AN: Thank you all for waiting patiently. Yet again my computer crashed (It's probably the cup of soda I spilt on it though XP)
So I'm really sorry for the delay!
I'm so happy that anyone who's reading this is pleased with it.
This is AU, so some things will change and ultimately the plot of the book will change a little.
Warning: This deals with abuse of a child. It's not extremely graphic, though.
Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to JK Rowling. The only thing I (kinda) own is the idea for this fiction.
-Chapter Two-
=Didn't Nottice=
Harry couldn't believe he had blown Marge up.
The initial excitement had worn down after Uncle Vernon had stood up from the ground and stalked back into the house.
Harry realized only too late that he should have run. He should havetaken his things and left, but he didn't. Now he was laying on the floor, his head throbbing from his uncle slamming it against the wall.
A loud series of knocks broke the silence, causing Uncle Vernon to turn quickly. "Get to your room," Vernon snapped. "Quickly!" He yanked Harry up by the collar of his shirt and shoved him towards the stairs.
Harry stumbled up the steps, dizzy, and held onto the rail as if his life depended on it. He glanced down towards the door before he was nearly to his room, and saw Petunia open it.
A few men stood outside the door.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley." A man said, extending his hand.
Vernon looked at the man for a moment, then grudgingly shook the man's hand. "What do you want?" He asked curtly.
Petunia gripped Vernon's arm, glancing back momentarily towards Dudley's second room. She caught Harry's eye, then he dissappeared from view.
"I am here to discuss the accidental magic that caused…. Marjorie Dursley, was it?" The man looked towards a younger man, who flipped through some papers. "Yes, sir."
"She was blown up, according to my report, by one Harry James Potter. Is that correct?"
Vernon, purple in the face, fumbled with words.
"Yes," Petunia said, interupting her husband. "Our nephew did do that. But why are you here?" She asked.
"We just need to address the situation." The man said. "May we come in?"
Harry changed his shirt. If they were wizards, which Harry was sure they were, he needed to make sure he looked nice.
He had used magic outside of school… but maybe they would believe that he hadn't really meant to. It was just an accident after all. Maybe he could convince them he hadn't meant it, that he wouldn't do it again.
He couldn't stand living with the Dursley's longer than he had to. He had to go to Hogwarts.
Vernon was walking up the stairs now, (Harry could hear the heavy footsteps pounding on the floor.) Quickly Harry combed his hair down as best he could and tossed a long sleeved button up on.
The door opened. "Harry, get out here." Vernon hissed quietly. "Go wash up quickly. There are…" He paused, looking for the right word. Taking a quick glance backward, unsure if the people downstairs could hear what he said, he continued. "People… that need to speak with you immidiatly."
Harry obeyed, moving past his uncle and hurrying to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, sure that the person he saw was not himself. He moved a hand to the tender flesh of his cheek, which was a motley of colours that spread from forehead to chin. He had a black eye starting, and it wasn't going to look pretty later. His uncle had really outdone himself this time, Harry mused as he slowly washed the dried blood from his face. His wrist hurt, yet again; he tried to not use his hand at all, but it was difficult trying to rush.
"Harry!" He heard his uncle bellow from downstairs.
Making the final touches, (he tried to flatten his hair and hide some of the bruise) Harry turned out of the bathroom and walked down the stairs. Before the last step, he took a deep breath, calming his racing heart, and plastered a guilty look onto his face. It wasn't hard, really. Once he'd gotten used to Dudley blaming him for things he never did, Harry had found it much simpler to accept whatever punishment he was dealt, or it would be worse.
"Harry Potter," a man said, stepping from the couch. He hadn't been sitting, just standing beside it awkwardly waiting for the boy to come downstairs.
"Unfortunately, it is not permitted for underage wizards or witches to perform magic outside of Hogwarts. I'm sure you are well aware of that. However, I think that because it was… accidental, as your Aunt has stated, I think we just need to have a discussion." The man continued on.
"Um… sir, I…"
"Oh, dear, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic." The man said, holding his hand out for Harry to shake.
Harry stepped closer, bowing his head as he shook the man's hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir." He said, then stepped back out of the good lighting. Hopefully no one, especially the Minister of Magic, would notice.
"I believe I've said all I need to to your Aunt and Uncle, but I need to give you a warning, Harry. I understand you are young and your emotions will get out of control sometimes. But you MUST keep yourself in check. If no one had been here to help, to think what would have happened…" Fudge began musing to himself and not talking to Harry anymore. "There is a lot of things going on outside, Harry, and it would be unwise for you to make a mistake that could get you killed."
Harry frowned at the man, confused slightly. Yes, he'd made a mistake, but it wasn't really going to cost him his life, would it? At most they would expel him from Hogwarts and take his wand; why was Fudge talking about life and death?
