The-Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter

Chapter 3: The-Odd-Boy-Out

Words: 2,632

Rated: M

Harry ground his teeth and refused to speak after he was left alone with the ministry officials. The woman tried coaxing him and making logical and reasonable arguments to why he should answer their questions: saying how it would bring criminals to justice and save his peace of mind, and when that didn't work, simply said that the sooner he started talking the sooner it would be all over. Harry just focused on a point in the wall behind her and pressed his lips together. What she said made sense to a degree and he almost fell for it.

Almost.

When they finally gave up and left to do who knows what, Madame Pomfrey came by and told him he was fit for class if he was up for it. Of course he was. He was fine, and this whole debacle was just another way for the magical world to get their kicks off Harry Potters' life. It was a total waste of time and attention with the war coming. It would make previous supporters think him weak and damaged, and his enemies think him vulnerable; ripe for the picking.

When Harry left the infirmary he was greeted with the sight of dozens of angry students all clamboring to reach him. Ron and Hermione were doing a valiant job trying to hold them back but both seemed to be too overcome with emotion to really help. Harry swiftly started walking to his second class, seeing as he'd spent the first one being interrogated. It seems the hoard cared more about gossip than their academics. At least he knew Ron and Hermione were just worried for him, as they swiftly started following his mouvements. First period was potions so at least something good came out of it.

"Is it true?"

"Obviously if there's a pensieve memory and the ministry's investigating."

"The ministry's been wrong before."

"Harry fainted when he found out. It must be true."

"Maybe it was just the thought of Rita Skeeter following him home. I know if I had a reporter in my room in my personal private time I'd faint too."

"Eww."

The whispers were annoying. They never stopped and they kept getting more and more personal the more they continued. Harry just kept on marching on, keeping the same strategy for when he was being questioned by ministry officials; ignoring them.

When he finally made it to transfiguration, McGonagall shooed off the crowd with a few stern words and class resumed. The rest of the day proceeded to be the worst day of Harry's life. Well, not literally since seeing Cedric and Sirius die was pretty horrifying, but it was certainly the most humiliating. He was generally used to people staring but not so much. They hung on every mouvement as if he was going to break because he dropped his quill. Every time he so much as shifted people drew just a few centimeters closer as if to save him from falling. Most of the people who followed him just did it because of the curiosity of the thing, however there were a few who seemed to be truly empathetic and wanted to help. They always looked especially sad and Harry felt just a little bit guilty when he brushes off their offer for comfort. No one seemed to question Harry directly, which also pissed him off. They all kept the topic as hushed whispers that Harry could hear throughout the castle. After last year, not a single one of them questioned the daily prophet or asked for his side of the story. Not that Harry would have given it to them but still.

It was just after dinner that McGonagall summoned him from the common room. Harry had decided that an early bedtime was in order and had retreated to his scarlet covered bed only to be interrupted by Ron saying that their head of house wanted to speak with him. Ignoring the whispers that followed him, he descended gryffindor tower with the scottish woman. They came to her office and walked in to see his least favourite people save voldemort. Snape stood behind her desk looking especially pale, and the two ministry pests Harry had met previous sat in the chairs across from him.

They all looked up when they saw the two gryffindors in the doorway and Alex gestured to the seat next to her, which Harry took begrudgingly.

Once everyone had been seated Alex took charge and laid a large stack of parchment on the desk.

"This contains very preliminary facts we pulled from Rita Skeeter's pensieve record."

Harry immediately wanted the pile of parchment to burn. He schooled his features and faced the ministry dogs with a bored expression. Harry saw Ezra's eyebrow twitch.

"Since Mr. Potter hasn't exactly been…" Alex continued, "forthcoming we have been forced to conclude that the trauma was too great to talk about. In cases such as this we send off the victim for counselling in the hopes that they will eventually be able to feel safe and talk about what happened."

