind were too loud, his heart pounding in his chest was too loud, it all was sodding too loud! Why can't he just die now so he doesn't have to deal with the punishments or whatever he'll be getting?
Harry then felt a sharp sting over his face and he just comprehended he had been slapped by his Aunt. He fell to the floor, on all fours, still wheezing but at least he had a little more oxygen to breath. His 's eyes were as wide as they could possibly get, and they darted around and tried to take in their surroundings. But it was pointless; he could hardly concentrate on a thing. He was just in so much pain too!
"Harry! Snap out of it!" Petunia hit him across the face again, this time it was harder. Harry inhaled sharply and everything around him began to focus. Honestly, he would rather suffer than see everything clearly again.
Dudley growled as he helped his cousin up and shoved him forward, making Harry quickly hurry to the car without being told to. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to leave the earth. When he saw the car's lights flicker, meaning that Petunia had unlocked the car, he quickly opened the back door of the car and hopped in.
The trip back to 4 Privet Drive was quite short, and Harry found out that Petunia had finished her shopping right after his little... whatever happened to him. He really didn't know what it was. Could it have been a panic attack?
Harry had to carry all the shopping bags in himself since he wasn't there to put the shopping bags in the car. What a "great" day it's been. As the last shopping bags were carried in, and he locked the car up and placed the keys on the kitchen table, Harry rushed up to his bedroom, grabbed his blade and went to the bathroom on the other side of the hall.
He locked the door behind him, rolled up his sleeve and digs his blade deep into his flesh. Harry hisses as he drags the blade across his arm, giving him numbness automatically from how much it hurt him physically. He started crying as he sees the blood start forming on the flesh line he made and dripping down his arm quite rapidly. It's the deepest he's ever cut, and he just doesn't care. If he bleeds to death he just wouldn't care. The words Dudley told him in Aldi came back to him in seconds. Unwanted, unloved, and ugly. Wanting to be more dazed, he slices at his skin again with great force until another deep line of blood formed and trickled down his arm. He actually added another eight cuts to his arm just to get him through the day or even a couple of days.
A loud banging, and it could only have been from a fist, was heard from the bathroom door. "Boy! Are you in there!"
Harry froze at the sound of his Uncle's voice and quickly managed to put his blade in the pocket of his hoodie. He didn't want to be found out, especially not by his uncle. Who knows what his Uncle would do to him then? "Yes, Uncle. I'm here." Can't he get some actual effin privacy? Jesus...
"GET OUT HERE NOW!" Uncle Vernon roared at him from the other side of the bathroom door. Harry sighs and opens the door after pulling down his long sleeves to cover the cuts. He hasn't even cleaned up his cuts so he's currently bleeding under his hoodie still. That's okay. Unexpectedly, he gets hit across the face by his Uncle and pushed to his room. He stumbles forward a bit but manages to pick himself up and rushes into his room from the hallway.
Uncle Vernon manages to grab him by the hoodie, throw him on the floor of his bedroom and beat him with his belt. Harry cried out in pain, just wishing the belt had knives on them or something sharp that is able to stab and kill him quickly. The next hit made him cry out to his deceased parents, wanting them to take this pain away. This life. Just to take it all away.
"You are a disgrace to this family and world!" Vernon shouted right into Harry's ear, gave him one last hard smack with the belt then left the room. Harry just cried, curling up into a ball on the floor and wished for his death to happen. It never came, of course. So, after a few minutes had ended, he used all his strength and got up onto his bed. He lowered himself onto his bed, so he stared up at the ceiling and really contemplated why he was even alive. What was the point in life? Did life even have a meaning? Harry just didn't believe so.
Wiping away the endless tears from his eyes, he decided to sneak down to the kitchen to the medicine cabinet. That is what he did so. He made sure his Aunt and Uncle was nowhere in sight and grabbed the small blue bottle with a white lid and label of white pills in it and rushed back up to his room. He paused when he passed Dudley's room. He just had to be sure of things... So, he knocked on his cousin's bedroom door.
Warning: Suicide Attempt!!!
Dudley's bedroom door opened and there he was, Dudley but listening to music through his grey headphones. He sneered at his cousin and began to shut his door again as he doesn't want to waste his time with such a dweeb, but Harry kept the door open. "What is it, you prat?" he spat at him. "What do you want?"
