Harry was exhausted. His sleep had been horrid since he had returned home, and even after returning to Hogwarts, he also found sleep to be alluding him. He had considered a sleeping potion, but they could easily become addictive, and he didn’t need that. There were many things that were keeping him away; his head was clouded with messy emotions about his parents; an ache was throbbing in his chest that he believed was linked to Fleur, and then the stress of being expelled from Hogwarts.
His father had received a letter from the ministry regarding my underage use of magic. I would be expelled unless there was a valid reason for such an occurrence. Harry had heard his father leave White Oak Manor and didn’t return until late in the evening; Harry had sat down with him in the sitting room and had listened as Sirius explained that the ministry was concerned. Harry had two bursts of uncontrolled magic—according to his father—that had injured one person and rocked a house, and then there was his apparation. Travelling such a distance, without any training, and coming out unscathed led them to believe that Harry had the potential to be immensely powerful. But power could lead to things that the Ministry feared, and they didn’t want another uncontrollable wizard on their hands.
The ministry decided that Harry would be suspended temporarily from Hogwarts, unable to attend classes or participate in school activities, until he could prove that he was mentally stable and in control of his magic. If he were deemed too dangerous, then Harry knew they would snap his wand, and he would not be allowed to complete his Potions Apprenticeship. He had been surprised that they were allowing him to even continue it, but he was glad because it was his only distraction.
He hadn’t returned to Hogwarts on the train, he had been met by Snape at White Oak, and then together, they travelled via Floo to Hogwarts. Snape had explained to him that he would be given a private room temporarily and that if he wanted, he could also take his meals in there; the room was in the dungeon, next door to Snape’s personal chambers.
The room itself was bigger than his Ravenclaw dorm; you stepped into a small living space that consisted of a small love seat and a chair, a small dark wood coffee table, and a dark green throw rug. Past that was a study area with a desk and a wall of empty bookshelves. To the left of the living space was his bedroom; it contained a small double bed, a side table on either side and a large dresser and mirror at the foot. There was also a door leading to a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink.
It had been strange not seeing his friends or returning on the train, but from the moment Harry had sat down on the bed, he had been thankful. There was no chance of keeping anything in if he saw them, and the last thing he wanted to do was explain. He hoped that nobody would comment on his obvious absence, but that was highly unlikely.
Before classes started on Monday morning, Harry had received a letter from Dumbledore. The headmaster had requested his presence in his office. Harry had finished his black coffee and dressed, and while everyone else was in the Great Hall, he made his way, avoiding making eye contact with anyone who saw him.
Dumbledore had been sitting at his desk, a frown on his face and a quill in his hand. He looked up as Harry walked in and said, “You have had a very eventful break, Mr Black.”
Harry said, “I suppose that is one way to describe it, Professor.”
It irritated Harry that Dumbledore was privy to his personal life, but the ministry would have informed him of the suspension, and then Harry had no doubt that his mother would have shared the rest of the story with him.
“I won’t sit here and claim that I understand what you are dealing with, and while I would like to see the ministry lift this suspension and let you return to your studies, we both know that at this moment and time, your magic isn’t stable,” said Dumbledore.
Harry wanted to argue that he was fine, but his magic was shaky. He hadn’t used his wand since before Christmas morning.
Dumbledore continued, “Professor Snape will be keeping a close eye on you during your studies with him, so I see no cause to restrict anything that he would like for you to do. I also have no quarry with you spending time about the castle, seeing your friends, having meals in the Great Hall.”
Harry knew all this already; Snape had already talked through all of this with him. “Professor,” he said, “I have already been told all of this, and with all due respect, can you just tell me what you want.”
Dumbledore smirked. “Of course.” He placed down his quill and stood from his seat. He walked around the desk and stood before Harry. “From my understanding, you have suffered, and that silent suffering has damaged your magic core in ways that can cause unexpected consequences. Have you ever heard of an Obscurial?”
Harry frowned. “No, never.”
“Obscurial is what we call a young witch or wizard that develops a very dangerous, very dark force known as an Obscurus. This happens when a witch or wizard suffers heavy emotional and/or physical trauma,” explained Dumbledore.
“Do you think I am an Obscurial?” asked Harry.
Dumbledore shook his head. He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “No, not yet. From what I was told, which was very little, you could develop an Obscurus if you cause any more damage to your core.”
“What kind of damage?” he asked.
“It is a tricky thing, there is no set explanation of what could lead this to happen, but I do believe that bottling up all of those emotions is what led to your first outburst. A second could be a lot worse, and more than just Harvey could be hurt.”
