Chapter 3 Discoveries
It couldn't be true. Harry had been staring at the letter for so long that his hand was beginning to go numb. His mind was not far behind. Part of him still believed this to be some kind of cruel joke, except that it was too elaborate, and it made no sense for his aunt and uncle to do anything like that. They often tricked him, but there was no way they would try to trick him into believing he was a wizard. If there was one rule of the Dursleys' life, it was that there was no such thing as magic.
Deep down, Harry had always known he was different. He hadn't really understood why his aunt and uncle insisted on treating him as either a piece of furniture or an unwanted houseguest. Still, Harry was aware that he wasn't like them. He wasn't like other kids at school. How many kids ended up doing things they couldn't explain or getting blamed for things that couldn't be their fault? Harry had few memories of his life before living at Privet Drive. He might have had none at all. Harry saw flying motorcycles, flashes of green light, and a man with bright red eyes and an evil laugh in his dreams. If this was his life before, maybe he was better off.
Except that while the man who had come to the house today was dark and sinister, the scary way he took charge of the situation actually made Harry feel safer. He had given Harry the one thing he desperately wanted, not just today but for as long as he could remember. The man had given Harry answers. It was possible that if Harry were able to get some time alone with this man or get back in the room, he would be able to get some more answers. He had already tried the door, not long after being banished to the back garden. It was locked.
There was more than one way into the house, though.
Making up his mind, Harry snuck around to the gate. He decided to go through the back alley and around the house in case the man saw him through one of the lounge windows. Harry didn't want to get caught before he got answers. He had a feeling that if the man had locked the back door, he had likely locked the front door too. That didn't mean he had thought of everything. After all, Harry had spent almost ten years of his life hiding in this house from Dudley, his beefy uncle, or his screeching aunt. He knew all of the ways in and all of the ways out.
A window led to the basement that wasn't closed off by the back garden fence. Harry knew that the window looked locked, but it would come unclasped with a little jiggling. It usually worked for him. He went to the window and grabbed. It came open a bit, and Harry pulled harder. The window popped open just enough for him to squeeze through. He moved a flower planter under the window that he had used for the purpose before. He always made sure to put it back afterward, so no one would know about his use of the window.
Harry slipped through the window and dropped to the counter below. It was covered with neatly folded laundry. He groaned. He would have to fold those clothes again now. Not worrying about that, he jumped down and snuck up the stairs to the kitchen as quietly as he could, praying that this door was not locked and the strange man hadn't known about it. It wasn't.
He heard raised voices. Creeping through the kitchen, Harry stood at the door but did not dare open it. He was grateful that Dudley was at his friend Piers's house today, so he wouldn't have to fight him for the door. Without his cousin's great bulk in the way, Harry could comfortably lean against the frame and try to listen. He knew this conversation was about him. Harry did not mind about eavesdropping one bit.
"Where is the cupboard?"
This was strange. Why was the man asking about Harry's cupboard? The letter's address must be the reason the man was here. He had said it was because Harry didn't open the letter. It seemed strange to Harry that some man he didn't know from a school he'd never heard of would come to question his aunt and uncle. The way his aunt and uncle had reacted to the letters was strange too. This man seemed to know more about Harry than Harry did. Harry wanted to know why.
"That's none of your business."
The tone of Harry's uncle's voice was unusual as if he could not quite get up his usual bluster. Harry ever so slightly pushed on the door so that it opened a tiny crack. He could see the man's back was to him. He couldn't see his aunt and uncle, but his uncle was obviously in the room.
"I have asked the question twice, Dursley. I think you know by now that I will not give you a third chance."
The tone sent chills down Harry's spine. The question wasn't even addressed to him, and he was afraid. He did not feel fear or pity for his uncle. Harry had never liked his uncle, who had never had a kind word for him. He had made Harry's life miserable for as long as he could remember. It was more that Harry could feel the energy in the room affected by that statement. It was as if it had lowered the temperature by several degrees.
"Perhaps your nephew can answer the question himself? It is about time that he joined us anyway."
