It was three in the morning and Harry Potter could be found stamping angrily around the Gryffindor common room. For the first time in a week he had been sleeping peacefully, but bloody Dean and Seamus had thought it a great idea to try and prank him in the middle of the night. He had been so furious with them, his already volatile temper driven to new heights of fury, probably caused by the lack of sleep, had caused him to shout at them for twenty minutes straight, not stopping until suitably cowed they had scuttled into bed.

That was two hours ago, and they were now asleep. The unfairness made Harry’s blood boil. He wanted to plan some type of revenge, but knew with this level of anger that any curses he cast could quite likely be dangerous. He had no intention of being responsible for another death, though he knew in theory Cedric’s death wasn’t his fault, he just couldn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ drifting around his head.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see Cedric’s face, slack and empty in death, and that was the best part of his nightmares. Inevitably the faces of the spirits that came from Voldemort’s wand twisted, and instead of protecting him from the dark wizard, they hissed curses and accusations at him instead. The nightmares were getting worse with every night, and it was becoming more and more difficult to act somewhat normally during the day.

Hermione had already noticed, as had Ron, and they were driving him crazy. He knew they only meant well but didn’t think he could take another worried look from Ron, or anymore pleas from Hermione to open up and talk. He was terrified of snapping at them and saying something that would permanently drive them away, they were all he had, but it was becoming harder and harder and he had only just restrained himself after dinner.

He had completely lost his appetite, something that he had been hiding from his friends by saying he was eating in the kitchen, but had promised to eat in the Great Hall with them tomorrow. It was not that he wasn’t eating at all, he knew he had to, it was that he felt so nauseous all the time, that even forcing dry bread down his throat almost had him gagging. Dobby was becoming almost hysterical with the amount Harry was eating, and Harry was mildly scared that he would try to help Harry again.

He sometimes liked the anger, he had been numb since the night he had brought Cedric’s body back, the only emotions that broke through were anger or fear. At least with the anger it would burn in him, hot and furious, and he would feel so alive, but it would subside quickly, leaving him numb once more. The fear lingered, the awful gut wrenching fear would twist his stomach and make him nauseous, until eventually the numbness would overcome even this and everything seemed to be coming at him through a veil or from terribly far away.

Above all this though, was the fact he was terribly tired, worn and old and stretched thin. He could always feel the edge of exhaustion under the numbness, and all he wanted to do was lie down and rest for a hundred years or more.

These thoughts seemed to drain him of his anger, and Harry collapsed into one of the squishy armchairs littering the room, feeling more exhausted than ever before.

He did not see the concerned eyes watching the teenager, noting the faint trembling in his hands and the shadows under his eyes, so dark they seemed to be bruises. Nodding once in what seemed a decisive manner, they vanished.

Harry eventually fell asleep again, but it was dawn by the time the young wizard’s eyes finally closed, again to only a few hours of restless, troubled sleep.

He was woken up just before breakfast by a concerned Ron ‘Hey mate, you don’t look so good. Do you want me to tell the professors you’re sick so you can catch a few more hours sleep?’

Harry just blinked at Ron, unable to focus, his mind still fogged with sleep and filled with a jumble of discordant images, residues of another restive night. He was so tired his body ached and his eyes burned, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up for the rest of the day, but knew that he had not a chance. A student could only miss out on class for being sick if they had visited Madame Pomfrey and she had ordered a day of bed rest in the hospital wing. He had no intention of being subjected to the gimlet eyes of the medi-witch who would fuss over him and proclaim him ‘delicate’ to all and sundry, nor to being forced to drink a revolting assortment of potions.

Barely suppressing a moan of discontent, he dragged himself out of bed, trying to seem as alert as possible. On seeing him in the full glare of daylight Ron gasped, apparently he looked as bad as he felt.

‘Thanks, I’ll meet you in the common room’ he said firmly before Ron could open his mouth to suggest a trip to the hospital wing.

‘Nah, it’s fine, I’ll wait for you here’

‘Really it will only be a few minutes’ Harry insisted, his temper beginning to rise, as Ron hovered over Harry, looking like he thought he Harry would collapse at any moment.

‘Ron, I’m fine, I can get dressed on my own’ Harry snapped, his temper beginning to rise.

‘I know, I know, it’s just that aah...’ he trailed off at the venomous glare Harry directed at him.

‘Right, I’ll just tell Hermione we’re meeting you in the common room’ and with one last covert concerned look he left the room.