Perhaps what he had done was a serious offence? But he couldn't have been the only wizard ever to have used magic on muggles…
"Are you listening, boy?" Fudge interrupted Harry's spiraling thoughts.
"I'm sorry, sir. I guess I'm just… thinking about it." Harry said flatly.
"Well, you should be… anyway, I said that I will give you leeway this time, but if anything happens…" He trailed off, letting Harry's mind invent scenarios.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, putting his hat atop his head and turned from the boy. "I have other matters that need addressing." He tipped his head slightly to the Dursleys, then left the room and walked past Harry down the hallway to the front door, followed by two other wizards Harry hadn't noticed in the room until just then.
Harry watched him go. He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or upset that Fudge, or any of them really, hadn't noticed a single bruise or cut. Or maybe they had and didn't care? Did they think that Harry deserved what he'd gotten for using magic on his Uncle's sister?
The front door shut semi-loudly, leaving the rest of the house in silence.
Harry stood still, his thoughts still on the minister and the other wizards that accompanied him, until his uncle cleared his throat and stood.
A sick feeling came upon Harry then, and he looked towards the living area where his Aunt and Uncle were.
"I think," Vernon spat, his face a dangerous shade of dark purple, "That it is high time we have a talk."
Harry cringed, unsure what his uncle meant.
"Until you go back to that freak school of yours, you are not to leave your room." He grabbed Harry by the back collar of his shirt and pulled him close. "I will not hear a peep out of you, or your ruddy bird, until the day I take you to the train station. Am I clear?"
"Yes sir…" Harry answered softly, every muscle in his body tensed.
"And don't think that because you're going to school you're off the hook. It's the only way we can get rid of you, and we're not paying for any schooling for you."
"Yes sir…"
"Now up to the room. And I promise, if you disobey, you will be sorry."
Harry ran up the stairs with more energy than he thought he'd had. He ran into the room, his breathing uneven, and shivered violently.
His Aunt closed the door behind him, throwing the locks, then walked off.
Harry collapsed onto the bed, silent sobs wracking his already pained body. He'd gotten off lighter than he'd expected, but no matter what, the situation was hopeless. Why had everything come to this?
Professor Severus Snape was enjoying his summer, to say the least. Not that he was laughing his time away in the sun, or even talking with people often. He'd spent the majority of his time at his home in Spinner's End, brewing potions, learning more difficult ones, and having little else to worry about.
Well, except for spying for Dumbledore of course.
On the occasion that the very broken group of Death Eaters grouped up, either to talk about finding a new leader, or the ones that had stood closer to the Dark Lord talking about finding him, Snape was present. He made it a point to attend every meeting, no matter how trivial. But he would present himself as the most loyal to the fallen Dark Lord, and even pretend to aid the man, if he ever came back.
And Dumbledore was adamant that he would, or would at least try.
So for the most part his summer was untarnished; the next school year looked to be a futile attempt to teach nitwit students, and no matter how much he put it off, he still needed to put a class schedule together.
Snape was not a procrastinator, quite the contrary actually. He was prompt, had everything well planned out, and even had back up plans for the occasions that something was messed up.
He was just not looking forward to teaching potions to the students with ever waning talent. Some of them showed promise, and he hated to admit it but the Granger girl could do well, if only she wasn't a stuck up brat.
He sneered at the thought, then shook his head. The students would be leaving for the trains late tomorrow, which gave him barely a day and a half to plan the first rigors of the week.
He stood from the chair and pushed it in, setting the cup down on the table top. Snape climbed the stair and walked down the hall to the room on the end. He owned a rather large house, but that was inheritance from a father long passed.
He'd thought about getting rid of it many times, but it was the safest place he knew.
Snape sighed as he picked up a potions book and began packing for the new school term.
How is it the summer time always ended so quickly?
Harry boarded the train silently, glad to be free from his Aunt and Uncle, glad to be safe; somewhat. He found Ron and Hermione rather quickly sitting beside a sleeping adult.
"Harry!" Hermione jumped up and hugged Harry tightly.
The flinch he made was not lost on her and he jumped back quickly. "Are you ok?" She asked frowning.
"Fine," Harry lied. He smiled. "Just sore, ya know?"
Ron helped Harry heft his trunk into the storage area above the seats, then sat down beside Hermione. He pulled Scabbers out of his pocket.
Harry paused, scooting as far from the strange sleeping man as possible. "Who do you think he is?" Harry asked, motioning the man with his right hand.
"Professor…" Ron said, interrupting Hermione before she could speak. "it's on his bag." He added.