Hurting Harvey had been an accident; the magic just seemed to lash out. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t…” Harry shook his head and stepped away from Dumbledore.
“No one blames you for what happened, Harry.” Dumbledore said, “Your mother, father, and I just want to help.”
Harry didn’t want their help; he just wanted to be left alone.
“Harry, I can help you, but only if you let me,” said Dumbledore.
Harry turned back towards the door; he needed to get back to the dungeons before the first class started. He didn’t want to think about this. He had managed to shove it all in, keep it contained; he didn’t want it coming back out, not again.
By the time he reached the dungeon, students were heading in their first class. Harry avoided the other students and did catch someone yelling his name, but he made his way down to his room and slammed the door shut. He slid down the door and let out a heaving breathe. His hands her shaking, and his head began to throb. Harry tried to calm himself down, he tried to breathe, but it hurt; everything hurt.
A small hoot caught his ear, and he looked up to see a familiar grey owl sitting on his desk. Eagon, Fleur’s owl, had a letter tied to his leg.
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The hallways were buzzing with students as they headed to the first class of their day. Friends were laughing and talking, still catching up on everything that had happened over their Christmas break. It seemed that almost everyone had enjoyed the week home, and they were all complaining that they were back at Hogwarts too soon.
Harvey hadn’t been sure what to say to his friends when he had caught up with them on the Hogwarts Express. Ron had been incredibly nosy about why his family hadn’t been able to come over for Christmas lunch; it seemed that Molly Weasley hadn’t shared any of the details with her children. Hermione had asked about their break, and while she had seemed incredibly curious about what Ron was referring to, Harry was thankful that she hadn’t mentioned it.
After the events of Christmas day, the rest of the break was rather uncomfortable. Harvey’s head had ached for the better part of three days, and the bump that was there was huge, but his mum had given him some pain reliving potions as well as a slave to put on the bump. By the time he got on the train, it was barely there. But while the bump was uncomfortable, it had been the tension between his parents that was truly strange. Harvey knew that his mum had gone to find Harry after he disappeared, she was gone for most of the day, but when she did come home, she hadn’t come downstairs. His dad was the one who made them dinner, and when Harvey asked about what happened with Harry, his dad told him that he didn’t know. When Harvey asked about his mother, his dad seemed to tense up and told Harvey to let her rest.
It was the middle of the day, the next day when Lily came downstairs. Her face was red, but she smiled at Harvey and hugged him. He did ask about Harry, but after seeing the pain that filled his mother’s eyes, he decided not to ask again. All he knew was that Harry was dealing with a lot of sadness and pain, but he was back home now, where he would hopefully get better. Harvey had wanted to ask if Harry was sad because of what happened to him, the burst of magic—that was what Uncle Remus had called it—that knocked him down. Because Harvey didn’t blame his brother, it wasn’t his fault.
Harvey thought perhaps he would have seen Harry before they got on the train, but Harvey only saw Sirius—who, like mum—was sad. He didn’t say much beyond a ‘have fun’ before leaving. Lily had also asked Harvey to give Harry time, don’t push it, and only to go to him if something bad happened and a teacher wasn’t around.
And Harvey did do that. He did look for his brother, but he just wanted to see if he was okay, but no matter where Harvey looked, over the weekend before classes started, Harry wasn’t anywhere. Not in the library or at any meals in the Great Hall; Harvey even went up to Jenna, Harry’s friend, and asked her, but even she didn’t seem to have any answers.
When Monday morning came round, Harvey was more than worried about Harry, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Harvey followed Ron and Hermione to their morning Potions class and waited outside. Hermione had been talking about books that might hold information on Nikolas Flamel, and Ron was busy complaining about having to read.
The door to the potion’s classroom swung open, and Professor Snape stepped out. He glared at them all before gesturing for them to enter. As they filed in, Harvey caught the eye of Harry for the first time since they had returned to Hogwarts. Harry wasn’t dressed in a Hogwarts uniform; instead, he was wearing a pair of black pants, a dark grey button-up, and was marking down something in a notebook. Harvey took his seat and looked at his older brother. His shoulders seemed tense, and the look on his face reminded him of Professor Snape; it was cold.
Professor Snape stalked to the front of the class and held out his hand. Harry handed him a clipboard, and Snape took attendance. When Harvey answered to his name, Harry glanced over at him. Their eyes locked, and while the face was cold, Harry’s eye was something else. Harry looked away, back at his notebook before closing it and moving over to the wall of potion ingredients.
