Chapter Text
He was done. He was so done with everything. With the Dursleys, Dumbledore, Hogwarts, Voldemort, the wizarding world, they could all go fuck themselves for all he cared.
After all he did for them, all the things they expected him to do for them he’s still sent back to abusive muggles who treat him worse than a house elf.
It's barely been 3 weeks in and he’s already dead on his feet from all the beatings and chores he has to do. Uncle Vernon was worse this summer, he was…angrier. Which meant harder hits more frequently. Harry’s mind spiralled deeper than it ever had before this summer. The sheer agony and despair constantly clawing at his mind, it drained him of all his energy, mental and physical. Leaving him almost like a lifeless husk if not for all his pain.
Harry tried holding it off, he really did but in the end, he couldn't. The small burst of determination he had a week ago was quickly snuffed out. What was the point anyways? If he was going to suffer then he’s going to do whatever makes him feel better. Self-care he internally snarked.
Letting out a hiss, Harry tried lifting himself up from the floor despite the cold feeling godly on his injuries. After the beating he just got it was hard to move let alone crawl onto his bed. Fortunately, he managed to lift himself up enough to lean his back against the bed and legs sprawled out.
Slightly out of breath Harry muttered a spell and opened his hand. “Accio Razor blade”
A slight rustling was heard from underneath his floorboards before his exacto knife blade flew through the floorboard slits and into his hand. As usual, a thrum of eagerness built up in him.
This was the only thing he cared about in his life, the only thing that brought him peace.
Normally he would have gone for his thighs, anywhere else was too risky, but not this time. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, too far gone to care. Part of him wanted to believe it was due to the fact that he quite literally had no more room on his thighs but deep down he knows that's not the case. He could easily go over existing cuts and scars. No, this was about marking as much skin as he could, the insistent urge to mark that pale, blemish free skin with those pretty cuts as they bleed. Well, as blemish free as he can get with almost daily beatings from both his cousin and uncle.
Taking no more than a moment to look at his pale wrist, Harry brought the blade down to it, hard, and effortlessly slid it across his delicate flesh. A small sigh left his lips at the action, some of the tension in him dissipating, the ache and pains from his injuries dulling under the new, but very familiar sharp sensation.
Over and over again, he repeated the action with varying degrees of pressure. A multitude of new bleeding cuts quickly grew along his small boney wrist. He did not stop even after 5 consecutive minutes nor did the puddle of blood forming beneath him.
Fucking pathetic, after everything I’ve learnt I’m still bested by my stupid muggle relatives. What a wizard I am. Harry spat to himself in disgust, going deeper and deeper with every dark thought his mind whispered to him. Craving the silence in his mind that only pain can grant him. Lost in a frenzy of desperation, anger and agony, Harry lost any precision he had while cutting, the cuts becoming more and more unorganized and messy. Just like his mind.
Good for nothing freak…
It’s all your fault. Murderer…
Should have died with my parents…
Useless ungrateful brat…
Just a stupid, disgusting tool to be used and thrown out like some broken toy for people's amusement…
Worthless…
I should have just killed myself when I had the chance… maybe…
No
Momentarily shocked out of his dangerous trance, Harry jumped, a small gasp leaving his mouth. As a result, his bloodied hand clumsily stopped mid-slice, almost dropping the razor blade in the process. The amount of blood slathered all over his hand and clothes made it much harder to keep a firm grip on the blade.
“What…” Harry whispered tiredly, not all there as he looked up and around in confusion. No? No to what? Surely not to anything his thoughts are telling him, a freak like him deserve-
Don't you dare finish that blatant lie of sentence child
The voice spoke again just as sharp and loud in his mind as before. The voice had no malice behind it but Harry did what he usually did when he heard a voice yell at him. He flinched. Hard.
Perhaps if he hadn't lost all the blood he had and still continues to do so at a semi-alarming pace, Harry would have registered the fact that the man had called him ‘child’, not boy or freak. A fact that would have pacified him but unfortunately, he did not.
Hearing the voice of a grown man yell at him sent him into a panic. An ice-cold feeling shot up his spine in fear. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his stomach churned in that disgusting but oh so familiar way that he hated. Tense and petrified, old memories of Uncle Vernon's big burly build storming towards him, yelling at him, hurting him flashed through his mind.