The tone was more neutral now, but it made Harry's stomach drop to his shoes. The man couldn't possibly know where he was. He had been as quiet as a church mouse.
"Mr. Potter, come here."
He knew.
Harry pushed open the door the rest of the way. He could see the man's eyes piercing him as if he'd known he was there the entire time. He probably had. Slowly, as if the floor was made of hot coals instead of Petunia's carefully manicured tile and carpet, Harry crept into the lounge.
"I have been having a discussion with your aunt and uncle, Mr. Potter. I was under the impression that you would do as you were told and remain outside. Since you are incapable of following simple directions, I will make use of you," the man began. "I am a professor at Hogwarts. You have read your letter?" He stopped to wait for Harry's response, and Harry nodded. "My name is Severus Snape. I have been dispatched by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore to investigate why you did not respond to your letter. That you know. Upon doing so, I have learned several facts. I am in the process of continuing my inquiry. You will answer my questions. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir. What facts?" Harry could not help but ask.
"I must not have made myself clear, Mr. Potter. I will be asking the questions of you, and you will be answering me. Do you understand?" Snape snapped.
"Yes, Sir." Harry's face reddened at the rebuke. If this man was to be one of his teachers, he didn't seem to be getting off to a good start.
"Very well. Please show me to your room."
"My … room?" Harry stammered.
"Mr. Potter! You are eleven years old, are you not? This process will go much more smoothly if you listen to me and do as I say. It was a simple request." Snape's eyes pierced into Harry. He seemed to be daring him to refuse.
"Yes, Sir. I mean, I did just turn eleven." Harry hedged.
Harry looked to his aunt and uncle for the first time. His uncle's expression was murderous, and his aunt wasn't even looking at him. She seemed to find the floor very interesting. He wasn't sure what to do. This had never happened before. He considered lying and showing Snape to Dudley's room, Dudley's second bedroom, or Aunt Marge's room. Then he looked at the man.
Somehow, Harry could tell that Snape knew he was thinking of lying just by looking at him. He didn't know how Snape knew, but he knew. At that moment, Harry was defeated. It was as if ten years of living with the Dursleys collapsed on top of him. He was buried under it. All of the memories of never-ending chores, cooking for three and eating what was leftover, running from Dudley's Harry Hunting, and sleeping with the spiders. It was all represented by the Cupboard under the Stairs. It was the secret that the Dursleys had kept for years. No one had ever known.
Without moving or saying a word, Harry looked at the door that led to the hallway. Snape's eyes followed his. The man waved what Harry realized must be a magic wand at his aunt and uncle and then walked into the hallway. Harry didn't follow. He looked at the floor. He couldn't look at his aunt and uncle but couldn't look at Snape.
For some reason, they didn't move. They also didn't speak. Harry figured that Snape must have done something to them. He was relieved. Harry knew that the man was undoubtedly inspecting his cupboard. He was also unable to look at his relatives and was for the first time afraid of what they might do now that their secret was out.
Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed before Snape re-entered the room. He spared the briefest glance at Harry and then turned his attention to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Snape's face was a mask. It was completely blank. Harry was not sure how to interpret that. It made him frightened. He had no idea what was going to happen next.
Then, before anyone could do anything, there came a pounding on the front door. "Hey! Why isn't my key working! Freak! Let me in!"
"Your cousin," Snape drawled to Harry.
Harry nodded.
"Well, go ahead. Let him in."
Harry widened his eyes just a bit and headed to the door.
"Bring him here," Snape ordered.
Not sure how this was going to go, Harry walked to the door. When he unlocked it, Dudley immediately tried to sock Harry in the eye. Instead, he fell on his face. Harry looked down in shock but couldn't help letting a small smile form. He had done things like this accidentally before, but he had a feeling this wasn't his doing.
"Hey, Freak! You are going to be in so much trouble for that!" Dudley sneered, struggling to get up.
"It wasn't me," Harry told him, again trying not to laugh.
"In here, both of you!" Snape shouted.
"Who is that?" Dudley cried.
"He's from my new school. He came to visit me," Harry told Dudley.