Snape dropped the clipboard onto his desk and said, “Today, you will be brewing a Sleeping Draught. This potion will put the consumer into an instantaneously deep but temporary sleep. Your instructions are on the board; you will have the whole class to complete an acceptable brew.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Get to work.”
The students bustled about, collecting ingredients and prepping their stations. Harvey didn’t move immediately; he was still looking at Harry, who had handed a jar of mixed herbs to Draco.
“Potter, that means you too.”
Harvey jumped, startled by Snape’s sudden approach. “Yes, Professor.” He glanced back at Harry and stood.
“Potter,” said Snape.
“Professor?” asked Harvey.
“Harrison will be okay; he just needs time.” Snape gave him a stern look that said ‘leave him be’ before turning and walking away.
Harvey didn’t want to make things worse for Harry, but he felt responsible for what had happened. If he had left Harry alone on Christmas day, then maybe all of it would never have happened.
Hermione appeared back at their station and placed down their ingredients. She frowned, “You haven’t moved.”
“Sorry,” said Harvey. He quickly set up their brewing station and pulled out his notebook.
“Is it Harry?” Hermione asked.
Harvey nodded.
“Something bad happened over the break, didn’t it?” she asked.
Again, he nodded. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay. But maybe you should talk to Harry. It might help…the both of you.”
Harvey didn’t respond; he just started writing down Snape’s potion steps.
By the end of their class, Hermione bottled their dark purple potion into a flask and smiled at him. From the steps, it seemed they had done well. She handed the vial to Harvey for him to hand it as she started cleaning up their space. Harvey walked over to Harry, who was collecting; he waited as the other students handed up their potions, and Harry held out his hand but didn’t look up when it was Harvey’s turn.
Harvey couldn’t help but tense as he placed the vial into his brother’s hand. “Mine and Hermione’s,” he said.
Harry took the vial and looked up. “It looks good.” He marked the vial and placed it down on the bench with the rest.
“Thank you,” said Harvey.
Snape dismissed the class not long later. He stood beside Harry, the two of them looking over the potions; some were the dark purple they should have been while others were a mix. Harvey followed his friends out of the room, but he couldn’t help but think about Harry. He hoped that soon things would get better, or at least go back to how they had been. Harvey preferred grumpy Harry over sad Harry any day.
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Carlisle hadn’t heard a thing from Harry since Christmas Eve. He knew that something had been off with his friend slash cousin but had let it go. Harry was a private person who wasn’t a big fan of when anyone tried to get involved with his plans. When Harry didn’t show up on the train, though, Carlisle knew he needed to find his friend. Not one person could tell him anything; no one had seen him since before break. And it was starting to make Carlisle nervous.
It was only on the first day of class that Carlisle spotted him. He couldn’t mistake Harry for anyone else, he yelled out after his friend as he walked past the Great Hall, but Harry didn’t stop, just rushed down to the dungeons. Carlisle went after him, hoping just to talk. He knew that he would be late for his first class, but he didn’t really care.
Harry disappeared again. Carlisle was walking through the main corridor again, trying to think of where his friend had gone when he saw Snape standing outside his classroom.
“Mr Malfoy, I believe you have a class that has already started?” Snape stepped towards him, his classroom door shutting behind him.
“Yes, sir, I was just trying to find Harry,” said Carlisle.
Snape’s normal glare lessened, and he seemed to clench his jaw. “Mr Black is currently not attending his normal classes. If he wishes to contact you, I am sure that he will do just that. Now, get to class.”
Carlisle wanted to argue. As he turned to walk away, Snape stopped him.
“Harry is alright, Carlisle.”
Carlisle looked back at him and nodded. He hoped that Snape was right, but he still wanted to see his friend.
The day had been slow; in every class, he was looking for his friend, and during lunch, he hadn’t had any luck either. It boggled his mind that something so drastic had to have happened that was keeping him away; Carlisle knew that Harry didn’t share his feelings, not like the rest of them did, but he figured that Harry trusted him enough to explain what was going on.
As Carlisle walked out of Transfigurations, he felt fingers interlock with his. He stopped and looked at his girlfriend and offered her a smile. Amelia squeezed his hand before pulling it over her shoulders.
She asked, “What is with you today? You look so sad?”
Carlisle shrugged. “I’m just worried about Harry.”
Amelia sighed. “Harrison is fine. He probably is just doing stuff for his apprenticeship that has him missing classes.”
Carlisle shook his head; that wasn’t it. “Harry doesn’t miss class for anything.”
“Carlisle, why don’t you go and talk to him?”
