It was well past curfew when he stopped puking long enough to stand up, and vanish all the mess h'ed made. Some of the slugs had crawled away out of sight, and he didn't have the energy to chase them, so he left them for Mrs Norris and Crookshanks.
Everything hurt, particularly his ribs and stomach. He vanished the mess, the bucket, and what he could see of the slug trails leading down the steps from the escapee's. He didn't need to make more work for Flinch and get on his badder side. As if the man had a good side.
He pulled out his cloak and donned it snd immediately felt safer. He looked around, the corridor was deserted. He approached the fat lady tentatively, "ma'am?" He asked, before pausing to cough up a single small slug. He winced.
She made a sympathetic face, "they've changed the password, dear," she said, sounding apologetic, "you'll need to wait to be let in."
Turning on his heal, Harry trudged down the corridor. If before was anything to go by, that would never happen. He wasn't sure he even wanted to go back now. He just hoped Hermione, Neville, Fred and George were okay. He'd have to find somewhere else to stay.
He dismissed the shack, he liked it, but it was cold and dilapidated. He didn't have the energy to fix it up and ward the whole thing right now. Se wanted somewhere small and dark. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he wouldn't be found. That few people knew about. And the magic of the castle was stronger, friendlier, and as much as he hated being inside somethings, the castles wards were safe. He'd have to find somewhere in the castle.
His mind started turning over the different places. The Room of Requirement wasn't one place. It was many, it could be anything. But he wasn't the only one that knew about it...
The dungeons though, they were cold and Slytherin territory but were dark and mostly deserted, especially the lower level below the mail dungeons that the Slytherin common room and the potions classroom's inhabited.
It was old and deserted and had plenty of old rooms and store cupboards, that Harry had spent many a sleepless night exploring. He'd never once seen anyone down there. That would be safe. That would be secluded and empty, abandoned. It would suit him perfectly.
He went to the Room of Requirement first and asked for the room of hidden things. He needed clothes and to replace his possessions. But he was so tired, he figured that could wait until the morning. But he required PJs, a doona and blankets to keep him warm at night, as well as a pillow. He was hoping he could find some in the room.
The room was just the same as it had been last time, and Harry was still little overawed by it all. There was so much stuff there. So much unclaimed, unowned stuff. So many hidden treasures. Harry was struck suddenly by an odd longing. He'd never really had anything of his own, except for his Hogwarts things, and yet here was all this unclaimed stuff here for the taking. It took him a while to identify that feeling of want.
He flushed, feeling ashamed. He did not want to be like Dudley. Just because there were piles and piles of unclamped junk and treasure, didn't mean he should just take whatever he liked. He didn't need all that stuff. Some clothes and essentials were required, but nothing else. He did not need to be greedy. He did not need lot's of stuff to get by. Just the minimum.
Harry set about finding some fresh bedding to use. He ended up finding a bunch of blue pillows, that had the Ravenclaw crest on them, some black blankets and a very fluffy Slytherin doona. After casting some intense cleaning charms on them, Dobby helped Harry fold the bedding and put it in his bag.
Harry was very glad it seemed to have endless pockets for everything and space-enhancing charms on all of it. With everything he'd been keeping in it now, the pockets sure helped.
"I is finding clothes for you, Harry Potter sir. Hogywards has lots of old clothes sir, Dobby be finding some for you sir," The elf explained, then at Harry's slightly worried look said, "I is picking people ones though Harry potter sir, not elf ones."
Harry smiled weakly, hoping that meant there would be no garish colours, and started looking around. The room of hidden things seemed to have very little order to it, but there was indeed plenty of forgotten and abandoned clothes, lying all over the place.
Some were clearly very very old, some more modern and Harry winced at the bright orange muggle flare pants covered in flowers. He settled on some plain button-ups, that looked to be once part of a uniform, black woolen slacks, a bunch of pants (a few jeans, and a few cargo pants, with pockets that looked useful), a 'new' belt, some long sleeve plain shirts and a few extra waistcoats (they always seemed so cool on Bill) and a lots of jumpers to keep him warm under his robs. Hopefully Winky could add warming charms to those ones too. It was getting colder now, and he was starting to feel it in his bones.
The robes styles too had changed over the years. He decided he didn't really like the school robes very much. They were very similar to muggle academic gowns or smocks. He preferred the older open styled robes that were more like frockcoats or even the fitted robes that were buttoned to the waist and then flared out, with slits around the legs to allow for a full range of movement. He put aside a few black pairs and a few more school robes, and a 'new' hat and cloak for outside. He handed them all off to Dobby, who was eager to clean, mend and re-dye them all black for him.
It took him a while, but between him and Dobby, they found replacements for his things, and Dobby had gotten fresh toiletries for him from somewhere, and Harry had found some warm fuzzy green and black pyjamas.