"Stonewall?" Dudley demanded incredulously.
Harry just shook his head and went into the lounge, counting on Dudley's curiosity. He was not disappointed. His cousin followed, shoving him out of the way as he rushed into the room. Harry glared at him but did nothing.
"Ah, Dudley Dursley, I presume?" Snape drawled.
Dudley gaped stupidly at Snape, slamming to a stop in the middle of the room. He noticed the murderous looks his parents were throwing in Snape's direction but that they were neither moving nor talking. He looked back at Harry, confusion written all over his face.
"Mummy? Daddy?" Dudley cried. "What is going on?"
"Have a seat, Mr. Dursley," Snape said.
"You can't tell me what to do! I don't go to Stonewall," Dudley stammered. He was definitely trying to sound brave, but Harry could tell that he was not feeling at all sure of himself in this situation.
"I can assure you that I am in no way affiliated with any place called Stonewall," Snape smirked at him, "and you will sit because I told you to do so. However, if you cannot do so out of your own, I can most certainly make you."
Since Dudley was used to being the bully, not the one doing the bullying, he was at a loss. After a moment, he seemed to decide that he was better off just doing what he was told for now. He went to sit next to his mother.
"Now, then," Snape continued as if there had been no interruption. "Who would like to tell me why Mr. Potter's bedroom is a broom cupboard?" He waved his wand at the Dursleys.
No one spoke.
"The boy prefers it. Says he feels safer that way," Vernon spat out.
Not even looking at Harry, Snape raised his eyebrows at the man. "Are you sure you want to do it this way in front of your son and your nephew?"
Although Harry was not sure what Snape meant by that, he had a good idea. Snape knew that his uncle had lied, and he had already punished him for lying. He was also pretty sure that the man had already done something to both of them. His aunt and uncle both looked the worse for wear, in Harry's opinion. Neither of them said anything in response to Snape's threat, but Harry thought they looked uneasy.
"Very well," Snape said. He raised his wand and pointed it at Petunia.
"Wait!" Uncle Vernon shouted.
"Yes?" Snape asked.
"We've told you! We've told you … we never asked for the boy. Never wanted him! You lot just left him here. What did you expect us to do?"
When Uncle Vernon finished sputtering, he held his head up. He pointed a beefy finger at Snape in some attempt at maintaining his dignity that, in Harry's opinion, backfired spectacularly. Harry had never respected the man and liked him even less, but this was just embarrassing.
"That, Dursley, is not an answer to my question. It is, however, despicable. If you were unable to care for the child, in any definition of the word. In that case, you should have contacted Dumbledore and told him so," Snape's voice was chillingly low, almost inaudible. He turned to Aunt Petunia. "She was your sister." He said those words as if they were a curse.
Finally, Petunia looked up, directly into Snape's eyes. The two of them stared at each other for a long while. Harry wondered what they were each thinking. He felt that somehow there was more to the story. His aunt had known who Snape was. He was wondering how.
"Enough."
Snape broke contact first. "Mr. Dursley, go upstairs into your bedroom. I assume that you, like most adolescents, have a bedroom?"
Dudley nodded.
"Go inside. Stay there until you are told to come out. Go!"
At Snape's shout, Dudley ran upstairs as if a demon was after him. Then Snape turned to Harry. "Go to your room," Snape sneered this last word as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth. "Pack."
"Pack, Sir?"
The last thing Harry wanted to do was question this man, who was so stern and demanding. He was confused, though. Harry didn't know what was happening and what he was supposed to pack. He had precious little, to begin with. He had read the letter, and he owned nothing on that list.
"Pack anything that you wish to take with you as if you are not coming back here."
Harry nodded and then headed for the kitchen. He stopped when he heard Snape shout after him.
"Mr. Potter!"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Where are you going?"
"I was going to get a trash bag, Sir."
Why?" Snape demanded.
Harry looked down, embarrassed. "I don't have much, Sir, but I am not sure I can carry it. Dudley ripped up my school bag when I stopped going to school."
