*Sigh* Still no internet connection at home, so I'm hastily posting this at
work. So again, a blanket thank you and hug for everyone's amazing reviews
and praise! Another long chapter (well, by my standards!)…I was going to
divide this into two, but I decided I have kept you waiting long enough…
For those who detest the idea of Severus as Harry's father, but are bravely reading this story regardless (bless you! you're amazing! and intrepid!), you might want to pull up the wastebasket or something, because this chapter is rather heavy in the father/son bit. But there's an important plot bit at the end, so…fortitude!
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The Color of Crimson
By Lady of Arundel
Chapter 13: Declarations, Reconciliations, and Accusations
Severus stared dumbly at the spot where his son had stood mere seconds earlier. Harry was gone. Fudge had taken his son, his son who was gravely ill and injured, taken Harry before Severus could tell him the truth. Fudge was still in denial of Voldemort's return, and he needed a scapegoat for the rise in Death Eater activity and the recent losses to his division of Aurors. If Fudge held Harry responsible for Diggory's death and was willing to frame him for the death of four Aurors, who knew what lengths Fudge would go to in order to protect himself, and at Harry's expense. His son was in danger, and Severus had been unable to protect him…
His thoughts quickly turned to his discovery of Harry's injuries. If they hadn't been inflicted in the child's struggle with the Death Eaters—Harry's outwardly appearance and Harry himself had confirmed that—and if Remus had been with Harry ever since, the wounds and bruising must have been gained beforehand…The pieces began to slide into place. Harry's small size for a boy his age: not likely the cause of genetics as both he and Lily had been tall, could also have been caused by malnutrition. Harry always arrived each September looking rather underweight, despite how robust and in good health he departed Hogwarts each spring. Harry hardly ever received mail, and the few pieces that had started to arrive in the previous school year Severus suspected came from Black, the child's godfather. Harry's name was always first on the list of students staying over term holidays, and it had been rumored he once had asked the headmaster if he could stay for the summer holidays, as well. His son's behavior, latching on heart and soul to anyone who offered him kindness…Staffroom whispers had rumored that Harry hadn't even known he was a wizard before arriving at Hogwarts. The Boy Who Lived, left in the dark about his own past and very essence of being…
Severus was going to kill them.
The Dursley's, Lily's own blood relatives, had starved and abused her son. His son. A child who, for all of Severus's forced declarations to the contrary in his role as a former Death Eater, was among the gentlest, most loyal, most thoughtful souls to live…and Harry had even tried to protect his abusers by concealing and denying his injuries, as if they were commonplace. Perhaps they *were* commonplace, were normal, as far as Harry knew.
Severus's blood positively boiled.
He would find Harry, and he would fix this. He would do what he should have done from the beginning, and be there for his son, rather than unknowingly reassert the boy's self-image of worthlessness and insignificance, which too undoubtedly derived from his cruel upbringing.
Severus became dimly aware that Remus and Arabella had dashed from their position across the room and had knelt at either side of him and were now urging him to his feet. He unsteadily complied, eyes still slightly glazed.
"Severus, dear, snap out of it. You'll be of no help to Harry like this. Focus on your son—"
"They hurt him, 'Bella."
"What?"
Severus turned his head slowly, looking his former professor and House Head in the eye.
"Harry. While you were fighting off Fudge, I grasped Harry's shoulder and he cried out in agony…*agony*…He was hiding severe bruises, welts, gashes…and that's just what I could see in the moment I had. They weren't gained in the confrontation with the Death Eaters, they couldn't have." Remus and Arabella had both paled, and Severus swallowed his rage for the Dursleys and himself for the moment. "His relatives. His relatives did that to him. To a child placed in their care."
"I knew Dursley disliked Harry because he was a wizard, but I never thought…I never saw…outwardly everything seemed just fine. I'm so sorry, Severus." Arabella leaned heavily against the high back of one of the armchairs by the fireplace. Remus, on the other hand, began to pace the room with angry, jerking steps, cheeks flushed with fury. "Remus?" Arabella asked cautiously. Remus halted, fists balled.
"I-I …if I didn't already know that the bastards aren't home I would go over there right now, Ministry and all, and…" Remus's fists clenched tighter, knuckles white. "How *dare* they, hurt a child because he's different, because of something that is beyond his control…"
Remus was so angry it had even given Severus pause. Severus suddenly understood—Arabella's words had struck a little too close to home for the werewolf, who had suffered all his life from abuse, both physical and psychological, because of a condition beyond his control. The Potions Master blushed with shame as he realized that he himself had once figured prominently on Remus's list of tormentors. He struggled to find the words to calm the other man but Arabella was already at Remus's side, speaking lowly until at last the werewolf visibly relaxed. She turned to Severus, himself still an image of fury and sorrow, and stroked his arm reassuringly.
