Chapter 3 - The in-between

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„But there HAS to be a way, Petunia!"

„Vernon, we have tried everything! We have sent several letters to this... to Dumbledore but either there is no wi... freak working with the royal mail any more or the old man just refuses to send a reply! And we have been at the old house of my parents five times already, and there is no Snape-family around anymore! He was the only one I knew from that lot, well, apart from Lily and her bloody husband of course, and if we can't locate him how do you think we should contact one of those freaks?"

„We have to find a way, Petunia, we just have to! The boy can't stay here any more, I won't allow it, last time he almost hurt Dudley! I won't let your freak-nephew harm my son!"

„He is my son, too" snapped Petunia, „and I know we have to do something, but I don't know any other way to contact one of THEM! I would be just as glad as you when we would get rid of the freak, but we can't just abandon him on the streets of London! The doctor would ask questions, the school would ask questions, and if THEY ever get to know what we have done to the freak they will make our life hell! You have seen the letter Dumbledore left with the boy!"

„You have told me that there is some kind of freaky shopping centre in London, why can't we leave the boy there? Surely one of those freaks will find him and take him in!"

„I don't know where the entrance to this alley is located, Vernon. I have told you, I never was there when my parents and ... my sister went. I wish I would have, but who could have known that it would come to this...?" Petunia looked defeated.

„I just can't bear the thought that he might hurt Dudley... Petunia, I know you aren't to blame for the mess, it's entirely the fault of those freaks that our son is in mortal danger, the neighbours are whispering about us and you have to go to that shrink every other week! But I just can't help... I'm so sorry, Pet, I don't know what to do, there just has to be a way to get out of this mess..."

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It wasn't the first time Vernon and Petunia were arguing about possibilities to contact a wizard.

After Harry's first incident one and a half year previously, they both had hoped that it was a one time thing and that giving the boy chores would keep him too busy to allow anything strange coming into his mind. Additionally, though Petunia would never admit it, she had been somehow grateful that Harry (well, and Petunia herself) was seeing Dr Green once a month. After all, he was a specialist. He would be able to prevent any further incidents, wouldn't he?

The first few month after the stay in the hospital, all went well. Harry still talked to himself, but he had done this since he started speaking, and Petunia had long since put up with it. In truth, she had considered that perhaps the boy was doing it because nobody else spoke to him. Well, of course she told him what chores he had to do and that he should go to his cupboard when he messed anything up, but she had to admit that this couldn't really be compared to the way she spoke with her Dudley.

And since Vernon wasn't at home most of the time the boy was outside his cupboard, she had never seen any reason to tell him about the boy talking to himself. It would only upset her husband, and he had already enough on his plate, poor Vernon. Having to deal with a freak in the house, Petunia was used to it, it wasn't pleasant, but it was something you had to endure, there could nothing be done about it. But for Vernon it must be pure hell!

It hasn't stayed this way, so. One morning, when Petunia had woken her nephew, he had a a nasty bump and bruises on his forehead. After she had screamed to him for about 5 minutes he admitted that he had hit his head on the wall. (Well, that someone had hit his head against the wall, but since nobody else could have done it, it was clear that the boy had done it himself and was just a lying freak!) That afternoon, they visited Dr Green despite it being two weeks early. The doctor had tried to coax Harry to tell him why he had hurt his head, but Harry had only mumbled that he was really, really sorry and that he wouldn't do it again.

But he had.

And not only banging his head like a loon, but he had also started to scratch his skin until it was red and bloody and on top of all of this, he had started to scream without apparent reason. He would just start to wail and screech and shout and his voice would adopt a strange, frightening, almost inhuman tone.

The situation seemed to get worse with every month.

Harry's „episodes" would occur more and more frequently and his aunt and uncle were annoyed, desperate and rather stressed.

Fortunately, Dudley had started pre-school only a few weeks after Harry's first incident, and therefore he wasn't forced to watch to much of this madness. He had, however, already witnessed at least two screamings and one attempt of Harry to bang his head on the table, which had been prevented by his aunt since she had been standing directly behind her nephew.

