Harry Potter sat in his cupboard under the stairs, leaning against the wall, a deep gash on his cheek. This was the newest damage his uncle had done to him when he had accidentally burned Dudley's toast. He winced as he adjusted his broken arm into a more comfortable position.

He sighed bitterly into the darkness. At the moment, he couldn't care less. Nothing mattered now that Sirius was gone. And without Sirius, his life was empty, meaningless. The fear had left him, and he had long given up. Given up hope. He felt the guilt eating away at him all the time. He loved Sirius more than he loved life itself. But now, his godfather was gone. Who cared? Everyone he knew would eventually draw away from him, leaving him alone.

He wanted to die, to leave this world and its constantly aching pain. He had one last goal before leaving this cruel earth: kill Voldemort. It was his destiny: He was Harry bloody Potter, destined to defeat evil and darkness. It was fate, his burden, his fault. He sighed again. He wished for the millionth time that he was someone else, anyone else, anyone but himself. He didn't want the fame, the pain, the way people were constantly gawking at his forehead. The burden and expectations from the magical population were too much. He was a defenseless log, sitting in the middle of a blazing fire. Waiting, bearing, until it all became too much and the fire consumed him. Until he broke down and turned into ash. He knew it in his heart that it would only be a matter of time.

And his friends... He loved and cared for them, yes, but he knew that they didn't want him. They didn't care about him; he only cared about his fame and wealth. Everything had all been an act, an act caused by pity. He didn't want their pity and sympathy. He didn't want to be treated like glass.

'It's not true,' a small part of his brain said. 'They care for you.'

But no, it couldn't be. If they truely cared, why hadn't they written a single letter to him all summer? Why hadn't they replied any of the letters he had written, pleaing and crying for help? No, he meant nothing to them; nothing but a worthles burden. The Dursleys had been right. He /was/ a freak, even in the wizarding world. The only people who had ever cared for him were his parents and Sirius, and they were all dead. Because of him.

Hot tears ran down his cheek, leaving a trail of water behind. He furiously wiped them away. He had to be strong, crying would not help. He looked longing towards the day Voldemort would be defeated. Then, he would be free. No one would care anymore, and he could join his parents and godfather in paradise. Until that day, he would wait.

That was his last thought as he drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hey, Ron," Hermione asked, sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow. She had been staying there for the summer.

"Yes, 'Mione?" The redhead asked.

"Have you heard from Harry lately?" She asked worriedly. "I've written to him several times already, but he hasn't answered a single letter. I'm starting to get worried."

"Same here," Ron replied. "I sent him a present on his birthday, but it returned unopened. I wonder if somethings wrong?"

"Hey guys," Fred and George greeted as they wandered into the room. "What's going on?"

"We were talking about Harry," Hermione explained. "We havn't heard from him all summer."

"Calm down, guys," Fred said. "I bet his relatives are just stopping him from writing. I'm sure he's fine."

"Yeah," George agreed. He turned and started to talk to Fred about their newest invension for the WWW.

"I hope they're right," Hermione said, her eyes flashing with worry.

"Me too." Ron sighed. "Come on, let's play a game of chess."

"Alright." They settled down with the chess board in front of them, thoughts of Harry lingering on their minds.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Do you see him?" Hermione stood on tip-toes, trying to look over the crowd of students surging on Platform 9 3/4.

"Nope, not anywhere," Ron replied, eyes scanning for a raven-haired boy.

"It's almost time for the train to leave. I hope he's here." The brown-haired girl continued to look, a frown plastered on her face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From a distance, a pair of emerald eyes lingered on the pair. Harry was wearing his father's invisibility cloak, standing on the corner of the platform. When he train arrived with a screech, he stepped into the last compartment. Thankfully, it was empty.

Walking inside, he had to talk off his invisibility cloak. It was much too warm for his liking. He cast a cooling charm using wandless magic. Hopefully, no one would come in.

He smiled slightly as he waved his hand and the temperature dropped another few degrees. He had discovered he could use wandless magic over the holidays. One day, he had been bleeding uncontrollably. It had happened after a particularly awful beating. He had wished that he had his wand so he could cast the healing charm on himself. As soon as he left the mind, he had come over an interesting thought: Would he be able to do magic without his wand? A wave of his hand proved that he could; his cuts immediately closed up, leaving smooth skin in its wake.

He was just about to begin reading when the compartment door banged open. Damn it, he thought, looking up, expecting some wandering first year. He froze for a second when he heard a familiar drawling.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Potty, sitting alone? What's happened to Weasel and Mudblood, huh? Abandoned you? How sad...."

Harry looked up and saw his rivel and arch-enemy, Draco Malfoy, standing in front of him. Beside the blond stood Crabbe and Goyle, his bodyguards.

