Harry was restless. Snape had taken away his knife two days ago and he hadn't cut since then. Maybe he was addicted after all. He thought that he wouldn't miss the pain and blood so much, but he did. Transfiguring a random object into a knife had failed miserably. He managed to make it look like a knife, but it never was sharp enough. Why were there so few sharp objects in the castle? he wondered while walking towards the Great Hall. He had just spent a few hours at the edge of the Black Lake, doing homework and thinking about a future which he most likely didn't have.

"Potter!"

Harry looked up and saw that Malfoy was walking towards him with a big smirk on his pale face. He was all alone, pretty unusual seeing that Malfoy always had at least one or two other Slytherins around him, Harry actually couldn't really recall seeingMalfoy without his bodyguards.

"What?" Harry answered, he couldn't hide that he was annoyed by Malfoy’s approach; not only was it Malfoy but he hungry and wanted to make it to the Great hall for dinner. He was already running late and lately he felt like Hermione and Ron were almost timing his presence.

"What are you doing here?" asked the blond boy when he was just a few feet from Harry away.

"I could ask you the same," mumbled Harry. Without waiting for a response he continued on his way towards the castle.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm firmly, which made him jump. "So scared."

Harry gave Malfoy an angry glare, but kept his mouth shut. His uncle taught him that if he remained silent, the chance of getting punished was a bit smaller. But even his silence couldn't keep his uncle from beating him.

"I want to talk about what you have done to my father." Malfoy pushed Harry against a nearby tree.

Again Harry chose to remain silent.
"Lost your tongue, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "Because of you my father is in Azkaban and when he gets out the Dark Lord will punish him severely."

"He deserves it."

"It was your fault that the mission failed so why does my father have to be punished?"
Malfoy looked at Harry. His grey eyes were full of anger.
"Lucky for me my father was not the only victim", continued Malfoy. "I heard your friends got wounded and it seems that you filthy godfather got himself killed."

Harry needed all his willpower to control himself so he wouldn't start beating Malfoy.
A nasty smile appeared on the Slytherins face. "But it's not the same as avenging my father myself, since it’s you that is responsiblefor the death of your godfather. If I think about it, you were the reason your parents died and Cedric..."

He was right. He knew it all along. Because of him everyone close to him died. It was only a matter of time before the next person died. He wanted to cut away the guilt, the grief, and the pressure the wizarding world had put upon him.

Suddenly, Malfoy let him go.
"I will have my revenge one day," promised the blond boy. "You will pay for what you did to my father." He left Harry behind with his thoughts and walked back to the castle.

Harry wasn't afraid of what Malfoy might do to him. It would never be as bad as what his uncle did to him. He knew that it was not entirely his fault that Malfoy's father got caught. It was just a matter of time before the ministry discovered that he was a death eater. But he knew it was his fault that his friends had almost died and it was his fault that Sirius had died.
He had lost his appetite and the only thing he wanted right now was his knife. He wanted to cut the guilt, the pain, and the sorrow away. He wanted to feel numb again. He really needed to cut, it had been too long since he had felt numb.

Perhaps I should just steal the knife back.
"Accio invisiblity cloak!" he shouted. He waited a brief moment and then he saw a dark object floating towards him. It was his invisiblity cloak. He plucked it out of the air once it was close enough. His fingers ran softly over the fabric. The cloak was one of his most precious possessions. It was the only thing he had left of his parents except the picture Hagrid gave him.

He lifted his wand again and summoned the Marauder's Map.
"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he said as soon the map was in his hands.

He pulled on the cloak and walked towards the castle. He saw that almost everyone was in the Great Hall dining. The dungeons were empty so it was safe to go and search for the knife. Harry wondered where Snape would have hidden it. Hopefully not in his personal quarters because there was no way he would be able to get in there.
Harry entered the castle, crossed the entrance hall and opened the door towards Hogwart's dungeons. As soon as Harry opened the door, he could feel the colder air seeping out of the dungeons. Slowly, he descended the stairs. He was glad that he wasn't a Slytherin because they lived in the cold, damp dungeons.

Harry stopped in front of a dark wooden door not far from the Potions class. Before magically unlocking the door, he checked the map. When he couldn't spot any student or professor in the neighborhood, he drew his wand, directed it at the door and whispered: "Alohomora."

Nothing happened. Harry cursed silently and tried again without any result.
How could he have been so stupid? Harry wondered. Of course Snape's office door would be Alohomora proof.

"Accio Sirius' knife!" After a few seconds he heard the sound of iron clashing into wood.
The knife is in there... Now I just have to get it out.

He needed a way into the office because Snape would know he tried to steal it because the knife was probably stuck in the door. Why was he so stupid? He could have foreseen that this would happen. Snape would be mad when he saw the knife in the door and he would be punished.
Harry tried to remain calm but when he heard footsteps coming towards him, he started to panic.

