Friday had been hell, Harry decided. Throughout his daily chores, he tried to ignore the constant wet trickles down his back to the best of his abilities. He tried applying some of the techniques Hermione’s meditation book had mentioned. Tried breathing away the worsening agony of his back and the painful twitches the welts made when he moved to fast.

It was too much. He had seen too much, felt too much. Finally, the physical pain had caught up to his emotional one and he found himself coming to a decision. It felt as if the spark in his chest had finally flared up so much, that his chest couldn’t contain it anymore. His stomach seemed to be inhabited by funny little bees whirring in circles not able to escape. This only heightening his restlessness. The buzzing seemed to go straight into his limps and they twitched with the need to do something.

The past weeks seemed to fall off him, the whole bloody routine, the awful loops, the frightful feeling of his self-forced apathy. Now all he was left with was the slightly breathless feeling that came of this thought, the one thought wedging itself deeply and firmly into his mind. He could bear it no longer. He had to get out.

When Uncle Vernon had come home from work this evening, he had only been waiting for Harry to slip up. Harry had been hell-bent on not offering his uncle an opportunity to thrash him again, of course. But all efforts were in vain. After dinner, Uncle Vernon had ordered him up to his room.

“Wait for me there, boy!”

“What? But I didn’t-“

“You need an invitation boy?”

What was up with him today? That was the second time in not nearly twelve hours he had dared to speak up to his uncle.

“No, sir. Sorry.”

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry, sir. I’ll go up now.”

“I should say so!”

Harry quickly fled into the hallway.

“And take off your shirt meanwhile!”

Waiting in the small bedroom, Harry stood shaking despite the humid summer air that promised a formidable thunderstorm. Suddenly, footsteps banged on the stairs. Slowly they approached. Harry’s bedroom door burst open and the handle put a hole into the wall from the sheer force of it.

“Put your hands on the wall!” Uncle Vernon ordered, belt already wrapped around his fist.

But Harry couldn’t obey him. He was quickly working himself up to a panic. Now Harry! You have to do something now!

“You want to make it difficult for yourself today, don’t you!” Uncle Vernon growled.

“Well then, let me help you.”

His uncle grabbed his shirt and in one clean pull ripped it from Harry’s body. Then he marched him to the clear wall opposite the bed with an ironhanded grip around his nephew’s neck.

“Now hands to the wall!”

Harry tried to get his arms above his shoulders but they just dropped back to his sides. It cost him too much strength. He didn’t have the will-power to go on. He had given up. Nothing mattered anymore. No one cares, anyway.

“You’re asking for it, boy!”

Uncle Vernon was on him in seconds and threw him face down on the bed. Harry hit his head painfully on the post. A second later, the belt swished down on the bloody stripes on his back.

“Argh! Uncle Vernon, stop!”

“Ordering me around now?

“No, please, just stop! I’m sorry!”

“You’ll be sorry!”

The belt came down again and again but Harry had found a new resolve. With the last energy left in him, he turned around. He cried out in pain as his back connected with the mattress. Fending off the belt that threatened to descend on him once more, he grabbed the hated leather and with an almighty pull wrenched it free from his uncle’s grip.

“Give it back!”

“NO!”

“Give it here, boy!”

“I said no!”

“I warn you, one more time and I’ll-“

“You’ll do what? Beat me again? Give me more chores? Starve me?”

Through the few words he had spoken, his voice had steadily grown louder. It was more than he had said in over a month.

“You can’t scare me anymore. You have done everything! I’m done!”

Uncle Vernon quickly advanced on him.

“You’re done? I tell you when you’re done, boy! Bent back over!” With a quivering finger, he pointed to the matrass where little red dots had appeared.

“No.” Harry suddenly felt an eerie qualm settle over him.

“Just you wait, you’ll not walk, you’ll not even make a sound when I’m through with you!”

Uncle Vernon grabbed his ear and tried to get Harry back over the bed but Harry’s mind flashed. It was as if everything came together in this moment and he knew exactly what to do. Maybe it were all these years finally adding up to something he couldn’t accept anymore. All the beatings, all the missed meals, all the days locked in his cupboard or the small bedroom, all the lunch breaks spent hiding from Dudley’s tormenting.

When Uncle Vernon forced him to bend over with an iron-glad grip on his ear, Harry grabbed his uncle’s other arm and bit down hard on it, simultaneously stamping on his uncle’s foot with all his might.Confused by this sudden onslaught Uncle Vernon let go of Harry with a scream and hobbled around the room rubbing both appendages.

“What- t- hell, you little freak!”

Wasting no time, Harry backed up and prepared himself for the last big leap. Uncle Vernon was still winded from his previous attack. Perfect. He took up a run, getting to full speed as he reached his uncle and smacked right into his middle section, taking him down in a glorious tackle that would have scored points in rugby. They went down together but Harry who was by far lighter and shorter had the upper hand and extricated himself from the chaos of limbs on his bedroom floor with the agility of a cat. Panting he looked down on his uncle for the first time in his life. He could feel the urge to kick the fat man in the side bubbling up from his stomach. The man who had made sure that Harry knew he wasn’t welcome here, wasn’t wanted, wasn’t loved for fifteen years of his life. Harry just shook his head, all of a sudden overcome with sadness that had nothing to do with everything he had been through. Suddenly he had to think of his friends.

There at his feet lay his uncle blinking up at him in bewilderment, his big frame oddly out of place in Harry’s small bedroom.

“What? Lost your tongue?” Harry asked but his voice was free of mockery. He was just so tired.

“I- just wait ‘til- this will have consequences,” his uncle stuttered from between clenched teeth.

“Oh yeah?”