"I would be careful of what I say if I were you, Malfoy," he said, his voice icy.

Malfoy seemed unnerved for a second before smirking. "Why, what's wrong, Potty? Was I right? Mublood and Weasel's left you? I told you not to hang around with the wrong group at the beginning of the first year, didn't I? Too late now, Potty, now that the Dark Lord's back. You'll pay, just like your foolish parents and godf--"

Malfoy never had a chance to finish; during the blond's rant, Harry had slowly been getting angrier and angrier. He could take teased, but he would not allow anyone to speak like that about his parents or Sirius. His rage took over as he waved his hand. The Slytherin's mouth disappeared.

Malfoy looked horrified. The boy reached up and a look of panic flashed over his features as he realized his mouth was missing.

Harry took a deep breath, keeping his temper in check. "I'll let you go for now, Malfoy," he said, his voice dripping with hate, his eyes flashing dangerously like emerald fires. "I suggest you keep away from me." With a wave of his hand, Malfoy was back to normal.

"Watch out, Potter," the blond warned. "I'll make you and your little friends pay. Watch out." With that, the Slytherin left the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle following him.

The rest of the trip as ,thankfully, uneventful. The train soon pulled up at Hogwarts School. Harry slipped on hsi invisibility cloak once more. Avoiding hsi friends, he slipped into one of the castle's many secret passageways. He walked quietly towards the Great Hall, wincing slightly as one of his fresh scars brushed the wall. Before walking in, he checked to make sure all of the Concealing Charms he had cast on himself were still there. Wouldn't do to let others see what his uncle had done to him. With that, he strided swiftly into the room, slipping into his usual seat, only to be bombarded with questions.

"Hey Harry! Where were you?"

"Why weren't you on the train?"

"Why do you have your invisibility cloak?"

"Wh- What's wrong?"

"What happened?"

Thankfully, Dumbledore began speakign at this moment, sparing Harry from answering.

After dinner, Harry promptly left the Freat Hall and retired to his dorm. When Ron came in, he evened his breathing and pretended to be asleep. He soon heard the redhead drifting off.

He closed his eyes. Blimey, he was exhausted. Soon, he too fell into restless sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I promptly threw open the door of the Potions dungeon and swept into the classroom. Oh great, the first class of the year just /had/ to be Double Potions with sixth years Gryffindors and Slytherins. Putting Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together could only mean one thing: trouble.

"You will be making the Fear-Memorius Potion," I snapped, smirking plastered on my face as my gaze swept over the class. Draco was paired with Parkinson, Potter with Longbottom, Granger with Finnigan, and Weasley with Thomas.

"This potion," I continued, "forces one to revive their most feared memroies. Someone will test it at the end of the lesson. I advise you not to mess up." At this, I turned to sneer at Longbottom. "Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation? Start!"

During the middle of the class, I turned to the Gryffindor table to critisize their work.

"My, my, Weasley." My smirk was pronounced and obvious. "What's this? Did I not clearly write on the board that you were to add the pine needles /after/ you take the cauldron off of the fire? Tut, tut... not paying attention, are we? 20 points from Gryffindor for your ignorance."

Weasley turned red with anger, but I ignored him and turned to the next student.

"Potter," I barked. To tell the truth, Potter's potion is perfect, but I'ld sooner marry McGonagal than tell him that. "Too watery... ten points from Gryffindor for not following instructions."

"Yes, sir."

I looked up in surprise at Potter's submissive tone. There was no argument, no sarcasm; just submission.

Potter looked up and I stifled a gasp. Where once those emerald eyes sparkled with fire, there were now a dull, green gaze. There were no life in those murky orbs; only darkness, shadowing the dead stare.

He looked back at me through those lifeless eyes fro a few seconds before turning back to his potion.

Half an hour later, most of the class were done with their potions. "Potter," I sneered. "Test your potion."

"Professor, I---" he trailed off, looking at me, the look in his eyes almost pleading. "Please, don't," he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible.

I was taken aback for a second. I hesitated, but as I remembered how James Potter and Sirius Black had nearly killed me, I made up my mind. Sneering, I raised my voice, "Potter. Drink it."

The Gryffindor's eyes flashed for a second as he reached for the bottle. He downed the contents in oen gulp, giving me another look before his eyes unfocused and the potion took over.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He wes once more at Privet Drive, locked in the cupboard under the stairs. He waited helplessly, knowing what was coming next.

Hi suncle threw open the door, a belt in his hand.

"YOU FREAK!" Vernon yelled, hitting the cowering boy. "You made me lose my job after all we've done for you, you worthless, ungrateful brat! You're just like your parents, ignorant and foolish! How DARE you..."