"You is needing socks and under things too, Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked, "Dobby be finding some."
"Thanks, Dobby I appreciate it." Harry sighed, resigning himself to again, to using second-hand socks, "I don't need much though. I'll manage. You're brilliant, I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Dobby is happy to help his friend Harry Potter sir!" The elf squeaked.
Harry went down to the dungeons using the Map to avoid a patrolling Professor Snape and Flitch. The latter seemed to have found a few slugs and was muttering darkly about it. He considered briefly tipping off Filch that the slugs were Ron's fault, but decided revenge was better served cold.
He made it down to the lower dungeons. It was safer there, he thought, farther away from Gryffindors, and a floor below where most of the Slytherin traffic was. This lower level was colder, and while clean, had an air of disuse and neglect. It would have made anyone else feel slightly uncomfortable, but Harry, having spent a lot of his childhood hiding in forgotten, dirty, unused corners, felt quite comforted by it.
There were no paintings or statues down here. No spys. It would be safe, and quiet enough that Harry would hear anyone coming from miles away. He ended up choosing an old and forgotten store cupboard near the heart of the lower dungeon. The corridors were more narrow, and twisted and turned more like a maze or a rabbit warren here. More so than anywhere else in a castle. It would be easy to get lost down here he thought with delight.
The door of the cupboard he chose was unlocked. It was small, just big enough for him to get in and out of. Honestly, the door was more elf height than human height, and he wondered if this area used to house-elf quarters of something.
But the thing he liked about it, as awkward as it was to get in and out of, was that too small for an adult or an older student to easily use, he thought, with a savage pleasure.
There were mops and buckets and old boxes in it. The cupboard itself had little floor space, a bit over a meter square. it was about the same size as Harry's cupboard back at the Dursley's. But this one was tall. It had shelves starting at his stomach and going up far above his reach. Like a treehouse, he thought, as he levitated the boxes and things up onto some of the top shelves on one side.
He used the old cleaning supplies to clean up the small space until it practically shone. Using the repetitive brainless actions to calm himself down, to ground him so he could think slightly clearer and plan ahead. The dust and dirt was all vanished with a flick of his wand. He filled a bucket with water from his wand, and gave the floor and walls a good scrubbing, before drying them with a charm and vanishing the filthy water. The air smelt clean now.
He lay out all the blankets and pillows he'd gotten from the Room of Requirement, in a little nest on the floor and placed his bag in a corner. The few clothes he had left, he stacked neatly on a shelf, next to his ratty shoes.
Harry put up all the wards he could think of. Then painstakingly, with help from the big book of warding he'd swiped from the Room of Requirement, added some more and even tried his hand at some blood wards from the book he swipped from the restricted section. He layered them on both sides of the door, the walls and the floor. He even climbed up the shelves like a monkey to layer them onto the ceiling of the cupboard too.
It was not enough yet, but the notice-me-not charms and subtle bounty alarm wards, to warn him someone was crossing, were layered all along the corridor and along the floor, wall and door of the cupboard. That should keep it safe enough. At least until he came up with a better ward scheme. He didn't trust it enough to unpack properly yet though. His wards had been broken before. Sure he'd added more now, and layered in a password, in parseltongue. But if the twins could lift and bend the library wards, he would have to figure out how to anchor these wards, so people couldn't bypass them. So they really would keep people out and keep him safe. He'd have to ask Bill for some more suggestions.
It almost felt like home, he thought as he got changed into his pyjamas.
He could use the bathrooms down here, they were mostly forgotten this deep down. He'd stumbled across them one night when he was wandering, unable to sleep.
Harry looked around his cupboard again, there was a stack of old towels on one of the upper shelves, that he could clean and use. No-one else could use the snake bathroom, it had a parseltongue password, so he could easily leave his toiletries there. Yes, he thought satisfyingly, this would do quite nicely. Much better down here in the dark away from all those people.
He'd make and claim this cupboard as home. Harry layered several heating and cushioning charms in the corner, before re layering his blankets and pillow down in a nest. He curled in a ball. It was cold still, as it always was in cupboards. But it was better here than in his room at home. At home, it was cold and hard with little in the way of a blanket at all. Not that the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt Petunia's house was home. But Harry had nothing else to consider home. Despite Hogwarts often feeling something like what Harry thought home should feel like. At least it had to start with.
Harry summoned an empty mason jar off one of the higher shelves and spelled some Bluebell flames into it. The bright blue flames flickered merrily, letting off waves of heat. He grinned, watching it for a moment before putting a lid on the magical fire. He wrapped it in the folds of one of the blankets and curled up around it.