Dammit - pan-ing. Hey -y -r’re okay, -m sor- suddenly s- - ing, no- mad -t you. Only parts of the voice got through to Harry. Everything sounded like he was underwater or as if everything was television static and things would only come at certain signals. Not that he registered the words anyways, completely lost in his blind fear.
Noooo no no no ‘m sorry please he whimpered ever so softly.
Harry started to tremble like a leaf, completely forgetting that he had yet to let go of the blade in his hand which was now cutting into his hand. His hands instinctively flew up to cover his ears, blood trickling through the fingers of his right hand, just as he brought his knees up to his chest, ignoring the pain and fatigue of doing so.
Dr-p the blade ch-d, yo- hur- -and.
He squeezed his eyes shut as more memories tormented him. Breathing erratically, almost on the verge of hyperventilation, his lungs burned for air but he couldn't catch a breath.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry please don't hurt me, I’ll be good Uncle I promise. He curled up even more, trying to take up as less space as he could.
-’re okay, no one co- -ing or goin- hurt yo-. You- safe -ight now -s okay.
Making an effort to lower his voice and sound less like himself, the voice spoke softly, trying to calm the child down. After a few moments, the voice realized that he wasn't getting through so instead started humming a tune he hoped was soothing.
Strangely, Harry started hearing a faint noise inside of his head. Slowly but surely it was becoming clearer and clearer. Humming? The tune didn't sound familiar, not that he listened to much music but it was strangely comforting. The one singing was certainly male but never has he heard anyone, especially a grown-up sound that soft and low. He was much more accustomed to screaming and yelling filled with hatred and disgust, nothing of this sort… it was nice.
Focusing on his breathing Harry tried his hardest to calm down. Thanks to the humming giving him some comfort, he was able to slowly sort out his breathing again. The voice gave out small encouragements as he did so. Removing his hands from his ears Harry finally opened his eyes.
Good, you’re okay. Now can you gently open your hand and let go of the blade. We don't want you hurting yourself further. The voice kindly directed him.
Huh? Oh…
Looking at his hand Harry sees his hand still clenched tight around the blade. Following what the man said he opened his hand and twisted it to the side, successfully dumping the blade onto the floor with a small wet platter. He stared at it for a few seconds, watching as it drowns in the puddle of blood it fell into.
I must have lost too much blood, now I'm going crazy and hearing voices.
I assure you that your blood loss is not the reason why you are hearing me.
A little wide-eyed, Harry made sure to keep his voice down. “Wait you can hear me? You’re real?”
Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?
“Oh, I don't know maybe you could be some figment of my imagination. My mind finally going crazy and making me hear voices in my head? Like some fre-”
First of all, I do not like repeating myself. I don't ever want to hear you ever think of yourself as a freak again. You are far from one. You’re a very powerful wizard who controls magic, not some vermin like the ones who made you believe that. Secondly, have you never heard of Legilimency? Bond reaching? The voice sounded highly perplexed and was that a hint of disgust Harry could detect?
Shrinking a little, Harry was worried he somehow upset this person. “No?” He quietly said.
As soon as he said that Harry could feel a small pain build up in his head, almost like a headache.
Ow he rubbed at his head, not realizing that it was over his scar.
Just as fast as it came, the pain left.
You don't need to speak out loud to talk to me. I can hear your thoughts.
Now that made Harry feel a little sheepish. Oh yeah, the whole in my head bit.
Indeed
The man didn't sound too pleased.
I'm sorry
Startled, the man didint seem to expect the apologie given his tone. For what?
I don't know, you seemed mad that I didn't know what those things are so I figured I did something wrong. Good going Harry, you just gotta make everyone angry at you. That’s what you get for being so stupid, you really are just an ignorant brat like Snape and the Dursleys say. The last part wasn't meant to be heard but it unknowingly was. That was also the last thing needed to confirm the man's suspicions.
I was not mad at you child, my anger was towards others who did not teach you this. That is beside the point, you are still losing a lot of blood. Go get some bandages and come back here so I can properly teach you how to bandage yourself.
Grimacing, Harry tried hard not to shiver at the small lick of fear he felt at the prospect of going out of his room.