Snape snapped his head back to Harry's aunt and uncle, who were still unmoving on the couch. "What do you mean stopped?"
"When I get in trouble, I'm not allowed. I have to stay in my … cupboard. Before the end of the year, I …" Harry mumbled, unable to finish in his embarrassment.
Snape muttered something under his breath that sounded to Harry like a curse in a foreign language. Then he gestured his fingers, and a suitcase popped out of thin air. Harry jumped, then grinned.
"Brilliant!"
"Indeed. Take this, Mr. Potter, and put your possessions in it. Then meet me … in front of the house."
"Yes, Sir." Harry rushed to obey. His aunt and uncle were shooting daggers at him with their glares.
In the cupboard, Harry had very little he wanted to keep except a tiny scrap of a blue baby blanket he had rescued from Dudley's destruction when they were both toddlers. He also had some broken toys, all once belonging to and broken by Dudley. Harry's few clothing items were hand-me-downs from Dudley and were stained and ripped, but they were his. These he packed. All the time, Harry wondered what Snape was doing with his aunt and uncle and why the man had sent Dudley away. If he really never saw any of them again, so much the better. Still, Harry had long ago given up on wishful thinking.
As soon as he was packed, Harry rolled up his letter and put it in his pocket. Then he went onto the front porch. Sitting on the stoop, Harry pondered the strange day. Harry could not remember much of his life before the Dursleys, but he hoped this strange Snape man could tell him something about his parents. Harry didn't even know their names. This had always made him sad. Not knowing their names made it seem as if they had never existed. It turned out the one thing he had been told about them, that they had died in a car crash driving drunk, wasn't right.
While Harry was still lost in his thoughts, Snape came out. His face was very grim, and it hit Harry for the first time that he was about to go off with someone he had just met that day. It didn't seem like the wisest thing to do. On the other hand, considering his options, Harry didn't feel like he had much choice. His aunt and uncle had lied to him his entire life; Magic was real. He had seen it today. His aunt knew more about Harry's life than she felt like telling him. They had intentionally kept things from him. That alone made him want to hate them more than he ever had before.
Still, Harry didn't hate them. There was something small about his aunt and uncle, and even Dudley. Their entire lives were about desperately trying to be normal and better than everyone else. They didn't want to be kind, or good, or even nice. To Harry, that was the least he had ever wanted from them or anyone else. They had not only withheld that from him, but they had also tried to make sure everyone else did, too. Warning his teachers that he was a liar and a cheat and telling the neighbors that he was a delinquent, they had made his life miserable. Harry realized that they were afraid of him. They had always been afraid.
Snape was flicking his wand and muttering again. He pointed his wand at the suitcase in Harry's hand, and it shrunk down to something that wouldn't have looked out of place in a dollhouse. Harry tried not to gasp.
"I will make it larger again later," Snape explained in response to Harry's expression. "It is easier to carry this way."
Putting the tiny suitcase into his pocket, Snape pointed his wand at Harry. His clothes shrunk steadily until they fit. He said something else that Harry couldn't understand, and the holes and stains disappeared. He pointed at Harry's shoes and the soles patched themselves, shoelaces appeared, and the holes were gone.
"Please, Sir. What are you saying?" Harry asked, unable to keep his silence anymore.
"Spells," Snape said simply. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small glass vial of purplish liquid, and removed the stopper. "Drink this."
Harry did so. He wondered if he should ask what it was but decided that Snape might get impatient with him if he asked too many questions. The liquid inside tasted like sweat socks. He made a face.
"Give me your glasses."
Snape took his glasses, pointed his wand at them, and suddenly they were like new. Harry felt like jumping up and down like a toddler. He knew that wasn't mature, but he couldn't remember the last time his glasses hadn't been broken and fixed with tape from Dudley punching him in the face.
"Thank you, Sir!"
Saying nothing, Snape flicked his wand again and produced a baseball cap. He put it low over Harry's head. Harry tried not to flinch, but this he understood. Aunt Petunia always hated his hair and was embarrassed to be seen with him because of it. She had tried to cut his hair, but it never did any good. Harry tried not to look put out over Snape, doing the same thing since the man had otherwise been so nice to him, but his face might have shown it.
