Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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"Is he even allowed to give detentions during summer?" Harry muttered under his breath as he stomped off to Snape's office.

And I don't like where his questioning was leading to. Harry thought. I think he might have a suspicion of… Harry wasn't sure if his home life could really be classified as an abusive situation. It wasn't like he was being tortured… Just smacked around a bit. Sighing, he realized that others would probably classify it as abuse if they knew.

Like Lupin. Professor Lupin seemed angry on Harry's behalf when Snape gave him the detention, even though he didn't know Harry. The man probably despised any type of cruelty toward children…

"Does Professor Snape give you a lot of trouble?" Lupin asked Harry when Snape left, looking down at the young boy with concern.

Harry gave a shy smile at the man, and responded, "Sometimes, I guess." He frowned when his answer seemed to perturb the man.

"Professor Snape can be a bit…" The man started, but didn't finish his statement. "Where are my manners? I'm Remus Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor? Harry stared up at him, sizing him up. He looked sick and weak, but it wasn't like he could be worse than Lockhart. "Harry Potter, sir." He introduced himself, even though it seemed that Lupin already knew who he was.

The man responded with a smile, and excused himself with a, "Until later, Mr. Potter."

Harry knocked at Snape's office door, hoping that the man wouldn't answer so he could go back to the dorm.

His hopes were dashed when a 'Enter' was heard from inside.

Opening the wooden door, Harry was met with the sight of Snape's office; shelves of potions and ingredients lining the wall, a wooden desk with papers and books scattered on it, and Snape, the git who had gave Harry the detention in the first place.

"Sir?" He asked, since Snape did not do more than look up from a book when he entered.

"Potter. Sit." He pointed to an old wooden chair placed in front of his desk, and Harry quickly hurried to it.

Uncomfortable, Harry started to tap his foot up and down against the floor. Snape wasn't even paying attention to him! What kind of detention was this?

"Stop that." Snape ordered, and the teenage boy immediately stilled. After a long pause, Snape shut the book, and stared at the boy menacingly. "So, Potter."

Harry stopped himself from drawling 'So, Snape'. "Yes, sir?"

The man smirked down at the boy, and seemed to take pleasure from his next statement. "The Truth."

Nerves bouncing, he stuttered out, " I-I don't know what you're talking about." He tried to look sincere. "Anyway, my personal life is no business of yours, Snape." Annoyance became to blossom at the end of his sentence as he realized that it wasn't the man's business.

Snape didn't react from the boy's declaration, and looked expectantly at the boy in silence.

Anger rising at the Professor's silence, he growled, "Anyway, just cause you're an paranoid old git doesn't mean you can assign me detention whenever you want."

Eyes flashing, Snape said in a deceptively calm voice, "Do you think that?" A twisted parody of a smile graced his lips. "You're just like your arrogant father, always passing judg-"

"Shut up about my dad!" Rage bubbled up, and he couldn't help but raise his voice. "YOU SLIMY BAS-"

Burning. His eyes were BURNING.

He broke off, suddenly scared. "Ah…" He tried to appear calm, but his eyes were BURNING. The pain blurred his vision and he looked down at the stone floor, hoping that he would be released soon.

"Is something wrong?" Snape asked, and Harry felt anger prickling his thoughts once more. He could just picture the man's condescending sneer at the 'little boy's temper tantrum'. The concern he thought he heard must have been imagined, he rationed.

"No." He gritted out, biting down on his tongue to suppress a whimper. The burning seemed to be flowing through his body, and he had to try not to cry. Seeing him in tears would probably make Snape's day!

"Very well. Potter, as your teacher, it is my job to…" The man's lecture didn't register in Harry's brain. Only the pain. The burning. And the anger. The irrational anger at the apathetic bastard sitting before him. He wanted the man to burn.

The snakes twisted around his arms. The man must burn.

"AH!" Snape's shout brought Harry to attention. Snape's sleeve was on fire. Part of Harry was mortified. Did I do that? As Snape extinguished the fire, another unfamiliar part of Harry felt pleasure

He deserved it. Harry tried to dismiss the stray thought, and instead looked toward Snape.

