"Why?"
Robinson's face flickered in confusion. If he could see past the burning in eyes, Harry imagined that the boy would be staring at him.
"Why what?"
Through the blood rushing in his ears, Harry thought he heard the steps in the hallway grow louder.
"Why did he do that?"
A terse silence descended upon the other boy, and far from fidgeting against the wall, Robinson became deathly still. "Who are you?"
Harry didn't reply.
"You aren't Potter, so who are you?"
It was during times of stress that Harry realized his body was just a finely-tuned machine. His heart was essentially a pressure valve; different chambers or modules operated to shoot oxygenated blood his arteries and veins, only for the drowning tide of red to be shunted back to his heart again, which shot it out in all new directions. That's the little he remembered from his trips to the school library as a kid.
"Of course I am."
But now it felt different. Rather than a regulated system sending steady pumps, his heart thrummed like a drum jutting out against his ribs. His blood stirred in whichever direction it pleased - wild, volatile, and boiling. Rather than the decisive swish back and forth, his blood lingered and pulsed with its own fire in his hands and chest.
"No you -"
The sound of footsteps which had been submerged by the roaring tide in his ears had stopped and, through the tears in his eyes, Harry recognized two figures that stood to his right. Yet even he could see how shocked they looked.
"Finite Incantatem."
The swelling burn around his eyes stopped. Finally able to see clearly, he blanched when he recognized James and Snape. Both of them were breathing heavily, their wands held tightly in their grip.
James' eyes shifted from Harry back to Robinson and then to his face again. Snape, meanwhile, worked on un-sticking his Slytherin student from the wall and accio'd both of their wands.
Harry felt distinctly unsettled when the magical force wrestled his wand from his grip, but even more so when he saw the impressive glower on Snape's face.
A warm hand gripped his shoulder. He startled before he realized it was James. "Are you alright?"
He scarcely nodded, trying to shrug the man's hand off to no avail.
Snape's voice cut across the corridor, sharp and stiff. "Let's discuss this in the Headmaster's office." he said, but the man's gaze was pinned on him.
When Robinson struggled, the professor gripped the boy on the back of his neck; he jutted around before leading the somber procession.
Harry shook as his adrenalin cooled yet he filled with a nervous energy. The casual observer might think it was because he was dreading punishment, but the boy's thoughts were far from considering detention. He looked up at James' face, recognizing the lines around his brows that curved in confusion, worry, and anger.
Harry had seen the face of Death Eaters as they sent spiraling flames and pain and dark curses to innocent people; in his dreams, he'd seen them cackle and gloat. In person, he'd seen their eyes fill with such perverse darkness that he could scarcely comprehend how a human could ever feel that way. But when he looked up at James, he could recognize none of those same shadows on his face.
He never could have performed any of that blind evil that the Death eaters did, Harry thought. It wasn't possible.
Lost in his thoughts, Harry barely realized when the stone gargoyle slid out of the way, and Snape led a cowed Robinson through the portrait. He would've laughed but he was similarly man-handled through the doorway.
Unlike the Slytherin, Harry took the care to keep his eyes trained forward and not look like a skittish rat, but what he saw in the Headmaster's face discomfited him.
When Dumbledore trained his eyes on him, Harry was reminded of the way that Snape looked at him ever since their confrontation. Just as he recognized the trace of a sorrowful undercurrent, the Headmaster's face became overtly neutral.
It didn't make any sense. He didn't understand what he could have done between the last time he saw Dumbledore in the Hospital Wing to now; after all, he'd kept out of trouble - except for at the moment.
Dumbledore pushed his rimmed glass closer up to his face with his free hand, shutting a massive tome with the other. He gestured at Harry but his eyes were fastened on Robinson.
"Has something occurred?"
James still had his hand on his back, goading him forward. "You aren't in trouble, Harry."
"Yet." Snape added.
"...Just start from the beginning."
His eyes fell on the Headmaster's desk while he spoke. "We got into a duel. He sent a curse at me, I dodged, and he sent a Diffindo, I think, and then hit me with something else… it made my eyes hurt." he said, shrugging. "I made him drop his wand and stuck him to the wall so that he couldn't retaliate."
There was a sharp squeeze on his shoulder.
He looked up to find Dumbledore discerning the truth in his face. The man looked over at Robinson, "Do you have anything to deny?"
The boy only glared.
"Mr. Robinson, your acceptance back into the school was based on the condition that you would not seek out any trouble with Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said with a grim frown. "You have given me no choice but to contact the Board of Governors and petition for your expulsion or immediate transfer."
"Wait." Harry said, and he paused when everyone stared at him. Despite his misgivings, he didn't think he could watch as another person was falsely accused. "I was the one who went looking for him."
"Is that true, Mr. Potter?"
He nodded, deliberately not looking at James who must have been reeling in shock.
"Why?"
He hadn't thought about how he should answer the question at all. "He's just been irritating the last few days…" he trailed off, but added quickly at their looks, "But nothing he should get expelled over."
