Harry was getting more and more upset. He could feel it in his bones, in between his bones, in his gut, in his heart, and everywhere else that could be touched by this sinking feeling dragging him below the core of the earth.

He couldnt stop it. Normal people did not feel like this. He knew that, vaguely, vaguely. He knew he was not supposed to be like this. But, the other people, he didnt even know what they were. Were they real people? Maybe they werent. Maybe they were all actors and everyone was playing some sort of prank on him.

Sometimes he looked at them and he could swear that just for a second there was a glitch in the system. Like, for a second, he would look and something wouldnt be right. And the other person would look like they made a huge mistake. And he would think in that moment that he KNEW the truth. But then things would start up again. And sometimes when things started up again he would... well. It was hard to say things were not real when they felt real sometimes too. When there was all this emotion being pushed at him, he couldnt deny that that was not real.

It was so real sometimes as to be completely overwhelming. It would be a chain of realness- of him being pretty sure that at least some things were real- and then there would be a break where he questioned if anything really was- but then... things would settle again.

Not for very long. But even though the states were muddled together- like a torturous song- eventually he could pick apart different melodies. Different clues.

The problem was there were too many songs. Too many things. Going on.

They werent really songs. He wished they were songs because most people liked music, but he knew that they werent, because most people did not like him much.

And if he was made of songs people would like him, logically.

He thought.

It was all very confusing. He tried to make it less confusing. He tried all the time. Whenever he got a moment where things felt- just a little bit- tightly wound- he would try to come up with ways in the future he could use to discern what was really going on.

He would think and think and try to reason with himself. He would use his own logic, and sometimes it helped, sometimes- when it came to very basic things- he had it ingrained enough where he could take it piece by piece- and for a minute the world would be his. For a minute he would win the small battle.

He was losing the war. He knew that. The battles took up too much of his energy. And they never ended. He could only keep up for so long before he would have to admit defeat.

And he was terrified of what that might finally mean. It. Whatever it was. Would be final.

But that was not now. He still fought. He still knew, hoped, that maybe, he could win.

Or, maybe even not win. All he really wanted was not to lose.

And he knew he was losing. And he couldnt stop it. And it was upsetting.

It was like this all the time. All these thoughts. All this effort. All this energy inside of him. It had to go somewhere, but, there was so much of it that it never had enough places to go.

He knew he was annoying. He knew he was weird. He knew the world would be better off without him. But, selfishly he sometimes felt, he had to keep going.

Even though he hurt people. He knew he did. He scared them. He didnt mean to scare them, he just couldnt help it.

And he hated himself for that. He hated that he couldnt help it. But he hated himself even more because the suggestion, there was always a suggestion in his head, that if he just tried a little harder...

But he tried as hard as he could. It just wasnt enough.

What was worse? To be able to control yourself and hurt people, to choose to do it? Or to watch yourself hurt others and wonder... if there was something more you could have done? To know that you really are no better than an animal.

Harry got more and more unsettled as all these thoughts raced in his head.

Because they were no where near this clear usually. And they werent even clear now. They were jumping all over each other, and he was having a very hard time keeping them all contained.

It hurt.

He had been pacing for a while. He had been doing as much possible to release at least SOME of this energy inside of himself for the better part of an hour.

Or was it only a few minutes?

Why couldnt anything be clear cut? Why did he have to know everything, but at the same time nothing?

He slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. He screamed. He couldnt TAKE it any more. It just needed to stop! It all just needed to stop! It needed to leave him alone! He didnt deserve this! He didnt! It all just needed to SHUT UP.

He just wanted silence. It didnt even have to be very long. He just wanted one second of silence. He just wanted one second where he didnt have to feel so scared.

He started crying again. Crying and punching. That man, the man who had looked at him so nicely before, he was going to come back and he was going to think Harry was a freak.

But what did Harry care. He was a freak. And it was even harder to pretend he wasnt than it was to just.

Be.

And so he hit the wall. Again and again. His hands hurt. He was pretty sure they were broken. Not just the knuckles. It was all broken. He was broken.

That man already knew he was broken. Hed seen his shame. Hed seen it all. And he was probably going to tell everyone and then... well.

It was going to be taken away from him. The only thing he had, they were going to want it. Because he was so bad. He couldnt have anything nice.

But he didnt have to like it.

And as he hit the wall again and again, with his fists, his feet, his forearms, his head, he figured...

If this was how it was going to be. If he couldnt win the war anyways.

At least he could go out on his own terms.

They hadnt taken that away from him.

Not yet.

One last battle.

And this one, he wasnt going to fight to win.