At least here, Harry had charms on the stone floor and plenty of heated blankets. It was comfortable, cozy and dark. Just the way he liked it. Being back in a cupboard, for the first time since he'd had his letter, made him realise how much he'd missed it. How much he'd found being in a proper bedroom disconcerting.
His bedroom back at his aunt's place, his cupboard, had always been far more comfortable than Dudley second room. There, he always felt like he was intruding, creeping where he did not belong and besmearing it. At least in the cupboard was his, and he was safe. Sure he hated being manhandled and locked up, (but that happened in Dudley second room too) and he hated other people being in the cupboard with him, not that anyone at no. 4 could fit. But if he was in there on his own, on his own terms, there was nowhere he felt safer. Most adults and upper years couldn't to fit in and wouldn't want to. Cupboards were great when they weren't being used as a prison.
He spent more time sleeping under the bed at his aunts. Too scared his uncle would come in and grab him. Even at Hogwarts, for the first few months, he had waited until everyone was asleep and had then crept under the bed with his pillow and blanket and slept there. It just felt so much safer in a small space few people could get to. Even now, he still had trouble sleeping in proper beds and open places.
Somewhere high out of reach was fine, like a tree, people rarely looked up, but he still preferred small dark spaces to let down his guard in. He wondered if he'd ever really be comfortable in such big rooms like Hogwarts had? Would he ever be able to sleep in a real bed without tossing and turning, and feeling overexposed where anyone could walk up and grab him? At least at Hogwarts, there were curtains that he could fool himself into think were like his cupboard, and wards to keeping him safe.
He yawned and curled up tighter. Yes, it was much better here. Safer, hidden and far more comfortable. They'd leave him alone here, they'd never think to look for him here. He'd always lived in a cupboard before his Hogwarts letter, he thought as he finally drifted off, it was strangely fitting that he'll live in a cupboard one here too.
*
Harry would not tell anyone what had happened with Gryffindor, what was the point? And it would take a long while before anyone figured it out. That is, other than those who had been witness or perpetrator. Later, the staff would wonder how it had been kept a secret for so long. And some would wonder how their colleagues had been so oblivious.
*
When Harry woke the following morning, he felt surprisingly well-rested, not able to clearly remember any of his nightmares. It was quiet. It took him a while to remember what had happened and why it was so quiet. He slid his glasses onto his nose and looked around.
Oh, the cupboard. His new home. It all came rushing back. But when it did, all he felt was relieved. Relieved to finally be away from people, to have peace, and quiet, and safety. His own space. He may have hated how his 'family,' locked him up in his cupboard back at their house, but he had liked the peace and the safety of it. While they could keep him in there, they couldn't get in themselves. He was safe from them in his prison. It had been a gift and a curse.
After Harry had used the bathrooms, Dobby popped in with the stack of clothes he'd liberated from the Room of Requirement, freshly laundered and re-dyed.
"Dobby and Winky be cleaning and mending your new clothes sir, and we be finding underthings for Harry Potter sir!" He said in greeting, handing Harry a tall stack of clothes. Harry took them hurriedly and was amazed to see they looked practically good as new.
"Wow, thanks Dobby. What do you mean under things though?" Harry asked
"We is finding undershirts, singlets, and tights to keep Harry Potter warm sir," Dobby said, holding them up, "Winky said you is still cold even with her warming charms. She is saying you is not insulated enough. Not enough padding sir. So you is needing more layers, sir. These is be keeping you warm if you is wearing them under pants and shirts sir" Dobby squeaked holding up a set of the black woollen tights and a singlet.
Harry peered at them dubiously, never having worn tights. But they felt warm and surprisingly soft. He was cold enough at that point, his warming charms had worn off, that he didn't really care. So he pulled a pair on, pleasantly surprised that they fitted and were indeed quite warm. He pulled on a singlet and a long sleeve top as well, followed by the black woollen slacks, a dress shirt and tie.
"They is old uniforms Harry Potter sir," Dobby squeaked handing him a grey waistcoat, "now we is just having robes, but at one point they had tights and tunics under open robes, and at another point they had dress uniforms with shirts and slacks under open robes. They is old sir, but clean now and will keep you, warm sir," Dobby finished handing Harry a worn but mended school jumper.
Harry layered up, and Dobby asked, pointing to the other stack of shirts and pants, "is you wanting different colours, sir? Dobby can be changing them, sir? You is having coloured clothes before."
"Erm," he said, thinking about it. He'd never had a choice before, "just black please, for everything but the shirts. They can be grey for now, for a bit of contrast. I was never a red fan before, and while I do like forest green, it will only rile Gryffindor up and feed the dark Slytherin rumours." he sighed, "I like black, it's neutral. Let's just keep everything black."
