"Yes children, simmer please, the feast was delightful. Now, before we adjourn to our dormitories, I've arranged for someone who was once a student here to come and speak with you, I want your utmost attention, and please welcome, Harry Potter."
Albus Dumbledore sat back down in his raised chair and smiled warmly as his dark haired former student entered the room. Harry glanced shyly, ever humble, at him and smiled softly, before turning to face the crowd and smiling jovially as a blonde haired second year with glasses ran up to him, throw her arms around his waist.
He picked her up, balancing the 12 year-old on his strong hip and again raising to face the swarm of students in front of him.
"I suppose some of you must know Kelly." He mused loudly and there was a murmured assent from the students. "She's my niece." Kelly smiled proudly, "Not- completely, I have no siblings, but she's the daughter of my best friend Hermione Gra- Malfoy."
"I'm sure that you've all been told some version of my story, of my life, of how I thwarted Voldemort. But there's more to it than that. Come on, back to your seat." He patted Kelly's head fondly and sent her running back to the Slytherin table.
"When I was at Hogwarts, the houses were completely prejudiced against each other; I wouldn't have been seen near a Slytherin and now one sits before me whom I love to death. Slytherin was the house that Tom Riddle had been in so it was automatically associated with Voldemort, if you were in Slytherin; your parents were supporters of the dark arts. I knew that it wasn't true though, because I know that my parents never dabbled with the dark arts and I was considered for Slytherin. I also know that Kelly's parents do not support anything of the sort. Draco and Hermione have been supporters of me and my cause since I was twenty-one and the war broke out.
In my last year of school, I was shunned. Everyone was jealous of me and my fame, of the "boy-who-lived" and even the people who I considered my best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, stopped talking to me."
A red haired boy, a third year, put his head down shamefully, knowing the full extent to what his father had done.
"I will not tell you the context of this non-verbal abuse, because I know that offspring of many of my classmates sit in this very room right now. But it was said that I was arrogant, and thought I was too good for everyone. I stopped sleeping in the Gryffindor house, often inventing illnesses to grant me leave to the hospital wing. Soon though, I didn't need excuses. When four Slytherin boys, same year as me, approached me and told me that they were going to ambush everyone in Gryffindor house, one by one, I offered to take the beating for every person."
A collective gasp came from the Gryffindor table, and raised eyebrows from the Slytherin, the remaining two houses just watched wide-eyed.
"There were near seventy-five Gryffindors, so for seventy five nights, I slept in the hospital wing, drinking countless viles of revolting potions made by your very own professor Snape. My father. During my school years, he despised me, thinking me every bit as arrogant and taunting as my father, but during the last year, I was called to his office. I had a detention.
"Potter," he said to me, "it's come to my attention that you've been fighting with your classmates."
"No sir," I said, "not me." But, of course, he didn't believe me. Professor Snape is very skilled at charms and hexes, even if he considers them foolish, and cast a very advanced spell on me, legimens. This spell enables the caster to enter the mind of the person on whom the spell was cast unless said person is skilled at Occlumency, which I was not, which cost me my godfather.
In my fifth year, I had been able to see visions of what Voldemort was doing, and Dumbledore, thought he may be able to also plant fake images in my head. So I started learning Occlumency with Professor Snape, towards the end though, I made little progress, and then I betrayed professor Snape's trust, and it discontinued my lessons. Not long after that, Voldemort did invade my visions, planting one of my godfather being tortured at the ministry. This wasn't so though, it was a trap, and I along with a few friends, were ambushed by deatheaters. Then Dumbledore, my godfather Sirius Black, and other members of the Order of the Pheonix ran into the department of mysteries where we were. My godfather was killed that night, trying to rescue me when I was trying to rescue him.
When Legimens was cast at me again that night in Snape's office, I was again, powerless to repel it. To close off my mind. Professor Snape had been angry and passionate when the spell was cast this time, and the memories began at my very first; a blinding green light and a scream of No, not Harry. My Mother's last scream. The next memory, was at age four, it was me, lying the cupboard under the stairs, where I slept for eleven years at the house I grew up in, and my uncle flinging it open and dragging me out of the cupboard to my feet, only to throw me against the wall and beat me until I passed out. That was the first time anyone had seen, or heard of what my family had done to me.