"We'll get him back," she soothed, although her worried glance at Remus from behind the troubled Potions Master spoke of less assurance. She straightened her shoulders and adopted a no-nonsense tone reminiscent of her teaching days at Hogwarts. "I'll go to the house, see if I can collect Harry's things. Remus, Severus, alert Dumbledore—I'll follow shortly." Severus nodded and Arabella promptly departed for Privet Drive.
Both men's rings began to flash a light blue—Dumbledore's signal that the floo wards to his office had been lowered. /Too little, too late,/ Severus mused. Jaw set determinedly, Severus withdrew a velvet crimson pouch of floo powder from the depths of his robes and tossed a pinch into the fire.
"Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Password: Pumpkin Juice," he called out before stepping into the shimmering flames. Severus vanished.
Remus rummaged for his own crimson pouch of floo powder, glancing about the room as he searched his pockets. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the shimmer of light reflecting off something on the floor at the foot of the couch. He stepped closer to get a better look and grimaced—Harry's glasses, fallen and forgotten in the boy's struggle. Remus pocketed the glasses and tossed a pinch of powder in the fireplace.
"Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Password: Pumpkin Juice." He stepped into the flames and Arabella's living room whirled away.
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/No, no, no, no, no…!/
One moment he had been scrambling to escape the Aurors' clawing hands, crying out for Snape, for someone to help him, and the next moment the world began to dissolve an he felt the familiar tug…
/No, no, no, no, no…!/
A portkey.
Lashes raining down upon his back.
The Triwizard Cup.
"Stupid boy."
Cedric.
Tiny cupboard, floor slick with blood.
"Kill the spare."
Voldemort.
Fingers digging into bruises and gashes along his arms.
Voldemort.
Uncle Vernon.
Fudge.
Cedric…
/All my fault…/
As the world came back into focus, Harry fainted.
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Remus stepped out of Dumbledore's fireplace into the middle of an argument.
"I had suspected something like this for some time…I was aware of their dislike of our kind but I had hoped…" Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, leaning heavily back into his chair and fingers steepled.
"You *hoped*? You *knew* what kind of people they are and you still sent my son to them? To be abused? Albus, how could you?!" Severus was wild, the pretense of control that he had gathered back at Arabella's shattered.
"Severus, child, I—" Albus tried, but Severus continued on after taking a centering breath, lifting his chin and eyes narrowing.
"I know you often have little regard for the Slytherins, but thought you cared *something* for your precious Gryffindors." Severus knew he had gone too far, but he no longer cared. He spoke the truth. Across the room Remus paled at the reference to that horrible night, the night he almost had—
"Severus." Albus's voice was steel, but his eyes belied his distress. Severus sharply spun to meet the older wizard's eyes, and it was the despair and sorrow he saw there instead of the cold reprimand he had been expecting that made him slowly sit into one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. Remus silently took the other.
"Severus," Albus began again, voice softer. He closed his eyes briefly, as if struggling to set his words in the proper order. "I…I will not say that was uncalled for, because it wasn't. I acted poorly. I have treated you poorly in the past and for that…for that I am so very sorry, Severus. Words fail me, Severus, really they do. I," Albus breathed heavily, searching the dark haired wizard's face, "I think of you as my son, one of my own, and it pains me to know that I have…to have caused you to suffer, so. I'm sorry, Severus."
Remus could only watch as the two stared at each other, eyes communicating what words could not. At long last, when Remus had been convinced Severus was about to either lunge across the desk or collapse to the floor in tears, a small smile graced the Potions Master's lips.
"Thank you," he whispered. Albus smiled in return, eyes suspiciously wet, and cleared his throat.
"Now, about your son."
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Harry's knees buckled, his body sagging in the vice-grips of the two Aurors. Harry had woken, by force, to find himself somewhere in the bowels of what he assumed to be the Ministry. Aurors had dragged him into a standing position before Fudge, whose wild eyes still glinted dangerously.
"Harry James Potter, you are hereby charged with the murder of Cedric Diggory; the attempted murder of Vernon Dursely, Petunia Dursley, and Dudley Dursley; the illegal use of excessive magic by a minor; the…"
The pounding in his ears and the spinning of the room grew with each breath. He gasped for air, mouth filled with a bitter, coppery taste. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed against the whirling room and trying not to cry out in pain, anger, sorrow…yes, he had killed Cedric and knew he should be punished for it, but the rest, the rest wasn't true! He had just been trying to defend himself, he had been scared…the Dursley's hadn't even been home! He lifted his head, hair in his eyes, and tried to plead with the Minister.
