The moment Harry sat down at the long Gryffindor table he was aware of Hermione’s close scrutiny. He purposely ignored her and started a conversation up with Seamus Finnigan.

By the time supper ended and the sorting hat had done its job, Harry wanted nothing more then to go up to his dormitory room and lie down. His scar throbbed something fierce, making him queasy from the pain. Dumbledore’s speech was thankfully short, filled with ominous warnings about the Forbidden Forest and moving staircases.

Harry looked up at the teacher’s table just as Snape turned his dark gaze upon him. Their eyes locked momentarily until Ron nudged him in the ribs.

Harry grabbed his tender side and turned his attention toward his friend.

Ron continued glaring at their potion teacher, “Why do you suppose the evil git is staring at you like that?”

Harry shrugged, but wanted to steer the conversation away from Snape.

“Did you see the new DADA teacher? Dumbledore didn’t say who would be teaching that course.”

Ron scanned the teachers still sitting up at the long table, “No, I don’t know, Dumbledore didn’t say. Let’s just hope it’s not someone out to kill you again.”

“Yeah, that’d be a nice change,” Harry agreed as they got up from the table.

It wasn’t until they were halfway up to Gryffindor Tower before Hermione finally caught up to them. She leaned in close so no one else could hear as she asked, “Harry, what happened to you?”

Harry gave her annoyed look, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him but thankfully she dropped the subject.

Harry stepped through the portrait hole as he rubbed his burning scar. He only had to get through a few hours before he could convincingly go to bed without Hermione getting suspicious.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The dark, empty halls were always comforting to Harry. He had had his reservations about how it would feel to be returning to the Wizarding World after what had happened last year during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Cedric’s death had brought about horrifying nightmares and a tremendous amount of guilt.

His nightmares had gotten so bad that he dreaded going to sleep at night. There had been several nights when he’d woken up screaming in terror, earning himself Uncle Vernon’s angry wrath. Vernon had gotten progressively more violent as the summer had worn on. Harry touched his tender ribs at the thought of the most recent beatings.

No, he wouldn’t allow himself to think of such things while he was here. This place was his sanctuary away from all things Dursley and he wouldn’t allow himself to taint Hogwart’s with any more thoughts of them.

The infirmary doors were open when he finally reached his destination. Madame Pomfrey had the bottle of bone mend in her hand when he stepped into the room.

“It’s about time you showed up, young man,” the medi-witch admonished. “I was ready to send a house elf in search of you.”

“I was just waiting for everyone to go to sleep,” Harry replied as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you think I’ll be out of here before they wake up?”

Madame Pomfrey gave him a stern look, “You’ll be staying put until I deem you healed, no matter what time it happens to be.”

“Yes. Mame.”

The bone mend wasn’t quite as painful to suffer through as he thought it would be. He closed his tired eyes and relaxed into the big fluffy pillows propped up behind his back. His eyes drifted closed as the busy day caught up with him.

Harry woke with a start when a gentle hand shook his shoulder. He looked around at the quiet infirmary and took in a deep breath. Once he straightened the glasses on his face he could see the concerned look of Dumbledore gazing down at him and Madame Pomfrey looking at him from her office doorway.

“You are safe, my boy,” Dumbledore quietly stated. “Would you like a glass of water.”

Harry nodded, finding it hard to speak. He took in several gulps of water before handing the glass back to the headmaster. “Thanks, he mumbled, embarrassed for having them witness his latest nightmare.

“Would you like to talk about it?” the elderly wizard asked, not quite meeting his gaze,

Harry looked at the man and shook his head. It wouldn’t help to tell anyone about how insane he had become since Voldemort’s return.

“I am truly sorry for your having to spend time with the Muggles this past summer. I hope you understand how important it is for your own safety for you to stay there during your summers, especially now that Voldemort has returned.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Harry remembered the conversation he had with Dumbledore last year, just before boarding the train. The headmaster had told him about the blood sacrifice that his mum had made and how important it was for Harry to stay with a blood relative now that Voldemort had returned. Even though he understood why he had to stay there, he was still angered that Dumbledore did nothing to stop Vernon’s treatment of him. Dumbledore had sent a pathetic letter that had only angered Vernon more. Did the headmaster really think a few words of rebuke would keep Vernon from lashing out?

Harry thought of the children’s poem, ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.’ He found it ironic that words had actually hurt him.

The headmaster reached a hand out as if to pat Harry on the shoulder but he pulled his hand back once he saw the incensed look on Harry‘s face.

Harry felt a strong surge of anger towards the man and had to fight to control it. He looked at the far wall, willing himself to calm down.

The headmaster stayed for a few more minutes before silently getting up and leaving. Harry turned toward his pillow and gave it a good punch before smashing his head into it and closing his eyes.