This was what a gnome must feel like after ten de-gnoming sessions with Hagrid.

He couldn’t raise his head to see who was talking but he didn’t need to. The spiteful, condescending tone gave it all away. He was just wondering who was being insulted to the floor by Snape. Every sound felt magnified to the point where he can hear his own heart beat very clearly.

“I seem to have underestimated you Lupin,” spat Snape, “I wouldn’t have believed you would have the gall to attempt this in front of the Headmaster.”

Harry strained to recognize the object Snape was shoving so near to Remus’ face, it almost looked like he was swatting his nose. His vision was too blurred though, all he could see was a distorted shape.

“What are you talking about Severus? I haven’t been here all day, you know that.”

Uncharacteristically, Snape didn’t reply. Harry could make out the fuzzy figure of him staring at Remus in the same piercing way that he did to Harry so many times in the last year. Harry shook his head in reflex, causing shots of pain to attack his neck. He almost grunted out loud when someone suddenly spoke up.

Harry never saw Remus shed his calm demeanor at even the most difficult times, so to hear him raise his voice at someone, especially a person like Snape, was surprising. He knew that Remus wasn’t afraid of the git but it still raised Harry’s perception of him, nonetheless.

“A simple question would suffice, Severus. You knew I had orders from Albus, of course you did. You know everything that goes on in the Order, don’t you? With those humongous bat-like monstrosities you call ears of yours—”

Without a word in reply, Snape walked out of the room and slammed the door in response, forgetting entirely that Harry was supposed to be asleep.

Harry instantly shut his eyes, knowing that Remus would be checking if he woke up from the sound of the door. He didn’t feel like talking to Remus immediately, he felt drained from listening to their conversation. He did, however, swear to himself that he would congratulate him first thing when he woke up.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

"Your flair for the dramatic irritates me, Potter."

"You're the one to talk," he said. His head didn’t feel an inch better. He slammed his palm on the desk to find his glasses, sending a jet of pain through his arms.

He used his left hand to shove his glasses on.

“Bloody hell.”

Inspecting his right palm, he could see deep gashes and, due to the impact of his palm on the table, it was bleeding freely. He didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Snape so he sucked his breath in, saying to himself that it’ll stop eventually.

He took in a shaky breath. “Professor Lupin wasn’t lying you know.”

Snape scoffed, “Eavesdropping, Potter? Why does that cease to surprise me?”

“How could I not? You were practically shrieking in his ear, Professor.”

He could see Snape spitting out a hundred insults per second but nothing happened. Harry didn’t know if he should feel happy that Snape wasn’t shrouding him with evil or to feel terrified that he might snap and curse him to a pile of pink neon feathers.

“I’ll be in the basement, Potter,” said Snape, clearly refraining from snapping out any thing else. “If you can survive a few hours without fainting, screaming or dying, it would benefit me and the whole wizarding world greatly.”

Snape walked out of the door, leaving Harry to the blaring silence.

His body felt like it aged twenty years; bones felt weak, muscles were under-used and his feet weighed like metal. Pocketing his wand, he wobbled over to the door. Stretching his arms, he groaned loudly. How long was he asleep?

Moving in a snail’s pace, he finally reached the drawing room. It was the only place he could be far from Snape yet near enough if he suddenly gets those hallucinations again.

He sank down on the comfy chair near the fireplace. This was the hard part; remembering everything that happened as if it just occurred a few seconds ago. The images, voices… The voice of his dad.

He turned his palm over, glancing at the remnants of last night’s incident. The bleeding was already slowing to a trickle, numbness overcoming any pain he felt.

This summer wasn’t any worse than the ones he had with the Dursley’s, it wasn’t by a mile. Yet he couldn’t escape the truth that he truly felt worthless. He was a liability, nothing more.

He sighed out loud, the house brought out his worst and darkest thoughts. He was foolish to think he could live here with Sirius. Now he felt guilty to give it to Remus, he wouldn’t want to torture him by feeling depressed every day.

Standing up, he moved over to the fireplace. Was it just a few days ago when he and Dumbledore were arguing over the ownership of this place? He shook his head. Glimpsing at the multiple jars on the mantle, he halted at the sight of the cookie tin.

He remembered his conversation with Remus about the Floo powder.

Where did he say it was?

Harry saw the glass jar next to the auburn tin. It was of average size, smooth yet very inconspicuous. Someone in a hurry would never find where it was.

Go on, use it.

He wasn’t startled at the voice; it was, after all, himself speaking. However, what surprised him was how rational the whole idea sounded. No one would know he’d gone away for an hour or two. Snape said he was brewing some potions and Harry knew he’ll be stuck there the whole day.

You’ll only be gone for an hour.

He tore off the lid of the jar. A mad grin on his face, he grabbed a good handful. Stumbling over to the centre, he said clearly, “The Leaky Cauldron!”

He eagerly brushed off the ash on his clothes, striding out proudly for the whole bar to see.

“Mr. Potter! What a pleasant surprise, how are—” Tom the bar man came to an abrupt stop. He was clutching the rag he was holding very tightly, twisting it repeatedly. “Where are the rest of you, Mr. Potter?”

“What?”

The whole bar erupted into whispers. He could swear that someone choked on his drink.

Harry looked down; he was missing his entire lower body! He patted himself, his legs were still there but it was like he was wearing a partial invisibility cloak.

“What the hell—”

“This is certainly the most amusing part of my day, Potter. I give you my gratitude for providing it.”

Harry turned around quickly. How could it not be him? Snape was fresh out of the fireplace; his breathing was erratic though, like he had just searched the whole Floo Network for him.

Walking over to him, he smiled as he saw Snape was sweating. He must’ve gotten into a fit when he saw that Harry wasn’t anywhere. “Humour doesn’t suit you, Professor.”

Snape smiled—Harry thought it looked like a smile—eerily.

“How densely primitive are you to think that we wouldn’t apply wizarding signals to ensure your stay at that horrid place? Tut-tut, Mr. Potter,” sneered Snape.

Cocking his head, clearly enjoying the humiliation Harry was getting, he went on. “The Disillusionment Charm on the lower extremities, however, was my proposition.”

Harry sighed. Even if Snape hadn’t come, he’d be plunging into a sword if he thought he could get away with walking around Diagon Alley with no legs! What was he thinking anyway? Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron was the most idiotic idea he’d ever thought of. Shaking his head, he wondered if temporary lapses of insanity were something else he got from being stuck there too long.

Several laughs were heard from the crowd, they were obviously enjoying the scene. Harry, of course, was far from amused.

“I’m going home then.”

Harry moved over to the fireplace but as soon as he was near, Snape grabbed hold of his right arm.

“Oy, that hurts!”

Snape just clinched it even harder, causing Harry to mumble words which suspiciously rhymed with ‘might’ and ‘bung’.

“If you’re thinking of escaping to Merlin-knows-where, I swear by Salazar that I will find you and hang you upside down until your brain goes back to where it belongs.”

“Yeah, sure, fine,” he muttered. Honestly, threats were as normal as owl post to him now.

Snape glowered fiercely before declaring, “Albus Dumbledore’s office!”