Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, I hope this chapter is entertaining.

Do leave a comment, perhaps give me ideas for a pairing? I'm not completely settled yet, but I do have some ideas. Ta!

...

"Madam Pomfrey, I acquire your assistance," professor Snape bellowed, as they entered the hospital wing. The woman came from her office, looking ready to give him a rather stringy answer, until she saw Harry.

He had been put back in his clothes and led by Snape all the way to the infirmary. Professor Snape had only given Zabini, Nott and Malfoy a simple look when they all started inquiring about what was wrong, and, though Malfoy had needed an extra hard stare, they had all hushed and let them go alone.

"Oh dear, Mr. Potter, you seem to be quite sick, let's find you a bed," she said, and led him to the nearest bed. She was about to make him lie down, when professor Snape interrupted.

"He needs to lie on his stomach, if we are to help him," he drawled. Bewildered, she made Harry lie on his stomach. It felt humiliating and scary, and she had yet to actually see his back.

He wanted so desperately to either run or make them understand why he deserved the wounds, why there was a reason for them. He wanted them to know that he was to be left alone, if he died, so be it, at least his magic would die with him.

He did none of them.

Instead, he closed his eyes and sighed as they vanished his shirt, and Harry heard Madam Pomfrey gasp. He was stupid to not get something that could have helped the wounds, or gone somewhere else, some place he could die at peace.

Now he was there, with professor Snape and Pomfrey bustling around him, applying creams and muttering spells. Vernon would be mad, so mad. This was not the plan. He was supposed to be smarter than this.

How many cuts would this amount to?

"Mr. Potter, I will have to tell the Headmaster about this. I suppose nobody knows about this but the three of us right here?" professor Snape inquired. Harry shook his head no, he could not open his mouth yet. He was not sure whether he would scream at them or cry or worse; both.

So dumb, he was so dumb. What could he do? How would he get back to Vernon? How could he punish himself for this? Would they believe him, if he told them why? Perhaps they would punish him, and then Vernon would not be as mad?

"It is amazing you have survived what you have, Mr. Potter, it seems your magic has been saving you, you have been very lucky," Madam Pomfrey commented, making Harry snort. He wasn't lucky, his magic was evil, it was dumb that it kept trying to save him so much, when it was the enemy.

"You will also have to talk to someone about what has happened, Mr. Potter. I cannot tell the Headmaster much yet, so you can choose between telling us what has happened, or you can talk to the Headmaster about it all," professor Snape stated, making freeze.

"No," he croaked out. He could practically feel professor Snape raising his one eyebrow.

"No?" he repeated.

"No. I won't say anything. None of you understand," Harry elaborated. They wouldn't understand any of it, so what was the point? They all thought magic was good, that it was a blessing.

It was a curse, poison, and it was running through his blood, and he just wanted it out.

"Abuse is not something anybody could ever possibly understand, Mr. Potter, but alas, you have to talk about what has happened. We will also ensure that you will not return to that household again," professor Snape said. There was something in the words Harry had said, that made the man sound comprehensive.

As if taking him away from them was the right way to go about it, as if he wanted to get away from them, they knew best for him.

They knew what evil lied within him, and they let him stay there. They gave him a roof over his head, enough food to survive, they took care of him.

He wanted to make them proud, he knew they would love him, once he had gotten rid of his magic. He had to go back there.

"Now, Severus, I think it would be better to give him his potions and let him rest. Then we can talk about all this tomorrow," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, before Harry could retort.

"Very well. I will take my leave then. Rest well, Mr. Potter, I will come by tomorrow and have a chat with you," and then Harry could hear the billowing of his robes, as the professor left.

"I will put a lotion onto your back, which should heal the wounds mostly, so that you can sit up tomorrow. Would you prefer to drink a sleeping potion now, so you will not feel it?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her voice wavering when she said wounds.

"Yes please," Harry answered, wanting to sleep it all away, wishing it was all a bad dream.

Soon enough, darkness embraced him.