Harry sat down heavily on his bed, his anger being replaced with numbness once more. He got dressed with a great deal more effort than he could ever remember it taking, but could understand Ron’s concern once he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His eyes were the most obvious; bloodshot, empty and dull, only emphasised by the dark smudges under them. His hair lay almost limply against his head, a far cry from its usual gravity defying state, and his face was gaunt and pale.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the mirror ‘oh duckie, you should pop off to the hospital wing right away. You look simply awful’. To which he mumbled a half hearted reply and left the bathroom.

Clearly Ron had told Hermione what to expect of his appearance as there was no startled look, only a warm hug before she took his hand and led him towards the great hall, Ron laying a comforting arm on his other shoulder. Harry felt the numbness recede a little with their actions, glad Hermione had finally realised he would not talk and Ron was only directing concerned looks at him when he thought he couldn’t see them.

Sometimes he wasn’t sure he deserved them.

The walk to breakfast was soothing, as Ron was directing vicious looks at any student who got in their way; and the looks he directed at those who looked as if they might approach Harry were truly terrifying.

Harry paused for a moment outside the doors of the Great Hall, hearing the rumble of a thousand voices he could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat, the nausea worse than it had ever been. Hermione turned to look at him, a questioning look in her warm brown eyes.

‘Hey mate, do you want to go to the kitchens for breakfast? I know the thought of eating in the same room as Malfoy is making me feel pretty nauseous too’ Ron said removing his arm and turning to face the smaller boy.

‘No. No it’s ok. I’m fine...just...’ he trailed off before trying to plaster a smile on his face.

Clearly the weak smile looked at ill as he felt as the two exchanged concerned looks over his head, something he pretended to ignore.

Harry drifted into a numb haze again, not noticing the silent conversation his friends were having, nor the slightly alarmed looks his appearance was generating among passing students.

Harry was jolted to attention by Hermione’s voice, ‘well I for one would like to see the house-elves again. Eating in the kitchen should be less work for them as they don’t have to transfer the food to the Great Hall’

‘Great, kitchens it is’ Ron replied with false joviality as he replaced his arm around Harry’s shoulder and attempted to direct a reassuring smile at the smaller boy.

It was the thought of facing all those curious faces that Harry feared, those that wanted a little piece of the boy-who-lived, a piece of history from the mouth of the famous boy himself, something to tell their grandchildren about. The wizarding world took and they took and they took, every brave smile and heroic deed cost him a little bit more of himself, until Harry Potter would be swallowed up by the boy-who-lived, nothing left but an empty shell jumping through hoops to please his adoring public.

This year had been the worst ever, he had not realised how sheltered he was within the walls of the school. All the foreign visitors and spectators at the tasks, watching and waiting for him to slip, to reveal he really was the triumphant conqueror, unbeaten even by death, or the flawed hero, a pretty mask covering an imitation hero as Skeeter liked to portray him. Some looked at him with the same look in their eyes present when they looked at Dumbledore, with absolute faith and trust, the sad little orphan who would save them from monsters time and time again. Others looked for a fault, jealous of the fame he loathed. None saw Harry but those who were closer to him than he believed a brother and sister could be, he sometimes felt that Ron and Hermione were a part of him, they were a triad, a trinity, forever connected, and the loss of any one of the three would be devastating and irreplaceable.

He wondered if they felt this way about him and each other and stopped dead, cold rushing through him at the thought that they did not. But then Hermione turned to him and seeing the lost look on his face cupped his cheek gently with her hand and smiled at him, her eyes glossy with unshed tears at the hurt on his face. Ron made a slight chocking noise deep in his throat

‘If I could I would kill you-know-who myself, you shouldn’t have to...I mean...it’s not fair, we’re only kids’ he burst out, his voice raw and scratchy with emotion.

Harry blessed his friends again, ‘I know Ron, and thanks. I know you guys care’

‘More than anything Harry, more than anything in the world’ Hermione whispered and behind her Ron nodded, mouth tight and stance tense.

‘You’re not going back to the Dursleys. We won’t let you, even if we have to kidnap you ourselves. We were talking me and Hermione, Hermione and I’ he corrected with a glance at Hermione, ‘if my folks say no because of Dumbledore, you can just stay at Hermione’s. It’s not right and it’s not fair the way those muggles treat you and we won’t stand for it any longer. We’ll get the muggle pleez-men if none of the adults will help us.’

‘Mr Weasley I do hope your mother does not know you are planning to abduct a celebrity’ Snape said as he stepped silently from the shadow concealing him, his voice curiously neutral.

Ron and Hermione stiffened in surprise at the potions master’s unexpected presence, and then straightened up and stood to either side of Harry in a clearly protective gesture, chins high in defiance.

