Welcome back everyone! I really enjoyed all of your reviews and am so happy that I made so many of you laugh. I hope at least part of this chapter can accomplish the same. It became a lot bigger than expected when I set out to write some extra scenes but that's how these things go, I guess. Please enjoy!
Chapter 11
It was the thirtieth of July and Harry found himself wondering about his friends as he ate his dinner. He was turning fifteen in a few short hours and normally he would be on the receiving end of a parliament of owls forcing their way through his window.
And normally, this wouldn't be too much of a problem. The Dursleys tended to sleep like logs and while waking up screaming from nightmares might do the trick, the soft tapping of owl beaks on his window was not enough to rouse them from their slumber. He imagined, though, that Snape was not such a heavy sleeper and would be up in moments.
And wasn't sneakily receiving presents in the middle of the night not just such a mortifying occasion he'd rather Snape wasn't aware of? He didn't have to realise that it was his birthday, after all. If Harry kept his mouth shut, the day would pass like any other. If he could just tell his friends that they shouldn't send him anything, he would. But he had no such means. The best he could think of was using the muggle post to send something to Hermione but if he wanted to do that, he should've thought of it sooner. The muggle post was, after all, agonisingly slow.
He was quiet throughout dinner. Not that he usually spoke that much but lately Dudley did try to direct some questions at him, much to the consternation of his mother. And while Harry would usually answer them, albeit reluctantly, today he found himself responding with nothing more than absentminded grunts. This impolite behaviour earned him some glares from his aunt but he ignored those steadfastly. Snape was also quiet. But that was nothing new.
At around ten in the evening, Harry had quite enough of trying to keep himself occupied with watching what the Dursleys were watching and observing Snape while he read a book, his facial expression never, not even once, shifting. For a moment, he wondered just how absurd this situation would look to anyone else and decided that it still looked off, even to him.
Merlin, my life is so messed up right now. Get Voldemort and Malfoy in here and the pack of people who dislike Harry Potter the most is complete.
"I want to go to my room," Harry announced to Snape.
Snape glanced up from his book and nodded. "Very well," he said. Without either of them saying goodnight or anything of the sort to the Dursleys, they went up the stairs. Harry took refuge in his room, where no one would bother him, and allowed himself to be locked in.
And then the waiting game began.
While Harry was usually excited about the thirty-first of July arriving, he found himself to be less enthusiastic this time. Why that was, he didn't know but the fact of the matter was that he had already fallen asleep on top of his bedcovers when the first owl tapped his window.
It took him a while before he even realised what was happening. Blearily, he opened his eyes and stared rather stupidly at the source of the sound. A few more seconds went by before he became aware of just what he was looking at. The owl's tapping became louder with annoyance and Harry rose quietly from his bed, walking over to the window as he rubbed his tired eyes.
"Alright, I'm coming," he mumbled. "Don't get your feathers all ruffled."
The owl, who he now recognised as Pig, stopped tapping the window and stared at Harry while he opened the window. It didn't open much, courtesy of Snape to keep him from trying to escape, but just enough for an owl to slip through.
Pig flew into the room and dropped a package on Harry's bed. Harry moved to close the window when more owls appeared, wanting to be let in. Harry couldn't help but smile when seeing the abundance of gifts his friends had sent him. Sometimes it was nice to know that he wasn't forgotten.
When all packages and letters had been dropped, the owls settled on different items they deemed worthy enough to serve as perches and started hooting at each other.
"Shhh," Harry urged. "I don't have any food in here with me. Sorry."
One of the owls clicked his beak indignantly.
"I know," Harry replied apologetically, trying to keep his voice down. "I should have prepared something. It's not like you guys came as a surprise."
But I couldn't have done so without Snape suspecting anything.
"I don't though. So er… thanks, I guess, and good night?"
A couple of the owls took the hint and took off but two others, including pig, stayed put and watched Harry expectantly.
"I really don't, you know," Harry repeated. "So could you please just, I don't know, go back home?"
Pig screeched at him then and Harry's eyes widened.
Oh crap.
He approached the owls and tried to physically grab Pig to toss him out of the window himself but the little owl was faster and more agile than he was, at least when he didn't have his broom, and flew out of his reach immediately. Harry lost his balance when he grabbed the air instead of an owl and fell over, against his rubbish bin that fell to the ground with a horribly loud clanging.