…

Darkness didn't embrace him long enough. When Harry next woke it was to the sound of voices, arguing, but trying to be quiet.

Perhaps in a futile attempt to keep him quiet, but it was all for naught.

He wanted so badly to be at Privet Drive. Curl up in the cupboard. Let that darkness embrace him instead.

"What do you mean we can't see him? He's sick, we are his friends, surely it won't be a problem to see him and make sure he isn't dying, which the way you left with him yesterday made it seem," Harry heard Malfoy hiss.

"Mr. Malfoy, Draco, he needs to sleep and heal, I will call for you, all three of you, once he is up for a visit," professor Snape said in a low soothing voice.

"If he's asleep it would be quite alright for us to just take a look at him, and then return to our dorms," Nott pointed out. Professor Snape sighed.

Knowing they were there, Malfoy, Nott and Zabini, made Harry feel something, something he could not put his finger on.

But he wanted them gone.

He wanted to disappear, they couldn't see him like this, no, they shouldn't see him like this. They wouldn't understand, and, even worse, if they did understand, he would not feel the warm reassurance of Malfoy's presence. Or Nott's silent companionship. Or hear Zabini's funny comments on everything.

And yet, was that not what he deserved? To lose all that? He was not supposed to have it at all, he was tainted.

"Draco, no," was all Harry heard professor Snape say, before the curtains around him were ripped open. He felt the rush of air touch his back, and he involuntarily shivered.

"What… who did this to him?" Malfoy demanded, anger clear in his voice.

"I cannot say anything, mainly because Harry has yet to say anything about it. I will have to speak with him when he wakes, but it would be wise if you all left now and do not tell anybody of this," professor Snape said.

Naked, he might as well have been naked. So weak and tainted and unloved and evil.

"Professor, will you make sure he does not go back to his relatives?" Nott enquired.

"What makes you believe that his relatives did this to him?" Malfoy asked, confused.

"Not everyone comes from a loving home, Draco, and where else would he have gotten those wounds? Let's go, we will just have to be there for him once he gets back," Zabini said, his voice low.

They knew, they knew, and they were staying, and he was, he was happy? But he wasn't allowed to be, not when he wasn't right.

"We will leave, but you will have to update us on his situation," Malfoy said, and, before he could get an answer, Harry heard their retrieving steps.

"You don't have to pretend to be asleep anymore, Mr. Potter," professor Snape said, making Harry snap his eyes open and turn his head to look at him.

The man was closing his curtains, before he turned around, not surprised to see the teenager look at him.

"Your friends were very stubborn, I am sorry they had to see you like this. Are you in pain?" the professor asked, walking over to him and settling down on the chair by the bed.

Pain? His back was stinging, he could feel his cuts healing. He would have to cut a lot more into his skin, if he were to be punished accordingly for all of this.

He shook his head no, and, while the professor did not look like he believed him, he did not call him out on it.

"We will have to talk about this, Mr. Potter. I need to know what else has happened to you, though your scars tell their own stories. But I need to know, so I can bring you to safety, and make sure you will not be hurt further," professor Snape stated.

He was in safety at Privet Drive, why couldn't they just see that? Couldn't they feel the darkness in him?

"No," Harry said.

Professor Snape only raised an eyebrow to that reply, enquiring him to elaborate.

"I am safe at home, at Privet Drive. I have to go there, it is not my relatives who hurt me, they wouldn't," Harry lied, or perhaps he told the truth.

He was safe there and they did not hurt him for anything that he didn't deserve.

"Then I will have to know who did it, Mr. Potter. I cannot let you go, before I know you will be safe," was the reply he got from Professor Snape.

Shit. Bullocks. Fuck. He had no clue what to answer.

"Mr. Potter, if I have to use legilimency or veritaserum I will, and I will get an acceptance from the ministry for it too, if you do not cooperate. Any harm to any student has to be processed and stopped," professor Snape stated.

