A/N: Okay, so I wrote this last June and thought I'd posted it. I'm sorry! Hope you enjoy. This chapter ends a bit abruptly, but it seemed to work.

The next two hours were gruelling for Harry, despite the Professor's best efforts otherwise. Even Snape was acting much less harsh than he ever had before, helping to ask him questions and persuading him to answer.

Harry just felt exhausted. He was bewildered, scared, and more than a little bit confused, despite the teacher's doing their best to clear things up for him. He'd always known that if people found out, he'd be punished and sent back, but the Hogwarts teachers didn't seem to think so.

Around the hour mark, he brought up the question, managing to gather enough courage to ask.

"Will I….will I have to go back there?" He asked quietly, looking at them as though he knew their answer already and dreaded it. After all, Dumbledore said it was safer for him there.

To his surprise, they looked at him, and then Dumbledore spoke. "No, Harry. You will never have to go back there.

Harry could almost feel himself about to cry. He didn't want to, not in front of them, but he couldn't help it. They were actually going to stop him going back to the Dursley's…he never had to go back. He never had to get beaten up by Dudley or shoved in the cupboard when Uncle Vernon was angry. He had his own room now, to an extent, though Dudley used it whenever he wasn't there, but still, whenever he supposedly did something wrong the punishment included the cupboard, or harsh work. Solitary confinement, Uncle Vernon called it. He was never put there without bruises. It would weaken him, too, which was no doubt why Uncle Vernon liked it. Anyone would be weakened after not eating for a few days. If he could, he'd sneak something in. When he wasn't in the cupboard, he'd managed to sneak some food from the kitchen into the cupboard and hide it, but that hadn't been easy and hadn't lasted long. He'd been punished for that, too – an extra long time in the cupboard, with the food that had been left in there confiscated.

It had been hard to keep going, but he'd managed. Of course, then Dobby had arrived less than a week later, causing even more trouble for him. He was pretty sure that if Dobby knew what would happen, he wouldn't have done it, but that wasn't relevant. The pudding had been smashed, and Harry had been given the blame.

He was always given the blame.

The questions gradually got harder, more detailed. How did they hurt him, what did they do, where did he sleep? The nods and shakes became slightly more detailed, though he was reluctant, shaking. Eventually, it was over.

Professor McGonagall called a halt. "I think it's time for Potter to back to the dormitory. He needs to rest." She said mildly.

Harry accepted this. After all, it was getting late, and the last few hours had been gruelling. He doubted he'd get much sleep. He couldn't help but feel scared, as if Uncle Vernon would appear somewhere and shout at him, hit him and throw him down into a cupboard. He'd tell them all how worthless Harry was, and then they'd never want to help him. They'd want to let him rot with the Dursley's.

They definitely wouldn't want him at Hogwarts anymore. Not if they knew how freakish he was. He was too much of a freak, even in the wizarding world. They just thought it was a good thing, at the moment, because his freakishness had helped stop Voldemort, he guessed. Not that it had really been him, but his mother. The majority didn't know that, and so credited him with the defeat.

Dumbledore agreed with McGonagall; Harry needed to go back to the dorm.

"Headmaster, he should be checked by Madam Pomfrey." Snape felt duty bound to point out. The boy was tired, but it was important.

Dumbledore frowned, then shook his head. "That can be done tomorrow. Is that alright, Harry?" He asked.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face, or imagined he did. A check? He knew he'd already admitted it, already told them, but the idea of being properly checked for it...he swallowed. He had to. He'd already told them everything, refusing a check from the school nurse wouldn't cancel it out. He nodded. "Al-alright." He said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Dumbledore nodded, face pensive. "Good. Ah-Professor McGonagall, would you escort him-?"

"Of course. Come along, Potter." His head of house didn't hesitate to lead him out of the office, down the staircase hidden by the gargoyle statue, and up the stairs to the portrait of the fat lady.

She hesitated before they reached the portrait. "Potter, remember you can come to speak to me about this at any time, or about anything. You don't need to keep it secret. We can and will help you."

He nodded. "Thank you." He answered nervously, not really knowing what to say. He couldn't really believe it. A part of him still thought it was a joke, a trick to fool him into admitting how much of a freak he was so that they could punish him here as well, or just send him back to privet drive if they thought he wasn't worth it.

She watched him shrewdly, but said nothing else, letting him go through. He did so quickly, feeling exhausted, and made his way to the dorm room. Ron was waiting up for him, looking worried. The moment Harry came in, an expression of relief appeared on his face, and he exhaled.

"Harry! Mate, are you okay? What happened?"

Harry hadn't considered that Ron would want to know, and it felt like another problem to face. The teachers knowing was bad enough. He didn't want his friends knowing as well, it would only make them hate him.

He gave a small smile, feigned it. "Everything's fine – just a talk about the holidays. I just ran into Malfoy on the way back though." He added, just to cover up any suspicion. He figured an encounter with Malfoy would explain why he didn't look great. He didn't want to explain the real reason. The teachers hadn't treated him like a freak, not as such anyway, but he didn't want Ron to know. If his friends knew…if they knew he was a freak, maybe they wouldn't want to talk to him anymore. He headed to his four-poster bed, changing quickly behind his curtain and getting under the covers. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to stop Ron attempting to continue the conversation.

"Harry, I know it wasn't because of Malfoy. Come on, what happened?" The red-head pressed. He'd never been good at knowing when someone didn't want to talk about something. He meant well, Harry knew, but even so it felt like more pressure. "Please, mate, just tell me."

"Ron, I'm really tired – can I tell you tomorrow?"

