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Survivor or Saviour?

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It wasn’t hard, you know. To act like he wasn’t getting abused. Like he wasn’t getting bullied by his enemies and ‘friends’. Like he wasn’t hurting all over for no reason. Like he wasn’t tired of being the Golden Boy. Like he understood Hermione and her rants about rights for fuckin’ house elves , while Harry was treated worse than one. But it became hard. And he finally got a break, this year, he, Harry Potter, would laugh along with his friends, house, even Draco Malfoy, at other kids fighting for their lives. Not his, theirs.


“Finally, a year with no stress,” Harry said while looking at the Goblet. Today was the day names would be announced, and Harry was ready to study and sleep, with no stress. Hermione would be proud of all the books he already had in his room.


“Cedric Diggory!” Harry was happy for him and the Puffs; they deserved the glory more than anyone. “Now we have every-” and out came another paper and Harry thought; well , fuck me sideways with a chainsaw, if it’s not me.


“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore read, and everyone stared at him. Whispers spread.


“Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” Dumbledore asked calmly (calmly).




“Ron, I didn’t put my na-” Harry started before getting rudely interrupted.


“Shut up, Harry!” Everyone in the common room turned around to stare at them. “I don’t care about your excuses! The least you could do was share how you did with me!”


“You… Ron, you don’t care about… me?” It was a pathetic question, in front of everyone. “I… I could die.”


“Like you’d think about that!” Ron ranted, with venom dripping. “You only think about the fame and glory. No second thought about death or me and ‘Mione. Bloody hell, everyone thinks you’re so nice and light, but you’re even darker than… than Voldemort!” That was when Harry realised, that no matter what he said or did, they’d all, his entire house, turned their backs at him or worse stab him in his back. So, Harry left.




It became a routine; Ron would bother him, Draco would bother him, somehow nicer, Hermione would ignore him, everyone would either scowl, ignore or hex him. Even the teachers were against him.


“Mr Potter, our favourite celebrity,” Snape began, Harry really wanted the man to suffer. “How did you put your name in the Goblet?”


“Pretty simple, sir, would have thought you, at least, would have figured it out,” Harry frowned. “I simply didn’t put my name in the fire.”


“Detention, Potter.”


“Pleasure, sir.”


“Just like your father.”


“More like dear old dead mommy.”


Whispers spread like wildfire in the room. Hermione's eyes widened; “Harry, you can’t just say that!”


“What?” Harry stopped frowning. “I don’t even remember them. And it wasn’t like Auntie Tuney told me anything about them. At least nothing true.”


“You lived with Petunia!?” Snape snapped.


Harry rose an eyebrow, leaning forward on his desk like he was sharing a secret; “Yeah, she likes frying pans more than you like brooding.”


Snape then said while leaving the room to god knows where; “Turn to page 394 and read about the effect sleeping draught has on the body. A minimum of three-foot-long essay about anything… acceptable... that comes to mind.” He closed the door with a bang.


There was a silence in the room until Dean Thomas broke it; “I don’t know what you did, Potter, but please do it again.”


Harry almost smiled for the first time in weeks, then Ron opened his mouth; “Yeah, he finally did something good.




Harry’s detention was with Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Moody. They were sitting at a table, facing Harry. As if having to confess being abused and neglected for years wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, he had to do it in front of his teachers.


“Harry is it true that Petunia abused you in any form,” Dumbledore started, expression serious, without the twinkle in his eyes.


“Tell the truth, Potter,” Snape said, unsure for some reason.


“Define abuse,” Harry said, picking at his nails.


“For the love of-” Snape began, suddenly sure of himself.


“Potter,” Moody interrupted. “Did they hit you?”


Harry shrugged, looking away.


“Starve you?”


He fiddled with his fingers.


“Lock you in a room?”


He swallowed, eyes widening.


“Rape you?”


“Alastor! That is no way to speak to a student,” McGonagall said.


“You can’t hear him,” Moody said while pointing at Harry. “Or understand.”


“I don’t care about them,” Harry said, leaning towards Moody. “They’re muggles .”


“You lived with muggles? ” Moody said, somewhat losing his calm mask.


“Harry, surely you don’t mean this,” Dumbledore said, not so subtly gesturing with his head towards Snape. Harry got the hint, Snape didn’t. He always did let something ‘slip’ to the Slytherins, Harry thought.


“I want to speak with two adults, no more, no less,” Harry said, crossing his arms.


“Severus, Minerva,” Dumbledore said, nodding to Harry, glad he understood.


“What, Albus, yo-” Minerva started, before getting, rudely, interrupted.


“I’ll notify you later,”Dumbledore said.


“I was an Auror, McGonagall, I know what I’m dealing with,” Moody said, suddenly helpful.


“I am not leaving,” Snape said, leaning back in his seat. “I have a right to know about Lily’s child.”


“Huh, who would have thought; you, Severus Snape, care about me, after years of being an incompetent teacher,” Harry said while glaring. “Leave.”


“Potter, I care about Lily’s wishes,” Snape said.


“Leave!” Harry suddenly shouted, slamming his hands on the desk.


“Don’t you raise your vo-” Snape began.


“Leave,” Dumbledore said somewhat calmer, but also angry.




Moody quickly became his favourite teacher and Harry became Moody’s favourite student. They’d talk about everything from treacle tarts to abuse. Harry found a person he could finally confine in. And Moody found a person he could open his heart to. They shared secrets and drama, from cheating couples to Death Eaters. Moody kind of became a new person in front of Harry.


If Harry wasn’t in the library studying, he would be found tailing the man like a lost dog. That’s what Ronald said at least. Harry became a joke in Gryffindor, and the lions were ruthless. So, Harry took Moody advice ‘Constant vigilance’ very serious.


One day McGonagall gathered them all in Gryffindor; “Every time I see Potter, he’s filled up with bruises.” Damn, now he owned Moody ten gallons; Harry had been sure he’d have been half dead before she’d do anything. “He’s a lion for Merlin's sake!”


“Ha, more like a traitor,” Ronald said, laughter filled the room, making him beam.


“Well, you’d know everything about traitors, Ronald,” Harry said, with an uninterested look on his face.


“That’s it!” Ronald said, literally jumping Harry. In front of McGonagall.


“Ron, what… what are you doing!?” Hermione said while trying to get the redhead of Harry.


“Ronald Weasley! Detention!”