"We need to hide your scar," Snape explained. "Leave the cap on and make sure it's covered."
"My scar?" Harry asked. Petunia had felt the same way about it. Still, he was a bit surprised.
"I have given you a potion to change your hair color. With the scar covered, you should not be recognizable. However, it is best to be careful. For now, you will go by James," Snape told him. They walked about a bit, and Harry was still processing what Snape had said. "Take my arm."
Now, Harry was completely confused. He had no idea why Snape wanted to hide his identity. However, years with the Dursleys had taught him not to ask questions and to do as he was told. He took Snape's arm and immediately wished he hadn't. He felt like his insides were being squeezed in thirteen different directions through a small tube. When his feet hit solid ground again, he was relieved that he still somehow had a solid grasp on Snape's arm. He felt like he had just been on a roller coaster. He had never been on a roller coaster, but he had heard their effect on the stomach described, and he was pretty sure this is what it was like. Luckily, he hadn't eaten recently.
They were in a narrow alley with high brick walls. Snape looked appraisingly at him and then reached into his pocket again and pulled out a vial. Without a word, he handed it to Harry. Harry barely had time to wonder just how deep this man's pockets were and what else he carried in there when Snape put the vial to his lips and basically forced him to drink. Instantly, his stomach felt better. This one tasted minty.
"Thank you, Sir."
The man just nodded and went to a heavy wooden door and opened it, standing back to allow Harry to go before him. Harry wasn't used to anyone letting him go first. He felt almost timid as he walked inside. They were in what seemed to be a dimly lit pub that had probably been around for a very long time. Grimy wooden paneling and lighting that seemed to be made up of only candles and torches did not give it a cheery feel. Harry followed Snape up a steep wooden staircase to the third floor and then down a hallway. There again, Snape stood back so that Harry could go first.
The furniture in the room looked like it belonged in a museum. It had two oak double beds with heavy quilts and a nightstand in between. Once again, the room was lit with torches. A substantial black chest of drawers on one wall had a large oval mirror over it, and Harry saw his reflection for the first time since Snape had given him the potion. He gawked at light blond hair and blue eyes. He looked behind him, where Snape was unshrinking his suitcase.
"There is a washroom behind us," Snape told him. "You look like you could use a shower. I think we will get you some clothing before we do any school shopping. I will call for food while you wash."
Not sure what to say about this, especially Snape's pronouncement that he needed to shower, Harry just nodded. He was too embarrassed to tell Snape that he hadn't been allowed to shower very often or for very long at Privet Drive, and certainly not with warm or hot water.
Almost as if he could read Harry's thoughts, Snape called after him. "Take as long as you like. I have already started the hot water."
As Harry took off his mended and now-fitting clothes in the washroom, he was trying to decide if Snape was creepy or wonderful. It was nice that someone seemed to be looking out for him. The Dursleys never had. They seemed to delight in finding ways to make him miserable. On the other hand, Snape just knew too much. It was unsettling how he always knew what Harry was thinking and what he needed, even when Harry didn't.
When Harry stepped out of the shower, he saw an entire set of clothing waiting for him on the table in the washroom. Everything was there, including a pair of trainers. He stared at it, still wrapped in a towel. He knew that Snape had to have put it there, but he knew that the man had not entered the room. This left so many unanswered questions. The man knew Harry's size, probably from looking in his suitcase. He knew he needed clothes just from looking at him. He had to have magicked them in here.
As Harry got dressed, he wondered why this man was sent to check on him and why he was taking care of him. He had been trying so hard not to think of the question because it just led to the question of why no one had ever checked on him before. As much as he was trying not to feel ungrateful, part of him was angry. Someone had realized that the way his aunt and uncle treated him was wrong and was doing something about it. Harry should be grateful for that. He should not be asking himself why no one else ever had.