"Please…" he gasped, voice rough and weak, "I didn't…didn't mean to…please, please let me see Professor Dumbledore…"
Fudge sharply slapped Harry across the face.
"Quiet, stupid boy!" he growled.
Harry quieted, trying to stifle the harsh coughs the sudden movement had triggered.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"As I was saying. Harry Potter, you are hereby a charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and are to be held in a solitary cell in Azkaban until trial." Fudge smiled and nodded to one of the Aurors. "I want him sent directly to confinement, by portkey. Arrange it."
The Auror glanced at the prisoner.
"Minister, shouldn't we first bring him to the doctor? He's obviously…unwell." His eyes lingered on the broken form of Harry Potter. /More like half-dead…/ He had no doubt that the boy, imbalanced, was a murder, but he was still human, and still no more than a child…
"Are you *questioning* me, Catheus?" The Auror in question averted his eyes.
"No, sir. Of course not, sir," he quickly replied.
"Take him. Now." Fudge turned and left the room, robes swirling triumphantly, followed by the other Aurors present. Catheus approached the crumpled form in the center of the room, the boy having been abandoned by the other Aurors to his care. The boy lifted his eyes, and pleading, pain- filled emerald met cold blue for a moment.
Catheus hastily looked away and began to key the portkey.
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TBC…
Drop me a line, and tell me what you think…I'm getting into somewhat vague territory plot-planning wise (I have a couple ways I could go), so your input would be greatly appreciated!
For those who detest the idea of Severus as Harry's father, but are bravely reading this story regardless (bless you! you're amazing! and intrepid!), you might want to pull up the wastebasket or something, because this chapter is rather heavy in the father/son bit. But there's an important plot bit at the end, so…fortitude!
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The Color of Crimson
By Lady of Arundel
Chapter 13: Declarations, Reconciliations, and Accusations
Severus stared dumbly at the spot where his son had stood mere seconds earlier. Harry was gone. Fudge had taken his son, his son who was gravely ill and injured, taken Harry before Severus could tell him the truth. Fudge was still in denial of Voldemort's return, and he needed a scapegoat for the rise in Death Eater activity and the recent losses to his division of Aurors. If Fudge held Harry responsible for Diggory's death and was willing to frame him for the death of four Aurors, who knew what lengths Fudge would go to in order to protect himself, and at Harry's expense. His son was in danger, and Severus had been unable to protect him…
His thoughts quickly turned to his discovery of Harry's injuries. If they hadn't been inflicted in the child's struggle with the Death Eaters—Harry's outwardly appearance and Harry himself had confirmed that—and if Remus had been with Harry ever since, the wounds and bruising must have been gained beforehand…The pieces began to slide into place. Harry's small size for a boy his age: not likely the cause of genetics as both he and Lily had been tall, could also have been caused by malnutrition. Harry always arrived each September looking rather underweight, despite how robust and in good health he departed Hogwarts each spring. Harry hardly ever received mail, and the few pieces that had started to arrive in the previous school year Severus suspected came from Black, the child's godfather. Harry's name was always first on the list of students staying over term holidays, and it had been rumored he once had asked the headmaster if he could stay for the summer holidays, as well. His son's behavior, latching on heart and soul to anyone who offered him kindness…Staffroom whispers had rumored that Harry hadn't even known he was a wizard before arriving at Hogwarts. The Boy Who Lived, left in the dark about his own past and very essence of being…
Severus was going to kill them.
The Dursley's, Lily's own blood relatives, had starved and abused her son. His son. A child who, for all of Severus's forced declarations to the contrary in his role as a former Death Eater, was among the gentlest, most loyal, most thoughtful souls to live…and Harry had even tried to protect his abusers by concealing and denying his injuries, as if they were commonplace. Perhaps they *were* commonplace, were normal, as far as Harry knew.
Severus's blood positively boiled.
He would find Harry, and he would fix this. He would do what he should have done from the beginning, and be there for his son, rather than unknowingly reassert the boy's self-image of worthlessness and insignificance, which too undoubtedly derived from his cruel upbringing.
Severus became dimly aware that Remus and Arabella had dashed from their position across the room and had knelt at either side of him and were now urging him to his feet. He unsteadily complied, eyes still slightly glazed.
"Severus, dear, snap out of it. You'll be of no help to Harry like this. Focus on your son—"
"They hurt him, 'Bella."
"What?"
Severus turned his head slowly, looking his former professor and House Head in the eye.