He frowned. “I would if I could find him. Dylan said he hasn’t been in the Ravenclaw dormitory and that his stuff was cleared out.”
“I’ve seen him a few times down in the Dungeons. Maybe he is staying in a room down there.”
It seemed plausible enough to him. Instead of heading to the Great Hall, Carlisle left Amelia with a kiss on her head and headed down. He passed a few students headed up and noticed Snape coming towards him.
“Where is Harry’s room?” Carlisle asked.
Snape stopped and frowned. “What makes you think that I would tell you?”
“Because I’m your favourite.” Carlisle smiled widely.
Snape rolled his eyes and turned back the way he came from. Carlisle followed and was surprised when Snape stopped near his personal chambers. “He is the next one up.”
Carlisle went to walk over, but Snape stopped him.
“Harrison isn’t himself at the moment, do try and be understanding.” Snape left without another word.
Carlisle stood for a moment taking in the Professors words. What had happened to his friend? He walked over to the door and knocked. There was no answer, so he tried again. Carlisle was determined enough that Harry would have to come out sooner or later, so if he didn’t answer now, he would just wait.
He knocked a third time and was surprised by how fast the door swung open, and a wand was pointed at his throat. He stumbled back, a little shocked, and took in Harry’s appearance. There was no school uniform to be seen, just a pair of black slacks and a crinkled white shirt.
“Harry, mate, what’s going on?” he asked.
Harry lowered his wand and glared at him. “I thought you would take me ignoring you as a sign that I didn’t want to talk.”
Carlisle hated the way he spoke. He didn’t sound like himself. “Harry, I’m worried about you.”
Harry scoffed. “And? Is that supposed to matter to me?”
The eyes of his friend were cold, with no warmth. He looked angry, and it scared Carlisle.
“Harry, please. Just talk to me.”
“Go away, Carlisle.”
“Harry—”
Harry whacked his fist against the door. “I said, go away.”
Carlisle took a step forward, blocking the door. “No, I won’t go away. You’re my best bloody friend, and I’m not going to let you suffer through whatever this is alone.”
Harry shoved him. “I don’t care what you think, now piss off.”
“Harry, mate…” Carlisle tried to reason with Harry.
Harry glared at him. He said, “Why don’t you go harass someone else? Maybe find that ice bitch of a girlfriend and trail after her like the good little puppy dog you are.”
Carlisle knew that Harry would never mean something like that. He wasn’t a cruel person. It worried him that Harry was trying to push him away, far away. “I’m going to let that go since I know something is messing with your head right now.” All he wanted was to help. “But shutting yourself up in this room, avoiding everyone, is not going to help you.”
Harry shook his head. “The only thing that could help me right now is some peace and bloody quiet.” A smirk came over Harry’s face. “Or maybe I’ll take a crack at Amelia; I’m sure she could help me relax.”
He punched Harry before he even knew what he was doing. His fist smacked into Harry’s jaw and knocked him off his feet and back into his room.
“Carlisle!” Jenna appeared in front of him, giving him a very concerned look. He ignored her and looked down at Harry.
“Let me know when my best mate is back, then I might just want to see your stupid mug again.” He turned and walked away before he did something else.
Whatever had happened to his friend had to be twisting him up inside. Those cold eyes were horrifying, and he knew that someone would need to get through to him. Jenna was with him now, and the two of them had always had a strong bond; Carlisle only hoped that Harry would let her in.
When Carlisle got to the Great Hall to eat, he wasn’t hungry. His knuckles were turning a dark red; they were throbbing from the punch. He didn’t think he had broken anything, but then again, he’d never punch anyone before.
Amelia spotted his hand and frowned before carefully picking it up. “What happened?” she asked.
Carlisle didn’t want to admit that he was hurt, not physically, but emotionally. His best friend had lashed out and shown a side Carlisle didn’t like. “I punched Harry.”
Amelia looked at him, shocked. “What happened to you being concerned? If I’d known you were going to punch him, I wouldn’t have mentioned him at all.”
Carlisle hissed as she ran her thumb across his knuckles. “Something is wrong with him. He was trying to shut me out, and when I pushed, he threatened me.”
“So, you punched him?”
“No,” said Carlisle. “I punched him when he mentioned that he would try to fuck you.”
Amelia's mouth fell open slightly. “He what?”
Carlisle leant closer to her; he used his uninjured hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Something has messed him up. I know he would never try such a thing, but…”
“But it still hurt hearing it,” finished Amelia.
He nodded. “I’m scared for him.”
“All we can do is be here; if he needs us, I’m sure he will come find us.” Amelia took his good hand and kissed his palm.
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