It was emotional, my stomach was knotting inside, but he didn't end the spell. I wanted to scream, to faint, for something to happen as long as it would stop. The spell went on for what seemed like hours, Snape saw countless accounts of the abuse I experienced at home, along with memories of Sirius dying, of my being possessed by Voldemort, and then, seventh year. He saw my memories of being shunned, and the seventh year Slytherin's approaching him- and the thirty-four beatings that had already taken place."
"'You were... abused by your guardians'?" he asked me, not really a question, more of just clarifying the facts, and I had shrugged, 'and then later by your classmates.' He had been staring at my so thoughtfully, it was unnerving, I had already felt as if I was going to collapse and now he made me want to shy away. I did collapse too, right on his own sofa and when I woke up, I was in the hospital wing and all my bruises were gone, all the scars though, from when I was as young as four, still remained constant remainders as to what I had gone through. As to what I then believed I deserved."
Harry took a moment to take a deep breath and turn to look at his mentor, the dark haired potions master nodded at him encouragingly and he turned back to the crowd.
"I hated the idea of someone who hated me so much, knowing what no one else did. I convinced myself that he was going to use it against me, tell they Slytherins what he'd seen so they could mock and taunt me. But he didn't, he went to the headmaster and I was immediately removed from my aunt and uncle's custody. The next day, while I was still recovering in the hospital wing, the entire school was talked too, my condition was explained, as was what had happened at home, vaguely, and the Gryffindors were told of what I had done for them.
I was still shunned by my classmates however, this time not over jealousy, but over embarrassment. They were embarrassed to approach me and I was in turn, embarrassed to approach them. I despised the pitied looks I received in the hallways, I despised that everyone knew about what I had successfully hidden for so long. I despised that I didn't know what would happen to me.
The next day, I was called out of transfigurations and was set before a panel of three people, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Snape. They had been trying to come to a conclusion on what was to be done with me. And they did. It had come to the three people I had just mentioned, but had been narrowed down to one. Not Lupin, his condition was too dangerous for a boy my age, not Dumbledore for he was a target almost as big as myself, but Snape; quiet unassuming Snape, loyal deatheater, loyal spy, someone that Voldemort would never suspect of housing me.
So that summer, I went home with Snape, friendless and terrified of what was to come. Snape manor, is surprisingly homey, and he may murder me to tell all his students this, but he is the most amazing person I've ever met and showed me more kindness that summer than I had ever experienced in my life. He convinced me that I deserved nothing of what had come to me and drew from me my inner most secrets, oddly enough I told him willingly.
I told him of my experiences in first through fourth year, of every time my life was compromised, I told him of fifth year, of Professor Umbridge, who I'm sure you all of heard, of her terrible punishments and the ministry's bias towards me, how everyone was sure I was insane, and then of the events leading up to my godfather's death. I expressed my feelings of relief when my sixth year went by perfectly, which caused everyone to think I was arrogant. He sympathized with me, gave me advice, and I later came to think of him as a father. To call him dad."
Harry blushed slightly, "the name was unfamiliar on my tongue. I'd never had a father. Dad- er that is, Snape, often told me that my father would roll in his grave to know of the relationship we had, but I think he would be proud and happy that I'd found someone, as well as thankful for Snape for taking care of me.
When I was twenty-one, the war began. I wont tell you the story of this, for I'm sure you already know the story, but I will tell you that that same year I regained my two best friends, as well as a new one, Draco Malfoy, who in school had been my worst enemy, my transfigurations professor, whom I had always looked up to as a sort of motherly figure, died during that war, as well as my fathers last living friends, Peter Pettigrew, the traitorous mean who was the reason my parents died in the first place, and Remus Lupin who died protecting Snape.
Since then, I've been unable to commit my life to anyone. I've never been able to press upon myself the responsibility of another life, knowing that because of me, so many lost theirs. For the past few years, I've been in counseling trying to come to terms with all the death and destruction left in the wars wake.
That is the true story of Harry Potter, the story omitting all mentions of the deeds done, of all heroics I may have ever preformed, so the next time you wish to be famous, to be Harry Potter. Don't."
Harry took a loud, calming breath, ending the Sonorus charm and turning around. His father nodded to him proudly, and Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle in his eye calming to Harry.
Then there was an enormous sound of applause from behind him and he turned to find half the student population in awe and more then a quarter in tears. Again he blushed, nodding shyly at them and walking towards the potions master who left his spot at the table and was waiting patiently by the doors.
As he reached him, his father placed a hand around the twenty-four-year- old's shoulders and placed a calming kiss on the top of his head. "I'm proud of you." He whispered, "and you're going to be all right." His heart bled for his son, for the son of his enemy, who nodded and embracing more into his torso, led the way out of the room.