Even Uncle Vernon will be awake now.
"Get over here," Harry hissed at Pig but the owl seemed to like this game of catch and kept flying tauntingly close into Harry's reach before dodging his hands again and perching somewhere else. Feathers were starting to fill his room and Harry had had quite enough. He grabbed his pillow and tossed it at Pig. What happened next came straight out of a horror movie.
The door to his room flew open, revealing Snape brandishing his wand, ready to attack. It was at that moment that Harry had tossed the pillow in Pig's direction which, incidentally, was now Snape's direction as well. Pig happily dodged the pillow but Snape, who hadn't expected a flying object of this nature, was hit right in the face, the pillow bursting open to reveal even more feathers that now covered Snape's hair, black robes and the floor on which he stood.
Had Harry been a bystander, he would've laughed at the rather ridiculous scene. But he was not a bystander. He was the one who threw the pillow so all he could do was stare at Snape in horror, the man staring back at him as if he didn't quite know what to make of the situation.
I wonder what they'll put on my headstone. Here lies Harry Potter, died in a pillow fight with Severus Snape. He should have known better.
When Snape recovered from his temporary state of befuddlement, he closed the door with a snap and advanced on Harry. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "And what are these owls doing here?"
"Delivering mail," Harry said weakly.
Snape scoffed. "And is there any reason why you are throwing things at said owls, Potter?"
Harry tried his very best not to look at the white feathers sticking out of Snape's hair.
I am not smiling. The corners of my mouth will obey me. Smiling is suicide.
"They wouldn't leave, sir," Harry said politely, hoping that Snape would interpret the quiver in his voice as fear rather than Harry trying to keep himself from laughing.
Snape's dark eyes now fixed on the two owls. "Out," he growled and the birds obeyed immediately without making another sound. Snape closed the window behind them and turned back to Harry who was looking decidedly sheepish. He stood in front of his bed, trying his best to block the packages now strewn across it.
"Explain yourself, Potter," Snape growled. "What missive could be urgent enough to send to you in the middle of the night?"
"That's private," Harry said.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Potter," he said. "If it's important, you should let me know. You're making my role here a lot harder by keeping things from me."
"You really don't need to know about this," Harry said, his eyes following a feather that had dislodged itself from Snape's robes and was now gently floating down before getting stuck again.
"I'll be the judge of that," Snape replied coldly. "Out with it!"
"Ismaberda," Harry mumbled.
"In Merlin's name, Potter, speak up," Snape chided. "You have already awakened me quite abruptly with your ridiculously loud fumbling around. If you keep me up longer than necessary, I will not be held responsible for my actions."
Right. You would need your beauty sleep.
"It's my birthday, alright?" Harry said in exasperation. "I got some gifts from my friends. That's all." Harry stepped aside to show Snape the presents.
Snape sighed and uncrossed his arms. "Honestly," he grumbled. "The ridiculous adolescent situations you insist on putting me through. Go to sleep, Potter."
"In a few minutes, Professor," Harry said.
"As long as you keep down the racket," Snape said evenly. "One noise from the obnoxious presents your friends chose to send you and I will banish all of them from existence."
"Alright," Harry agreed.
Without another word, Snape left the room in a flutter of feathers and locked the door once more with a spell. Harry breathed a relieved sigh and went on to unpack the presents he got. Most of them were quiet and calm, making no noise whatsoever. When he unpacked Ron's gift, though, he was practically assaulted by a snitch that made a high-pitched noise increasing in volume when you got closer to it, probably to practice catching it. It took Harry a while to find out how to turn it off and when he finally did, he stared at his door in horrid anticipation.
But Snape didn't come in again and left him to celebrate his birthday in peace. Just the way he always did.
Harry watched from behind the window as the Dursleys backed out of the driveway. They were heading towards Dudley's favourite restaurant where they would be spending the next couple of hours feasting like kings and treating the poor staff like their own personal servants. Not to the extent they treated Harry, of course, but just barely polite enough to not be thrown out. Neither Harry nor Snape were invited to tag along but, for once, Harry didn't mind as much. Them being gone meant that Snape didn't have to hover as much as he had done the last couple of weeks and Harry would enjoy that freedom.