Uncle Vernon looked at him as if he was an alien, what, given that he had looked at Harry as if he was far worse since he was a child wasn’t saying much. Slowly Uncle Vernon got to his feet and Harry could feel a little bit of satisfaction that he swayed. Then he scrambled to the door and was gone in a blink, the locks clicking shut from the outside.

Utterly baffled Harry stared down at the belt in his hands. Then he dropped it as if the leather had burned him.

This night was officially cursed, Severus decided when he was disturbed in his peace for the second time that evening.

“What is it now?” tired he blinked open his eyes.

He could hear a faint chirping noise coming from his bedroom window. A magnificent red and golden bird was hovering on his windowsill. Fawkes the Phoenix chirped more loudly this time, making known his indignation at being ignored.

“Blast that ruddy bird!” Severus muttered but opened the window to let Fawkes fly inside nonetheless. He knew already that this could only mean one thing. And that was bad. Very bad. It promised to interrupt his peaceful and well-earned holiday. Fawkes stuck out a letter towards him. Sighing Severus plucked it out of the phoenix’ beak.

Severus, please come as fast as you can. The Order’s assembling at Wit’s End.

Something came up at Privet Drive that needs our urgent and undivided attention.

Hurry, A. Dumbledore

Hastily dressing in his black teaching robes again after not even a month of being rid of them, he stumbled down the stairs in the dark. At the coat rack, he threw on his old traveling cloak and looked back into the living room. All was quiet here. He could just make out a small ball of fur curled up on Ben’s chest, rising and falling with his breath. With a last glance at the teen’s calm sleeping form, he pulled the door shut behind him and apparated to the Order’s old hideout.

For all the hurry Dumbledore had urged Severus to in his letter, the other members of the Order were progressively slower to arrive. Wit’s End was an old safe-house from the first war that stood on the edges of a large swamp. Crossing the anti-apparition border, Severus swatted at the midges trying to attack his nose mercilessly.

“Blasted Order and blasted safe-houses!”

“Severus!” an altogether too cheerful voice greeted him. He swivelled around.

“Professor McGonagall. Good evening.”

“Enjoying your summer so far?” she asked.

He ignored her.

“What’s that about Potter?”

“I only just arrived here myself, dear colleague.”

They walked down the short path to the house. Behind them, they could hear the cracking sound of apparition again, as the sudden appearance of more Order members displaced the surrounding air.

The Order of the Phoenix or rather the few members who were already there gathered around a large oak table. Some of them had steaming cups sitting in front of them, others were slumped in their seats and Remus Lupin appeared to be out cold, sleeping with his chin sunk on his chest. When it didn’t seem like anyone else was coming, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“My apologies for calling a meeting on short notice and this late in the night. Or should I say early?”

A few Order members grumbled humorously but Kingsley Shacklebolt obviously didn’t have time for pleasantries.

“Come to the point, Albus. What’s going on?”

“Ah yes, of course. Where to begin? Right. This evening I was alerted to the wards at Number Four Privet Drive unravelling.”

Further down the table, a few heads shot up.

“Unravelling? What do you mean by that?”

“They were shifting in place, so to speak. Some weakening energy levels.”

“Weakening energy levels!” Lupin cried out suddenly wide-awake.

“Calm down, all of you,” Albus clapped his hands, “I have already sent Filius to investigate this matter. He should be back shortly. Meanwhile I want you all to keep your eyes open for Harry. I’m sure, he only took a bigger walk around the neighbourhood or-“

“At two am?” McGonagall asked incredulously.

“Potter’s missing?” Severus interrupted from where he had leaned against the doorframe, until now just listening in on the conversation indifferently.

“Albus, are you telling us that Harry has disappeared?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said pointedly, “Which is why I want you all to search for him. Now, I’m sure he hasn’t gone far but I still want Tonks and Kingsley to have a look around London.”

“Aye sir!” said Tonks who had donned some seriously eye cancer inducing hair colour today.

“Grimmauld Place is still not safe but I want Remus to wait there should Harry maybe make an appearance.”

Dumbledore quickly briefed the Order members on their respective watch posts, a few of them leaving already after being informed about their tasks. Finally, he turned to Severus.

“Severus, I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t really important-“

“No! With all due respect headmaster but-“

“Severus please. Just keep your ears open. Ask around a bit.”

“No, absolutely not. I thought we agreed-“

“Please, Severus. Do it for her.”

And there you had it. The one and only thing that would always get him. Always make sure he continued saving the annoying boy’s sorry arse.

“And how, pray tell, should I do this? Have you forgotten my last encounter with the Dark Lord’s minions?”

“Come now, I’m sure a Potion Master of your ability and talent has his methods,” Albus winked infuriatingly, turned around, and clearly deeming this conversation finished disappeared into the darkness. Severus groaned. In the distance he could just make out the first growling of thunder.

And thus, Severus found himself stalking dark corners for twelve hours straight before giving it up as a lost cause. He apparated home utterly soaked with the constant rain that day to get a bit of sleep. Later, he knew, he would have to continue searching for Potter. But at the moment he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t even hold himself upright on his feet anymore, let alone gather something useful from the psychopath’s sycophants.

Concealing himself had also taken its toll on him. The charms had depleted his magic and if it hadn’t been for the misty shadows in the last hovel of a bar he had visited, he was sure that Rowle would have seen the flickers of his true appearance shining through his transfiguration charms.

He had to sleep first and maybe the others would have found the Potter brat by then. That would have been just fine with him. Let the others search for the bothersome boy for a few hours. How far could a boy as dense as Potter could get anyway?

Upon returning home this afternoon, he found the couch in his living room empty, the blanket and sheets thrown haphazardly on top of it.