Albus Dumbledore sat back down in his raised chair and smiled warmly as his dark haired former student entered the room. Harry glanced shyly, ever humble, at him and smiled softly, before turning to face the crowd and smiling jovially as a blonde haired second year with glasses ran up to him, throw her arms around his waist.
He picked her up, balancing the 12 year-old on his strong hip and again raising to face the swarm of students in front of him.
"I suppose some of you must know Kelly." He mused loudly and there was a murmured assent from the students. "She's my niece." Kelly smiled proudly, "Not- completely, I have no siblings, but she's the daughter of my best friend Hermione Gra- Malfoy."
"I'm sure that you've all been told some version of my story, of my life, of how I thwarted Voldemort. But there's more to it than that. Come on, back to your seat." He patted Kelly's head fondly and sent her running back to the Slytherin table.
"When I was at Hogwarts, the houses were completely prejudiced against each other; I wouldn't have been seen near a Slytherin and now one sits before me whom I love to death. Slytherin was the house that Tom Riddle had been in so it was automatically associated with Voldemort, if you were in Slytherin; your parents were supporters of the dark arts. I knew that it wasn't true though, because I know that my parents never dabbled with the dark arts and I was considered for Slytherin. I also know that Kelly's parents do not support anything of the sort. Draco and Hermione have been supporters of me and my cause since I was twenty-one and the war broke out.
In my last year of school, I was shunned. Everyone was jealous of me and my fame, of the "boy-who-lived" and even the people who I considered my best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, stopped talking to me."
A red haired boy, a third year, put his head down shamefully, knowing the full extent to what his father had done.
"I will not tell you the context of this non-verbal abuse, because I know that offspring of many of my classmates sit in this very room right now. But it was said that I was arrogant, and thought I was too good for everyone. I stopped sleeping in the Gryffindor house, often inventing illnesses to grant me leave to the hospital wing. Soon though, I didn't need excuses. When four Slytherin boys, same year as me, approached me and told me that they were going to ambush everyone in Gryffindor house, one by one, I offered to take the beating for every person."
A collective gasp came from the Gryffindor table, and raised eyebrows from the Slytherin, the remaining two houses just watched wide-eyed.
"There were near seventy-five Gryffindors, so for seventy five nights, I slept in the hospital wing, drinking countless viles of revolting potions made by your very own professor Snape. My father. During my school years, he despised me, thinking me every bit as arrogant and taunting as my father, but during the last year, I was called to his office. I had a detention.
"Potter," he said to me, "it's come to my attention that you've been fighting with your classmates."
"No sir," I said, "not me." But, of course, he didn't believe me. Professor Snape is very skilled at charms and hexes, even if he considers them foolish, and cast a very advanced spell on me, legimens. This spell enables the caster to enter the mind of the person on whom the spell was cast unless said person is skilled at Occlumency, which I was not, which cost me my godfather.
In my fifth year, I had been able to see visions of what Voldemort was doing, and Dumbledore, thought he may be able to also plant fake images in my head. So I started learning Occlumency with Professor Snape, towards the end though, I made little progress, and then I betrayed professor Snape's trust, and it discontinued my lessons. Not long after that, Voldemort did invade my visions, planting one of my godfather being tortured at the ministry. This wasn't so though, it was a trap, and I along with a few friends, were ambushed by deatheaters. Then Dumbledore, my godfather Sirius Black, and other members of the Order of the Pheonix ran into the department of mysteries where we were. My godfather was killed that night, trying to rescue me when I was trying to rescue him.
When Legimens was cast at me again that night in Snape's office, I was again, powerless to repel it. To close off my mind. Professor Snape had been angry and passionate when the spell was cast this time, and the memories began at my very first; a blinding green light and a scream of No, not Harry. My Mother's last scream. The next memory, was at age four, it was me, lying the cupboard under the stairs, where I slept for eleven years at the house I grew up in, and my uncle flinging it open and dragging me out of the cupboard to my feet, only to throw me against the wall and beat me until I passed out. That was the first time anyone had seen, or heard of what my family had done to me.
It was emotional, my stomach was knotting inside, but he didn't end the spell. I wanted to scream, to faint, for something to happen as long as it would stop. The spell went on for what seemed like hours, Snape saw countless accounts of the abuse I experienced at home, along with memories of Sirius dying, of my being possessed by Voldemort, and then, seventh year. He saw my memories of being shunned, and the seventh year Slytherin's approaching him- and the thirty-four beatings that had already taken place."