He all but rushed into the sitting room and skidded to a halt as he dropped to the floor to sit in front of the tv, legs crossed.
Dudley had left his PlayStation plugged into the television and Harry was aching to try out one of the games. He didn't look up when Snape casually strolled into the room and sat down on the couch, rather than on the floor, opening a book that had been closed around a bookmark.
Harry very carefully opened the case of a fighting game and placed it into the console, waiting in anticipation to see if it would accept the game rather than give the typical error that called for a valid disk. But the game was accepted on the first try and Harry watched excitedly as it started up.
"Shouldn't you be revising your homework instead?" Snape asked.
"No, thank you," Harry said absentmindedly as he tried to enjoy the opening scene.
"At least turn the sound down," Snape then growled but Harry wasn't really listening.
"Hn," he responded, now moving to lie flat on his belly. Even though Dudley had unlocked nearly every character, he still chose one of the basics, a male character with black, pointy hair, to play with and fought the computer. He wasn't very good.
"Potter," Snape snarled after a while. His tone was dangerous enough for Harry to pause the game and carefully glance over his shoulder.
"Yes, sir?" Harry asked as respectfully as he could.
"I told you to turn down the sound," he said. "I won't ask again."
"You can go read in your room," Harry told him. "The Dursleys are gone for now. I'll be fine."
"Just do as I say," Snape snapped, his eyes narrowing at Harry.
With a long-suffering sigh, Harry pushed himself up and grabbed the remote with which he turned down the volume several notches.
It won't do any good with your bat hearing, though.
Harry resumed the game and kept fighting with the same character, though the computer kept defeating him easily. After about his twentieth defeat, he heard an amused chuckle coming from Snape and turned to glare at him. "Is something funny?" he asked with annoyance.
"Besides the fact that you've been playing this game for what must be hours now and still can't seem to win a single battle?" Snape asked evenly.
"As if you could do any better," Harry quipped.
"I couldn't possibly do any worse," Snape drawled.
Harry snorted. "So prove it," he said haughtily, extending the controller towards Snape. "Go on. Take your pick."
"I needn't prove myself to you," Snape said. "And I have no desire to play those inane games."
Harry smirked. "Yeah, I didn't think so," he said. "You probably wouldn't last two seconds."
"Be mindful of how you speak to me, Potter," Snape said as he carefully turned a page. "I am still your professor."
"Ah, is that it?" Harry teased. "You're afraid of your reputation? The head of Slytherin house can't possibly be known to have played any muggle games." He grinned widely. "Don't worry. I wouldn't tell anyone."
"Nice try, Potter," Snape sighed. "But you are not nearly Slytherin enough for that to work."
"How about this?" Harry said. "You can fight me. And if you win, I will scrub the cauldrons of your first-year classes for a week."
Snape snorted. "There are plenty of misbehaving children at Hogwarts for that particular job to get done without issue, including you," he said. "Why don't you try offering me something that would truly be of interest to me?"
Snape had now closed the book and was looking at Harry with interest. Harry smiled and put his controller down, thinking it over.
Oh wow, he's actually considering it!
"Er… I don't know," Harry replied. "I'm not about to quit playing seeker for the Gryffindor team so you can forget about that. Hmm, do you have anything in mind?"
Snape smiled thinly, then held up his hand, palm facing Harry and fingers outstretched. "Five questions," he said. "If I win, you will answer me five questions truthfully, on your honour as a Gryffindor."
Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What kind of questions?" he asked carefully.
"They can be about anything," Snape said casually. "No subject will be off-limits."
That sounds like it could be mortifying. No, scratch that. It definitely will be.
"If you, of course, have less faith in your abilities than you let on, we can call this whole thing off right now and I can go back to reading my book."
"And what would I get if I win?" Harry asked defiantly.
"Not a thing," Snape replied. "You are trying to get me to play your game. You can only get me to by playing mine."
Harry thought about that for a second. Sure, he was pretty bad at it but Snape couldn't possibly be any better. The man had probably never seen a console in his life! But he did play some games, even if just for show, when he was pretending to be Dudley. Had he played this game as well? Harry tried to recall the sounds he had heard coming through the wall but didn't know for sure.