"I'm just here to ask if you would miss me or even care if I died," Harry askes of him in a flat tone of voice, not really caring what comes out of his cousin's mouth but he just had to ask. It would be at least nice to know if someone were to miss him, not that anyone will.
"No, you idiot!" Dudley scowled at him, not interested in what his cousin has to say or do. He just wants to go back to his video game with his mates. It's all he wants right now.
Harry sighs miserably as that's all he really needed to hear. "Oh," He says sadly and rattled the bottle of pills in Dudley's sight, half smiling at him. "Goodbye then." Dudley rolls his eyes and slams the door in his cousin's face.
Harry didn't even flinch from the door which slammed pretty loudly in front of him. He begins the slow journey back to his room, feeling his tears form in his eyes as he unscrews the lid from the bottle just to be ready. Goodbye world. The world only judged him anyway so why bother living? He angles the bottle to the side so two pills fall out onto his hand and he shoves it in his mouth without water for him to help the process of swallowing. Goodbye Ron and Hermione. He tips the bottle upside down until ten pills fall out onto his hands and he sighed. He could already feel the effects of the first two pills making him sleepy but that's not what he wants. He just wants this to end. Someone else can save the Wizarding World.
"What are you doing?!"
Harry froze, looked to his side and fount his cousin staring at him with disgust and... He couldn't see what that other emotion was, and he didn't care. Without a care, he shoved the pills in his mouth and tried swallowing them all. Of course, they all didn't go down easy and in a couple of seconds, everything started to spin and he felt some gross frothy liquid start coming up his throat.
Dudley's eyes widened at his cousin and what he had just done. Earlier when he slammed the door shut on his cousin's face after seeing the bottle of pills, he just knew something was up. He didn't think it would be this prejudicial.
He rushed over to his cousin so he wouldn't fall splat on the floor, and from behind, he tried to make his cousin vomit the pills up by pushing into his stomach with his hands. He could feel Harry slowly slipping away, and this ooze was coming from the inside of his cousin's mouth which was just disgusting and smelt like chemicals. "Come on, you prat!" He continued pumping Harry's stomach until he heard a gagging and vomiting sound, so he sighed with relief but kept pumping his cousin's stomach.
Harry's eyes shot open, he no longer saw darkness, and he vomited up everything he had swallowed. He began sobbing at what he had just tried to attempt. He wanted death anyway. There was not any reason to live. Seeing the vomited-up pills on the ground just made him vomit more and more pills up. He didn't recall swallowing so many pills. Wiping his mouth, he got up and went back to his bed where the rest of the pills were. That's when he saw Dudley.
"You idiot! What the bloody hell is going through your head, you attention-seeking prat!" Dudley quarrelled and went over to Harry's bed to put all the non-used pills back in the bottle and seal it shut. "Don't you ever make me help you like that again as the next time I'll just leave you where I found you." With a small frown, he left the room and shut the door behind him.
Harry frowned at the floor where he vomited. Looks like he's got some cleaning up to do. What he didn't like was how his suicide attempt failed because of Dudley. Attention seeking prat is what Dudley called him. Yeah, sure. Let's go with that then. It appears that he's an attention-seeking prat. How utterly nice. That will totally make him feel better. Thanks, Dudley.
You're safe now from suicide Attempts!
For the rest of the day, Harry's been getting strange looks from Dudley and he just chooses to ignore him. It's all he really could do now. He's been trying to act as happy and optimistic as he could but thinks he failed that test. Oh well. Even during dinner, he had caught Dudley giving him glances every now and then like he was looking through his soul for the hidden truths locked inside himself. Good luck finding those secrets. They're hidden too deep within himself.
*****
Harry remembered he could go to the Weasleys for the rest of his summer. It was really hard trying to get himself out of bed, but he managed to do so. As much as he was excited, he also was a little frightened because what if a Weasley sibling walks in on him cutting in the bathroom? He just has no other place inside the burrow that was private enough except for the bathroom. Outside was definitely not an option either.