He watched curiously as Dobby tapped the pile of clothes and watched as black seemed to seep from his finger. After a moment the clothes were all black and looked freshly dyed and pressed.
"You're brilliant Dobby," Harry said, as Dobby did the same thing for the grey shirts.
"Dobby is happy to serve, sir," the elf squeaked, "this stack has enough clothes for each day now, sir!" The elf squeaked, pleased, "and Winky be finding more school robes for you, sir, so you have enough of them too now, sir!"
Harry nodded and cast a tempos charm. He still had time for his run before breakfast. He grimaced, just the thought of breakfast made his insides squirm. Oh well, he still had a few hours yet and was meant to be meeting Ronan in the forest anyway.
*
One of the things Harry really liked about the Centaurs was their lack of interest in the goings-on of the castle. They were also largely disinterested in Harry's life out of the forest. It was a bit of a relief really. But he did hope sometimes that he was doing enough, was useful enough to them in return. He hoped he was not getting more from them than he was able to give them in return. He'd hate to unbalance the scales.
Harry's lessons with the centaurs were going well. His archery has been improving, and he was getting better at tracking and setting snares. His arrow making was improving as well, and Ronan had started teaching Harry how to make knives, and how to use and throw them.
He wasn't good at throwing them yet; actually, he was pretty bad at it. But Ronan had said it was to be expected and to keep practising. Harry had been enjoying channelling magic through the antler and stone looks when he was knapping flint. It's surprising, he thought, how sharp one can make flint or bone. Especially with magic to help it along a bit.
It had been very challenging at first to channel magic into his hands, especially not being able to feel it. But in the end, he managed to control it by watching and focusing on its effect, not on what he was feeling, or not feeling.
Often Firenze or sometimes Ronan would lecture Harry while he practised. But not Bane, who Harry had the distinct impression, did not really approve of him or teaching him. Like Hagrid, they pointed out useful plants, and things to gather that grew in the forest, and slowly taught him it's ways. They explained how to gather some of a plant correctly, and how to make sure not to take too much so that the plant would continue to grown and thrive. They would explain different uses for different parts. Often their uses for it differed greatly from wizards uses.
The Centaurs showed Harry how to move soundlessly in the forest, though it was different for him with his feet than it was for them with their hooves. But once he worked out that he could draw heating runes onto his feet, and imperturbable charms and shielding runes on them, he could run delightfully bare foot though the cold dirt. It was much easier.
They showed him how to not leave signs of his passing. They told him about their race, of their herd, and the etiquette they used. They explained how they wanted humans to treat them. Harry sucked it all up like a sponge. They didn't talk about divination or many of the centaurs beliefs and practices. Harry got the impression that it was sacred knowledge. Maybe in time they would, when they had come to trust him, but maybe not. As curious as he was, he was happy enough to wait and absorbed whatever they were willing to share.
He took to taking his bow with him whenever he went out into the forest, and practised at every opportunity. He liked it. The heavyweight of the draw, the focus required to aim and fire the arrow. He wasn't very good at it yet, he still sometimes missed, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the effort of it, and how meditative it was. He did get good at fletching arrows though and gave almost all of the arrows he made to Firenze or Ronan in trade for his weekly lessons along with the herbs and plants were also diligently gathered for the centaurs.
The other thing he'd taken to carrying on him at all times now, was his knives. It had been ages since he'd carried a knife. Somehow, and he was fairly sure he knew how, he'd forgotten about them, and how important they were. How often they'd saved his skin on the streets when he couldn't face being at the Dursley's.
They'd been no help against Dudley, the only time he'd threatened Dudley with a knife to leave him alone, his uncle had given him the hiding on his life and locked him up for months.
But they kept him safe on the streets, where he'd taken refuge from the Dursley's. It hadn't always been enough, there was always someone bigger and stronger than you were but he'd learnt to fight dirty and fight hard, and to use every advantage he had.
Somehow he'd forgotten all of that in coming to Hogwarts. But now, when so many people were out for his blood, it made him feel a bit safer having a knife in his pocket, for when his magic wasn't enough.
NOTES:
Flint knapping - using stone, bone or antler (normally) to chip of bits of flint to shape it, in this case into arrow heads or knife blades.
Knapping can also be done on obsidian, glass and other fracturing stones
Its supper cool check out the link below.
https://www.jjstonecraft.com/blogs/news/14306297-what-is-flintknapping
Note on the Cupboard.
As a kid his cupboard was his safe haven, too small for his relatives to get him. So it feels safe, he looks for something like that.
Yes he's claustrophobic, but only with others in small spaces and/or when he's trapped. If it's on his terms, he feels a strong draw to them as its safe. The dark is safe. Small spaces grown ups can't get into are safe.