Though, Even if he was better than Harry, he would still have been coerced into playing a videogame with him. The absurdity of that alone would lift Harry's spirits easily whenever something bad happened. And something always did. And what questions could he possibly ask that were as mortifying as him finding out about the Dursleys?
"Can you promise me not to talk about my answers to your questions to your precious Slytherins?" Harry asked.
Snape didn't need to think about that. "Of course," he said. "On my honour as a Slytherin." He smirked maliciously.
He's trying to make me feel uncomfortable on purpose.
Harry snorted. "I'll believe you," he said. "And I accept your terms. How about the first person to win ten times is the winner?"
Snape sighed. "Very well," he conceded. "I accept your challenge."
If only I could take a picture of this momentous occasion!
Barely able to contain his excitement, Harry plugged in the second controller and handed it to Snape. With a straight face, Snape accepted the controller and shifted closer to the edge of the sofa, his elbows resting loosely on his knees as he leaned forward a bit. Harry scooted backwards so he was leaning against the couch from his position on the floor.
Harry chose a Japanese warrior this time, wearing traditional armour and swords, figuring that the previous character wasn't doing him any good. Snape chose a character that looked like what muggles thought the devil looked like. Harry snorted. How very predictable.
Suffice to say that Snape slaughtered Harry in the first match. It took him mere seconds to win. Harry was smashing the buttons as much as he could while Snape actually used combo's that Harry hadn't even figured out yet.
Oh, Merlin, he practised!
"If you so desire, I would allow you to give up," Snape offered slyly.
"In your dreams," Harry snarled.
"As you wish," Snape replied casually. He selected the devil again and Harry chose a blond woman wearing a Chinese dress. "I very much doubt that she will serve you much better," Snape said.
"Let's just do this," Harry replied.
He lost the second match even faster than he lost the first one. The third match was still a loss but in the fourth one, he won one round after Snape won his, then lost the third round. He was getting frustrated but refused to show it.
"How can you be so good at this?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual. "I know you didn't play Dudley's console that much."
"I thought by now you would have realised, Potter," Snape said haughtily. "I am good at everything I attempt in life because I don't do anything half-heartedly."
Oh, come on!
"What kind of answer is that?" Harry sniped.
"Just decide on your character," Snape said. "I am ready for this to be over."
Harry begrudgingly complied, already feeling like he lost. But he was starting to understand how 'Devil' worked. He had this annoying combo that made him float up in the air and shoot a sort of laser beam from his eyes that took away more than half of Harry's life bar. But it had its flaws.
This time, Harry rushed towards 'Devil' as soon as he started flying, evading the attack completely and delivering his own combo from behind as soon as he landed. Match five was Harry's.
"Ha!" he exclaimed. "What do you say to that?!"
"I say that it's still four to one in my favour," Snape said slyly. "Don't count your points before you catch the snitch."
"Say what you will but I'm getting better and you know it!"
"Quite," Snape drawled sardonically. "Your tenacity truly knows no bounds. Now, will you select another character or would you rather bask in this one, and most likely only, victory you have against me?"
Or in normal people terms. Nicely played. Want to go again?
"You're on," Harry replied, grinning widely.
Snape switched characters and managed to beat Harry on the sixth and seventh match as well, albeit with more difficulty than at the beginning. When Harry won the eighth match, he punched the air with joy and turned to Snape to smirk at him.
Snape merely raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You realise you're still not winning, don't you?" he pointed out.
"I do," Harry said. "But as you said, I'm tenacious!" Harry's stomach chose that moment to release a loud growl.
Snape snorted. "Tenacity and hunger are not the same thing," he said. "Perhaps eating something will resolve both."
Harry shrugged. He glanced at the table where Petunia left some money with which they were supposed to order take out. Something Harry had rarely done before. But, of course, with Snape's influence, Petunia didn't dare to deny Harry another meal. Not while he was here.
"How does pizza sound to you?" he asked. "Wait, do you even know what pizza is?"
"Potter," Snape growled dangerously. "I am a wizard, not a troglodyte. I know what a pizza is."
What in the world is a troglodyte?
"Great!" Harry said. "And how do you like yours?"
"Banished into nothingness," Snape replied simply, leaning back into the couch.