He must have taken too long to answer. Harry? Are you okay? Why aren't you moving? Are you feeling too weak? Faint?
Harry felt even more shitty at that. The man is trying so hard to help him but only if he knew.
‘M not allowed he weakly defended. The ‘im scared' was left unsaid but not unheard.
Harry heard a faint growl in his head. Before Harry could worry about upsetting the man again he spoke.
Very well, however, you do need to stop the bleeding. Do you have any spare shirts or clothes to use?
I do but… Harry bit his lip.
But? The man pressed on but not unkindly.
Face heating up in shame, Harry held back the truth, just enough to make it believable considering his situation. I can’t really move.
Harry never considered how the voice knew he was bleeding nor realized that the man could see through his eyes. Meaning he had no idea that the man had a full view of the dark bruises that littered his thin body, a clear answer to the truth behind his words.
We’ll have to try this a different way then. Listen closely Harry, I need you to close your eyes and concentrate on your magic. Imagine how the magic flows through you when you use a wand. Try to do that and focus it into your arm. While you do so, wish yourself to be healed. I will try to assist you so do not panic when you feel something off with your magic.
Following what the voice said, Harry did exactly that. He closed his eyes and tried doing what the voice told him to do. It took a few tries, his fatigue certainly didn't help but he managed to feel his magic flare up. There we go! You’re doing a good job, remember don't let go of your concentration. After that it was easy to direct where it went so Harry brought it forth into his arm just as told. He did feel a small extra boost of power but it didn't feel off like the voice said. To him, it felt almost natural, like he just took another piece of his own magic and sent it off with the first one.
Now look The voice brought him back to present.
Not knowing what to expect without a wand, Harry watched as some of the tiny cuts stitch themselves up while the bigger ones slowed their bleeding, if not stopped completely. He couldn't help but feel a mix of bitter disappointment and sadness at seeing them go away. He’s just done them….
Lost in a daze, Harry gently brought his left hand to lightly trace the wounds on his wrist, the need bubbling under his skin coming back tenfold at seeing them gone, at the lack of pain they had brought him. He didn't even realize he had grabbed the blade off the ground and positioned it millimetres away from his wrist.
No Where the voice was once sharp and authoritative, this one still held the power behind it but it was much calmer. A soft chastise, one you’d hear from an adult towards a child. The prospect of someone finally caring brought a few tears to Harry's eyes.
Please… Harry croaked.
No The voice repeated even gentler. Harry made a noise of protest at that. Oh Harry, you don't need that. You don't need to hurt yourself to feel better
Why not? I have nothing else… the soft but exhausted cry for help echoed in both their heads.
To help? To live for?
A nod.
You do though
Hearing that brought forth some of the anger Harry held. Oh right sorry, guess I forgot about the being raised as a lamb to the slaughter for the sole purpose of killing some grown wizard who I couldn't give two shits about bit. My bad, I guess I'll just keep pushing down my feelings and waste my life away as the perfect emotionless tool to kill the man for you so you can live in peace. You’re just like the rest. Harry scoffed.
That must have felt good to get off your chest but you misunderstand me. If you had let me finish you would see that I do not agree with those... light, wizards about the war and their infatuation with some child fighting it for them. The disdain couldn't completely be hidden at the mention of light wizards.
Sorry harry mumbled, a bit embarrassed at his outburst. He most certainly caught the disgust the voice had for the light side but he didn't think more into it. He couldn't care less about the war, about who sides with who and whatnot. Especially when the voice was the first person to actually seem to genuinely care about him, going as far as to agree with him about how shitty and unfair the wizarding world treats him. For the first time in years, it lit a small spark of warmth in his chest.
The only reason why you have no other ways of helping yourself alleviate your pain and trauma is because the people around you keep you in it. You’re backed in a corner where you truly believe there is no other way out but to hurt yourself. You have other ways and people who will help you. I-, the voice seemed to hesitate here, I will help you. I will help you where no one else did. As for your life, it's yours. You don't need to have a purpose to live, you simply live your life how you want and learn as much as you can. I know this now but nothing determines someone's life, especially not strangers. You gotta take back your life.
God, he wishes he could just do that, he’s tried so many times. If worst came to worse he sorta could handle Dumbledore and get away from his schemes in the future but his aunt and uncle? His mouth went dry
Strangely, the voice seemed to understand.