Harry got dressed, he pulled off his pyjama tops and felt a sting of pain in his left arm. He looked down at his arm and saw a whole lot of blood smudged everywhere on that arm. What a way to start a morning. Merlin! He quickly ran up to the bathroom to wash off the dried blood on his arm and pondered whether or not he should clean up the blood after cutting, but the sight of his own blood dripping down his arm was so enthralling and he just wanted to watch it for a while.
Harry snapped out of his thoughts because of a loud movement downstairs and headed back to his bedroom. He started to pack everything he needed to go to the Weasleys. Why didn't I start packing yesterday? Goddammit! he thought as he rushed to get as much into his trunk as he could until he caught sight of the little teddy containing his new best friend. Harry packed his little friend from inside the teddy, in case he needed it and put it inside an old muggle history book. He searched his room for another one of his blades which was situated behind a picture of his deceased mother and father. He grabbed that blade just in case he lost his main one and hid it in an old sock.
Harry stared at the picture of his mother and father and frowned at them as tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry, mom and dad, that I've turned out this way," he told their happy faces. He wished he were happy, with best friends, a boyfriend- which he understands now that he wants. He's just not interested in girls and has never been. Well, he just hasn't found a girl to lay eyes on. Only a guy whose name is Draco Malfoy. Malfoy has taken his heart and locked it up in a trap of love so nobody else can get to it. "I don't blame you, of course," he said, shaking his head while a tear fell from his eye. "I blame myself. We all should be alive together, living a happy life but no. Fate made me this way and I know that someday I won't be able to take this pain anymore. So, I'll see you in heaven someday. Probably sooner than you think. I love you guys."
Frowning deeply, he packed up the rest of his things, locked them up in his trunk and headed downstairs. He hesitated as he walked down the stairs of the smiling faces of the Weasleys. "Oh... Hello." He didn't sound very happy to see them.
"Hello, dear," Mrs Weasley says brightly and sends Harry's trunk down the stairs towards Ron with just a little flick of her wand. Harry gives them all a smile, and anxiously pulls down his sleeves. A habit he's been doing for quite some time.
A slight cough was heard in the living room, but none of the Weasley's paid attention to it. Harry was the only one who looked to who the cough came from and saw Dudley sitting in his dad's armchair. He frowned as Dudley smirked at him. Bloody git...
"Hi Harry!" Ron said cheerfully when holding up his best mates' trunk, and Harry looks at him and fakes a smile. But then he sees the bruise on Harry's jaw, and focusses his eyes a little to look at it more. He wasn't the only one who spots the bruise as Fred and George both go up to Harry and inspects the bruise.
"Whoa, Harry," said Fred a little worriedly, and raises his eyebrows. "What happened here?" He points to his own right jaw but studies the bruise a little further. Harry's anxiety suddenly goes through the roof and he curses himself for not taking care of the bruise from the punch Dudley's friend gave him or even bandaging it up. He looks to Dudley, who gave him a serious look to say he should lie and that's exactly what Harry did.
"Um... nothing," Harry said quickly, not looking them in the eye and instead, looking down at the floor. He wouldn't tell them, of course. He doesn't want them to worry either way. The disbelieving looks the twins and Ron were giving him made him sigh. He had to at least tell them something, but not relating to what really happened.
"I was just cleaning, and I bumped my jaw on the end of the kitchen island," he told them. That wasn't so hard, and it seemed like a good lie. But that was it. He lied to them. The only people who actually give a sh*t about him. Well, he hopes they do anyway. "It happens. No need to worry." He doesn't even feel bad for lying. Merlin, what a freak he is.
"Oh, well a good healing spell will heal that up in a few seconds," said George suddenly, leading Harry over to his family with a hand on the small of Harry's back. He didn't seem to believe Harry much and so did his twin.
"Yes, a spell," was all Harry said but he didn't want the bruise to be healed. He liked the pain and he wanted it to last for as long as he can endure it. With the Weasley's, he Flooed to the Burrow by the fireplace in the Dursley's household and ended up in the lounge room of the Burrow.
"Come here, dear," said Mrs Weasley to Harry as she Accioed the red armchair towards her. She patted the armchair's back to let him know she wanted him to sit down so she could do the simple spell. "Let's fix your bruise up."
"Oh, you don't have to," Harry says uneasily, rubbing at his elbows. He felt a little uncomfortable now. He never lets anyone heal him anymore as they might roll up his sleeves. "The bruise can heal on its own. It's fine."