"Oh, come on," Harry said. "Everyone loves pizza! You probably haven't really tried one before, have you?"
Snape merely grunted in response.
Harry took this as compliance. "I'll order us something simple," he announced. When Snape still didn't respond, Harry shrugged and used the phone to order some pizza. It had been years since he last had some and he was really looking forward to it. He ordered two large ones topped with every topping he could get, except for pineapple.
"Pineapple on pizza is evil," Harry explained to Snape after he hung up the phone. "I bet Voldemort eats pineapple on his." He didn't notice Snape flinching slightly.
"I'll ask him next time I see him," Snape said sardonically. "Now, if you would be so kind? I tire of this game and would much like to be done with it."
"If you so desire, I would allow you to give up," Harry said cheekily, throwing Snape's earlier words back in his face.
"Watch yourself, Potter," Snape said, somewhat of a dangerous tone in his voice. "I don't take kindly to your cheek."
Geez, take a joke, would you?
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, picking up his controller again.
Snape grunted and did the same.
Harry didn't win any more matches. He could feel Snape's annoyance with the entire situation and was soon trumped quite easily in the last four matches they played. The score was a very sad ten for Snape and two for Harry.
"Wow," Harry said, feeling at least slightly impressed. "You'll have to teach me sometime. You're really good."
"I already teach you, Potter," Snape pointed out. "But you refuse to learn. I don't see how this particularly useless skill would be easier to teach you than the fine art of potion-making."
So much for trying to be nice! What a bad winner.
Suddenly, Snape's face split into a hideous smile as he steepled his fingers, regarding Harry mischievously. "Now for my prize."
Harry opened his mouth to say something when the doorbell rang. Harry sprung up from the ground, grabbed the money on the table and hurried to the door. He was so hungry! And he was grateful for the reprieve, however small it may be.
He accepted the pizzas, paid for them and accepted the change back (Petunia would kill him if he dared tip the delivery man). Then he set the two cardboard boxes down on the dinner table and grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer.
Snape moved silently and took a seat across from Harry, watching him divide his pizza into uneven triangles using the scissors. He scoffed.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Plates?" Snape asked. "Utensils? I knew your table manners were atrocious, Potter, but to this extent? Soon you'll be drinking straight from the bottle as well."
"It's pizza," Harry pointed out. "You're supposed to eat it with your hands. You said you knew what it was."
Snape shook his head with disgust, flicked his wand and soon a knife and fork come floating towards him after having escaped the kitchen drawer. "You do whatever you want, Potter," he said coldly, though his tone of voice betrayed that he didn't like where this was heading. "But I will be using utensils. I am, after all, not an animal."
Harry didn't think it wise to point out that humans were animals as well.
"Question one," Snape said as he tried to cut his food to pieces without getting his sleeves dirty. "Why did you brew Polyjuice during your second year?"
Harry groaned. He should have known better than to hope that Snape could be distracted with food. And for that to be the first question he asked!
He's going to kill me before these questions are over. But he had promised to be truthful on his honour as a Gryffindor.
Being a Slytherin must be so much easier at times like these.
"I wanted to find out if Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin," Harry replied before taking a bite of his pizza. "But, as you know, he wasn't. Though his father did have something to do with the whole 'Chamber of Secrets' thing, so I wasn't that far of."
"A boy is not his father," Snape said absentmindedly. He was staring at the small piece of pizza speared by his fork and seemed to gather his courage before putting it in his mouth. Harry stared at him as he chewed the piece, face expressionless, and swallowed it before shoving the rest of it away from him.
"It is as repulsive as I remember," he told Harry evenly.
Says the guy drinking the vilest potions he could brew. Though, he probably doesn't test those on himself. I wonder if he ever broke a bone, needing to take Skele-gro? If he knew just how disgusting it was, he might –
"Question two," Snape said, leaning back in his chair. "Did you steal Gillyweed from my stores last year?"
"No," Harry said truthfully.
Snape narrowed his eyes at him, a glint of confusion in them. Harry felt absolutely smug.
Ha, didn't see that one coming, did you?
"Very well," Snape said darkly. "Question three, then."
Then who did? Harry thought, thinking he could guess Snape's next question. But, boy, was he wrong.