They can't see me.

"Tell me Draco."

Harry knew that voice to well. It was the voice of the potions professor. Snape would kill him if he found out.

"Well," the other voice was Malfoy. "I kind of threatened him."

"Who?"

Snape and Malfoy came from behind the corner. Harry pressed himself against the wall, hoping they wouldn't touch him. Hoping Snape wouldn't open the door to his office and see the knife.

"Potter," spat Malfoy.

Snape his black eyes went towards his office door for a moment but he and Draco kept walking, missing Harry by an inch.

"Why?"

"Because of what he did to my father."
Harry relaxed a bit. Instead of leaving the dungeon, he followed Malfoy and Snape.

____________________________________________________

"And what did he do to your father?" Snape asked, not quite understanding what his godson was talking about. Lucius was in prison, so how could the brat do something to him. He opened the door of the potions classroom and walked in.

"Because of Potter," spat Malfoy. "my father is in Azkaban."

Snape could have expected that Draco would blame the boy for his father incompetence. Not that Gryffindor’s Golden Boy was innocent.

"Have your parents never taught you to close doors?" asked Snape when Draco seated himself without bothering to close the door.
The blond boy sighed, rose and shut the door.

"For what do you need the ingredients?"

Draco ignored his question and continued talking about the previous topic. "Because of bloody Potter my father is in prison and if he ever gets free the Dark Lord would punish him because he failed. So when I saw Potter on his own on the school grounds earlier, I decided to say exactly what I thought of him."

Snape shifted his attention from the ingredient cupboard to his godson, curious what the boy had said to his least favourite pupil. Or was Longbottom his least favorite? Potter didn't blow up cauldrons and wasn't a hazard to other students while working in the dungeons.

"I said to him that he was lucky that my father wasn't the only victim of what happened at the Ministry and I told him that it was his fault Cedric and that filthy dog died."

The Potions Master looked at Draco, trying to read his emotions. It seemed that the boy was very pleased with what he had said to the brat.

"And," continued Draco. "I said I would have revenge some day."

"Aah," was the only thing Snape could say. He didn't know that his godson was that blunt.

"What do you think?"

For a moment Snape didn't know what to say. He didn't agree completely with his godson but he had a reputation to keep.
"I don't think all the blame for what your father failed to should be put upon Potter. If your father was competent enough, he could have managed to capture a few teens." Malfoy shot him an angry glare, but Snape ignored it. "But if Potter wasn't so stupid to believe that his godfather was actually being tortured by the Dark Lord, none of this would ever have happened. If he wasn't so kind as to share his victory with the Diggory boy, no one would have died."

"Shame," said Draco. "If Potter had died -"

"You're so full of love, dear godson," said Snape sarcasticly, before Draco could end his sentence.

"Wouldn't you be happy when he is gone?"

"Of course -"
The door flew open.
"You didn't close the damn door well enough."
Again, Draco rose and shut the door for the second time.

"I was saying," continued Snape. "Of course I want the boy gone, but not dead. I don't wish death upon anyone. Shame Dumbledore is so fond of him, or else I could have expelled him years ago."

__________________________________________________________

Harry ran away from the dungeons, not caring that in his haste the Invisiblity Cloak revealed his feet. He didn't even bother to look at the Marauders Map, which he had unconsciously clenched in his fist. The only thing he wanted now was to get as far away from the dungeons as possible. He wanted to feel physical pain; hewanted to make sure that he wasn't having a nightmare. He pushed the door to the deserted entrance hall open and made his way to the stairs. The safest plays he could think of was the Room of Requirement. There he could be at peace and no one would disturb him. He and his beloved knife...Suddenly, he remembered that he failed to retrieve the knife. Now he didn't care too much if Snape would find the knife stuck in the door. He would just find something else to cut himself with, something that would cause him pain.

When he reached the Room he walked three times past the wall where the door was supposed to be and thought about a safe haven. The dark wooden door appeared. Slowly Harry pushed open the door and entered. The Room was different then the cold, clean bathroom it had been the previous times. Now it was a place where he wanted to stay forever. In the middle of the big room stood a king size bed in front of a burning fireplace and in a corner stood a tall, dark wooden bookcase. The walls were dark red and the floor a cream carpet.Harry made his way toward another door and pushed it open. Behind it was the bathroom Harry had used a few times but now included a shower as well. He stepped in front of the mirror, realizing he still had his cloak on. Slowly he pulled it off, hung it over a peg and looked at himself in the mirror.

Harry thought very hard about a knife. Suddenly a dagger appeared on the sink. The blade shone silver and the ebony handle scarlet ruins that Harry did not recognise. Harry let go of the map, took the dagger and went back to the bed. For a few minutes he just stared at the beautiful dagger, lost in his thoughts.