Snape chimed in with a long drawl, looking down at Robinson. "Really? Because Ms. Abbott just recently informed me that he was responsible for throwing ingredients in a certain someone's potion, and performed other various means of harassment. She admitted this right after she alerted me, in distress, of your untimely absence and your destroyed personal effects."
Harry frowned. It wasn't like he could deny any of those things, and that thought made him wonder why he wasn't comfortable with the Slytherin being expelled after all.
"That constitutes harassment and perhaps legal action." Snape said, and Harry felt stunned that the man was protecting him rather than fiercely guarding his own Slytherin.
Dumbledore's eyes settled on him, and once again Harry sensed the immutable and unsaid things in his face. It must have just been how his half-moon glasses flashed in the light, Harry thought, but that couldn't account for the sheer heaviness of his gaze. He fidgeted, "I don't wanna press charges or anything." Harry said, "It's too harsh, he's just a kid."
He could feel the Slytherin glaring at his back.
"Old enough to know what he's doing, Albus." James pressed. "He almost killed Harry - more than once. Doesn't that prove intent? He's a danger to the students."
"Do you have anything to object to, Mr. Robinson? Anything at all?"
The Slytherin's glare just deepened, and he just twitched against Snape's hand which held onto a handful of his robes.
Harry questioned himself once again - why did he even care? The boy had harassed him, had almost killed him. And if James weren't just exaggerating, he had almost killed him twice.
But something deep stirred in him, something that said that it just wasn't right. As much as he hated the boy, he hated the injustice of it even more.
He opened his mouth, but closed it and looked down at his feet. He could tell everyone in the room was regarding him with something near suspicion, and if Harry knew anything about his other self, it was that the boy did not have the propensity to argue.
"I truly am sorry, Mr. Robinson, but you have left yourself and me with very few options." Dumbledore said, regarding the boy. "I am going to contact the Board of Governors. For the time being, you will be going to the Hospital wing to get whatever injuries you have sustained healed. You will then be escorted to your common room, where you will pack, and go home where you will wait for the duration of the ruling."
Harry closed his eyes, waiting in that heavy silence while the fireplace behind him roared and the boy disappeared. He opened them again when he felt a sensation that was similar to an egg cracking over his head, and realized it was James who was performing a diagnostic charm.
He was relieved to note that there was nothing on the paper aside from minor cuts. Nonetheless the man bent to his height and asked, "Are you alright, Harry?"
"I'm fine."
James surprised him with a tight hug, ruffling his hair in the process. It made him feel like he was five and crying over a scraped knee. He was ashamed to admit to himself that it felt nice.
The man looked up. "Take care of him, Severus. I have to talk to Lily."
When he was released the potion's professor snapped at him. "Potter. You have detention with me. Now. Come on."
Before he knew it, the professor was summarily dragging him by the sleeve down flights of magical stairs and to the dungeon. Harry reserved scarcely a glance for James, or for Albus (whose gaze was severely off-putting).
The professor didn't say anything the whole way there. No irritated whispering under his breath or anything. That must have meant bad things, Harry thought.
Soon enough he was dragged into the man's office, and he let go of his sleeve. When he stumbled to the middle of the room, he heard the soft click of the door behind him, and realized with horror that he was alone. With Snape. And the man knew.
His eyes were focused very intently on his shoes, yet he heard the deliberate click of footsteps on stone that were approaching him. He let out a small breath when the man walked past him. The man wheeled around to face him.
Harry looked up, blinking at the obvious anger on the professor's face. "Sir?"
The man's eyes narrowed at the moniker. "What were you thinking, Harry?"
"Huh?"
"Huh? What does that mean? Does that mean that you have no - inkling - of an idea of what I'm speaking of? Are you really that clueless -" the man said. "Or, does the foolishness of your actions escape you now?"
He shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, "Si- Severus."
"I will not tolerate such deliberate obtuseness." he said. "Even from you."
Harry didn't say anything.
"Are you honestly telling you that you don't understand how dangerous your actions were? Not only did you not immediately seek me, or your father, or even Albus, out, the moment that Robinson started focusing his attentions on you, but you deliberately sought out physical conflict with the boy." his voice was deadly low. "Does that truly escape you?"
He shrugged again, but it looked far more like a nervous twitch than something casual.
"In case you don't remember, we had this very conversation a month ago; your mother looked you in the eyes, and what did she say?"
He froze. "Well, uh…" he paused, muttering something vaguely under his breath and hoping it was right. "To stay away from him."
He let out an anxious breath when the man mulled over the answer and seemed to accept it. "And yet you decide, with no reason, to duel with the son of a man who's responsible for killing thirteen muggles and a personal friend of your father's with a single curse."
Harry's head snapped up.
"All that was left of him was a finger."
A curious dread filled the boy, and he thought of third year. That didn't sound like any coincidence, yet it's context didn't make any sense in this world, Harry thought. The only thing it could be was a coincidence.
