Harry was finished with breakfast by the time the other Gryffindors came down to eat. He took that as his cue to leave and he was nearly free from them when he realized that Neville and Ginny were following him. He sighed and continued walking until they were outside the doors of the great hall.

“What are guys doing?” He asked tiredly.

“We were checking to see if you were ok. Are you ok Harry?” Ginny asked quietly.

“I’m fine, though I was expecting Hermione to be here too.” He joked lightly.

“She would be, except she’s chewing Ron out at the moment.” Neville replied softly. “Don’t change the subject; something is going on with you.” He continued.

“I’m just tired of this every year; it kinda makes me think I wish I wasn’t the bloody boy-who-lived.” Harry said before walking off and heading to potions.

Neville looked at Ginny as they watched Harry walk away, that didn’t comfort the Gryffindor boy in the slightest, if anything it made him fearful at what Harry could do if he was pushed too far.

Surprisingly Potions went pretty well considering everything that happened this morning. The Slytherins were all trying to mess him up but it seemed like someone had placed a shield on his cauldron. He looked to Hermione to thank her, unaware of the dark eyes that watched him the entire class. Harry winced as he cut up the ingredients as he noticed his left hand taking an almost purple color. With his history with bruises he was almost certain it was getting infected and sighed wishing he and Snape were on a good enough level where he could ask for essence of murlap.

Harry shook his head since they weren’t and silently finished his potion. Class was soon let out and he more or less wasn’t there mentally as he went throughout his classes. Detention soon came and he headed down to Umbridge’s office. He didn’t react when the blood quill was given to him. He simply gave in and wrote the lines silently, hoping Snape wouldn’t be angry with him for being late.

By the time he finished his lines, his hand was now bleeding freely and he wasn’t looking forward to washing cauldrons. He actually felt like he would cry if he did. But that would be surprising; Harry couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Crying made you feel better, and he deserved to suffer; after all Cedric was dead. Shaking that thought away he made his way to the Dungeons; and forced himself to relax, knowing that he would never make it through the detention if he didn’t calm down. After gaining entrance into the man’s office Harry stood in front of his desk keeping his gaze focused on the wall next to Snape. He was surprised when his teacher told him to sit down. Harry took a seat in confusion as he looked at the man.

“You were right; you did have detention with her yesterday. My question is why she lied about it. Can you shed some light on that Potter?” Severus said neutrally.

“She hates me of course,” Harry replied quietly.

“Why does she hate you? You’ve only had two classes with her this year,” Severus replied.

“Because I say that Voldemort is back, she says he isn’t. I’m just a child, therefore I must be wrong. What is detention today sir?” Harry replied tiredly, he didn’t want to talk to the man, or anyone for that matter.

“Lines, you will be writing lines. And do not mention that name in my presence,” Severus replied with a wince before pointing to the desk in the corner of his office.

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked at the man in horror, this had to be some bloody joke right? His hand was still bleeding and now he had to write more lines? Harry took a breath before remembering that Snape hadn’t had a quill that made him bleed before nodding and making his way to the desk. Once again he didn’t see the dark gaze on him calculating.

Harry plowed through his lines and was released wondering what the hell that had been about. Snape hadn’t yelled at him or anything was the world going mad or something? He shook his head as he made his way to his tower. Ignoring his so called friend trying to get his attention, Harry bade Neville goodnight before falling asleep. He woke up a few hours later with a scream as the scar on his forehead continued throbbing. He looked around the dorm with terrified eyes, before closing them which turned out to be the worst thing as he remembered just what Voldemort had been doing.

Harry put his hand over his mouth before running to the bathroom, unaware that the boy’s in his dorm were looking at one another in horror. They had seen his bleeding scar, they looked at each other quietly but no one moved except for Neville and Ron who looked more scared then any of them. Harry leaned against the wall as he flushed the toilet, as he walked towards the sink to rinse his mouth he saw his friends by the door.

“Are you alright Harry?” Neville asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied hoarsely and honestly for once.

“What happened?” Ron asked breaking the silence after a moment.

“Voldemort was playing his favorite game,” Harry replied bitterly.

“Which was what?” Neville asked softly.

“Muggle hunting,” Harry replied forcibly, as the nausea returned.

“Did you want to go to Dumbledore Harry?” Ron asked softly.

“No he’s ignoring me, I’ll just talk to him tomorrow if I really have too.” Harry answered brushing pass them and back to his dorm.

He ignored the other two boy’s stares as he closed his curtain. He could hear everyone else getting back to bed, but Harry couldn’t make himself even try to sleep. These visions were getting more and more brutal. Why did he have to see them? Why was it always him? How did he prevent them? He didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

A month or so had gone by and Harry’s injuries on his body were mostly healed, though a few welts were still opened, and he hoped that they wouldn’t become infected. He hadn’t been sleeping well due to the visions he got every other night. He was always so tired, but he couldn’t do anything, the Headmaster refused to look at him.

By the time the next day rolled around, he was dead on his feet. Dressing as quickly as he could he made his way to Dumbledore’s office. He looked around the man’s office before explaining to him what he had been seeing all these sleepless nights. Harry listened even as the man refused to look at him, but he was used to adults giving up on him. Life at the Durselys had taught him well.

“Have you ever heard of Occulmency Harry?” Albus asked neutrally.

“No sir, what it is?” Harry asked quietly.

“It’s magic that doesn’t require any type of spell that allows you to block your thoughts from others.” Albus replied.

“You mean I can hide them from Voldemort?” He asked cautiously.

“Precisely my boy, you will be learning it.” Albus replied.

“Will you teach me?” Harry asked quietly.

“No I won’t be teaching you, Severus will.”Albus answered gently.

“Snape, but he hates me.” Harry cried out in horror.

“Professor Snape doesn’t hate you Harry,” Albus replied.

“Whatever you say sir,” Harry replied, there was no point to fight, knowing what Albus Dumbledore wants he would get.

“At 7:00pm tonight, be at his office Harry for your first lesson.” He said softly.

“Whatever,” Harry replied before walking towards the door.

He couldn’t understand what he did to make the headmaster hate him so. Did he really hate him enough to make him study with Professor Snape? Harry surprised himself by being able to handle everything the Slytherins were throwing against him this year. Not to mention, ever since that nightmare where he woke up the whole dorm, Seamus and Dean had been looking at him weird. Not that it was something new to him, he hated the way his house was treating him, made him wish he was a Huffelpuff instead. After all; your friends in that house were very loyal to you. He was still the freaky kid even in the magical world.

Harry hated this feeling, of being good one moment and then being angry all the time. He just wanted to be, for once to not think of anything. School had gotten busy and it had been a while since he had thought about the gun in his trunk let alone held it. He could do it tonight just to reassure himself that it was still there. As he opened the door to exit the man’s office Harry couldn’t resist saying one more thing.

“I’m sorry for whatever I did headmaster, please don’t hate me too.” He whispered before closing the door behind him.

Harry would never know that the old man had heard his words plain as day and had tiredly sat down as Fawkes played a mournful tune, the old man oblivious to what it really meant.