—-

Severus was surprised at all Poppy told him. She had seemed hesitant and uncomfortable, like she always seemed when it came to him, but the hostility that was generally there was absent.

She just calmly- he was also impressed by how calm she was being, considering he was screaming when he arrived- explained to him that... yes, the majority of the childs injuries were self inflicted.

There was some scarring in some places that was obviously not, but, on the majority of the skin the child could actually reach on his own, the handiwork was his own.

This, Severus found, was incredibly unsettling. The injuries on the child were for the most part anything but minor. It would have to take something very big, very troubling, fo the child to feel that he had to go to the extent he had in hurting himself.

Not that any degree of this would be acceptable, but with the child, it was obvious that all sense of restraint had been lost long ago.

Which meant this was going to be very difficult. The child, well, his sense of self control... was definitely grossly impacted.

But, from his observations, what was making this the most terrifying was the fact that this lack of self control wasnt something that came lightly. It wasnt just a child testing the waters-

It was a child drowning in them.

He needed more help than Severus could give.

Severus could be there- he could be Harrys pillar- but someone else needed to make it so Harry could stand straight enough to hold on.

They needed an expert.

And they were going to need a lot of patience.

...

Severus flooed again, this time to Saint Mungos.

He didnt know exactly what he was doing, where he was going, what- who he was trying to find. He did know that there was a floor for patients who had... issues with their minds.

He wasnt sure what else to call it. That seemed like a very belittling terminology- like they were defective in some way- but he wasnt sure what else to understand it as.

He hoped that this was the right place. That he was doing the right thing.

He marched up the stairs, taking them three by three, as he made his way upwards.

He walked in. He noticed a few individuals walking around in clothing that strayed far from their waists. They were all doing different things, some talking to each other, some talking to themselves, some rocking.

The rocking is what really caught Severus's attention.

Because, he realized, Harry did that. He realized that, if he couldnt get Harry to stop doing that then he might just be looking at Harry in a couple decades right then.

It made him even more desperate to talk to someone. To get help. To get answers.

He rushed up towards the desk that was centered in the large room. There were two people there, a man and a woman. They were both fairly young. Both talking to each other with lots of inflection and very little substance.

Severus initially tried to get their attention by clearing his throat. And then he asked himself why, when it normally was the farthest thing from his mind, was he being so polite.

So he opened his mouth and spoke deeply and clearly.

"I have a situation that requires the utmost attention and confidentiality. Where to I reach the person in charge?"

The two looked at him as if he were speaking Trollish. They glanced at each other and resumed their conversation completely ignoring the man before them.

This was not something Severus was going to allow.

"Excuse me. I know that I find your chatter about such important things as what your boyfriend said to you last night, and what sort of broomstick you are saving up to buy, incredibly fascinating... but if you would please do your jobs and stop acting like complete imbeciles I would be more than flattered. Now, I ask again, who is the one in charge?"

The two looked each other again before the girl sighed and left, after giving him a glare, for a moment.

The boy took this time to try to stare Severus down, but it only took one glare for him to pale and deliberately look the other direction.

Coward.

The girl came back a few minutes later with a petite woman who looked to be in her thirties.

She looked at Severus, eyes a pale sea green covered by thick rimmed glasses, and gestured him towards a smaller room off to the side.

Severus followed immediately.

"I think we will be more comfortable here. Now what is it I can help you with?"

...

Severus explained the situation. Well, he explained the best he could. He explained what he knew, which was less than he would have liked, and then he waited.

She looked at him for a moment. Really studied him, and then she sighed.

"Although you seem as if you have been made to believe differently, I am not in charge here. The man in charge is out of town for the week, and I am a stand in. This is both good and bad for you in this situation. Good, because I happen to specialize in the field of child and adolescent issues, but bad because during the day- I have responsibilites here. But, there is an option. The night shift starts at 6. I suppose I could come after then, talk to the child, and we can come to a plan of what to do afterwards. Is this acceptable to you?"

Severus thought a moment. He supposed it would be. It actually might work out better. It would be less likely for anyone to spot this going on later in the night. But there was just one thing he wasnt sure of. Why couldnt she just tell him what was wrong? If he knew, well, he could try to fix it himself.

He explained this to her and she looked at him very seriously.

"This is a human being. Not a machine. The child sounds as if he has some very severe, very disabling, very legitimate issues. As much as we, as witches and wizards, are lead to believe- not everything can be just fixed with a wave of a wand."

Severus nodded. He supposed she knew what she was talking about, and he definitely supposed that he did not, so he would listen.

He would let her talk to the boy. Tonight.