The belt came down again and again, leaving cuts and gashes over the smooth skin. He began to bleed, the blood dripping from his mouth, down his arms...

"No, stop..." Harry whispered.

"Stop? STOP!" This just seemed to make Vernon angrier. His uncle pulled out a knife and looked at it, a malevolent smile on his face. Harry shivered.

His uncle reached over and threw him to the ground, sitting on him and keeping him there. He felt a rib break in half as the heavy weight landed on him.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he heard his uncle whisper as the man placed the icy knife on his back. He shivered more than ever.

Suddenly, Vernon lifted the sharp metal and began to cut. He bit back a cry of pain as the knife slashed, again and again, drawing more and more blood.

The scene changed. He was now tied to the gravestone with Wormtail in front of him, once more at the end of the third task. Cedric lay dead on the ground beside him. He revived the battle with Voldemort, how his parents had come out of the Dark Lords wand.

The next scene was of Sirius' death. He watched, helpless, as his beloved godfather fell through the veil, a look of surprise on his face. Watched as Voldemort appeared, as he knocked Bellatrix Lestrange off her feet with the Cruciatus Curse.

Next was the time when he had been placed under the Cruciatus Curse by Voldemort. He felt the pain traveling through his broken body, heard him self cry out in pain as blood pounded through his veins, as the pain increased. He had started bleeding again; he was now lying in a pool of his own blood. And he was tired, so tired. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus watched, almost transfixed, as Harry drank the simmering potion. The effects took over almost immediately. First, the boy began to whimper, curling up on the floor, arm over his knees. He was shaking all over, obviously in pain. What shocked the Potions Master the most though, was when cuts started opening on the boy's skin. The gashes appeared, deep and ugly, and the Boy-Who-Lived began to bleed. The victim was not supposed to get injured; they were only supposed to revive the memories, not relive them. He had never seen such a reaction before.

Harry shivered violently as he whispered, "No stop..." The pool of blood began to form around him.

Severus knew he had to do something; this was not supposed to happen. The boy was losing a lot of blood...

"EVERYONE!" he bellowed. "OUT!"

Slytherins and Gryffindors alike scrambled for the door. Soon, only Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were left.

"Professor," Hermione began, but Severus yelled, "Granger, I told you to get out. NOW!"

The two Gryffindors immediately complied. By then, Harry had started to scream. Severus did the only thing he could.

"Potter! POTTER!" He called, shaking the boy. "Snap out of it!"

The child flinched away from him, paying no attention.

"Harry!" Severus changed tactics. "Wake up, Harry, it's okay!" He tried to make his voice soft and soothing.

It seemed to be working. Slowly, ever so slowly, the boy's eyes refocused. As soon as they saw him though, Harry tried to stand up.

"Don't move, Potter," Severus said. "I'll get Pomfrey."

"No, don't bother." The reply was cold and left no room for argument.

"Harry, I--" Swallowing his pride, Severus opened him mouth to apologize.

"No." The voice cut him off. Looking up, the Potions Master saw Harry staring at him.

"Don't bother, Snape." The boy's gaze were stone cold, his voice icy. "That's what you want, isn't it? To see me suffer, to let everyone else see it so that you can humiliate me. Well, now you've got what you want. Are you happy?"

"Harry, I never meant to do that," Severus tried again. "If I had known---"

Harry's bitter laugh cut him off. "If you had known," he said. "If you had known, indeed. Did I not tell you, Professor? Did I not ask you to choose someone else as an example? Did you listen? No. Of course not. Why should you, great Potions Master, listen to little old me? Just forget it, Snape. Leave me alone."

With that, the boy tried to get up. Severus immediately walked towards Harry. He placed a hand on the child's shoulder, only to have the boy hiss in pain.

"Don't touch me!" came the hiss, full of venom.

"I---"

"Just forget it!" Harry turned back to the task at hand: getting up.

Severus watched for a few minutes as the boy struggled to stand up. He walked over silently and once again, reached down to help him up.

The second Severus' hands came in contacted with Harry, there was as blinding flash. The Potions Master found himself being thrown back against the wall.

"I told you not to touch me."

Looking up, he was just in time to see Harry wave his hand. He held back a gasp as the scars and gashes immediately disappeared.

A minute later, the boy walked out of the classroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry was furious. Snape had humiliated him before the class on purpose. How DARE he...

He winced as he walked, trying to hide his pain. Snape probably thought he had healed all the scars. In reality, he had only concealed them. They still hurt like hell.

He walked back to his dorm. Thankfully, it was empty.

Harry was getting a headache. He really had to lie down. On his bed, he sat down and drifted into much-needed sleep.