He wasn't that surprised that Malfoy wanted him dead, but that Snape wanted it as well was more than he guessed. He knew the Potions Master hated him, but that much? Did other people want him dead as well, beside Voldemort and his followers? If he died would there be anyone who would kneel down beside his grave and cry for him? Someone who would bring him flowers and talk to him? Hermione? Ron? No, they were too busy with each other. He was sure that no one even noticed that he wasn't at dinner. Any of the other Professor? No, they would just say some kind words and continue with their lives. They had many students to care for and he wasn't that special. Dumbledore? No. He destroyed his office and acted like a child. The headmaster had kept things from him for a reason. No, Dumbledore wouldn't grieve for him either. He was just a pawn in this war, this game. No one would miss him.

What if he just ended his life now? It would be hours before someone even noticed that he was gone and it would take days or even weeks before someone thought to look in the Room of Requirement. He just had to cut an artery and slowly he would bleed to death. Harry swallowed. That seemed to be a very painful death, perhaps he should find a faster way like jumping of the astronomy tower. He would have the thrill of the fall. It would feel just like flying until he collided with the ground but by then he would be dead. But there was a small chance that he would survive it but be paralysed. Maybe he just had to use the killing curse on himself. Could he do that? Was that possible?

Harry shook his head, hoping that would help chase the morbid thoughts away. Deep down he knew he wasn't brave enough to end his own life and if he could, he didn't want to. Life might be bad, but it wasn't that bad. Besides, he didn't want to give his uncle what he wanted. Stepping through the back door out of life wasn't the solution to his problems. The only thing that would happen is that someone else would have to take care of Voldemort. Did he want to shove his destiny, his burden onto the shoulders of another? Just because he was tired of his life? He wouldn't.

Harry pointed his wand at himself and said: "Finite Incantatem."
The spell that hid his horrible looking bruises and scars from the world, was lifted. Harry pulled up the sleeve of his right arm and took the dagger in his left hand. He placed the dagger just beneath his elbow at the bottom of his arm. Slowly he dragged it vertically towards his wrist. The dagger ripped through his skin and cut deeper than Harry had intended. A thick stream of blood ran out of the long gash. For a moment Harry panicked. This was the first time had had cut so deep or seen so much blood pouring from a self-inflicted wound. But the feeling of numbness eased his panic and he started to relax, watching the blood run over his arm and drip mesmerizingly onto the bed.

After a few moments he started to worry. The blood continued to flow. If it continued, he would kill himself after all. With haste he jumped to his feet and entered the bathroom. He pulled open the cabinet beneath the sink. A wave of relief washed over him when he found a box that held bandages. He tried to apply a bandage over the cut which proved to be more difficult than he had thought it would be.

As a last resort he went back to the bed, picked up his wand and pointed it at the wound. With a flick of his wand he cleaned the wound, but the blood kept coming. Now he pointed the wand at the bandage. Hoping that it would work, he moved the wand in the way he wanted the bandage to move around his arm. The bandage followed the movements of his wand and wrapped around his arm, covering the wound. It looked clumsy, but the bandage would, hopefully, stay in place.
The blood seeped through the bandage quickly. Harry cast a cleaning spell and the bandage turned from scarlet to its original white.

"Why don't I know any healing spells?" Harry muttered. "Perhaps..."
Harry focused his thoughts on a potion which would stop the bleeding and cure the wound. Like he had hoped, a crystal vial appeared on the nightstand. Harry grabbed it, pulled the stopper off the vial and sniffed the purple liquid. He recognised the potion: Madame Promfey had used it on him to cleanse his wounds after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Just to be sure, Harry read the label:

 

Wound-cleaning potionExternal use only Apply to wound

 

 

Harry carefully removed the bandage with his wand and spread the contents of the vial over the cut. As soon as the purple potion touched the wound, it started to smoke and sting. He wrapped the bandage around his arm again like he had before. He carefully pulled down his sleeve so that the bandage wasn’t visible.
Harry stared before him, wondering what to do. He hated feeling miserable and trying to hide what had happened to him and what he was doing to himself. But there was no way that he was going to tell someone, not even Ron or Hermione about his problems. Perhaps he should just forget about them, push them away and be happy again. That couldn't be too hard... He could at least try.
He restored the glamour charm, fetched his Invisiblity Cloak and map and went towards the door.

I am going to live my life happy and I will stop worrying so much, he thought, I don't care what others think of me.I won’t bother myself with the Prophecy. Life is too short to be worried and sad and angry.

Before he opened the door and stepped out of the Room of Requirement, he pushed all the bitter thoughts and memories to the back of his mind and promised himself that he would stop cutting.
In an extraordinary good mood he made his way towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom where he rendezvoused with Ron and Hermione and helped them with non-verbal spells.