"'You were... abused by your guardians'?" he asked me, not really a question, more of just clarifying the facts, and I had shrugged, 'and then later by your classmates.' He had been staring at my so thoughtfully, it was unnerving, I had already felt as if I was going to collapse and now he made me want to shy away. I did collapse too, right on his own sofa and when I woke up, I was in the hospital wing and all my bruises were gone, all the scars though, from when I was as young as four, still remained constant remainders as to what I had gone through. As to what I then believed I deserved."
Harry took a moment to take a deep breath and turn to look at his mentor, the dark haired potions master nodded at him encouragingly and he turned back to the crowd.
"I hated the idea of someone who hated me so much, knowing what no one else did. I convinced myself that he was going to use it against me, tell they Slytherins what he'd seen so they could mock and taunt me. But he didn't, he went to the headmaster and I was immediately removed from my aunt and uncle's custody. The next day, while I was still recovering in the hospital wing, the entire school was talked too, my condition was explained, as was what had happened at home, vaguely, and the Gryffindors were told of what I had done for them.
I was still shunned by my classmates however, this time not over jealousy, but over embarrassment. They were embarrassed to approach me and I was in turn, embarrassed to approach them. I despised the pitied looks I received in the hallways, I despised that everyone knew about what I had successfully hidden for so long. I despised that I didn't know what would happen to me.
The next day, I was called out of transfigurations and was set before a panel of three people, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Snape. They had been trying to come to a conclusion on what was to be done with me. And they did. It had come to the three people I had just mentioned, but had been narrowed down to one. Not Lupin, his condition was too dangerous for a boy my age, not Dumbledore for he was a target almost as big as myself, but Snape; quiet unassuming Snape, loyal deatheater, loyal spy, someone that Voldemort would never suspect of housing me.
So that summer, I went home with Snape, friendless and terrified of what was to come. Snape manor, is surprisingly homey, and he may murder me to tell all his students this, but he is the most amazing person I've ever met and showed me more kindness that summer than I had ever experienced in my life. He convinced me that I deserved nothing of what had come to me and drew from me my inner most secrets, oddly enough I told him willingly.
I told him of my experiences in first through fourth year, of every time my life was compromised, I told him of fifth year, of Professor Umbridge, who I'm sure you all of heard, of her terrible punishments and the ministry's bias towards me, how everyone was sure I was insane, and then of the events leading up to my godfather's death. I expressed my feelings of relief when my sixth year went by perfectly, which caused everyone to think I was arrogant. He sympathized with me, gave me advice, and I later came to think of him as a father. To call him dad."
Harry blushed slightly, "the name was unfamiliar on my tongue. I'd never had a father. Dad- er that is, Snape, often told me that my father would roll in his grave to know of the relationship we had, but I think he would be proud and happy that I'd found someone, as well as thankful for Snape for taking care of me.
When I was twenty-one, the war began. I wont tell you the story of this, for I'm sure you already know the story, but I will tell you that that same year I regained my two best friends, as well as a new one, Draco Malfoy, who in school had been my worst enemy, my transfigurations professor, whom I had always looked up to as a sort of motherly figure, died during that war, as well as my fathers last living friends, Peter Pettigrew, the traitorous mean who was the reason my parents died in the first place, and Remus Lupin who died protecting Snape.
Since then, I've been unable to commit my life to anyone. I've never been able to press upon myself the responsibility of another life, knowing that because of me, so many lost theirs. For the past few years, I've been in counseling trying to come to terms with all the death and destruction left in the wars wake.
That is the true story of Harry Potter, the story omitting all mentions of the deeds done, of all heroics I may have ever preformed, so the next time you wish to be famous, to be Harry Potter. Don't."
Harry took a loud, calming breath, ending the Sonorus charm and turning around. His father nodded to him proudly, and Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle in his eye calming to Harry.
Then there was an enormous sound of applause from behind him and he turned to find half the student population in awe and more then a quarter in tears. Again he blushed, nodding shyly at them and walking towards the potions master who left his spot at the table and was waiting patiently by the doors.
As he reached him, his father placed a hand around the twenty-four-year- old's shoulders and placed a calming kiss on the top of his head. "I'm proud of you." He whispered, "and you're going to be all right." His heart bled for his son, for the son of his enemy, who nodded and embracing more into his torso, led the way out of the room.