As she walked down the corridor on the seventh floor, beside herself with fury, Umbridge glared at nothing in particular. In her fist, she clutched a copy of the rubbish paper The Quibbler. She had thought that, after a few detentions with her blood quill, he would have given up and abandoned his lies, but this... this had made everything worse. She had banned the paper. Any student found with one had been gravely punished. So how was it that despite her not seeing a single copy all afternoon, everyone in the school seemed to have read it?
She began to pace. What she really needed, she thought, was access to the truth. She needed a full proof way for everyone to find out what a nasty little lying attention seeking brat he was. She needed–
The stone wall next to her morphed into woodwork as she passed the same spot for the third time. She froze. She was sure that it had not been there a moment before. Prepared to discover a long-lost Hogwarts secret–because surely no one else had been this cunning, this clever–she opened the door, only to feel a rush of immense disappointment. It was only a cupboard. It was nearly empty, except for a giant, dusty book in the corner. Long lost Hogwarts secret indeed, she scoffed, turning away, when the cover seemed to flash, and Potter's name jumped out at her.
The Life of Harry Potter.
Her lips curved up into a nasty grin. This was exactly the type of thing she had been looking for. It was as if the room had appeared just for her. It was as if it was created for the sole purpose of serving her.
She tossed the Quibbler to the floor and lifted the book with a flick of her wand and a grin. The brat Potter was going to get what was coming to him.
xXx Harry Potter xXx
"You can't mean to let her go through with this, Albus!"
"I'm afraid I have no say in the matter."
"You're the bloody Headmaster!"
"Minerva–"
"Don't Minerva me–"
"With the Ministry involved, my hands are tied," he said, his eyes sad.
McGonagall softened slightly. "At least tell me Potter doesn't have to attend." But she knew even as she said it that it was a fool's hope. Umbridge would never pass on an opportunity to cause Potter undue distress. When Dumbledore didn't answer, her fears were merely confirmed. "We could at least warn him," she said. "Let him prepare himself mentally, let him seek the comfort of his friends."
"No amount of preparation could soften this blow."
"He's going to be blindsided–"
"The Minister has made it quite clear–"
McGonagall turned cold. "I didn't know you were so devoted to the Ministry." There was a quiet light in Dumbledore's eye and McGonagall didn't like it. "What are you up to, Albus?"
"I think the best way for us to help Harry now is to send owls to a few… select individuals."
McGonagall did a tally in her head. Molly and Arthur Weasley, definitely, and Lupin… but as far as emotional support systems went, Potter's ran alarmingly short. There was of course Weasley and Granger, who would no doubt be Potter's main source of comfort, but–
"Be sure to owl Sirius." said Dumbledore, eying her, somehow knowing the animagus had been left off her list.
"Do be reasonable, Albus," she said. "Black can't come to Hogwarts, especially with the Ministry involved."
"I think Sirius may be one of the only people who will truly be able to help Harry cope with this. He should be safe if he agrees to come as Padfoot."
McGonagall nodded, her lips pursed. Then it all fell together. "You're using him," she said. "Potter. You're using him to your advantage."
"I'm making the best of an unfortunate situation."
"Unfortunate! So help me Albus, if you could have stopped this–"
"I couldn't."
"Good!" Because McGonagall didn't want to think about that. About Albus purposefully putting Potter through this just to prove a point with the Ministry. Yes, this could bring out the truth of Voldemort's return, but she was a teacher before anything else, and the wellbeing of her student's was her first priority. Always. And she had already failed Potter in that respect too many times.
xXx Harry Potter xXx
"Harry. Harry. Harry!"
Harry sat bolt upright in his bed up in Gryffindor Tower, shaking and sweating profusely.
"You okay, mate?" Ron stood next to Harry's bed in his plaid pajamas, looking very worried.
"Yeah," said Harry, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm fine, Ron."
"Rubbish."
Harry sighed and lowered himself back into bed. "Nightmare," he said. Ron didn't ask any more questions, for which Harry was grateful. He had visited the graveyard again. "What time is it?" he asked.
"Nearly eight, "Ron said, looking worriedly at his friend.
"I'm fine," Harry said again. "Really."
After getting dressed, Harry and Ron met Hermione in the Common Room.
"Harry, you look awful!" she said the moment she saw his pale face.
Harry shrugged. "What do you reckon Umbridge wants?" he asked, yawning.
"Better not be another decree," said Ron, "Or I might strangle her."
Hermione ushered them out of the portrait hole. "We're going to be late at this rate. I wouldn't put it past Umbridge to give you another detention if you're late, Harry."
Harry clenched his fist absently. The words 'I must not tell lies' stood out in red, still raw from his latest detention. The last thing he needed was another one.
The Great Hall was nearly full by the time they arrived. It buzzed with excited chatter as everyone wondered why the school-wide meeting was called.
"That's Fudge!" said Ron, pointing towards the teachers' table at the Minister of Magic himself, in Hogwarts. Hermione slapped his hand, muttering something about 'being rude.'
Fudge was sat next to Umbridge, the both of them looking suspiciously happy about something. That couldn't be good. Harry turned to point this out to Ron, but stopped short when he saw the venomous expression on his friend's face. Following his gaze, Harry saw that Percy Weasley was also sat at the teacher's table.
The three of them sat down near Fred, George, and Ginny, who were all scowling.
"Look at that git," said Fred.
"He's sitting by the king of gits," said George.
Harry could hear Ginny's teeth grind from his place across the table as the fork in her fist bent in her grip.
"Fred and George have a point," said Ron helpfully. "Percy is a git."
"Why is the Minister here?" asked Harry.
"Beats me," said Ron, whose eyes hadn't left his brother and couldn't seemingly care less.
"Hem, hem!"
Harry saw some of the teachers clench their jaws as the hall went silent. Whatever was going on, they didn't like it.
Before Umbridge could speak, the doors to the Great Hall burst open.
"Professor Lupin!" several students cried as smiles broke out across their hall at the sight of their old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Lupin was followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, Mad Eye Moody and–
A big, black dog. Sirius.
Even as warmth filled Harry at the sight of his godfather, the foreboding churn in his gut only grew. Why was Sirius at Hogwarts? Why had Lupin let him come?
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin all sat themselves at the Gryffindor table while Sirius ran straight to Harry, barking happily. Harry could only manage a forced grin as he ruffled the dog's fur. Something was wrong. He turned his gaze and tried to catch Dumbledore's eye in a silent question, but the man was avoiding his gaze.
As Moody and Tonks passed by on their way to the teachers' table, they slowed and glanced his way.
"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks with a wink and a subdued smile, her hair a violent shade of green.
