He really tried to hold up a good facade, which had worked well the first two years at Hogwarts. But things at home—not home, at the Dursleys—had gotten a lot worse over the summer, and Harry felt somewhat numb and empty. He felt like he was somewhere between the ocean and the sky—that deep blue ocean with still water. The places he just saw in pictures were places he was never allowed to visit. He was in between a lukewarm water source and a cloudless sky. There he was, floating as the wind blew. He was in some sort of tranquility, a calm overflowing him. He feared the water would drown him soon. Harry never had a good experience with calm. It was always calm before the storm on Private Drive 4. Everything was always quiet before the first kick, or stroke, happened. And now he was left to wonder why everything was so quiet and peaceful right now. Something didn’t feel right (with him?), with everyone. Maybe they’ve seen past his glamour. What if they find him weak? He couldn’t have that, so Harry obeyed and didn’t pick any fights, wanting to stay away from all the attention but still keep his head up. Everything was fine. Why would anyone think any differently?