Snape noticed the expression on his face and it seemed to satisfy him. "It seems you remember now." he said. "So why had you forgotten this past week, hm? Do you have any idea the lessons that man could have imparted on his son, the kind of dueling skill that boy could have been raised with?"
He remained silent.
"You may have been extremely lucky today, but what if it had been any other?" Snape said. "When your little friends rushed into my office, I thought you could have been dead. They thought you could have been dead. Do you have any idea how your father must have felt before we found you?"
"I'm sorry."
"I have known him a very long time. I've never seen him that shaken."
Severus looked at the play of emotions on the boy's face. The copious amount of guilt he saw in the boy's eyes was usually a satisfactory punishment, but the professor was left with a strange hollowness in his chest.
Everything he was saying was true - with the exception that he thought the boy was dead (the magical tracker told him quite decidedly that the boy was not). Yet what was especially true was the dread commingled with fear that he read in James' face. He could scarcely imagine just how strong that shaken look would be when the man inevitably learned of…
Harry rubbed at his face, feeling like someone had placed another Conjunctivitis curse on him. "I'm sorry. Really."
"That's not adequate." Snape said, folding his arms. "Explain to me why you did what you did, because I'm still dumbstruck."
"I don't know." Harry shrugged, not willing to articulate the anger and the curiosity that fostered his trip to the dungeons. "I'm just tired of people doing things for me all the time. I felt like I should, you know, do this myself."
He could tell the professor knew that it wasn't the full answer, but the man (gratefully) accepted it at face value.
"Who hurt you, Harry?"
The boy blanched at the change in topic, confused at first before he figured what the man must have been asking.
"No one." he argued. "Do we really have to talk about this now?"
"Was it Robinson; is that why you neglected to find anyone's help?" Snape suggested, even though he knew it couldn't have logistically been the right answer.
"No!" Harry said.
"So who?" he pressed, drawing nearer to Harry. "Sirius? Remus?"
"Of course not!"
Snape grabbed him by the shoulders. "Really? Are you sure? How am I supposed to know it wasn't them, Harry? How am I not to come to those conclusions when you are so reluctant to tell me yourself? Do you honestly expect me not to come to my own conclusions when your safety is at stake, Harry?"
The words twisted in the boy's gut, and all he could do was shake his head. The man grabbed both of his arms, holding him so firmly that he couldn't twist away.
"Has Lily ever hit you? Cursed you? Denied you food?"
He tried to wrench himself away, his heart pounding in his ears, but he couldn't even take a step back. "No!"
"Really? What of James, then? Did he give you those welts when you didn't get sorted into Gryffindor? Is he the violent, disappointed father that he always must have been?"
He could scarcely shake, and blinked against the wetness in eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
"Look at me."
Unwillingly, Harry felt his eyes lock with Snape's black ones.
There was the sensation of something inside his mind with a fine comb, and the obvious intrusion made him shudder.
He was in the Great Hall laughing a stupid joke Ernie made -
He was in the library, a book sailed away from his hands, and then Snape was dragging him down the hall -
In the Hospital Wing…
Coughing, twisting on a wooden floor -
"Just like your father: arrogant…"
Harry was surrounded by blackness, his eyes shut tight.
"Kill the spare!"
"Crucio!"
"Again!" the man shouted, and the amorphous shape heaved out of the chest of drawers, becoming a cloaked figure -
A flash of terrible green light.
He had the distinct feeling that the man was digging, riffling, for something, and Harry wrestled as hard as he could.
Harry gritted his teeth and ripped himself from the man's grasp. Staggering back, he heaved a pained breath and fell to the floor.
"What the hell did you do to me?" It came out a breathy yell, and he refused to look up at the man's eyes. "What was that?"
Severus said nothing, staring at the boy.
He was able discern nothing but shadows and voices, but something seemed so off about the boy's memories. Something was so… alien about them.
He bent low to the boy's side, ignoring the terrible flinch when he helped the boy to his feet.
"Lemme go!" Harry yelled. "Let me go, you bloody bastard!"
Severus didn't, and he filtered through the new images swirling in his head. "When did you face a dementor?"
"Like I'm telling you!" he laughed, but it sounded more like gagging.
"Listen."
"Like hell -!"
"Listen to me, and I will let you leave."
His struggling became less pronounced.
"I will find out who is hurting you, Harry. But it's the difference between you coming forward yourself, or a very long - very protracted - public struggle. You don't tell someone soon, and I can assure you that there will be a devastating collateral." Snape hissed in his ear. "My responsibility as your godfather is your welfare, and I will use any means at my disposal - even if it means alienating your family or friends who could possibly have a hand in your pain - if it means keeping you safe."
The only sound that filled the room was of him struggling to catch his breath.
"Can I go now?"
"One more thing." the professor said, and he summoned a red vial with the flick of his wand.
Harry stared at it suspiciously.
"I swear to you, it's only a headache potion. Nothing else." he said. "Drink it, and you may leave."
Something rang true in the man's eyes, and in his feverish desire to get out, he downed the red liquid and barged out of the door.