"Chin up, Potter," said Moody.
Umbridge did not look pleased.
"These people are here on my orders, Dolores," said Dumbledore. "And I assure you, the dog is very well trained."
Sirius took the hint and sat down on the floor, though his tail still wagged. Harry wondered if that was voluntary or if it was out of his godfather's control.
Harry could recognize that Umbridge was fit to explode, even from his seat across the room.
"For heaven's sake, Dolores, the Headmaster is allowed to have guests at his own school," said a woman by McGonagall that Harry was shocked to realize he recognized. It was Madam Bones, the Ministry official who had attended his hearing that summer. She had been one of the few who had spoken out on his behalf.
Umbridge sent a nasty look at Harry before sitting up straight "I've called you all here today so that you may finally learn the truth."
Harry's stomach flipped uncomfortably as the feeling of foreboding grew, though he wasn't entirely sure why.
"I have here," she said, smiling sweetly, "a book that will be read aloud about a certain student here at Hogwarts."
The feeling in Harry's stomach doubled. Surely this did not mean what he thought it did. Surely Dumbledore would not let this happen.
"I am talking, of course, about Mr. Harry Potter."
Harry went numb.
"You can't do that!" called Ron.
"I think you'll find that I can," she said. "You see, I have the whole of the Ministry on my side."
All eyes turned to Harry, who suddenly felt very small. Ron grabbed Harry by the arm and hauled him up and all but dragged him towards the exit.
"Stop right there, Mister Weasley," said Umbridge.
"Abso-fucking-lutely not," Ron muttered, his expression thunderous.
Harry finally found his feet and quickened their pace. He didn't want to be there.
But the doors in front of them magically slammed shut. Harry tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. They stood there for a moment, and the panic in his chest rose. He tried the handle again.
"Return to your seats." she said.
"Let me out," said Harry quietly.
"No. You will sit down now."
Harry spun to face her. "Let. Me. Out."
"Your seat, Mister Potter."
"Harry," said Lupin, looking between the three of them with a worried frown.
It was a warning. Harry had half a mind not to listen to it. But Ron, for whom Harry felt a burst of gratitude for having tried to help at all, placed a hand on his shoulder. Pick your battles. Harry grit his teeth and fought the urge to try the door again. He started back towards the table. Ron followed. Their friends gave a collective sigh of relief.
"We will start reading after breakfast," said Umbridge.
"M' sorry, mate," said Ron quietly as they sat down.
"Not your fault," Harry replied absently.
The tables filled with food.
Harry didn't touch any of it.
"You should eat, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Not hungry."
"Oh, come on Harry," said Fred. "It's not all bad. I mean, now everyone will know you've been telling the truth."
Harry thought he rather preferred everyone thinking him a liar.
"Snuffles will be proved innocent," said Hermione.
Sirius barked.
He pat Sirius' head. Surely whatever was coming next would be worth it, if it freed Sirius… He could do this, for him. The thought didn't stop his hands from shaking, but he at least felt like he had some semblance of control.
The food was gone far sooner than Harry was ready for. Umbridge cast a spell, and the book began to read itself aloud.
And it started at Privet Drive. Harry sank down into his seat with a groan. Of course the Dursleys were going to be in it because he couldn't catch a fucking break. They had been the last thing on his mind when Umbridge had told them about the books, but this could turn out to be a very real problem.
Why it started with an introductory chapter on the Dursleys, Harry didn't know, but it described them with chilling accuracy. It touched on how the Dursleys hated the Potters. What a great start. People were already shooting him sideways looks.
"I thought you lived with them?" said a small Gryffindor, very quietly.
"I do," said Harry.
"But… I thought the book just said they didn't like the Potters…?"
"They don't," Harry replied darkly.
The first year recoiled and looked away.
The more the book described Harry's aunt and uncle, the deeper the frowns around him grew.
When it was mentioned that Vernon didn't know Harry's name, Lupin sat up straighter. He didn't have family–not official family, anyway. Sure, there was Sirius and there was Harry, and they were more than enough for Remus–but if Remus did ever end up having a family, he would at the very least know their names. That seemed like the bare minimum requirement. Harry was Vernon's only nephew, Remus knew this. And he hadn't even put in the ounce of infinitesimal effort that it takes to remember a name. Even enemies knew the name of their foe. But to actively choose not to… that was something else entirely.
The book stated how Vernon doesn't approve of imagination, and Hermione looked at Harry strangely.
"What?" he asked, self conscious.
"But that's..." Harry's mind was... unique to say the least. Endlessly curious. Endlessly imaginative. She knew that Harry's relatives weren't kind to him, but this book was giving her the insight she needed to realize that they didn't just dislike Harry, they hated him, on a fundamental level. Everything about him, they hated, down to how the innerworkings of his mind. A cold feeling rose in her gut.
Harry's expression softened. "I'm all right, you know," he said quietly.
Then Vernon had to go and insult all of the Wizarding World by calling them Lily's 'crowd.'
There was a raging outbreak. Most of the people in the hall listening did not know Harry well, and hearing about his relatives was definitely not the most enjoyable thing they had done that week. This, though, this they could relate to. Their 'crowd' as Vernon had put it, referred to all of them, and, without fault, it seemed all of them were personally offended.
"Her crowd? Her crowd?"
"What is that suppose to mean?"
"Filthy muggles..." came the slurs from the Slytherin table.
The book moved on from the Dursleys and Harry began to relax, but his eyes widened at the appearance of Dumbledore on Privet Drive. And a cat that was, apparently, Professor McGonagall. He hadn't known about this.
Dumbledore called out to the cat and Fred snickered. "Imagine if that wasn't McGonagall."
George grinned. "I reckon he'd feel like a right idiot–"
"George!" reprimanded Mrs. Weasley.
The twins quieted, and they frowned when the book described McGonagall as looking distinctly 'ruffled.' McGonagall was a master at keeping her composure. They should know, they had dedicated the last few years of their lives to making it slip. Anything that made her look 'ruffled' was a cause for concern. Of course, they already knew what it was. They knew what day it was, in the book. The day Voldemort fell. The day Harry's parents… They eyed Harry, but he didn't look particularly distressed. Annoyed at the situation, maybe, but not distressed. They supposed looking at that scar in the mirror every morning probably made him a bit numb to the subject. He had a visible reminder of his parents' deaths every day. Hearing about it wasn't going to make him burst into tears, and they knew that, but they wished he would do more than just glare at the table. It was making everyone uncomfortable.
The book spoke Voldemort's name and nearly everyone in the hall flinched as one.
Harry glared particularly hard.
"You all right?" asked Fred.