Ron paused, but nodded, though reluctant. Clearly, he didn't want to wait.

Harry turned over, closing his eyes and pretending to be falling asleep. He still felt shaky, as if his world was crumbling around him. It wasn't long until he could hear Ron's soft snoring from the bed beside his, and he turned over again, opening his eyes. The room was pitch black now. He squeezed his eyes shut again, unable to restrain tears. It had been a difficult day. He couldn't help but imagine Uncle Vernon in the darkness, hiding so that he could attack when Harry wasn't expecting it, to punish him for disobedience, for going against their rules of what he wasn't allowed to ever tell anyone.

It took him hours to get to sleep, and he didn't sleep well. He woke up in the morning to Ron leaning over him, trying to wake him up. From the slight impatience and the growl of Ron's stomach, he could tell his friend had been trying for a while.

"Finally! We're late for breakfast." He said, getting ready quickly. Harry followed, not wanting to stop them getting to breakfast, though he didn't feel much like eating. He knew better than to get between Ron and his love for food. They joined Hermione at the Gryffindor table, who put her book away as they approached, greeting them with a 'Good Morning!'.

Ron started eating quickly, grabbing various bits of food and putting them on his plate. Hermione, on the other hand, fixed Harry with a shrewd look not unlike the one McGonagall had given him the night before.

"Harry, what happened last night?" She asked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the issue in case anyone else was watching or listening to them.

Harry flushed. He'd expected it, even more so after Ron's attempted questions last night, but hadn't managed to work out what to say.

"N-nothing, really, just...I'd rather not talk about it." He said honestly, not meeting her eyes. From the way she was watching him, he was pretty sure she suspected, and it made him feel worse. He could almost feel her pity. What would happen if everyone found out? They'd treat him differently, some of them would realise how freakish he was.

Hermione opened her mouth to say more when they were interrupted by the owls arriving. Hundreds of birds flying into the great hall, dropping their letters and packages on their owners and flying off again.

To his surprise, a small envelope was dropped onto his plate. He hesitated, then opened it.

Mr. Potter –

Please go to the hospital wing at 8.00 pm for your check up.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely,

Professor McGonagall.

He folded it up again quickly, noticing that Hermione was looking at him curiously and trying to read it. She always wanted to know what things said, and it wasn't like he normally received letters. He definitely didn't normally hide the contents, but he didn't want to have to explain everything. He didn't know how he could, where he could even begin. Anyway, what if it just made things worse? He'd rather delay them realising just how much of a freak he was.

To his surprise, Hermione didn't say anything about it, just looked at him warily before returning to her breakfast.

"You should eat something, mate." Ron pointed out, mouth half full of sausages. Harry wrinkled his nose. Watching Ron eat wasn't exactly appetizing, but he took a slice of toast anyway, and started eating. After all, it would be better to have some energy, though he didn't want much to eat.

Luckily, there wasn't much time until the first lesson, so no one questioned his lack of appetite. The day of lessons felt like the dragged on for an extraordinarily long time to Harry, and he didn't exactly have the best of luck concentrating in class. Most of the teachers didn't notice, which was good. Those who did chastised him, of course. Professor McGonagall and Snape both refrained from taking any points or telling him off, despite his poor performance. He hoped that Snape's lack of the usual bullying wasn't too conspicuous. He wasn't even being that harsh on Neville. Well, not to the normal extremes anyway.

Ron commented on it, said he must have had something good happen. Harry wasn't sure. Even Snape didn't seem like he'd been pleased by the revelations of the night before. He hadn't said much, but when he had spoken it had been as if the Dursley's were the ones in the wrong, not Harry. It had been odd, but somehow helped make Harry feel better about telling it. If Snape, of all people, was acting like the Dursley's were in the wrong, then maybe...no, he wasn't allowed to think something like that. Then again, he might not be returning to the Dursley's...but it was too uncertain. He wasn't going to risk doing anything wrong if he could help it.

At last, it reached the end of the day, or at least the end of lessons. He tried to avoid Ron and Hermione, hoping to escape any questioning. He wandered the school corridors, not really knowing what to do. He couldn't manage to think about anything except the check up he'd have to endure. When it was time for dinner, he fidgeted through it, moving food around on his plate feeling too full of nerves to eat anything. He just wasn't hungry. Hermione tried to encourage him to eat, telling him he had to. Trying to avoid her protests, he forced down a few bites, but couldn't manage any more than that. It was just...it just made him feel worse.

Eventually, it reached 7.45 pm, and Harry hurried to the hospital wing, having been watching the time all evening. It was better to get things over with, wasn't it?

Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him, as was Professor McGonagall.

Madam Pomfrey looked worried, but gave him a friendly smile when she saw him.

"Mr Potter, come in." She welcomed, holding her wand out already. "Take a sit over here- on the bed- good." He sat down as she directed, sitting nervously on the edge of a bed and fiddling with his robe sleeves.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally. He couldn't stop panicking.

He'd managed to avoid full checkups. Even when he'd been in the hospital wing last year, he'd known nothing had been checked on. They would have asked him about it otherwise. Other people always had if they'd seen, and though wizards were different he doubted no one would have questioned it. He knew from the Quidditch changing rooms that most people didn't have scars like he did, or bruises coming back from holiday. He'd had to hide them at primary school, too. He knew that normal children, like Dudley, they didn't have to hide them because they weren't there.

The very idea of someone looking for signs of what he'd always worked so hard to hide felt terrifying, like something out of one of his worst nightmares.

Madam Pomfrey moved towards him, and he did his best not to throw up.