"Harry dear, it's really not a problem at all," Mrs Weasley said gently with sympathy and kind eyes. "You're mistaken if you think that I wouldn't leave that knowable bruise on your face." Harry eventually nodded and sat on the chair, looking down and away from worried eyes. He felt a little vulnerable here, like his sleeves were down but they thankfully were not.
"All done," Mrs Weasley said, and Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Yes, I'm done," she said when seeing Harry's mouth open to say something back. How could she be done? He didn't even hear her cast a spell or anything that feels like healing magic occur to him. He felt nothing.
"Thank you," Harry says softly and a little gratefully complete with a forced smile. He went to reach for his trunk, but it wasn't anywhere in the room. It occurred to him that either Fred or George took his trunk up to Ron's room. They didn't have to though. He was able to do it himself and he didn't want anyone to do things for him.
"Oh, it's no problem," said Mrs Weasley, waving a friendly hand at him. "Now why don't you go upstairs with Ron and get everything ready?" she suggested. Harry wanted to get away and be alone, even if it means he must escape into the bathroom for a few minutes, so he accepted her suggestion and followed Ron up to his bedroom.
His trunk was already on the spare bed in Ron's room and he rushed towards it. he didn't really need to do anything except put his clothes away in Ron's spare cupboard. He has no idea where he will hide his blades, but he will find a spot. Or he will just leave it in the book he previously had it in. That's a safe place, right?
Ron sat on his bed and watched as his best mate began putting his clothes away. He has noticed something in Harry's demeanour though. He isn't dumb. "Mate... are you alright?" he asked softly.
Harry looked at him and gave his best mate an assuring nod and smile. He hates that question. It's such a lie. "Yes, Ron," he assures him with as much guarantee as he could. He didn't think the tone worked well but that is fine. "I'm fine."
Ron looked at him, studying his best mates face for the truth. "Okay, I believe you," he said but he didn't really sound believing at all. Harry winced at the tone. Ouch. He hated himself for lying but what could he tell him? He would never tell Ron about what he goes through. It'll just lead to calling names, hatred, and ignoring as Harry believes. So, he plans to keep quiet.
*****
The Weasleys were like a real family to Harry and it made him a little grateful. They feed him right, treated him like he was a part of their family and showed Harry that they care and appreciate his existence. Not like the Dursleys ever did, and how miserable and alone they made him feel. He would still scratch at his cuts from time to time when he is spiralling deeper into his mental state. He didn't care about who was looking because it would just seem like an everyday gesture. But still, he always found ways to cut when the Weasleys weren't around. He mostly cut at night when they were all asleep so he could relieve his emotional pain. Except for one night.
Harry woke up with a racing heart one night because of a memory a couple of years back.
"Come here, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted.
Harry only shook his head. He was five years old. Tears welled up in his eyes and his limbs quivered in fear. Uncle Vernon growled in frustration and yanked Harry towards him by the arm. His shoulder wrenched in pain. Harry gave a small squeak of pain and fear. "I'll be good, Uncle Vernon. Please, I'll be good, I promise! Just let me go!" Harry cried at the intense pain. "It hurts!" he cried.
The words echoed in Harry's mind. It hurts! Everything hurts! He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing mind. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. They were warm and fast. His throat choked up; his whole body began to shake. His uncle's screams began to echo in his head.
The pain he felt that day, when Uncle Vernon pulled his arm out of the socket, came back to him alive and burning. Harry held his shoulder with his left hand, remembering his uncle's words. "You deserve that pain you little freak! That's what you get for even living in my house! This should teach you to misbehave again!"
He looked over at Ron who was sleeping soundlessly in his own bed. He sighed miserably as he wished he could sleep for hours. He tried his best to go back to sleep when he calmed down but all he could do was wait. Wait until the morning came. But with a silent "Tempus," he knew it was around 3:25 in the morning. The memory-nightmare made him feel utterly worse. So, he quietly got up out of bed, grabbed his metal friend from his trunk and headed to the bathroom. He locked the door, walked over to the sink, and sat beside it. He felt the cold metal in his hands, rolled up his left sleeve and stared at the familiar cut's he's made in the past seven months.