"Then get your ministry acceptance for it, professor," Harry dared, not sure if the man was bluffing or not. But no matter what, he would not willingly turn his family over, they were his only safety.

"Very well, I will be back in a few hours then, Mr. Potter. I will make the elves bring you something to eat," he said, before disappearing.

Well fuck.

…

He was nervous, incredibly so. No matter how hard he tried convincing himself that professor Snape couldn't possibly get a permission, he kept thinking about the what ifs.

It was a nervousness settling in his stomach as hard as a rock, alike the one he got when summer break ended, and he would have to go back to Hogwarts soon.

Every second seemed long, yet they passed by so fast.

The food the elves had brought him was left untouched, and was still like that, when professor Snape showed up three hours later, a woman following him.

She looked as intimidating as professor Snape, her features sharp despite the obvious signs of older age, yet there was a softness in her eyes.

They stopped at the foot of the bed he was upon.

"Mr. Potter, I would like you to meet Amelia Bones, she is the head of the department of magical law enforcement, and she will be the witness of what we are about to do, and also fill it all into records," professor Snape explained, introducing the fierce yet calm woman.

Harry stayed silent.

"Hello Mr. Potter, I will indeed be the witness and recorder of all things that we will find out, but I do want you to know that this will be done silently, it will not be leaked to the public, and will stay between us in this room, unless you wish for others to know, but that is entirely up to you," she said, a warm smile spreading on her lips.

But no one could know, that was the rule, Harry was not supposed to let this be known in any way.

He could not flee; professor Snape was known for being accomplished in the field of Dark magic. And Amelia Bones was not head of a department in the ministry for no reason.

"What if I refuse? Have I no say in this?" Harry asked, gripping the sheets of his bed. Hoping, wishing, though he knew it was futile.

They mustn't know, they couldn't, shouldn't.

"I fear that, given how badly you seem to be treated, we have the right to get to the bottom of it all, Mr. Potter. I am given full permission to body bind you and force veritaserum down your throat, if that is what the situation calls for, but your cooperation would be greatly appreciated," Madam Bones answered him, walking up to him.

Professor Snape followed, and soon they were standing by each side of the bed.

Cornered, caught, doomed.

"I have nothing to confess to you, despite my injury, I have none to blame but myself. You will find nothing wrong with my living arrangements, and there are no perpetrators in the school either," Harry stubbornly said.

Professor Snape lifted an eyebrow at that, seemingly reading between his lines.

Madam Bones sighed, her stern expression softening. It made Harry feel ashamed, stupid, as if he was a small child caught lying.

"Then I am very sorry about this Mr. Potter, for we must find out where you got this injury, and where all your scars and earlier injuries come from. The list showing your injuries was disturbingly long and vile, so we have to make sure you are treated right, whether that may be at school or your residence," she said, before casting a body binding spell.

A piece of paper appeared, a feather ready to scrawl on its own.

"We are here to see where Mr. Potter's injuries have happened, especially since he has a long list of earlier injuries, some which look like self-harm. My name is Susan Bones, and I have potions master Severus Tobias Snape with me. We will give Mr. Potter, full name Harry James Potter, a dose of veritaserum to enquire and get the truth, as he is not willing to give any information," Madam Bones said, the quill scrawling quickly to note it all down.

Harry felt like crying, laying there, hopeless and useless.

"Professor Snape will now give Mr. Potter the dose of veritaserum," Madam Bones said, and, before Harry could even think about complaining, professor Snape muttered a spell, and he felt something in his stomach.

"The veritaserum has been administered, and we will now begin questioning Mr. Potter," professor Snape said.

It all went by so fast, his mouth running away with things he would not have said at all.

He couldn't even keep up with who asked him what.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"Where do you live?"

"Privet Drive 4, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Have your guardians ever harmed you physically and mentally?"

"Yes, I am to be punished every time I have been bad."

"When have you been bad?"

"I am just bad, evil. I have evil magic in me, and it must get out. I am dirty, I need to be cleansed, Uncle Vernon makes sure magic gets out of me by beating me for every piece of magic I perform. Aunt Petunia makes sure I know my place in the household, I am bad, I am to be treated as one who is that."