I know. You have to start baby steps, little things that you can do. Hearing that Harry let out a questioning noise. Both at what he meant by baby steps and how he could feel that the voice really did understand him as if he went through something similar. That made him wonder who he was talking to.
For starters you can lower your blade and throw it away from you. Hide it out of your sight if you can.
Pushing down the panic he felt at the thought of being away from his blade, Harry hesitated. Part of him wondered how simply throwing the blade away would help him get his life back. It's not going to do anything, in a few days he’ll simply use it agai- That's just it isn't it? Living in a life that's already been paved for him, where his every action and choice is taken from him under someone else's control, doing this small action would be his choice, not someone else's. His first action to break the cycle of control and pain.
But i need it… He couldn't help but think. How else was he supposed to deal with the depression, the cruel words his mind spits at him, the abuse and the insistent itch under his skin? Sure it would help in one regard but it would make another worse. Was it worth it?
His hand was shaking with uncertainty now, still holding the blade to his skin but not quite pressing down on it yet. He wants to cut himself so badly, his every instinct and being craved it, to relish in the comfort and feeling it brings him, to let himself bleed out and finally rest. But he wants to finally be able to live a normal, non fucked up life just as much.
Remember, you are not alone anymore. I’ll be here with you along the way in whatever form I can. The velvet-like voice reminded him.
Fist clenched, Harry stared at his blood-stained hand. He tensed for a brief moment before letting out a shaky exhale and dropped the blade. He almost expected to feel a spark of something, hope, joy, anything from his decision.
There we go, I’m so proud of you. I know that wasn't an easy choice. It will take a while to handle going without it but you finally took a step to take care of yourself. Continuing down that path wouldn't have helped for much longer even with my help.
You would have still stayed with me even if I.. you know, couldnt stop? Harry murmured in disbelief. Feeling oddly naked, Harry curled his knees back up against his chest, arms wrapped around them and rested his head.
The answer was quick and so confident. Of course I would have. I told you I’d help you and I'm a man of my word. Plus the one thing I do not tolerate is magical children getting hurt by adults.
That made Harry feel a lot better about his decision. Thank you he gave a small smile into his arms, lips cracking painfully from the lack of water in days. It made him feel better but he still couldnt help but feel helpless. He grips his knees.
Thank you, I really appreciate your concern and willingness to help but im just a lost cause. With being forced into the war and the- he cuts himself off before he could say anything about the Dursley’s , the you know… he gestures to his arm on instinct despite knowing the man can’t see him, helping me is useless. You dont need to waste your time with someone like me. You have your own life to live. It’s not like you could do much anyways. My lifes no simple high school drama.
The voice lets out a chuckle at that. Your life has to be every highschool drama movie combined and even that I believe you surpass the craziness of that.
You can say that again Harry says in wry amusement. But thank you anyways. It means alot to me.
What if I told you I could truly help you?
What? You mean with the war?
Precisely, you’ll be able to leave the war under neutrality. I can even help with your living arangements if you so desired. The voice innocently put out there.
“Fat chance of that” Harry said under his breath.
What are you, a death eater? No way voldemort is just going to stop going after me even if I swear neutrality. How would you even know that he’d let me go when killing me has been his his entire focus since he’s come back?
The man’s next words were purposely docile. I’m not a death eater no but I can promise on my magic that he would.
Harry let his head fall back against the bed with a sigh. Opening his eyes he stared at the ceiling.
Do you mean it? Would you really let me back out of the war and get me out of this place? The vulnerable plea tinged with desperation echoed into both their heads.
If Voldemort was surprised by Harrying figuring out who he was it didn’t show in his voice
I will. Will, not would because Voldemort knew he was not going to let this child suffer any longer. I’ll take you away from those horrible muggles who hurt you and away from the abuse you suffer from the world. You’ll be able to finally live peacefully and heal.
I don’t have to fight anymore? Harry whimpered, voice hoarse with emotion.
The words Harry longed to hear since he was a child were finally said.
No my Harry you don’t. You can rest now, I’ll take care of everything from now on.
And as Harry finally let himself go for the first time since he was 4, Voldemort stayed by his side offering what comfort he could.