Harry sliced the blade across some untouched skin on his arm four times, watching as the line he made became red on his skin. He let the blood flow for a while, watching as tiny drops of blood, similar to tears rolled down his arm and dropped onto the floor. 'Drip', 'drip', 'drip' was all he could hear until he heard a movement from one of the rooms. He quickly got up off the floor, placed his blade in his chest pocket of his pyjamas and headed over to the toilet.
He grabbed some toilet paper and wrapped it around his fresh cuts watching as the white toilet paper slowly formed red lines of blood and spread. The cuts stung as they kept bleeding under the toilet paper. Harry cleaned up the small droplets of blood from on the floor with some more toilet paper.
Harry then watched in horror as the bathroom door's handle started moving so he quickly dropped the toilet paper in the toilet bowl. He didn't know if he should just try to be as quiet as he could or actually flush the toilet and head on out. He heard a knock on the door.
"Hello? Who's in there?" Harry heard someone say from outside the bathroom door. He pulled his long sleeve shirt down and made no noise. He couldn't tell who that voice was, only that it was male.
"I know someone's in there," the voice said, sounding warm and friendly. Harry sighed and knew he would have to answer. Whoever was out there knew that someone was in the bathroom. "Who is it?"
"No, who's out there?" Harry asked at once, waiting for an answer. All he needs is to escape. That's all. But what if the person, whoever it is, starts asking questions? He would have to come up with something...
"George," the voice said. Harry didn't even know why he didn't recognize George's voice. Of course, the voice of George Weasley. He should have known. "Harry? Is that you?"
"Yeah, sorry," Harry says slowly as he bites his lip and thinks of something to say. He needs an excuse, and a good one. "I just... have the runs."
"The what now?" George asked, and it was clear that he sounded confused. He furrowed his brows at the word but what he needed was the toilet right now. "Never mind the explanation... can you please hurry because I need to go!"
Harry rolled up his sleeve and cleansed his arm off with water and chucked the bloody toilet paper in the bin. He then quickly rolled down his sleeve again and unlocked the door.
George Weasley, with bed head, stood in front of Harry tiredly. He had to admit that George looked kind of hot with his hair standing up at funny ends. "Thank you!" the Weasley brother said quickly, rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.
Harry watched the door in front of him close and then stood there in shock. He just remembered something. Wait... Where's my blade! sh*t! sh*t! sh*t! He searched through his Pajama bottoms pockets and his Pajamas chest pocket. He sighed in relief as he felt the cool metal against his fingertips in his chest pocket. He then quietly made his way back to Ron's bedroom, opening the door quietly and shut it from behind him. He snuggled in under the blankets of his bed and tried to get some sleep.
*****
The cupboard was dark and stuffy. Harry was sleeping on his dirty cot, curled up in a tight ball to keep himself warm. Suddenly, heavy footsteps and a sound of a door opening interrupted Harry out of sleep. It was Uncle Vernon, who was returning home drunk. Harry shivered from fear instead of the cold. He knew what was coming. His uncle was going to teach him a lesson for being a freak. No matter how terrified Harry was, he knew he deserved it.
The cupboard door slammed open. Harry yelled out in surprise and fear... always fear.
"Don't you dare scream!" his uncle roared.
His breath smelled of alcohol and his words slurred. Harry backed away as far as possible from his uncle's reaching hands, since he couldn't fit inside the cupboard. The hands inched closer to Harry, so he pressed himself against the wall and covered his face. He didn't know what else to do, he was only three years old. Only three and he never felt so scared in his life.
His uncle grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him out. Uncle Vernon began to strangle him until he started to see spots that clouded his vision, before he was thrown to the floor, gasping for breath. He backed away from his uncle who was towering over him. At three years old, Uncle Vernon was always the monster in Harry's nightmares.
He cried out as the first kick landed in his side. Harry looked up and saw the gleaming, evil, red eyes of Uncle Vernon, his teeth grew sharper and his laugh rang out through the house, ten times louder than normal. His uncle's features began to change, until suddenly Ron was standing over him with his hand raised for another strike. Harry screamed and covered his face. He screamed until he felt someone shaking him awake.
"Harry! Harry! Wake up!"
Harry opened his eyes to see Uncle Vernon looming over him in the dark. Harry yelled out in fear. He felt his heart race in panic." No... don't hurt me," he cried.