"How does your Un-uncle know how much magic you perform?"

"I make a cut for every piece of magic I do, or when I let people get too close. Bad people can't have people caring about them, they need to be cleansed."

"What is your place in the household?"

"In the cupboard, it is my room. That is where I shall be. I am to take care of the house, that is the least I can do for bringing such an evil to their home. Whatever they say, goes."

"What does 'taking care of the house' entail?"

"I have to make food, clean the house, take care of the garden, do the laundry and dishes, be ready to do any chore they ask of me."

"Who has harmed you at your residence?"

"Petunia Dursley, Vernon Dursley, Dudley Dursley and Marge Dursley."

"Are they the ones who have given you all your injuries?"

"No, some are from my adventures at school, but they have given me most of them."

"Do you think you have been abused?"

"No, they are cleansing me, I deserve it, they will love me once I am clean."

"What is clean?"

"Being like them, muggle. My magic needs to go away, it is evil and dark."

"Do you believe other magical people evil and dark for having magic?"

"No."

"Do you wish to press charges against the Dursleys?"

"No."

"We have enquired enough, and the veritaserum should be wearing off slowly. It is deemed from this conversation, that Mr. Potter should not be placed at the Dursley's residence as they are unfit guardians," Madam Bones said.

The quill was still scribbling.

"It seems the Dursleys have not only abused Mr. Potter physically, but also mentally scarred him and made him afraid of his own magic. He will be in need of a mind healer and will also need potions to try and heal his body from the physical abuse as well as the mental," Professor Snape added.

Slowly, Harry could feel him gaining his thoughts and bearings back.

The fog that had surrounded his head slowly disappeared, and in its wake, anger appeared.

At himself, at professor Snape and at Madam Bones. He was the reason why this had happened, he had not been careful enough.

But they were the ones forcing the words out of his mouth. They were wrong, he had to go back to the Dursleys, he had to.

He just had to.

…

He had been left alone after his interrogation.

Left alone to simper in anger, fear, guilt and hopelessness.

He could not get back to the Dursleys, Madam Bones was set on filing the rapport, professor Snape freezing him with his stare when he had been about to protest as she collected her papers and was about to go back to the ministry to file them.

It could not be happening.

They knew.

They bloody hell knew. They knew, and they could not understand, it was as he had feared. Like his uncle had said; they were so blind, both of them.

How could they not see the evil in him? It was circling around him, like an ever-growing shadow around him.

His back was almost properly healed, except it would leave some big scars. He did not care about scars though, he had plenty of them.

They were reminders to himself, reminders of what he was.

His silent brooding was disturbed by the sound of footsteps coming towards his bed.

He had had the curtains drawn around it. He could not face the world now, it had seemed to shatter, and he did not know how he could continue.

They were slowly drawn apart, just enough for three people to sneak inside, before they closed it behind them.

"Hey Harry, professor Snape said he would give us an update on you, but he never came, so we figured we would come and check on you," Zabini said, a small smile on his lips.

"You better get well again soon, Harry, it's been hell dealing with these two alone," Malfoy whined.

Zabini snorted, while Nott rolled his eyes.

"As if, you should hear Drama Queen over here going all mother hen about how you were doing, whether you were eating or if you were just sleeping," Nott said, making Malfoy huff.

"I am not a Drama Queen, I am just more concerned about small things than the rest of you gits," Malfoy complained, crossing his arms.

Harry almost laughed at their banter, having kind of missed hearing it, but he only let a small smile take over his lips shortly.

"I'm fine," was all Harry said, making all three of them roll their eyes.

"No you're not, Harry, but it's okay. We'll still be here," Zabini said, the two others nodding in agreement.

A warm feeling spread in Harry's chest, but for once, he could not find it in himself to think about cutting himself for it.

He wanted to live in this bliss for just a few moments longer and nothing could make anything ruin it.