Harry too had been startled by the dark man’s sudden appearance behind him, but his body responded sluggishly and it seemed like forever before his body turned and his back straightened in response.

‘And where might I ask are you three going? Unless you have forgotten, breakfast is customarily consumed with ones housemates in the great hall. I know none of you have eaten and yet you are heading in the wrong direction’ he said, his eyes resting on Harry’s drawn face briefly.

‘We were going to the kitchens for breakfast, it’s not against the rules’ was Hermione’s challenging rejoinder.

‘No, it is not against the rules, it is merely seen as bad manners when one has guests to ignore them and eat in the kitchens’ his voice silky implying his intense displeasure

Ron’s face flushed in anger and he opened his mouth for what was sure to be an incredibly rude reply but his stomach choose that moment to let out a load rumble.

‘I will not keep you when you are so clearly in need of nourishment’ he sneered slightly and again examined the dark haired teenager before turning and seeping off silently down the corridor, his robes swirling around him as he walked.

‘Thank god for your bottomless stomach Ron is all I can say’ Hermione said in a relieved tone as she locked her arm through Harry’s and they continued to the kitchen.

The elves typically crowded around the three as they entered the cadaverous kitchens asking what food their guests wanted in their squeaky voices. Even Harry in his distracted state noticed the wide berth many of the elves were giving Hermione. Something she pretended not to notice as she guided Harry towards one of the long tables and left Ron to order enough food to feed a small army, or at least Ron and the other two.

‘It is good to see Master Harry Potter sir again. Can Dobby be getting anything very special for Master Harry Potter? Dobby has noticed Master Harry has not been eating as young wizards should. Will Master Harry Potter be eating more today?’ Dobby interjected slightly nervously, twisting his ears slightly as he spoke.

‘Ah no Dobby, thanks. I think Ron already ordered enough food, but if I think of anything missing I’ll let you know’ Harry was desperate to stop Dobby talking, he knew now both Ron and Hermione would be watching closely but discreetly to see how much he ate and this made his stomach twist nervously.

Bowing slightly in response Dobby stepped back into the crowd of busy elves and was lost almost immediately though his eyes never left Harry.

Luckily a huge pile of food arrived on the table courtesy of four elves just as Hermione was opening her mouth, her brow creased slightly in concern.

‘Ooh, extra crispy bacon. Yum! Isn’t that your favourite Hermione?’ Ron asked quite loudly giving Harry a surreptitious wink as Hermione searched the table for the elusive bacon. Harry shot Ron a grateful look in reply as Ron took Harry’s plate and added a few pieces of toast.

The two were seated on either side of Harry and slowly ate their meals, pretending not to notice Harry struggling to force the dry toast down his throat. With a sad look in her eyes Hermione added a few pieces of fruit to a plate and placed it beside Harry who was fiercely concentrating on forcing down two slices of toast.

The toast tasted like dust in his mouth and caught his throat as he swallowed, the fruit beside it looked equally un-palatable but he gamely set to work on it, desperate to wipe the look of distress that was sitting more and more easily on his friend’s faces as the days passed.

Concealing a sigh of relief Harry finished the small amount of fruit and sat up, automatically stopping his hand from rubbing his aching stomach. He thought for a moment Ron would add more food to his empty plate but the red-haired wizard glanced at Harry’s face where his nausea was displayed more clearly than he would have liked, and let his hand drop back to his knee.

Dobby re-appeared and cleared their plates with a few snaps of his long fingers, chatting almost cheerfully to Ron who was answering with a slightly amused look on his face at Dobby’s unusual talkative behaviour, the elf’s eyes again fixed on Harry.

His two friends lingered over their tea chatting quietly and trying to get Harry to participate in the conversation but he was focused on his uncomfortably full stomach and fighting the urge not to vomit, and so gave only vague desultory answers at best.

Dobby reappeared with a small pop ‘Master Dumbledore has asked Dobby to tell Master Harry Potter sir to meet Master Dumbledore in his office as soon as he is ready.’

Harry’s head shot up, sudden worry shot through him before being replaced with a hot swoop of anger and then continuing the cycle on to his usual numbness

‘Mate do you want us to walk with you?’

Nah Ron it’s fine, you two go ahead. I’ll meet you inTransfiguration or whenever Dumbledore lets me go?’

‘Of course Harry. Tell us what he wants?’ Hermione soothed

Harry nodded in reply as he carelessly dropped the strap of his bag across his shoulder, and with a particularly weak smile and slightly slumped shoulders began his trudge to the Headmaster’s tower.