Once out of eyesight, Harry ran through the corridor and didn't stop until he heard the distinct, high pitched sobbing of Moaning Myrtle. His feet had taken him to the haunted, unused, girls bathroom.

What is happening to me? Why did I flinch? I stopped doing that first year. Stupid, Stupid. I'm losing it. I'm...

"Harry Potter," Myrtle cried out, all traces of tears completely gone. "Why has it been so long since you've visited me?"

"Myrtle," Harry winced, attempting to conjure language amidst the swirling thoughts in his mind. "Please, Myrtle. Do you think....I could be alone? Please."

Myrtle huffed and began flying circles above the bathroom stalls, coming in and out of a toilet, causing water to shoot out near Harry's feet.

"I promise to bring friends the next time I come," Harry said, attempting to live up the Sorting Hat's original choice his first year at Hogwarts. "I know some real fine blokes, Myrtle, honest. Please."

Harry knew that this last word came out in a whine, but he was reaching his breaking point and didn't want to explode with Myrtle in his vicinity.

I can't do this. Please leave. Just leave, please, Harry thought desperately.

"Oooh-lala," Myrtle purred, raising her eyebrows up and down repeatedly. She giggled before squeaking, "Deal!" and promptly flying up through the ceiling, out of sight.

"Well, that happened," Harry said aloud, looking down at the flooded bathroom floor.  He began pacing as thoughts swirled in his head.

I should be catching up on homework. I'm so behind. Why did I flinch? What is happening to me? Why can't I be okay right now? I've always been okay. Should I try...NO. I'm Harry Potter. Bloody, Harry Potter. People around me die. I can't talk to anybody. What if I lose it? I can't do this. I can't. Why can't I just be normal? Be normal. Such a freak? Why...I can't...UGH!

The thoughts threatened to consume him as the pain and isolation he was feeling hit a crescendo. He didn't want to cry. He wouldn't. But he had to do something.

Harry stopped Pacing as he approached the mirrors. The water on the floor rippled, the stall doors rattling as he struggled to control his emotions. Going to the sink, Harry looked in the mirror and noted the panicked look in his tired, green eyes.

"Some savior," Harry bitterly spat. He needed to feel something physical. He needed to not feel. Before he could think, he began striking out at the mirror before slowing to a stop as his right knuckle rested on the cool glass.

Wand hand. The savior can't be without his bloody wand hand, now can he?

Harry let out a scream that was more of a groan, before punching his reflection with his left hand. The glass cracked, but didn't shatter. He repeated the process with a bathroom stall door, a loud boom filling the room as it slammed into another stall.

He sank to the floor, in a fit of sobs, his left hand stinging mercilessly. Focusing on the pain in his hand, he quickly ceased crying, letting his whole being become nothing but a painful, throbbing, hand.

Severus Snape watched as a class of fifth year Gryffindor filed into the Defence Against the Dark Arts  classroom.  Shuddering slightly at the sight of Longbottom, Severus remained standing in front of a black chalk board, staring at the students stoically.

As the last of the students trickled in, Severus became focused on a disheveled Potter who wandered in with his head down and his hands in his pockets, taking a seat in the back. He noticed the Granger girl and Weasley boy whisper greetings his way, to which he responded with a small nod and a half-smile.

How very strange indeed, Severus thought, before picking up some chalk and writing on the board.

"Unfortunately," Severus drawled with an annoyed expression, "the Headmaster has asked me instruct you in another subject. I expect you to pay full attention to instruction, as it is not my desire to send anybody to the hospital wing, due to misfired hexes..."

He paused to glare in the direction of Neville, who in turn colored and looked down at his desk.

"Today we will be working on utilizing protective spells in combat. I have written some pointers on the board for those of you who lack knowledge, or are simply incompetent. You will attempt to render your partner unable to attack by the end of your dual. You will spend the first part of class practicing, and the second with the previously stated goal in mind. Begin." With this, Severus raised his wand, the desks disappearing, and the floor somehow becoming transfigured padded matting.

Harry was grateful that the class would be more physical than mental, as he was in no state to concentrate.

"Harry," he heard someone say. Turning around, he realized that it was Ron. "Partners?" Ron asked, uncertainly, as if he expected to be declined.

Conflicted, Harry let a smile play on his face before nodding. "Yeah, alright."

Losing himself in their exchange of hexes and shields, Harry laughed for the first time in a long time as a hex got through Ron's shield, turning his hair green. Ron smiled, leaving his hair green after seeing his friend look untroubled for the first time since the battle at the ministry. "You prat," he tossed out affectionately.

Hermione glanced over from where she was dueling long enough to notice the two boys. The boys are back, she thought with a grin.

Severus watched the students dual, as wands flew into the air and students fell to the ground. The second half of class was nearly over.  Using his wand, he flickered the lights in order to get the students attention.

"IMMOBOLUS!"

 "Wha..."

Seeming to miss the cue picked up by the rest of the class, Severus watched as Longbottom fired his spell, the Granger girl using some form of wordless magic in order to deflect it. Deflected, the spell hit Potter who, realizing what had happened to late, lifted up his left arm in a mock block, his wand still aimed at Weasley.