"It's ridiculous. No one can even hear his name without flinching. Even Ron–"
"Oi," said Ron, but the anger was absent. He and Harry rarely ever got really angry with each other–except for, well, fourth year... but Ron regretted that more than he'd ever regretted anything his entire life. He had turned his back on his best friend for weeks. Harry didn't like to talk about it. To be fair, neither did Ron, but Ron knew it had hurt him. It still did.
That was one thing he was not looking forward to with these books–among other things, of course–but his turning on Harry when he was needed the most... What would everyone say, when they found out? The students knew, and the Professors definitely knew, but had Harry told Sirius or Remus? Did his own parents know? Ron found himself wishing that they would never find out.
Harry had said he didn't need an apology, and Ron had been grateful, but things hadn't been the same for a long time. Harry had walked on eggshells around him, as if scared that Ron would up and walk out on him again. Ron had done everything to reassure his friend that he wouldn't make such a stupid mistake again, but there was a piece of trust that had broken that day. A piece that Ron wasn't sure was back, even now.
Ron had left. And while Harry had forgiven him, Ron didn't think Harry would ever forget. Ron certainly wouldn't.
The hall listened as Hagrid arrived with baby Harry, and Harry was left behind on the doorstep of a rotten family as McGonagall cried.
Fred donned a small, sad smile. McGonagall crying. That was something he didn't think he would ever see–nor did he want to. But he understood, somehow. Harry was... He could get a lot of people to do things that they normally wouldn't.
Harry could tell him and George apart.
He didn't know why that mattered so much to both of them. But when their own mother couldn't tell them apart... When Harry knew who they were, even when they were pretending to be each other… It made Fred smile. George too. They both secretly loved it. To Harry, they weren't 'the twins.' They were Fred. And they were George. To Harry, they were separate enough that he always knew who was who.
Don't get Fred wrong, he loved his family to death, and yeah, he and his brother were basically identical...
Maybe that's why it was so special? Because they were identical. Yet Harry always knew.
So maybe they took it easy on Harry. Maybe they watched out for him–not that he knew it, of course–but Fred could see where McGonagall was coming from. Yeah, in the books, Harry was a baby that just lost his parents, so of course she was crying, but Fred knew, somehow, that even now Harry had that same effect on her. He could see it, sometimes. Harry wasn't a baby anymore. In fact, sometimes, by the look in Harry's eyes, Fred almost thought that the he looked incredibly old. But Fred had seen McGonagall, over the years, watching Harry with a worried gaze.
It seemed even their unflappable, unruffled professor wasn't immune to the effects of Harry Potter.
The book began to describe Harry's life at Privet Drive, years later, and Harry went very white.
"Mate?" asked Ron. "What's wrong?"
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he addressed Dumbledore at the staff table. "None of this is really that important, Sir," he said, unable to keep the pleading tone out of his voice, "Couldn't we just… skip this bit?"
"Something you don't want us to know, Potter?" interjected Umbridge with a sweet grin. "I'm afraid we will be reading every word."
Harry did not spare her a glance. "Please, Professor…" he said, hating himself a little bit.
"It is not for me to decide, Harry," said Dumbledore softly.
These books were a God send. Dumbledore knew that. These books would free Sirius. These books would show the world the truth of Voldemort's return. But was it worth it? Was the price too high? Surely, when weighed against the emotional state of a fifteen-year-old, the importance of these books should win, hands down.
The books should win.
Yet, for Dumbledore, as Harry's face fell, somehow, they didn't.
As the book depicted Petunia ordering Harry to cook the bacon for Dudley's birthday breakfast, Mrs. Weasley's breathing hitched. Harry was not her son. She knew that. Sometimes it killed her to know that. And it wasn't her place to judge how another woman raised her kids, but she couldn't help but worry. Bacon splashed oil and grease as it cooked. Muggles couldn't fix burns with a flick of a wand, they had to let things heal the hard way.
They the book revealed that he lived in the cupboard under the stairs.
Heads turned. Harry should really be used to that by now, but still the relentless eyes had him fidgeting. The silence stretched, Harry really began to feel on edge.
"Look," said Harry, desperate to fill the silence that was pressing in on him from all sides. "It's over, I don't sleep there anymore, I have a room now and everything. I know it was wrong, that they were wrong, so you don't have to tell me that either. And I don't want any of you to go blowing this out of proportion because this really isn't such a big deal –"
"You never said," said Ron quietly.
"It's fine," insisted Harry. "I'm fine."
"Harry–" began Lupin.
"No, stop," he said, not wanting to dwell on this. Really, the cupboard was not one of the worse things that they were going to read about. How were they supposed to read about trolls and acromantulas and Voldemort when they couldn't get past the ridiculous place that Harry used to sleep? They had read, what, a little over a chapter? The end of the week seemed years away.
Sirius whined and rested his head on Harry's knee.
The book continued to reveal little details to ruin Harry's life, like about how Dudley and his friends used Harry as their personal punching bag.
Ginny didn't make a habit of hating other people. She hated Voldemort, sure, and Umbridge, and Malfoy was pretty high on that list as well, and she really didn't like Pettigrew, going off of what Ron had told her, but those people were terrible people who had done terrible things. The Dursleys were Muggles. Dudley in particular was pathetic. How could a spineless git like Dudley get thrown into the same pile as Malfoy?
It didn't make sense to her.
And it also didn't make sense to her that Harry didn't seem to care.
"You should be angry," said Ginny.
Harry just shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said, causing Hermione and Ron to groan and Sirius to whine. "No," protested Harry, "listen. Why should I waste energy being angry with them when there are so many more important things... Dudley doesn't scare me. Voldemort does."
"A detention is in order, I think, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge from her table. Heads turned with various looks of outrage. "You-Know-Who should be addressed as such. Do you think using his name makes you seem brave? Or do you just use it for the attention?"
"This is preposterous," said McGonagall, enraged. "Albus," she inquired, trying to get him to do something about this nonsense.
"I think we should refrain from handing out detentions during the reading, Dolores," said Dumbledore.
"Why in Merlin's name would we do that?" asked Fudge.
"We are likely to discover many... unfavorable actions of many people throughout these books," said Dumbledore, "but this was four years ago. I believe we should continue as though the statute of limitations has been passed."
Harry was extremely grateful. Getting detentions for all the crap he had gotten to over the years had not even crossed his mind.
"Fine," said Umbridge, "but the detention I just arranged was for his current behavior, not his past."
"With insufficient reasoning, I must say," said McGonagall.
"As a teacher here at Hogwarts," said Umbridge sweetly, "is it not within my right to issue detentions as I see fit?"
McGonagall clenched her jaw.