Hermione shot Ron a glare, before sighing and turned back to Harry. "So why didn't you come to Diagon Alley early? I thought Ron had sent you a letter saying we were all going to be there…"
"Oh, I was busy with chores and everything," Harry lied. "Plus Uncle Vernon had me lock Hedwig up…"
Ron and Hermione watched him a moment. Harry felt uncomfortable, hoping they would look away or change the subject. When no one said anything, Harry cleared his throat.
"So how was Egypt?" He asked.
Ron's eyes lightened, and he went on and on about the sand, how hot it was, and every last thing he could think of. Hermione added comments in between, about the culture and how amazing it would have been to go.
Harry related the story of how he'd blown up his Aunt, as Ron was asking why the minister of magic had taken a trip to Little Winging.
Ron and Harry laughed out loud, only to be quickly shushed by Hermione.
The rain outside grew harder.
"Hey Harry, have you heard about a man called Siruis Black that escaped Azkaban?"
Harry shook his head. "Nothing of the sort. Who is he?"
"Well, he's a mass murder," Hermione began, crossing her arms across her stomach. "Killed a street full of witches and wizards."
"Yeah," Ron nodded his head. "But that's not all. I heard my mum and dad talking about him, and they didn't know that I was listening. My dad said that he escaped, well…" Ron paused, checking to make sure the teacher was still asleep. "You think he's dead?"
"No, Ron." Hermione said impatiently. "Now finish the story."
"Well, dad said that he was you-know-who's biggest supporter. Said he broke out to kill you, Harry."
A wry smile crossed Harry's lips. "Another fan?" he laughed quietly, which brought laughs from Ron.
"This isn't funny, Ron." Hermione said sternly.
The car jerked, and Ron's reply died on his lips as the lights went out and the train came to a screeching halt.
"What's going on?" Ron asked. He was shaking, Harry could tell, because Hermione snapped for him to calm down.
A few moments of silence passed, and Harry stood and made his way to the door.
A sudden chill passed through the room, and Hermione let out a gasp.
Though it was dark, Harry could make out a sillouette of a sleeve and a bony looking hand reaching towards the door handle.
Harry stood frozen, eyes wide as the door opened, and the temperature dropped even more.
Harry stumbled back, his blood going to ice in his veins as what he thought was a person came into the compartment.
Harry felt pain wash over his body and heard a scream.
Hermione was in trouble, and he needed to help, but all he could do was stand still. Or was he laying?
Everything faded to a dull grey; he felt as if he were submerged in a tank of icy water, but his skin (particularly the cuts and broken wrist) was on fire.
Then nothing.
Harry came to. Everything felt surreal, as if he was floating. Suddenly sound crashed into him like an ocean wave beats against a cliff wall. The lights were back on and the rocking of the train car assured Harry that he was on his way to Hogwarts. But how'd he end up on the floor?
"Harry, are you awake?" Hermione asked softly.
"Sure," he replied curtly and sat up. His wrist was throbbing again. "What happened?" He asked, his thoughts still hazy.
"Something came in here and… well I don't know what it did. It sort of made everything cold." Ron said quietly.
"Then you sort of passed out and the Professor said something, then muttered a spell that repelled it." Hermione finished, brushing her hair from her face. "He left a moment ago, but he should be right back. He said you broke your wrist…"
The door opened, and she fell silent. The trio looked up to their Professor, who closed the door behind himself. "I see you're up," He addressed Harry.
"Uh, yeah." Harry shook his head.
The man looked messy, like he hadn't slept in months. His hair was everywhere and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, though his suit was neat and clean.
"Eat some chocolate," He said and broke pieces from a bar. He handed them out to each of them. The man folded the foil paper back over the rest and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.
"Eat," he told Harry, who was still holding his piece. The boy obeyed, and colour returned to his cheeks. A look of relief washed over him.
"Good, now I need to see your wrist."
The boy hesitated a moment, seeming to consider what he should do, then held his left wrist out.
Lupin gently pulled the child's sleeve back, earning a pained groan from the boy.
"Sorry," He said shortly, but continued.
Harry looked from the man's face to his wrist, hoping that everyone bought he'd done it in the fall.
"This is old," Lupin said aloud.
He never had that type of luck, though. Harry laughed. "I fell the other day. I didn't think it was that bad, but I guess it must have been. Probably only cracked it."
Lupin frowned at the boy. He may not have been trained as Madam Pomfrey had, but he wasn't as novice as Harry was taking him for. It had clearly been broken for a week or so and had been trying to heal, and had just been rebroken.
"Well, I think that I'll just take you to Madam Pomfrey's when we arrive at Hogwarts. It shouldn't be but another ten minutes…" He said quietly. "Keep your sleeve up, though."
Harry obeyed.
The next ten minutes couldn't go by faster.
-=Chapter End=-
Thank you guys so much for reading :D
I'm sorry if some of the characters seem a bit out of character, but that's the way the story seemed to be taking them.