In bed, Harry was glad to be alone in the dorm so that he could assess how the first week of school had gone. Earlier in the day he'd become enraged in the common room when Fred was teasing him and had flung his Charms book across the room, nearly hitting Ginny. Luckily there were only a few witnesses, but eyebrows were raised and Hermione was quick to pull him aside to ask what was wrong for the thousandth time. He'd tried to blow her off and told her that he was tired of the twins ribbing him. If he had to throw around some books, so be it.

"Perhaps you should talk to someone, Harry," she said with concern. "There's something very wrong."

"You know what I'd like?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "For everyone to leave me alone. You're all smothering me and I can't stand it."

"Surely you know that Fred didn't mean to be nasty," she said. "You usually don't mind his jokes about your scar." She looked a little hurt, but Harry didn't care. He was getting better at distancing himself from everyone.

"Fred and George need to shut the hell up," Harry said. He felt overwhelmed with anger. He turned and walked away without another word.

Reflecting on the incident, Harry realized that now everyone was seeing the real him. Worthless and pathetic. A loser in the Muggle world, now he was a loser in the wizarding world. The fact that he'd survived the killing curse as a baby meant nothing. It didn't give him any worth. No one had loved him before he came to Hogwarts, and he couldn't be sure anyone did now. Everyone else had parents, but all he had was a photo album filled with pictures of strangers. His parents were unfamiliar to him. The next person who told him he had his mother's eyes might get punched. No matter how hard he tried, the feelings of love and wonder he'd had last year were gone. Going back to Surrey had cured him of believing he mattered. He had no one. The only relatives he had couldn't stand him, and the thought of it made him sick.

Harry had tried so hard as a child to get the Dursleys to love him. He'd wanted to be a good boy; he did everything he was asked to do, and tried his best in school. He was an idiot to think he'd ever be good enough. He knew now that there was nothing he could do that would change the way they felt about him. No longer would he feel hurt and betrayed, because he was training himself to be numb. The only thing to do was keep everyone away and make it through school. Eventually he'd be an adult and he'd count on himself, just like he always had. It was strange, but Harry found himself respecting Snape for the first time. He was really the only adult at Hogwarts who had ever acknowledged that Harry was a pitiful boy. It was the truth.

The next morning, Harry went to see Professor McGonagall in her office.

"Professor, I'm not going to be playing Quidditch this year, and I wanted to tell you now so that you can find a new seeker," Harry said, looking her in the eyes.

"Potter, why would you do such a thing?" she was clearly stunned.

"I don't know," Harry said as he shrugged. "I just don't want to play anymore."

McGonagall's slack-jawed look made Harry want to laugh. He was enjoying this, which made him feel a little guilty, but he quickly pushed that feeling aside.

"Well, I can't force you to play, but I think you should reconsider," she said, shaking her head at him.

"No, I'm certain about this, ma'am." He raised his head up. "Thank you for the opportunity." He stood up to leave.

"If you need to talk, I'm here for you, Potter." She gave him a sad look. It was growing tiresome - getting the same look from everyone. The one that was clearly supposed to make him feel he'd gone mad.

"Thanks," he said on his way out the door. "I'll be fine."

Walking back to the Tower, Harry was pleased. He thought he'd feel guilty about quitting, but no, he was overcome with relief. While the rest of the school went to the matches he'd have some time to himself. The pressure of winning was off of him now.

Up in the dormitory, Seamus and Dean were laughing and looking over something in a bag. Harry could tell it was a bottle of Firewhiskey. When they acted like nothing was going on, he walked over and asked them if they were planning on having a drink. Seamus smiled and told Harry he was welcome to join them and that they usually downed a bit right there in the dorm. Grabbing the bottle, Harry tilted it back for a good drink. He nearly spat the whiskey right back out. It burned his throat and made his eyes water. He'd never had a drink of alcohol before. Seamus and Dean burst into laughter, but instead of getting angry, Harry laughed, too.

"Easy, Harry," Seamus said. "You don't want to gulp the stuff."

"It takes some getting used to, yeah?" said Dean, smiling.

Harry felt his gut becoming warm, but he wasn't nauseated. It didn't take long before he felt a bit calmer than he had in quite a while.

"Can I have another go at it?" he asked, grinning.

Seamus nodded and Harry took another swig. This time he didn't try to guzzle it like pumpkin juice. After handing back the bottle, he sat down on his bed and chatted easily with the other two boys.

"People are talking about you, Harry," said Dean. "About how different you seem this year."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said, snorting. "Let them talk. All I know is that I feel pretty nice right now."

Seamus and Dean nodded. "There's nothing wrong with having a couple drinks now and then," said Seamus. "But I wouldn't go telling anyone else."

Harry agreed. "I won't say anything. Thanks for sharing, I really do feel better."

Harry went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He truly was feeling good. Suddenly he had a better understanding of drinking "to take the edge off." That's exactly what it was like. Everything was warmer, not just his belly. Finally, he was relaxed. Putting his palms on the counter he took a closer look at himself in the mirror. It was a little sad that he didn't have anyone to talk to about how angry he'd become. He smiled at himself and it looked all wrong. He didn't know the boy in the mirror anymore.