"I'll see you at detention, Potter," said Umbridge. "My office."
Harry grimaced and took his hand off of the table in an unconscious reflex.
I must not tell lies.
As Dudley's birthday celebrations progressed, the book informed everyone that the Dursleys lied to Harry about how his parents died–in a drunken car crash.
Lupin had to take several deep breaths to calm himself. He had already been wound tight enough, but this was a step too far. Sirius wasn't doing much better; his teeth were bared and a low growl permeated the air. A few students looked at him in alarm. Harry placed his hand on Sirius' head to calm him down. The growl turned into a soft wine.
"Remus," said Harry, using his first name to get the man's full attention, and it worked. Lupin's eyes softened somewhat and his shoulders relaxed slightly, but Harry knew that this was one conversation that was not over.
The book described them arriving at the zoo for Dudley's birthday, and Vernon threatened Harry that if he tried anything funny, Harry would be in his cupboard until Christmas.
The tension in the hall increased tenfold.
Hermione cleared her throat and, hoping she sounded offhand, asked "They, er, wouldn't really do that, would they Harry?"
"Probably not," said Harry, shrugging.
Then the book went and undermined him by delving into some stories about Harry's accidental magic as a kid, and how he'd been locked in his cupboard for a week when he grew his hair back after his aunt cut it.
Mrs. Weasley's face turned thunderous. "A week?" she asked.
For the first time, Snape frowned. Petunia should have known all about accidental magic, that he couldn't control it. She had, after all, been Lily's sister.
Mad Eye Moody eyed Potter. Repeatedly getting locked in a small, dark, spider infested room for days at a time would have probably been traumatic for most young humans. Yet Potter seemed... okay, in the simple sense of the word. He was not claustrophobic. He was not arachnophobic. He did not quail in the face of authority, he rose and challenged it. As if Moody didn't know about the D.A. Ha! He knew about it, and he was damn proud.
The book described another incident of accidental magic, when Petunia tried to force Harry into an old, ugly brown and orange sweater of Dudleys.
Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil looked particularly nauseated at the thought of such an atrocious piece of clothing.
"I don't know," said Malfoy loudly, "I think I'd prefer that over a certain Weasley's dress robes last year."
Ron's ears went pink, and something snapped in Harry. He'd known Malfoy wouldn't be physically capable of keeping his mouth shut for the entire reading, but it always surprised him how much of a dick Malfoy could be.
"Shut it, Malfoy!" said Harry.
"Potter," said Umbridge, "do not yell at your fellow students."
"Did you not just hear him?" he said, raising his voice.
"Shouting at your superior, Potter," she simpered with something that was almost pity, but had an undertone of something much, much darker. "That's another detention for you."
Harry stood. "You refuse to see things that are right in front of you."
"That's enough, Potter," she said.
Ron tried to pull Harry back into his seat, but Harry just shrugged him off.
"You don't listen unless it's in your favor," he continued, while everyone stared. "If you would just–"
"I said enough!" she cried. She took a deep breath, looking taken aback at her loss of control. "Mr. Potter," she continued at normal volume, and the effort cost her dearly, but he cut her off.
"Listen to reason," he said, and it was obvious this was no longer just an argument about Ron's dress robes. "You too, Minister. Voldemort is back, and if you don't start–"
"You dare speak to the Minister in such a tone?" She stood and marched towards Harry, who stood his ground.
Alarmed, Lupin jumped to his feet and moved to Harry's side, the anger reverberating off of him like heat waves.
"Out of my way, werewolf!" she snarled.
"Dolores!" cried Madam Bones. "Get a hold of yourself!"
But Umbridge was beyond reason. She took out her wand, and pointed it at Lupin.
There was a bark and a snarl, and before anyone could do anything, the large black dog was digging its teeth into Umbridge's pink skirt. A jet of red shot out of Umbridge's wand and Sirius let out a high-pitched cry as he was knocked back.
"No, stop!" cried Harry, shoving her wand arm away from Sirius. Umbridge stumbled and her wand happened to point at Harry, and there was no way she would try anything there, with the ministry and hundreds of students watching, but it was the wrong move to make with Sirius present. With a snarl, the black dog bounded forward, transforming into a man to step in front of Harry.
Umbridge dropped her wand and screamed. "BLACK! ITS SIRIUS BLACK!"
The few Ministry officials in the room stood and whipped out their wands. Harry, who'd seen what was coming, mimicked their movements, but multiple spells were already airborne and Harry didn't know a shield spell strong enough to stop all of them.
He dove into Sirius, shoving him violently out of the way.
"Harry!" shouted Hermione as she saw her best friend get bombarded with five spells straight to the chest. He was blasted backwards, and he landed very hard on the stone floor where he stay, unmoving. She and Ron ran towards him as the Weasleys stood as one.
Sirius raised his hands slowly and placed them behind his head as he kneeled on the ground. Dumbledore managed to stop the Ministry workers from attacking again, but Sirius only had eyes for his godson, who lay immobile.
Madam Pomfrey hurried to Harry's side, and as Lupin knelt down next to Harry, he sent a worried glance at Sirius who had paled past the point of living.
He had just ruined everything. He was always ridiculed for his recklessness, they had always said it was going to get him killed one day–but instead it had gotten Harry hurt, and it would get him thrown back in jail.
He would be sent back to Azkaban.
But Harry needed him. He couldn't go... he couldn't just leave him again.
He acted without thinking, he knew that. Even James had warned him of his reckless behavior. It was all fun and games when it only earned them a detention, but as the war had progressed, James' concern had grown.
And now, Sirius had gone and gotten James' son hurt.
"He's all right," said Madam Pomfrey with a sigh. "But he won't come round for a while."
"Sirius," called Dumbledore. "If you would come with me please," he said, and Sirius' heart fell. "Severus, you too." He turned his eyes back on the Minister. "If you and Madam Bones would come with me, I can prove to you that Sirius is innocent."
Sirius choked on his breath. He wouldn't even get to say goodbye to Harry properly–Wait, what? He looked up at Dumbledore with watery eyes and saw the grave old man look at him over his spectacles. A horrible, painful hope blossomed in his chest. Dumbledore's eyes said it all: the situation was grave. There was a very good chance that Sirius wasn't going to be walking away this time.
But there was also a chance, however infinitesimal, that he would.
Sirius carefully got to his feet. He would not screw this up. He wiped his eyes and moved to join Dumbledore, but hesitated. He turned back with one last worried look at Harry. "You're sure he's all right?" At Madam Pomfrey's nod, he turned and followed Dumbledore out of the Hall, trying to keep his hands from shaking. Trying to keep his breath at a normal rhythm. Trying to not let this small hope grow, because if this failed, it would crush him.