A terrible thought occurred to Harry then. This was the plan. This was why the ministry was wasting resources on him other than to save public image. They are going to pull him out of school for therapy. They are going to scream from the high heavens that Harry Potter is too traumatized and fucked in the head to continue school. They were finally going to do what they'd been trying to do for all of last year, and no one was going to stop them because it was for his own good. Hell, that's probably what they were doing with trying to pin Dumbledore with child endangerment.

"You're not pulling me out of school." Harry blurted out, face stricken.

Ezra looked satisfied with the reaction while Alex seemed to grow flustered. Snape interjected at that point and sent Harry a piercing stare.

"Taking you out of school on the eve of your last year is something that should not be done. That is why they have offered an alternative."

Harry felt a small trickle of fear at the expression before annoyance chased it away.

"And that would be..?"

A few coughs and Alex takes his hands into her own.

"Harry," She starts softly, instantly telling him he's going to hate what she has to say, "Professor Snape is the only one with the necessary qualifications to treat you in school."

Horror invades all of Harry's senses, but lasts only a few moments before rage envelops him. Just last year with occlumency Harry was forced to trust Snape with his mind, now he was going to be forced to do the same thing, albeit in a different fashion. And he wouldn't stand for it.

"No."

Harry retracts his fingers from Alex's grasp and crosses his arms, jaw set. Alex sighs.

"Harry, I know you and Professor Snape have had your differences, but he is willing to put all that aside to help you. He is still your Professor and he will take an oath of silence if you really need it."

Harry turns his glare towards the potions master, such a familiar action that it's somehow comforting. Snape looked uneasy, but when he caught Harry watching him he returned the glare.

"Are there any other options?"

Harry's head of house was the first to answer.

"There originally was the option of bringing a ministry official to act as your counsellor, but the ministry is too understaffed these days to have one single counsellor for your use. We also considered sending you to a muggle psychologist but Alexandra assures me that openness is key in therapy, and that you couldn't be completely open with muggles without violating the statute of secrecy. There is no other option."

Harry could tell that Professor McGonagall wasn't too thrilled with the idea either.

Harry schooled his glare and regarded the situation. No he most certainly did not want to talk to Snape about anything at all, and he was certain that the feeling was mutual. It could be that Harry and Snape would simply meet up once a week and stare each other down for an hour. At worst Snape would be deliberately belligerent in hopes of getting a rise out of him, but something tells Harry that that wouldn't happen (well, at least not again.) There must be rules that you can't be a bastard during therapy right? Besides, they want Harry to talk about his feelings and what happened, and there is no way he was going to tell Snape anything. If anything, it could be ideal, seeing as they could have given him someone who he would feel guilty lying to, or guilty for not speaking at all. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms.

"Fine."

Alex looked like she was seriously considering hugging him then. The others looked shocked beyond belief that the steadfast gryffindor gave in so easily and Ezra just smirked. Alex regained his attention with her packing up all the files.

"Great! You will meet with Professor Snape here, in McGonagall's office Mondays and Fridays immediately after dinner at six." and with that the two ministry officials said their goodbyes and left through the floo.

Harry cursed his luck one last time before leaving as well, refusing to make further eye contact with his Professors. It was only Monday, meaning that he would have most of the week to pout about his situation. He would have to reschedule any quidditch practices he had planned for those days. This year just keeps getting better and better.

He returned to the gryffindor common room and quickly returned to bed, ignoring his friends. He was sure he was going to regret that later but he just couldn't deal with their pity and nosiness right now.

The week continued, no matter how many times it felt like it wouldn't. The whispers never ceased, but Harry could turn it out enough so that he can't hear the words. Harry had complete strangers come up to him and ask him-not if it was true- but if his family had really left scars on him, and if he could show them (as proof of course.) Harry had been repressing everything that has happened like a bad dream that whenever someone really confronts him he gets nauseous. He uses his anger and annoyance as a blanket to cover to any prying people, but it gets exhausting, and people's persistence was gradually wearing on his self-control, and evidently his control over his stomach.