"What is the purpose of the cupboard under the stairs?"
"W-What?" Harry sputtered. "What kind of question is that?"
"A personal one," Snape said easily. "I am not deviating from the terms we set beforehand, am I?"
"No," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"I thought not," Snape said. "Now, answer the question. Or is Gryffindor honour not all it's fabled to be?"
"Fine!" Harry shouted. "It was my bedroom, alright? It has been for ten years, right until I got my Hogwarts letter. Now, they only lock me up when they want to punish me."
Snape stared at him for a while, that annoyingly calculating look in his eyes and Harry had to fight the urge to throw a slice of pizza right into Snape's ugly, big-nosed face.
"That's where you were when you disappeared for a few days," he said. It was a statement, not a question. So Harry kept his mouth shut. But Snape seemed to get his answer from Harry's silence and moved on.
"Two more questions, Potter," he said. "And once more, I assure you that whatever you say here remains between us."
I'll believe that when you prove it.
"Some time ago, you rather casually mentioned something about your uncle drowning you in the tub," Snape said, his voice betraying no emotion. "You made the statement appear as a joke. However, I find that I must know: Did he ever do such a thing?"
"I'm alive, aren't I?" Harry snapped. "So obviously, no, he didn't drown me."
"Potter," Snape said in a warning tone of voice.
Harry's gaze flickered darkly to meet Snape's stoic stare. "He did it a couple of times," Harry confessed. "When he was particularly upset with my accidental magic." He shrugged, trying to make the events come off as nothing out of the ordinary. Making it seem as if they hadn't hurt him to his very core.
Snape nodded, implying that he was satisfied with the response.
Harry stared at his half-eaten pizza. His hunger was gone by now so he closed the cardboard box and pushed it aside much like Snape had done. He allowed himself a drink of water before looking at Snape again, his gaze expectant but his heart somewhat fearful.
"What is your honest opinion of yourself?" Snape asked.
Harry blinked in surprise before furrowing his brow in confusion. He already opened his mouth to respond when Snape held up his hand. "Remember," he warned. "A complete and honest answer."
But what was the honest answer? He was sorted into Gryffindor. The house of the brave and chivalrous. He played seeker for the team and was considered an enormous asset. People liked him. But… that was because he was Harry Potter. People liked him before they even met him. Or, in Snape's case, disliked him for reasons beyond his comprehension. And he was almost sorted into Slytherin. If he hadn't fought the hat, begging it not to place him in Malfoy's house, he would've been a snake himself.
In the end, what people seemed to think of him was far from the truth. There was more to him than the surface Gryffindor he showed to the world. And there was less of him as well. Less than what people expected him to be. He was just Harry. And no one knew Harry.
"I'm a freak," Harry said. "I am one in the muggle world just like I am one in the wizarding world. People look to me for answers while I have none. I'm not particularly smart or strong. I'm nothing special, really. The only thing noteworthy about me is the scar on my forehead and the fact that I bring trouble and danger to everyone around me."
His cold eyes locked onto Snape's, glaring darkly at the man.
How dare he? How dare he ask such a thing?
The table started trembling and the glasses rattled. But Harry ignored them. "I am Harry Potter," he told Snape. "And I hate what that means."
With that statement, he was done. Angrily, he grabbed the cardboard boxes and shoved them in the trash. Then, he took the glasses and started cleaning them in the sink.
"Potter," Snape said.
"Are we done here?" Harry asked. "You got your five answers. And don't worry. I answered them as truthfully as I could."
"I don't doubt it," Snape said coolly.
"If you're not satisfied, that's on you," Harry continued his ramble, his back towards Snape as he was now drying the glasses and Snape's used cutlery with a towel. "You're the one who decided on your questions and I'm not about to fight you again for more."
"Potter," Snape growled, starting to sound annoyed.
"What?!" Harry shouted, slamming the dish towel down without much effect. "What more could you possibly want from me?"
"How about a rematch?" Snape asked casually. "Not for questions, cauldron duty or foregoing the seeker position but rather because I enjoy wiping the floor with you."
Harry's eyes widened and a moment of silence stretched between the two of them, bordering on being uncomfortable. But Snape didn't look away. He merely sat there with his arms crossed, casually leaning on the side of the table.