An old, yet oddly strong hand rested upon his shoulder. Sirius turned to look at Dumbledore, whose face held a warning. Anything rash now would get him worse than Azkaban. It would get him killed. Sirius took a deep breath and stood up straighter, trying not to be intimidated by Fudge's glares or the Ministry officials that accompanied them, wands trained on his heart, never wavering.
Madam Pomfrey took Harry to the Hospital Wing, Ron, Hermione, and the Weasleys refusing to be left behind.
McGonagall sighed. "Students dismissed."
"I should think not, Minderva," said Umbridge.
"Harry needs time to recuperate. There is no point continuing today."
"Potter can join us again when he is conscious. If Madam Pomfrey is worth her weight at this school, I am sure she is capable of the simple task of waking him."
There was a soft pop, and Dolores Umbridge was no longer present. Instead, there was a large, fat, ugly toad with a pink bow on its head.
McGonagall jerked back in surprise, and the Great Hall was taken over in a fit of laughter. Many eyes found their way to the disfigured, hunched man who stood at the Gryffindor table with his wand trained on what used to be Umbridge.
"Serves you right, you self serving wretch of a–"
"Mad-Eye," Tonks reprimanded, "you can't go around transfiguring ministry officials! You're going to get into a heap of trouble."
"Well?" McGonagall said to the students, "Off to your dormitories! Go! Shoo!"
There was a mad scramble as students eagerly left for the rest of the day off before she could change her mind.
xXx Harry Potter xXx
Harry groaned. His entire body felt as if it had been beaten.
"I think he's waking up!"
"Took him long enough."
Harry opened his eyes, yet as he was not wearing his glasses, it did not improve things much. He reached blindly for them, and he felt someone place them in his wandering hand. He slid them onto his face and blinked at the ceiling.
He was in the Hospital Wing. He really shouldn't be surprised.
"Sirius!" he said, sitting up, but he was hit with a wave of nausea and a pounding headache, and he fell back onto his pillow with a groan.
"I'm fine," said a voice that sounded suspiciously like his godfather, "now shut up and tell me how you're feeling."
Harry jerked upright, and no amount of discomfort would have stopped him a second time. And there he was. Sirius looked… haggard, and stressed, but ultimately whole. Harry had been so sure that he was going to get chucked back into Azkaban… this time, without his soul. "What happened?" he asked, looking around. The Weasleys were there, as well as Hermione, and Lupin.
Sirius waved Harry's concern aside. "Dumbledore straightened it all out," he said. "I took some Veritaserum, proved my innocence, and it was all taken care of."
If they thought that would cheer him up, they were wrong. Harry's face darkened, and Sirius was not sure what to do with Harry's less than congratulatory reply. "You mean, after all this time," said Harry, "all you had to do was take Veritaserum and everything would be fine and fucking dandy?"
"Language, Harry," berated Mrs. Weasley, but her heart wasn't in it, which was all well and good because Harry wasn't listening.
"We should have done that sooner! Why didn't Dumbledore–"
"It's not that simple," said Sirius. He did not want his godson to know how perilously close he had come to being kissed by the dementors. "The point is, I'm fine. Now, how are you?"
"Fine," Harry lied.
"We were so worried..." said Hermione.
"Well, Umbridge isn't happy," said Ron, smiling, as if that made everything better.
There were a few stifled snickers from the twins, but Harry hadn't found it that funny.
"Ol' Toadface is furious," said Ron, making George full-on snort. "McGonagall and Moody are in a good mood though."
Harry was missing something. "Did something happen to–?"
"I wish we could have seen it!" cried Fred.
"If only we'd stayed in the Great Hall a few more minutes," said George.
"What?" asked Harry, exasperated.
"Hagrid said McGonagall was really angry after you got hit," Ginny explained. "She and Umbridge had a go, and somebody lost their temper."
Harry frowned. "McGonagall?"
"No," she said and leaned in, lowering her voice. "Mad-Eye Moody."
"Moody," said Harry in disbelief.
"He got really angry."
The fact that Mad-Eye had defended him... it was such a foreign idea, Harry didn't know what to do with it. "What did he do?"
Fred and George burst out laughing, unable to contain it any longer. "Moody transfigured her into a toad!" they said, nearly falling over in their glee.
"You're not serious?" asked Harry, a smile growing on his face. A memory of fake-Moody transfiguring Malfoy fourth year came to his mind, and Harry had to admit that Crouch's son had done his research. It was no wonder the man had managed to stay undetected in Hogwarts for so long, even under Dumbledore's nose. The likeness was uncanny.
"Dead serious," they said together.
Harry let out a single, unbelieving laugh, still overwhelmed by the thought of Moody defending him. "Brilliant," said Harry. "Remind me to thank him later." His smile faltered. "He'll get in huge trouble for that."
"Nah, all the Ministry officials were with Dumbledore at the time, so none of them saw. I doubt any of the teachers or students would rat Moody out," said George.
"But what about Umbridge?"
"Ah, but Umbridge is currently a toad." said Fred happily. "Don't worry so much."
"I have good reason to," said Harry under his breath.
"Sorry?"
"Er, nothing. I just said, Umbridge will be returned to normal sooner or later, won't she?"
"When the spell wears off, sure," said George. "But you're forgetting who we're talking about, Harry. It's Moody. He'll be fine. Anyway, we promised Lee and Angelina that we'd let them know when you woke. See you, Harry."
As the twins left, Harry sat there, stunned. When fake-Moody had done it to Malfoy, he'd gotten a slap on the wrist from McGonagall. But Umbridge was a high-ranking Ministry official. She would not be so easy.
As Harry dwelled in his worry for Mad-Eye, Madam Pomfrey walked in. "Ah, Potter, you're awake." She shuffled to his side, ushering various Weasleys out of the way. "All of you, out!" she said. "I told you that you could stay until he woke, but then you would have to leave. Out I say, out!"
Remus leaned towards Sirius and spoke softly. "Keep an eye on him, would you, Sirius?"
Sirius nodded and, with one long, final glance at Harry, Remus left.
"We'll see you later, okay, Harry dear?" said Mrs. Weasley.
"Hope you're feelin' all right, Harry!" said Ginny as they left, leaving only Ron, Hermione, and Sirius.
"Can't they stay?" asked Harry quickly.
"Of course, Potter," she said. "Now, how are you? Any pain? And dizziness?"
"I'm fine."
She tutted and shook her head. "Don't lie to me, Potter. You were hit by quite a few spells last night."
"Last night?" cried Harry.