Petunia had spoken with her son, told him that the other boy was crazy and perhaps dangerous and that Dudley should stay as far away from him as possible. She had told him how really, really sorry she was that she could not get rid of the boy, but that she would make up for it with double ice-cream and presents every weekend.
Dudley, who hadn't really been bothered by the strange behaviour of his cousin (he knew a cartoon that featured a crazy madman who regularly tried to kill the hero, but the hero always won and managed to kill or hurt or at least capture the madman!) had happily accept the ice cream and the presents and never paid much attention to the freak in the cupboard.

Of course, Harry and his aunt were visiting Dr Green much more frequently now. Harry would go to him every week, and every second week Petunia would accompany him. Even Vernon had be forced to come with Petunia at one point, but fortunately the doctor seemed to sense how uncomfortable he was (talking to a shrink!) and hadn't requested his presence anymore. Dr Green had wanted to see Dudley, too, but his parents had be very adamant that this would never happen! Their poor son had already enough to deal with, he wouldn't be exposed to a doctor for the mentally ill! Nobody could know what effects this might have on poor poor Duddy!

Dr Green had tried to explain that it was in Dudley's best interest, to see how he coped with the behaviour of his cousin and to make sure that he was healthy himself. Predictably though, the Dursley's weren't convinced but quite determined to protect their little son from any and every nut doctor!

For a few month now, Harry also took medicine. Dr Green had been reluctant at first, prescribing a child that young psychopharmaca wasn't something he usually did. However, Harry had hurt himself more and more frequently and he hadn't really seen any other way.
The child didn't talk very much to him, he usually just played with great enthusiasm (Dr Green couldn't know that Harry hadn't any toys to play with at home. For Harry, going to Dr Green had therefore become one of his favourite activities once he was sure that his aunt wouldn't punish him for playing.) and sometimes talked to himself. Dr Green had tried to make sense of the words the boy muttered, but most of them were impossible to understand or weren't words at all (like „muggle"... honestly, what on earth should that mean?) and the rest also didn't make sense! Sometimes the boy only begged some invisible being to „stop", and it was rather distressing only to witness what was obviously going on in the boys head. For the boy himself, though, it must be torture!

When the boy had talked, though, it had been quite alarming. There had been hints that he was convinced that some kind of „demon" was in his head, who was the one who hurt him.

Well, this last bit was actually one of the reasons for the decision to prescribe the boy a low dose of Phenergan, one of the most common antipsychotics for children. Well, it wasn't really for children, but it was one of the few drugs that Dr Green knew were regularly given to children who had developed a psychosis.

And this was what he supposed Harry was doing, or would soon be doing.

There simply couldn't be any other explanation for his behaviour.

Talking to himself, apparently rather violent and paranoid stuff happening in his imagination, hurting himself in a very unusual way, becoming catatonic for several minutes (or even more), yelling and screaming for no apparent reason, being distrusting,...

The exclamation of the boy that someone else was hurting him had at first taken the doctor by surprise. Harry had yelled (which was very unusual in itself) that „he" was hurting him. Taken aback by the outburst of the normally quiet and shy boy, the doctor had needed a few seconds to collect himself and make sense of what the boy had told him, well, yelled at him. When he had asked the boy who „he" was. He hadn't replied, though.

Actually, this statement of the boy had led to him demanding to see Mrs Dursley's husband, too. He didn't really believe that Harry was abused, but he had to make sure. Mrs Dursley seemed rather nice and caring, at least compared to other parents he was seeing regularly, but he wouldn't take any chances.

Mr Dursley had been extremely uncomfortable, but while he had admitted that he was somewhat worried about the boys behaviour and sometimes even frightened of him, there had been no indication that he was hurting Harry in any way or doing anything at all that could be considered abusive.

Therefore, the only reasonable course of action was to treat the boy against psychosis. The medication would, with some luck, prevent Harry from getting worse, and he might even be completely healthy in a few years time. Of course there were risked attached to drugging a child with rather strong psychopharmacas, but surely it would be worth it if it prevented the child from becoming a permanent resident in a closed ward, wouldn't it?