The day after "the incident" Harry had received a letter that says that his sessions with Snape were to remain completely confidential on both ends, and that Snape's identity was to remain a secret. Harry had scowled into the letter. Of course the greasy git wouldn't want anyone to think he was "helping" Harry Potter. Well that's fine with Harry.

Eventually, after days of simply being ignored in Snape's class, the dreaded Friday had arrived in which he was supposed to meet and "talk" about his feelings. Harry hated it. Sure he didn't have the best life but Harry truly believed that people like Neville really deserved compulsory therapy for what he's had to go through in life. Neville was kind and brave and has seen what death eaters can really do. In fact, there were a lot of other people who should be getting therapy before Harry(actual therapy, not this facade that Harry is being forced into.)

Ron and Hermione had been supportive in their own way. Hermione was actively restraining herself with not barraging Harry with questions, encouraging words, or her own personal sob story. Ron seemed to hate the entire situation. He glares menacingly at the whispers but seems at a loss for how to comfort his friend. Personally, Harry thought they were doing remarkably well considering their past attitudes. The entire situation was just weighing on them and Harry desperately wanted it to just go away. It had produced a distance between them as friends, made them more wary as to what they say and how they act around Harry. They had become softer, as had everyone around him and he hated it. He was not a scared little boy crying in his cupboard. He was Harry bleeding Potter for heaven's sake. Defeater of the dark lord, learned the patronus at age thirteen, and youngest seeker in the century; one would think that that garners a bit of respect. But no, no respect for his person, no respect for his friends, and no respect for his private life.

Sighing, Harry was so caught up in his rant that he completely forgot that he was to meet up with Snape in gryffindor tower and not the dungeons. Harry turned on his heel when he discovered he locked door, and instead started for the stairs when he ran into a boy with pale blond hair.

"Potter!" Draco Malfoy screeches as he tries to catch the vial of potion he'd been carrying.

Harry ignored his archrival, not liking Malfoy's new uneasy attitude after the article was released, and tried to push past him.

Malfoy wouldn't have that and pushed back. Harry tripped and fell to the ground from the force, and landed in a heap.

Malfoy scowled as if he was personally offended that Harry had tripped and his hand twitched.

Harry gave him a dirty look, sitting up.

"Malfoy, didn't daddy teach you it's not nice to push?"

Harry really didn't know why he goaded the slytherin, but it felt justified at the time.

"Didn't yours?" Malfoy replied. The boy still looked uneasy at being in the others presence, but it seems habit was forcing his words instead of the retreat Malfoy seemed to be wanting.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the mention of his dead father, and Malfoy shifts his expression to one of horror. He obviously thinks that his tactless comments will somehow have more meaning than they usually do and that Harry will burst into tears at the slightest provocation. Harry hated it.

"I see your daddy also didn't teach you how to dress yourself. Then again, I guess he never thought he'd have to teach a ferret."

The words were petty and vapid and admittedly not very clever, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to care that he seemed to be playing more of Malfoy's role in their usual banter.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at Harry's form, still sitting on the ground, before putting his nose in the air. He took a few steps towards the heap of Harry Potter, and spoke:

"I see the golden boy is still as arrogant as ever, regardless of a certain article."

Malfoy "accidentally" stepped on his hand, before continuing on his way down the corridor, completely ignoring Harry's pained hiss.

Harry laid there for a few moments before standing. He cradled his hand but it didn't really hurt much. With a shrug, Harry made his way up the stairs.

It wasn't until halfway there that Harry realized how rejuvenated he felt. His minor fight with his archrival had really blown off some steam, and Malfoy treating him like he always had had been comforting, in its own way. It was like as soon as Malfoy had insulted him he was suddenly someone who can be insulted again. It was like he was his old self, back before that ridiculous article. Harry didn't particularly know why it was fighting with Malfoy that had comforted him, when there were other things in Hogwarts that haven't changed after "the incident" but decided not to dwell. Instead, starting going over the numerous ways he can end up in the hospital wing in the trek to his first therapy session.