After he got his hair as dry as he could, Harry went back out into the room where Snape was standing in front of two piping hot plates of steak and kidney pie. It made Harry's mouth water just to smell it. In the middle of the table was a basket of rolls. Snape indicated for Harry to sit in one chair and sat in the other. Harry's place had a glass of milk. Snape had coffee.
Harry sat down and stared. This was just surreal. For one thing, he had never been served this much food in his life. He had new clothes and new shoes. He had taken a hot shower. He wanted to cry, and he never cried.
"What's the matter, Potter?" Snape's voice was close to a sneer. "Is the food not to your liking? Because I assure you, I am not going to get you something else because you are a picky eater."
Harry's head shot up. "No, Sir! Of course, this is … I am sure this is wonderful," he stammered.
"Then what in Merlin's name is it?" Snape demanded.
Harry couldn't have told the man if he tried. "Nothing, Sir."
Lifting up his fork, Harry took a bite. It tasted as good as it smelled. He almost choked. Snape gave him a strange look.
"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, Sir." Harry knew how Snape felt about liars, but he wasn't sure if he was lying since he wasn't sure what was wrong.
After eying him critically, Snape seemed to give up on Harry being sensible and returned to his own meal. He ignored Harry for the most part, which calmed Harry enough that he could eat almost half of what was in front of him. This earned him another reprimand.
"You aren't getting anything later, Potter. This is what you are getting to eat."
"Yes, Sir. I am full."
"Very well." Snape made a gesture, and the food disappeared. "We are going to go into Diagon Alley now to buy you some decent clothing so that you do not look like a ragamuffin. I trust what you found fits well enough?"
Since Snape was looking at him expectantly, Harry responded, "Yes, Sir, perfectly. I've never had new clothes before."
Snape nodded and said nothing. Harry realized he had not meant to say that last part. It had slipped out in his enthusiasm. He wasn't used to telling anyone anything about himself. For some reason, it seemed more comfortable to tell someone who already knew.
"Very well, let's go then. You will need to take the potion again. It only lasts for an hour." Snape handed him another vial.
With a grimace, Harry drank. He had read about potions in books. He wasn't surprised to find out that they were real, like magic wands, spells, and wizards. Snape handed him the ball cap.
"You are dressed like a muggle. Remember, your name is James. You will refer to me as "Sir" or "Professor Snape," Snape told him. Keep the ball cap on at all times. Do not speak to anyone without my leave, and for Merlin's sake, do not wander off. Stay with me at all times. All times, Potter!"
Harry was a little annoyed that Snape seemed to assume he would get in trouble before he even knew him, but he just nodded. When Snape still stared at him, he said, "Yes, Sir."
They went back down the staircase. Harry noticed that the pub was full of more people than he had seen on the way in, dressed as Professor Snape in long cloaks or what he now realized was wizards' clothes. Some of them even had pointy hats. Snape was walking fast, and he stopped. Harry almost ran into him.
"What did I tell you, Potter?" Snape demanded.
"Um, to stay with you?" Harry responded sheepishly. "Sorry, Sir."
"Do I need to hold your hand so that you will obey me, Potter?"
"No, Sir!" Harry could feel his face reddening.
"Then do as you are told. I need you to accompany me so that we can get you properly measured. Mark my words though, Potter, if you cause trouble on this expedition, I will leave you here tomorrow and get your school supplies myself. Do you understand?" Snape glared at him.
"Yes, Sir," Harry hoped his response showed enough contrition. He definitely did not want that to happen.
Apparently, after eying him to see if he was really listening, Snape nodded and started off again. Harry followed. They went through the heavy door and into the same narrow brick-walled alley. Snape tapped his wand in an intricate pattern that Harry couldn't follow with his eyes, and the wall jumped back into an opening. In the place where the wall had been was a street. This was unlike any road he had seen before. It was full of witches and wizards in colorful clothing. Owls were flying low overhead, children with magnificent-looking candy and more smells and sounds than Harry could track.
"Where are we?" Harry breathed.
Snape glared at Harry, and he was sure the wizard would not answer. Then Snape informed him grudgingly, "This, Potter, is Diagon Alley. Keep up!"