Snape seemed to not know how to react, or who to blame. He gave Harry a long stare, and simply said in an uneven voice, "You're dismissed."

Harry ran out of the door as fast as he could manage.

The castle of Hogwarts was supposedly magnificent at night. Harry could see none of it's beauty while lying in his bed, exhausted but unable to fall asleep. His detention kept rewinding itself in his mind, the fire, his anger, all of it.

And the small pleasure of it would not be fought down, no matter the amount of guilt he thought he felt. What was wrong with him? Why would he want to hurt someone? Sure, Snape was an ass, but that didn't mean Harry wanted him to burn.

Did it? Could he really have that type of malice hidden within him?

He spent the night wondering if he was turning into his uncle, frightened to the core at that thought.

The food tasted odd today. Harry decided at breakfast. It just wasn't… good. Or maybe he just wasn't as hungry as usual, which was strange coming from him.

Or maybe he was nervous about the students coming back. That could be it. It had been a week since the disastrous detention, and he had been avoiding Snape whenever possible. Even now, he was eating in the common room instead of the Great Hall; Dumbledore expected him to sit with the teachers.

Everyone was getting here tonight… It felt odd to know that he was the only one not riding the Hogwarts Express. Even last year, Ron had missed the train also.

At the thought of Ron, Harry wondered what his friends were doing. Ron would be eating breakfast at the Burrow, Harry's mind supplied. Mrs. Weasley would be fussing over the family, making sure everyone had everything. Fred and George would be teasing their siblings, and Ginny and Ron would be throwing back insults. Percy wouldn't join in, thinking he was too mature for such things.

Hermione would probably be enjoying breakfast too. She would either be head first in a book, trying not to spill anything on it's pages, or maybe she would be telling her parents how excited she was. She would probably go on and on over what she would be learning. Harry smiled at the thought of his best friends.

Together, they were a trio. And trios tell each other everything, don't they?

Guilt filled him at the thought. Didn't he owe them the truth? It was different then Snape demanding it, they wouldn't find amusement at it.

Should he tell them the truth of his home life? Harry had considered the idea before, but now he felt that maybe there was a chance they would understand… They stuck with him during the whole Basilisk venom episode, didn't they? But what if they didn't understand?

They would be disgusted.

Harry owed it to them, though. They deserved to know what a pathetic creature they were hanging out with…

Harry couldn't bring himself to eat the rest of the breakfast. Handing the remains of the food to Ashes, who gobbled it down, Harry went to take a shower, hoping it would clear his head.

Under the spray of water, Harry looked down at his scar ridden body. Would anyone really understand this? He traced a dark red scar located on his left thigh.

"Get over here, you brat!" The obese man roared at his young nephew.

"Yes?" The seven year old was afraid to look up, knowing his uncle's face would be turning purple.

"Did you make breakfast for me yet?"

" No, sir…" He mumbled.


"The cupboard was lo-" He shouldn't of replied. His uncle slapped the boy across the face.

"NO EXCUSES!" His uncle shouted, and pointed to the stove. "GO. NOW."

Harry scurried over to the counter, and picked up the loaf of bread. "Uncle?" He whimpered as Vernon suddenly towered over him.

"No stalling, brat." The man's voice had a tinge of amusement. Oh god. He was planning something.

Harry picked up a butter knife to cut the bread, but one of his uncle's large hands stopped him. "Use this knife."

A long, thick steak knife was passed to him. So Vernon wanted him to accidentally cut himself? The boy thought that it wasn't really that clever.

He began to cut slices of the bread when his uncle suddenly grabbed one of his arms and pulled him away from the counter.

The knife went flying through the air, with an ominous whistle. He felt it before he saw it. The sharp pain in his thigh attested to that fact, and he instinctively looked down.

No one should see a knife sticking out of their body, blood gushing downwards, red pearls staining the white tiles.

"Now look at that." His uncle had smiled. "You've gone and stained your Aunt's nice clean floor."

"Can't let that go unpunished."

While he was toweling off, he wondered to himself if even his best friends could understand a freak like him.

Author's note: Yay, I finally updated! It was a snow day today, so I finally had some free time to finish writing this chapter. Sorry if it's a bit short, though... Please review!