"Yes, last night. And I'm afraid the ministry buffoons are getting impatient. So I need to clear you before you can go back to the Great Hall."
"I think I'm dying," said Harry quickly, trying to look morose.
Hermione squealed, and Ron's face paled considerably, but Sirius donned a knowing smile.
"Really, Madam Pomfrey," said Harry, "I am in no shape to go anywhere. You should just tell everybody to carry on reading without me while I stay in here with Ron and Hermione and–"
Madam Pomfrey chuckled. "You're not dying, Potter. I'm not stupid you know. Do be rational; they won't continue without you."
"Give me a heart attack, why don't you?" said Ron.
Hermione rushed Harry into a hug anyway, but the brief contact caused him to gasp. Hermione's hands went to her mouth to stifle a cry as she quickly pulled away. "Oh Harry! I'm so sorry!"
"It's all right…" Harry gasped.
"Hush Potter!" said Madam Pomfrey. "How bad does it hurt?"
"It doesn't, I–"
She huffed.
"Well, it's a bit sore, but it's nothing I can't handle–"
"'A bit sore,' honestly!" she cried.
"I can't believe you got him to admit that much," said Ron, still very pale in the face.
Sirius looked to Ron. "What do you mean?"
"Harry doesn't like us to worry," Hermione cut in as she wiped her eyes.
"The only time we ever find out is if he's in mortal danger," said Ron bitterly.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I have yet to see a year where Potter isn't in the Hospital Wing for at least a night."
Sirius paled and rounded on Harry. "How come I don't know about this?"
"It's not a big deal–"
"Not a big deal?" he said incredulously. "Harry, I'd like to know if you've ever almost died or not!"
Harry felt something tighten in his chest. "Just knowing my name would make that kind of a given," he said shortly.
"That's not what I meant," said Sirius, frustration creeping into his voice.
"What did you mean, then?" asked Harry. "You want to know everything bad that's ever happened to me? It would fill a book. And it has. So just leave it be, would you? You'll hear it all soon enough."
"This stuff I'm going to be hearing," said Sirius, "would you never have told me, otherwise? If this book wasn't here, would you ever have bothered to tell me any of it?"
"Fine," said Harry, annoyed. "You want to hear it from me, firsthand? Make me recount it when this stupid book is already hell enough? Okay, then. Let's see, first year there was a troll, a giant three-headed dog, devils snare and–oh yeah, Voldemort." Sirius turned ashen, but Harry was on a roll. "Second year I almost got murdered by a tree, that was great fun, there were hundreds of giant spiders, a giant snake, and, hey, Voldemort again."
"Harry, stop," said Sirius. He did not want Harry to tell him like this.
"Third year," said Harry. "I nearly died from a fall off my broom after a dementor attack, and almost got kissed by the foul things more times than I care to count. But I'm sure you remember that."
Sirius flinched.
"Fourth year," said Harry, and his voice became quiet, hesitant. "The Triwizard Tournament. Cedric. Voldemort. And to top it off, this year, I get attacked by dementors again. Wow, what a great bonding experience, Sirius," said Harry in a tone that stung, "I'm really glad that we did this."
"Harry," said Sirius, trying to ignore the hurt.
Harry sat up, ignoring the pains in his chest and head. "I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey. I'm going to the Great Hall."
The entire walk to the Hall, Harry was pestered by constant remarks from Hermione of 'Are you sure you're all right?' to Ron's 'Can't wait to see Umbridge!' to Sirius' 'What do you mean, Voldemort in your first year?'
Harry didn't know why he was so angry. Sirius just wanted to know how often he was in mortal danger. A pretty standard question. And a reasonable one, when Harry was involved. And Harry would have told him, eventually.
Or maybe he wouldn't have.
Perhaps that was why he was so angry. Because Sirius' accusation of Harry not planning on telling him any of this–it was all true, wasn't it? But now Harry would never know, because the book was taking that decision away from him, too. So maybe Harry hadn't wanted to tell Sirius yet, but damn it all, he was trying. Sirius was the only family that he had, and he was trying. Wasn't that enough?
Upon entering, all of the eyes in the Hall turned his way. Harry ignored the looks, and went straight to the Gryffindor table, where he sat between Ron and Sirius.
Ron elbowed Harry and pointed to the Ministry workers. In a seat next to Fudge was a large, fat, warty old toad with a pink bow on its head. Harry's eyes found Moody down the Gryffindor table and, if the man's smirk was anything to go by, he was damn proud of his transfiguration work.
Harry also noticed that Fudge was glaring at Sirius. He would have to keep an eye on that.
Loads of food appeared in front of them and the conversation died down as everyone filled themselves with a breakfast feast. Ron grabbed a plate and dug in, but Harry wasn't feeling up to food. He leaned over to Hermione and whispered, "Moody seems to be in a good mood. What do you reckon Umbridge is going to do when she's human again?"
Hermione frowned. "Oh, I hope nothing too horrible. She can't do anything, can she? I mean... he's Moody."
"And she has the entire Ministry backing her every whim," said Harry.
Once everyone was satisfied, the leftover food was cleared and the book picked up where they left off at the zoo with the Dursleys. They listened as they heard of a vanishing glass and an escaped snake and a trapped Dudley. Harry's parseltongue had already been revealed in the Prophet, so luckily the reaction there wasn't too negative. In fact, Spirits were rather high as Dudley finally seemed to get his comeuppance by being trapped in a zoo exibit. That is, until Vernon blamed the vanishing glass on Harry, and ordered him to his cupboard with the promise of no meals in the near future.
Harry grimaced as heads turned his way.
"No meals?" said Sirius.
"Okay, so occasionally, they withhold food," Harry admitted reluctantly, looking at his hands.
"They starve you, you mean," said Remus, filling in the blanks.
"No," Harry lied. "Well, sort of, but it's not... It wasn't ever really..."
"You can't even come up with a decent defense for them, can you?" said Ron.
"No," he muttered, "I suppose I can't."
Then there was a pop, and there was Umbridge. A very human Umbridge, and she was fuming. Her eyes found Mad-Eye who looked unconcerned, the cocky son-of-a-bitch, but Harry had a sudden idea. Whether Mad-Eye was going to get into serious trouble or not, Harry could stop repercussions from happening at all.
"Professor!" he called loudly.
"Harry!" Hermione squealed. "What are you doing?!"
"Professor Umbridge!"
Umbridge turned her eyes on him. "What do you want, Potter," she said, some of her fury leaking into her voice.
"I'd like to have a word with you," said Harry. "If that's all right."
With narrowed eyes and a quick glance at Moody, Umbridge made her way to Harry who gestured her over into the corner. "You won't inform the Ministry who turned you into a toad," he said when they got there, firmly, yet quietly.