And really seemed to help the poor boy! He had become more quiet, wasn't so restless any more, and there seemed to be fewer incidents of self harm since he had started taking Phenergan. They still happened, yes, and Mrs Dursley complained regularly that these incidents were affecting the relationship to her husband (and were also the reason why Petunia had tried to contact ANY wizard, but without success, so far. However, Dr Green wasn't aware of THIS particularly problem, and would probably be unable to help anyway), but they didn't occur as frequently as they had before the boy had started taking drugs anymore, and surely this was a progress!

And since Harry had started school the previous summer, it was very important for him not to act like mad too often, since it would disturb his schooling.

It was true, Harry had started school, actually a few weeks before Dr Green has prescribed him the antipsychotics, and the teachers were glad he had done so.

Mrs Dursley had talked to them before her nephew was supposed to go to school for the first time, about him behaving strange, being quite troublesome sometimes, and also about his self harm. The teachers, having dealed with many difficult children before, hadn't really been bothered by the explanations of his aunt, but it certainly explained why her own son, who had already attended pre-school and therefore was well known amongst the teachers, behaved this badly. Obviously it was a cry for attention since his cousin would get all the attention from his parents at home because of being mentally unstable. Poor Dudley, he didn't seem to have an easy life.

The first few days of Harry's schooling had been quite unproblematic. In fact, the teachers had been somewhat surprised that this shy, meek and quiet little boy should be the troublesome kid they had expected. They had almost started to doubt Petunias claims about him being mentally ill and thought that perhaps she had told them this in order to distract from her own son's behaviour, when they were shaken awake rather violently.

It had been about two weeks into term and the class of first years was supposed to try writing some letters they had just learned. The teacher, Mrs Davis, was just helping one of the girly who had trouble writing the „S" when she heard a loud noise from the back of the classroom, followed by several screams of obviously frightened children.

„What's the matter? You are supposed to write you S'es and E's!"

„Mrs Davis, Mrs Davis, Harry...!" More information wasn't needed because another bang made it clear what was happening.

„Harry, stop this at once!" The boy didn't seem to hear her at all and just continued to hammer his head on the table. It was a sickening noise. The children who had been sitting near him started to clamber away from the boy, frightened.
„Harry, no! It's enough, you are disturbing everybody! Stop this!" She had grabbed the little boy who already had an angry looking bump on his forehead and decided it would be the best to bring him away from the other children.
„You stay here. I will take care of Harry and being right back! Just continue to practice your S'es and E's! And no talking!" She turned round and left the classroom, pulling Harry (who appeared to be in some sort of daze) along. She brought the boy straightly to the school nurse.

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„Karen! What's the matter? Oh, hello, and you are...?"

„Sue, little Harry... well,"

„Oh I can see, not to worry, not to worry, it's a nasty bump but we will fix this in an instant! What have you done young man?"

„Sue, he hit his head on the table. Purposely."

„Oh. Why did you do such a thing, Harry?" Of course, the boy didn't answer.

„Sue, I really don't know much, the aunt of him - he lives with his aunt and uncle and cousin Dudley, his parents died a few years ago - well, she told me that the boy - Harry - was somehow... disturbed... he is going to a specialist for almost a year but apparently it is getting worse. I don't know, he has behaved well so far, but today he just started... we were practicing writing and I was just helping little Emily when I heard this terrible noise! The other children were quite frightened! I really have to go back to calm them down, can't have flocks of parents complaining about their children having nightmares because of a classmate... you take care of him? It would probably be the best to phone his aunt..."

„Of course, of course dear, I'll manage. Harry, you just stay with me for now and I will look at your forehead and stay with you until your aunt can fetch you, yes?" At least, the boy give some sign that he had noticed that somebody was talking to him, even it it were only a slightly confused look at the nurse.