But then Harry smirked and shook his head, chuckling lightly. "You're on, Professor," he said lightly. "But you're Michelle this time."
But even when Snape was playing with Michelle, Harry didn't stand a chance.
The last couple of weeks flew by without much of interest happening. Dudley's final arboreal characteristics disappeared with time. In fact, Snape hadn't really done much to expedite the process, thinking it unnecessary to do so. Vernon remained cowed and fearful of Snape. So much so, that he didn't even look at Harry anymore. Petunia had no such reservations. While she fed Harry and Snape properly now and refrained from using any sort of violence with Harry, she still looked at him with disgust and hatred, much as she looked at Snape.
And it was not as if Snape was such a shining ray of sunshine. His obvious resentment of Harry was still present in every snarky comment and every cruel note he wrote on his essays. Though Harry could sometimes catch the man regarding him with a contemplating look, it never lasted long. The strange truth was that the only one who treated him with any kind of friendliness was Dudley. Harry still didn't trust him entirely but as time passed, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dudley's hospital stay had changed his frame of reference towards magic, and by proxy Harry, for the better.
He had almost gotten away without the Dursleys causing him too much grief. Almost. He had made it to August 31st midday even. But neither he nor Snape had counted on the one common denominator that shaped both of their lives for the worse.
Voldemort.
A little bit after lunch, Snape suddenly hissed loudly, obviously in pain. He grabbed his left forearm tightly as Harry looked at him, horrified. They both knew he had to go. They locked eyes for a second before Snape stormed into the living room where the Dursleys were enjoying a marathon of some sort of inane television show together. Harry followed close behind him as previously instructed.
"I have to step out for a few hours," Snape snarled at them through gritted teeth. "I will return later. If I find out that you so much as harmed one hair on this child's head, I promise you the consequences will be dire."
He didn't wait for a response. He simply stalked out the back door at a brisk pace, slamming the door shut behind him. A few seconds later, Harry heard the sound of a car backfiring. Vernon had paused the show and all four members of the highly dysfunctional family stared at each other.
Fantastic. I'm dead.
"Where has he gone off to in such a hurry?" Petunia snapped. "I thought you were too important to leave behind."
Vernon snorted. It had been a while since Harry had heard him make any sort of mocking sound but there it was. "Important?" he asked his wife. "Wasn't it clear that even that Snape character doesn't like the freak? Honestly, I'm surprised he hasn't whipped him himself."
"I'm going to my room," Harry mumbled and turned to leave, not about to endure any verbal abuse.
"Sure, run away," Petunia huffed. "You're too afraid to face the damage you caused, aren't you? Or too ashamed, perhaps?"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry said, turning to face his relatives again. "If Uncle Vernon hadn't gone too far, none of this would have happened!"
"It was Dudley who ended up in the hospital so don't you dare pretend to be the victim here," Petunia snarled. "You deserved everything you got and more!"
Anger and indignation washed over Harry as if he was submerged in a vat of them. "I never asked to be left on your doorstep!" he shouted.
"Oh, and we did?" Vernon yelled back. "If that old coot hadn't threatened us to take you in, we would have dropped you at the first orphanage we drove past!"
"How can you be so heartless?" Harry asked. "How can you blame me for things I have no control over? If you're mad at Dumbledore, go yell at him some!"
Petunia laughed cruelly. "Do you still think you're innocent?" she asked darkly. "You're not. Without you, your mother and father would still be alive. And to think that she never even wanted you."
Harry's anger faltered a bit. "What?"
"Oh, yes," Petunia continued plainly. "You weren't planned for. They had big plans, you know. But then you came along and they were forced to settle down."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry said shakily. "They were fighting Voldemort. There's no way they were planning on doing anything else."
Petunia scoffed. "Well, now you'll never know for certain, will you?" she said bitterly. "But the way I see it, that murderer only came for you. If you hadn't been there-"
"Exactly!" Vernon interjected. "Just like with that boy you keep whinging about in your sleep."
"It's no wonder Snape hates you, really," Petunia then said. "You hurt people left and right."
"I—I don't mean to," Harry pleaded desperately. "Things just happen!"