"You think you can forbid me from doing anything, Potter?" she whispered fiercely. "Mad-Eye Moody is a menace, and he will get what's been coming to him for a long time."
Harry held up his hand and scratched his nose at an angle which would seem natural to any onlookers, but would be unmistakable to Umbridge. The words I must not tell lies were clearly visible in the light. "If you tell the Minister, I might accidentally let it slip what has been happening in our detentions," he said.
"You dare blackmail me, Potter?" she said, a strange glint in her eyes.
"And I'm fairly sure that this," said Harry, motioning to his hand, "is not an accepted form of student punishment here at Hogwarts." He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "I haven't told anyone because this, what we have, it's between you and me. But if you out my friend, I will tell Dumbledore. I'll tell Madam Bones."
"Fine," she said in a soft voice that shook with her rage. "You have a deal." She marched back to her seat.
"Dolores," said Fudge, "tell us, who transfigured you?"
She mumbled something.
"Sorry?" said the Minister.
"I don't know," said Umbridge, while many stared at her in shock, "I didn't see who did it."
All eyes of those who had been present during the transfiguration found Harry as he made his way back to his seat next to Ron and Sirius, trying to look innocent.
"Shall we continue?" he asked, just to piss Umbridge off.
The bark of a laugh that Moody tried and failed to hold back made all of it worth it.
But as Harry stared at the sheer number of pages detailing his life still remaining, he felt the moment of triumph fade. That a lot of information. He would have to relive some of his worst memories. His worst secrets.
The book kept reading. What happened at the zoo got Harry his longest punishment ever, and by the time Harry was able to leave his cupboard, it was summer.
Harry felt Lupin tense beside him. "Exactly how long were you in there, Harry?"
Harry mumbled something.
"Come again," said Remus through clenched teeth.
"I don't know… a few weeks I suppose, but it wasn't too–"
"What's that Potter?" snapped McGonagall. "A few weeks?"
"Er…" said Harry, which was answer enough.
"Mate," said Ron quietly. "Were you honestly about to say 'it wasn't too bad?'"
Harry shrugged. "It's hardly the worst they've done."
"Damn-it," said Sirius. "I don't want to hear that, Harry. I don't want to hear that you've 'had worse.' Do you realize how horrible this is? How wrong?"
Harry stared at his godfather. Of course he knew that it was wrong, that it was bad. But out of all the hardships in his life, getting locked in a cupboard for a few weeks was one of the lesser evils. Sometimes, he preferred the cupboard. Anything that got him away from his aunt and uncle and cousin in those times had been a blessing.
Sirius saw his godson's confusion and immediately the heat behind his words was gone. "You don't realize… do you…?"
"I do realize, Sirius," said Harry. "But I'm not going to fret over something so small."
"Then," said Mr. Weasley slowly, looking like he was trying hard to understand, "could you please enlighten us? What do you consider big, Harry?"
Harry felt his face go hot. "Er, never mind."
"Potter," said McGonagall. "Answer the question."
Harry crossed his arms. "Why even bother asking me," he grumbled. "We'll all find out soon enough, anyway."
"We're worried about you," said Remus.
"Why?" Harry shot back, "I don't understand. This all happened years ago."
Ron looked sad. "And none of us even knew it. You've got to give us some slack. My Mum, especially. You know she cares about you. Of course this is going to bother her. It bothers all of us. You were locked in a small, dark room for weeks. How can you not expect us to get upset? You were ten!"
"Exactly!" said Harry. "It's not important anymore. All of this concern? Fat lot of good it does me now. I would have loved it five years ago, but hey, nobody cared back then."
Ron recoiled as if he had been slapped.
Harry instantly regretted his words. "I–Sorry. That wasn't... That wasn't fair."
"You have a point," said Ron. "Fat lot of good this does you now."
"Even if you all did know, back then," began Harry, hesitantly, "Would it have changed anything?"
"Of course it would have."
"But nothing's changed," said Harry quietly. "And I still have to go back there. Every damn summer."
Ron's mouth went dry.
There they were, preaching about how horrible this was, yet none of them had moved to remedy the situation. Nothing changed.
Not a damn thing.
Now Ron saw why this bothered Harry so much. Because all of these words and concerns, they meant nothing. Not when there wasn't anything being done. Ron put his head in his hands. Holy hell, what an eye opener.
The book kept reading, and eleven-year-old Harry got his Hogwarts letter, only to have Vernon snatch it away. Vernon and Petunia discussed Harry behind closed doors as Harry and Dudley listened in, and how they'd sworn they would "stamp out that dangerous nonsense..."
The quiet that followed was chilling. Distinctly uncomfortable, Harry looked down and picked at a grain of wood on the table. The silence weighed on him like a heavy, wool blanket. Sirius stood and grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him to the far corner of the Hall. Remus, Ron, Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore, and McGonagall followed. It was a very large crowd, Harry thought, but better than the entire Great Hall. At that point, he was grateful for any privacy at all.
"Harry," said Sirius in a low voice. Harry avoided his gaze. "Harry… please, please, tell me that this is just a strange muggle wording. Are we reading too far into this?"
He could lie. He could say that the Dursley's never did anything. And yet, staring at all of their faces, even knowing that it was less cruel to lie, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"It…" said Harry in a shaking voice. He gulped. "It didn't happen often."
Hermione choked off a cry as she clamped a hand over her mouth. Dumbledore closed his eyes, like he had expected as much, but had held onto the hope that he might be wrong. Ron and his parents looked dumbfounded, like they had never imagined, like the thought had never even crossed their minds, never in a million years would they have suspected something like this. McGonagall let out a sharp huff and sent a hard look at Dumbledore. Sirius and Remus slumped, the news seeming to leech a little of the life from them.
"It was never too bad," said Harry. "It's not as bad as what you're all thinking. At most, I'd just get smacked around a bit, that's all."
In the back of Harry's mind, there was a nasty little voice that asked why they all looked so surprised. All of the clues were there. If they'd looked, surely they would have realized. Dumbledore, at least, seemed to have put the pieces together. And yet, the devastation on Mrs. Weasley's face softened something in Harry. The Weasleys could never have known. Not when such a thing was so inconceivable to them, who loved so strongly. And Hermione. She grew up with parents who loved her. Why would she ever begin to think… And how long had he even known Remus and Sirius? Two, two-and-a-half years? How could any of them have known?
Dumbledore knew, the voice said. Dumbledore had all of the pieces to the puzzle and chose to look the other way.
The Great Hall was deathly silent. They were all, Harry knew, straining their ears to hear what was happening in the corner.