This was how Petunia had to come to fetch Harry from school for the first time, the first time of many more. She had been furious when the nurse had called her, however, after talking to her and she being more worried than disapproving about the boys behaviour, she had calmed down considerably. At least the nurse didn't look at her with disdain (it was a disgrace, having such a nephew!) or, even worse, suggested that the boy may need home-schooling! Imagine, having the boy around the whole day again when she had been so grateful that she would no longer have to put up with him for more than a few hours each day, and additionally having to teach him stuff he was too stupid to understand anyway,... a nightmare!

Not long after this incident (and after two more at Privet Drive), Dr Green hat prescribed the antipsychotics.

And Harry got better. Well, he didn't get worse, at least.

He became more confident also, but this was attributed to going to school, which he rather liked (well, except the breaks when Dudley and his friends tormented him). Vernon and Petunia didn't like that, though. A freak who talked back! But since both Dr Green and the teachers (with whom the Dursley's, or at least Petunia, were forced to hold regularly conferences regarding Harry and his quirks) approved of it, there wasn't really anything they could do about it.

The initial delight of the teachers, however, turned into disapproval when Harry became more and more reluctant to follow simple orders or to stay put on his chair during lessons. When the boy yelled swear words at his maths teacher for the first time, he received his first detention and Petunia another phone call.

But all things considered, things were looking up (although Vernon still tried to shield his son from the „mad freak" whenever possible), and misbehaviour was far easier to be dealed with than this mad screaming or even the self-injuries. And, of course, Harry's troublesome behaviour, together with HIM being the one who had to take psychopharmacas in order not to went mad and HIM having to go to a psychiatrist every other week, Dudley's misbehaviour paled somewhat in comparison, for which Petunia was rather grateful.

But neither the Dursley's, nor Dr Green or the teachers had a clue about the things going on inside the boys head.

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The thing in Harry's head was restless. It had noticed the attack posed by the medicine, and tried to fight it (and causing the boy quite a headache while doing so), tried to take control once more. Sometimes it would achieve its goal, but never for long, never long enough to capture the body...

The thing had no real awareness, no real consciousness, no knowledge about the reason of its existence, its host.

But it had a strong desire to destroy, to hurt, to kill.

Harry felt dizzy. He always felt dizzy since had started taking these awful tasting medicine. He didn't really know why he had to take medicine that made him feel sick in the first place, but when he had refused to take it one morning, Aunt Petunia had yelled and slapped him and had threatened that, if he didn't take it voluntarily, they would go to the doctor and he would get an injection. So Harry had taken it, he didn't want to have injection. Injection hurts.

Harry wasn't stupid, he knew that the adults thought he was crazy. They tried not to say it out loud, at least not when he was in the vicinity, but in school, some of his classmates (including his cousin, Dudley) had picked up cornering him during lunch break and taunting him about having to go to a nut doctor.
And then he had heard Aunt Petunia talking to his teacher about him being not in his right mind didn't understand this, though, he was rather sure that it wasn't he who was in the wrong mind, but a wrong mind was in HIS mind. And he thought it rather unfair that he was laughed at and even had to take disgusting medicine because of this wrong mind. The demon. It was certainly evil and terrifying enough to be a demon. Harry knew what a demon was since he had started to peek into the living room when Dudley and his friends were there, watching TV. The demons always got killed, though perhaps it was better not to tell anyone that a demon was in his head? They might decide to kill him, too.

He would really like th demon, or the other mind, or whatever it was, to go away. But it didn't. It had been there as long as he could remember, and he had never thought much about it, at least until that time that the wrong mind had hurt him and as a result he had to go to that nut doctor. Oh, the doctor had lots of toys and Harry really liked playing with them, but sometimes the doctor asked strange questions. He didn't like that. And after he had learned that the doctor wasn't a normal doctor, but a nut doctor, he liked it even less.

It was the nut doctor who has made him taking the medicine. Why did a doctor give Harry stuff that resulted in him feeling tired and dizzy and all woozy in his head? Wasn't a doctor someone who should made you feel better and not worse?

To Harry, it didn't make sense. Unfortunately for Harry, it did to the adults.