But Petunia scoffed. "Pitiful excuse but what more could I expect from you?" she spat. "Mark my words. You'll probably kill someone again, this year. And it will all be because you're an arrogant little freak who thinks the world revolves around him."
"I never thought that!" Harry yelled. His fists were clenched tightly against his legs. Lightbulbs started flickering and windows started clattering. Vernon looked around frantically, putting a hand on Dudley's shoulder in comfort. Dudley seemed to be biting his lip, deeply disturbed by Harry's show of magic. Or was he disturbed by something else?
Petunia, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. She was staring at Harry, deep-seething hatred sculpting every line in her expression. At that moment she saw nothing and no one else but him, but not in the way Harry had always hoped for.
"I hate you," Petunia spat. Harry's eyes widened. He took a step back from the blow of her words. He had always known that his aunt wasn't too fond of him. Hell, he was aware of her obvious dislike. But even when family members disliked one another, they were still supposed to love each other, weren't they? Unconditionally.
He tried to argue, "No, you-"
"Oh, but I do," Petunia retorted harshly. "You are a horrible brat that has tried his best to destroy my life from the moment his shadow coloured my doorstep."
Even Vernon didn't seem to know what to add to the conversation though he didn't seem displeased at all. Dudley, on the other hand, was staring at his mother with wide eyes. In the moment of silence that followed, Harry thought back to all the magical incidents that caused the Dursleys grief. He realised that his aunt might even have good cause to hate him. But he really didn't want her to.
"I'm sorry!" Harry blurted out. "I never meant to! Please –" At that moment, Harry wanted more than anything to make things right with his aunt. She was the last connection he had to his mother. She was someone capable of love. Harry saw it often enough with Dudley. She was the closest thing he had to a mother since Lily died. And she hated him. Harry needed her to love him instead. A little bit would be enough.
Like one would love a guinea pig.
"Please forgive me," Harry pleaded.
Petunia narrowed his eyes at him. "Forgive you for what?" she asked darkly. "Own up to it, boy."
Harry swallowed thickly. The lights had stopped flickering when his anger had turned into sorrow. The clattering windows had quieted down. His hands trembled so he wrung them together. Petunia was still staring at him unforgivingly. Waiting.
"For hexing Dudley," he said softly. "For doing strange things. For blowing up Aunt Marge –"
Vernon huffed indignantly at that.
"- For – Aunt Petunia, please!"
"Go on," she urged coldly, her arms crossed unrelentingly.
Why am I doing this? She won't miraculously love me after this.
But Petunia kept staring at him, making Harry feel like a small child again.
Harry took a shuddering breath. "For Uncle Vernon turning into a toad and for… mum and dad."
"What about them?" Petunia urged cruelly.
"I got them killed," Harry whispered.
"What was that?" Petunia asked. "I didn't quite hear you." Harry was sure that she did because the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But he didn't want to fight anymore. And he knew the truth. He might as well voice it.
"I'm sorry for getting my parents killed," he said, louder this time.
"That's right," Petunia spat. "You should be. Now go to your room and think about what you've done."
Harry glanced once more time at his uncle, who was sneering at him, and his cousin who stared at his mother in shock. But then he turned away from his relatives, his last chance of a real family, and fled up the stairs and into his small, cluttered room.
He fell to his knees and wrenched open the broken floorboard to take out his photo album. Then he sat cross-legged on his bed and opened the album to a random page. Naturally, it held several pictures of his parents, all smiling up at him, waving as he watched. One of them showed his parents sitting underneath a willow tree, his mother's head resting on his father's shoulder as they looked at something in the distance. While Harry watched, James draped an arm around Lily's shoulder and pulled her nearer to him as he whispered something in her ear. She laughed and looked up at him, meeting his lips in a chaste kiss. And then the whole thing started over.
Gingerly, Harry touched the picture with his index finger. But he could not reach his parents. They didn't know he was watching them.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.
Harry didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the parents he would never come to know. He barely registered when Snape came back. Darkness had long settled in when he did and yet Harry kept staring at the pages, his eyes unseeing.
Snape opened the door ever so slightly and peered inside. When he met Harry's troubled gaze he merely stared back for a few more seconds before closing the door again and leaving Harry in peace.
I do hope you all liked this chapter. Please do let me know what you all thought. I would really appreciate it. thanks for reading!