"It only happened when my Uncle got really, really angry," he was starting to ramble, he knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "Dudley and his gang may have done a number on me, but they weren't so bad. And my Aunt would sometimes try something, but they were only ever halfhearted attempts. It was always my Uncle that… he was usually the one who… but like I said, it didn't happen often."
Sirius engulfed his godson in a hug. He found himself remembering the night Harry had discovered him innocent. He should have thought it odd when he had offered for Harry to come and live with him, and Harry had agreed instantly. Nobody should be that happy to leave their family.
"Harry," said McGonagall, who looked rather ill. "How often do you consider 'not often?'"
"I'm not down-playing anything, I swear," said Harry. "It was never a regular thing. It was really rare, actually. I was never... He never... It never got bad," said Harry, trying to say that he had never been beaten without actually saying it, because somehow, that made it all sound worse, as if he were justifying it because it was better than it could have been. The truth was, Vernon had only smacked him around on occasion. A backhand when he was really angry, or a particularly violent shove... but for the most part, it never got physical. Vernon preferred indirect punishments. Like isolation. Starvation. Verbal abuse.
Of course, there was the incident of Vernon choking him earlier that year… In all honesty, that had scared Harry a little bit. His Uncle hadn't been that violent in a long time.
But these people, these people who cared so much, they didn't need to know about that.
They were looking at him funny. Harry supposed that 'It never got bad' hadn't exactly been the most eloquent way for him to phrase that. Still though, the amount of care that they were expressing made him think that, maybe now... maybe Dumbledore wouldn't make him go back to the Dursley's.
"Hem hem!" The sweet, honey voice ripped through the hall. "Return to your seats. We do not have time to indulge in your social lives."
McGonagall's jaw clenched and her whole body stiffened.
Dumbledore had the frame of mind to stop things before they went too far. "As you wish, Dolores," he said pleasantly, but there was a chilling quality to his voice, and Harry was pleased to see Umbridge wilt in her seat.
A look from Sirius told Harry that this was another conversation that was most definitely not over. Oh, the joy.
They returned to their seats. Students were whispering and pointing. Perhaps it didn't matter so much that they'd gone to the corner for privacy. Enough rumors would be started soon enough that Harry was sure he'd be hearing how the Dursleys locked him in the basement on weekends dressed as a hag after poisoning his dinner and hitting him repeatedly with a broom. The things that circulated in the halls of Hogwarts never failed to amaze Harry.
The book continued, following Harry and the Dursleys' mad flee from the owls and the Hogwarts letters to the rickety old shack in the crashing waves, and a thundering knock on the door in the middle of the night.
There was a lull in the story, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took the opportunity to stand and direct their attention to the Headmaster. "We would like a word, Dumbledore," said Molly.
Dumbledore nodded. He stood, with Snape and McGonagall following suit. Sirius and Lupin joined them at their side. With a flick of his wand, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Dumbledore led the group outside, leaving a sputtering, protesting Umbridge behind.
Outside the Hall, Dumbledore turned to them and spoke. "You want Harry out of that house." He looked at them sadly. "This cannot be arranged."
"Bullshit," spat Sirius. "You don't care at all, do you?"
"I do care," said Dumbledore quietly. "I care more than you will ever know. But if we move him from that house, he will be targeted the second he leaves Hogwarts. The protections the Dursley house offers is the only thing that has kept him alive all these years. It is an old magic that cannot be duplicated."
"Protections? Fat lot of good they did keeping the dementors out," said Sirius, contempt oozing from his words. "So it's okay, is it? It's okay that he's hurting, as long as he's alive. It's okay that he's not cared for."
"Sirius," said Lupin, and he sounded heartbroken. "Dumbledore's right."
Sirius felt a stab of betrayal. "Are you saying Harry should stay in that hellhole?"
Lupin shook his head. "Of course not! Of course he shouldn't. But he might have to."
Molly grabbed her husband's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Headmaster… there has to be something that we can do. Harry–" her voice broke.
Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. "Dumbledore, I am asking you as a friend. Please, let us take him."
"Headmaster," said Snape quietly, nodding to the side, not wanting to speak in present company.
Albus sighed. Why Severus didn't want anyone to know the best of him was something that he would never understand. "Of course Severus." Dumbledore smiled apologetically at the Weasley's and the two remaining marauders. "A moment, please."
They walked out of earshot. Severus cast muffliato and rounded on Dumbledore. "You promised me," he snapped. "You promised that he would be safe. Have you not learned from your past mistakes? What about Voldemort? What about me?" his voice was harsh. "Have you not learned the common consequences of living in an abusive house? Even if Potter won't admit it, even if nobody can see it, he will forever be effected by this. You wonder why he's so reckless? Is it really a wonder that he doesn't hold his life with higher value? He settles for less when he deserves–" but Severus stopped there, because that was coming too close. "You know the dangers of a wizard rejecting their magic. You know what they can become."
"You speak of the Obscurus. Harry would never become one of them."
"There was no way of knowing what kind of person Potter would be when you left him on that doorstep."
"Would you prefer that he be unprotected?" asked Dumbledore quietly. "Would you prefer him dead?"
"Are you daft, old man?" hissed Severus. "Don't you know the risks that I've taken to keep him alive? Of course I don't want him dead!"
"If Harry moves to an unprotected house, Voldemort will inquire his whereabouts from you. You will have to comply."
That gave Snape pause. "I am well versed in lying to the Dark Lord."
"Your honesty is paramount. He cannot discover your loyalties."
"Then don't tell me where you send him! Use a Fidellius!" At Dumbledore's silence, Snape sneered. "You're going to let that traitorous worm's actions dictate what we do now? There was nothing wrong with the charm, Albus, it was Potter's choice in friends."
"We cannot risk another Fidellius."
"You have to do something!" said Snape. "If he must go back for his own protection, then make sure that he is protected inside the house as well. Do something about the muggles."
"Of course, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Something will be done."
Back inside the Great Hall, Harry was wishing that he was anywhere else.
"I still can't believe you never told Ron and I," said Hermione.
Harry sunk lower in his seat, very conscious of the many eyes watching them. "Can't you let it go, Hermione?"
"No! I will not just 'let it go!'"
"She's got a point," said Ron.
"Can we at least talk about this later?" he said. "They're not so bad anymore. They leave me to myself. I don't have to worry about it. And I would really rather not have to think about it, to be honest."
This seemed to soften his friends up.
"It's in the past," said Harry. "It's done. There's nothing that we can do about it."
And that's why it hurts, thought Hermione.
A/N: Hey everyone. So you guys have been begging me for this for years. Surprise! Here's the first bit. New and improved. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think!