Severus strode over to their side of the room.

"10 points from Gryffindor for inattention Longbottom." He was loathe to admit that Granger's reflexes were most impressive, but would be damned if the Lion's ever received points from him!

Glancing over to end the spell on Potter, a flicker of surprise appeared in his eyes before he schooled his features and ended the spell.

"You are to turn in a five page essay on shielding spells by next period. I expect it to be both informative and thorough. Dismissed. Mr. Potter...stay behind."

He noticed Granger and Weasley's curious glances as they exited, but focused his attention on a deflated potter. The last of the students left the room, and he took a step closer to the boy.

"Your hand, Mr. Potter."

Confused, Harry held out his right hand, glancing nervously into Snape's eyes, and back down again.

"Your other hand."

Realization appeared as Harry quickly thought of a way to avoid the upcoming situation.

"I haven't got all day, Mr. Potter."

Defeated, Harry lifted his hand.

"Why, may I ask, does your hand look as if it has been run over by a muggle vehicle?"

Thinking on his feet, Harry responded, "A bludger sir. I got hit during practice. It happens all the time. Heals right up."

Taking in the boys quick words, Severus knew that the boy was lying. However, at the moment he was focused more on something else.

"Very well. Mr. Potter, did the bludger happen to also pick up and knife and carve into your hand, ‘I must not tell lies?' Or have you been subjected to a blood quill?"

Harry gulped. He hadn't expected this at all. "Yes sir," he responded quietly.

"Yes there are bludgers capable of literacy, or yes you have been subjected to the blood quill? Speak up," Severus responded, growing impatient.

"The quill sir," Harry replied.

"Under which professor did this occur?" Severus questioned.

"Why do you care?" Harry questioned, sounding much more himself than Severus had seen in ages. He didn't know whether to be angry or relieved.

"Sit down Mr. Potter. I am able to remain here all day until you deem it fit to reveal to me exactly what has transpired." Severus waved his wand, the classroom appearing as it had initially, and began to manually erase the board.

Harry was angry all of a sudden, and the feeling surprised him. He watched Snape erase the board.

 "It was Umbridge," Harry said suddenly. "During her detentions. She said that I was making things up about Vold..."

"Don't say his name Mr. Potter," Snape said, quickly turning around.

Harry glared. "...about you know who."

"Tell me Mr. Potter," Snape began in a harsh tone, "Did you not think to tell anybody? Your head of house, for example,  or the Headmaster?" Snape was angry at the woman. Certainly not for the boy's sake, he thought quickly. Some of my students had detention with the Toad.

When his only response was a look of defiance, Snape continued. "Is the famous Harry Potter too good to ask others for help? You wouldn't want to look weak in front of your adoring fans."

Harry's knuckles were clenched and he struggled to reign in his temper.

"Did it not occur to you, Mr. Potter, that you are not the only human being on the planet and that other students were experiencing this as well?" Snape watched the boy, his temper getting the better of him as he saw the boy that reminded him so much of the boy's father.

"Yes sir," Harry gritted through his teeth, visibly restraining himself.

"Then, I must once again pose the question, why not ask for help?"

That was it. Harry snapped.

"ASK FOR HELP?!" Harry screamed. He couldn't think, as the words poured out of his mouth. He was so angry. "IT'S MY BLOODY FAULT THAT THE ADULTS WERE BLIND TO WHAT UMBRIDGE WAS DOING? IT'S MY BLOODY FAULT THAT DUMBLEDORE WAS IGNORING MY EXISTENCE AND THAT MCGONAGALL TOLD ME TO LAY LOW? ASK FOR HELP? WHAT BLOODY GOOD DOES ASKING FOR HELP DO? IT DIDN'T WORK FIRST YEAR WITH THE STONE. IT DIDN'T WORK SECOND YEAR WHEN EVERYBODY THOUGHT I WAS THE NEXT VOLDEMORT. IT DIDN'T WORK WHEN CED....WHEN CEDRIC DIED AND I TOLD YOU THAT I DIDN'T PUT MY NAME IN THE CUP. IT DOESN'T WORK WHEN I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK TO THE DURSLEY'S EVERY SUMMER OR WHEN I AM HONEST ABOUT THEM. SO IT'S MY FUALT. OF COURSE IT IS! EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT. MY PARENTS DEATH. CEDRIC. S...SIRIUS. EVERYTHING! YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I DID WRONG?" Harry did not wait for an answer. "I EXIST! I WAS BLOODY BORN. WELL GUESS WHAT SNAPE?! I DIDN'T BLOODY ASK TO BE BLOODY BORN!"

Harry coughed as his throat protested against the steady screaming he had done. To his embarrassment, he realized that his face was wet from tears that had streamed down his cheeks. Breathing heavily, he looked up at Snape, whose face was undecipherable, before quickly turning around and sprinting through the door.

For the second time that day, Severus stared after the enigma that is Harry Potter, and asked himself the question,

What the hell just happened?