Still drowsy and confused from a heavy sleep, Harry still believed he was that three-year-old boy from his dream. He could see the shape of his uncle's body coming closer to him with his hand rising to strike. "No, Uncle Vernon! I'll be good! I promise I'll be good!" he moved away from Uncle Vernon. "Nooooo....please Nooooo...! "
"Harry!"
Harry backed all the way to the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees. Burying his head in his lap, he laid out a strangled sob. He just wanted to die.
"Harry, look at me," a gentle voice said. Harry didn't want too. He didn't want to look at Uncle Vernon. He didn't want to get hurt.
"I'm not your uncle, Harry. It's me, Ron. Do you remember where you are?" Ron didn't understand why Harry was so upset about this nightmare he had. What was his Uncle doing to him in his dream? He hoped it wasn't anything terrible. He is sure as bloody hell hoped Harry wasn't being hurt because he will storm that muggle's house and hex that bloody bastard of an Uncle no matter if he's not allowed to do magic underage.
Harry tried to remember, but he was so scared and lost. He was still half asleep. "My cupboard," he whispered. "I'm in my cupboard, and I'm a freak. I know you're going to punish me... you're going to punish me because I'm bad!" He broke down in a heart-wrenching sob and couldn't stop, he was just so tired of it all! The pain inside was too much, it was too overwhelming. Harry scratched at his arm hard, knowing he was opening his skin back up.
Ron hugged his best mate, really thinking hard about these nightmares his best mate was having. First, they were dreams about Voldemort and now dreams about his own family? Bloody hell! What was happening to his friend? He really was pondering about asking his mother about this nightmare. Maybe she could help Harry?
"Get off!" Harry shouted as he tried untangling himself from the hug. He couldn't be having any human contact right now. He didn't deserve to anyways, after all, he was a freak.
Ron frowned at his best mate, "Harry, look at me!"
Harry flinched. He angered his uncle. Now a punch or a kick was surely to come. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he cried over and over again.
A vice-like grip closed around Harry's right arm. Another arm forcibly lifted up his chin. Harry suddenly saw the face of Ron Weasley. The one in his dream.
Overwhelming fear took over to the point where Harry couldn't move, couldn't talk, he just kept seeing Uncle Vernon in Ron's eyes. Harry wrenched away from his best mate and glared at him. The sleepiness and confusion had now faded away. Harry was now aware of where he was and who Ron was. sh*t! he thought, staring into his best mates' blue eyes. Now he knows... This is bad... "R-Ron?"
Ron gave his best mate a slow smile. "Yes, Harry." He nods slowly. "It's Ron. Now, please, tell me what happened in your dream. I know it was about your Uncle so don't try to send the conversation into a totally different subject."
Harry said nothing, he just couldn't. He didn't want his best mate finding out about the punishments he gets at the Dursleys. He knew Ron would think of him as a freak and unfriend him. He wiped away the tears in his eyes quickly and stared down at the blue fluffy blanket on his bed.
Ron sighed in frustration; he really wants Harry to tell him what's up. "Harry, is everything that happens at your relative's house okay?" he asks him softly. "They don't... abuse you, do they?"
Harry looked back at him sadly but tried to suppress it with annoyance. He couldn't let his best mate see what he really is. A freak. "No... I just have a nightmare of seeing it happen," he told him just to shut him out of the conversation. "It's normal, Ron. Please, come off it!"
Ron shook his head in disbelief knowing he'll have to keep an eye on his best mate. "Alright, Harry. Do you want anything from the kitchen? Like a glass of water?"
"No, I'm fine," Harry muttered. Just please, leave me alone, he thought. I deserve to be alone. I'm just a freak who deserves no friends.
Ron found it hard to believe him just by looking into those green eyes that looked so dull. But then again, he didn't know if his best mate was telling the truth. Perhaps, he was jumping to conclusions... But his best mate was crying... Ron then yawned. "Well, I'm heading back to bed. If you really need anything or need to talk about anything just wake me up."
Harry nodded sadly. He felt Ron's presence disappear from his bed, so he lay down on his side, facing away from Ron. He felt so embarrassed because he let Ron see him in his vulnerable state. He just wants to die. Is that too much to ask?