"Harry. While you were fighting off Fudge, I grasped Harry's shoulder and he cried out in agony…*agony*…He was hiding severe bruises, welts, gashes…and that's just what I could see in the moment I had. They weren't gained in the confrontation with the Death Eaters, they couldn't have." Remus and Arabella had both paled, and Severus swallowed his rage for the Dursleys and himself for the moment. "His relatives. His relatives did that to him. To a child placed in their care."
"I knew Dursley disliked Harry because he was a wizard, but I never thought…I never saw…outwardly everything seemed just fine. I'm so sorry, Severus." Arabella leaned heavily against the high back of one of the armchairs by the fireplace. Remus, on the other hand, began to pace the room with angry, jerking steps, cheeks flushed with fury. "Remus?" Arabella asked cautiously. Remus halted, fists balled.
"I-I …if I didn't already know that the bastards aren't home I would go over there right now, Ministry and all, and…" Remus's fists clenched tighter, knuckles white. "How *dare* they, hurt a child because he's different, because of something that is beyond his control…"
Remus was so angry it had even given Severus pause. Severus suddenly understood—Arabella's words had struck a little too close to home for the werewolf, who had suffered all his life from abuse, both physical and psychological, because of a condition beyond his control. The Potions Master blushed with shame as he realized that he himself had once figured prominently on Remus's list of tormentors. He struggled to find the words to calm the other man but Arabella was already at Remus's side, speaking lowly until at last the werewolf visibly relaxed. She turned to Severus, himself still an image of fury and sorrow, and stroked his arm reassuringly.
"We'll get him back," she soothed, although her worried glance at Remus from behind the troubled Potions Master spoke of less assurance. She straightened her shoulders and adopted a no-nonsense tone reminiscent of her teaching days at Hogwarts. "I'll go to the house, see if I can collect Harry's things. Remus, Severus, alert Dumbledore—I'll follow shortly." Severus nodded and Arabella promptly departed for Privet Drive.
Both men's rings began to flash a light blue—Dumbledore's signal that the floo wards to his office had been lowered. /Too little, too late,/ Severus mused. Jaw set determinedly, Severus withdrew a velvet crimson pouch of floo powder from the depths of his robes and tossed a pinch into the fire.
"Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Password: Pumpkin Juice," he called out before stepping into the shimmering flames. Severus vanished.
Remus rummaged for his own crimson pouch of floo powder, glancing about the room as he searched his pockets. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the shimmer of light reflecting off something on the floor at the foot of the couch. He stepped closer to get a better look and grimaced—Harry's glasses, fallen and forgotten in the boy's struggle. Remus pocketed the glasses and tossed a pinch of powder in the fireplace.
"Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Password: Pumpkin Juice." He stepped into the flames and Arabella's living room whirled away.
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/No, no, no, no, no…!/
One moment he had been scrambling to escape the Aurors' clawing hands, crying out for Snape, for someone to help him, and the next moment the world began to dissolve an he felt the familiar tug…
/No, no, no, no, no…!/
A portkey.
Lashes raining down upon his back.
The Triwizard Cup.
"Stupid boy."
Cedric.
Tiny cupboard, floor slick with blood.
"Kill the spare."
Voldemort.
Fingers digging into bruises and gashes along his arms.
Voldemort.
Uncle Vernon.
Fudge.
Cedric…
/All my fault…/
As the world came back into focus, Harry fainted.
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Remus stepped out of Dumbledore's fireplace into the middle of an argument.
"I had suspected something like this for some time…I was aware of their dislike of our kind but I had hoped…" Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, leaning heavily back into his chair and fingers steepled.
"You *hoped*? You *knew* what kind of people they are and you still sent my son to them? To be abused? Albus, how could you?!" Severus was wild, the pretense of control that he had gathered back at Arabella's shattered.
"Severus, child, I—" Albus tried, but Severus continued on after taking a centering breath, lifting his chin and eyes narrowing.
"I know you often have little regard for the Slytherins, but thought you cared *something* for your precious Gryffindors." Severus knew he had gone too far, but he no longer cared. He spoke the truth. Across the room Remus paled at the reference to that horrible night, the night he almost had—
"Severus." Albus's voice was steel, but his eyes belied his distress. Severus sharply spun to meet the older wizard's eyes, and it was the despair and sorrow he saw there instead of the cold reprimand he had been expecting that made him slowly sit into one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. Remus silently took the other.
"Severus," Albus began again, voice softer. He closed his eyes briefly, as if struggling to set his words in the proper order. "I…I will not say that was uncalled for, because it wasn't. I acted poorly. I have treated you poorly in the past and for that…for that I am so very sorry, Severus. Words fail me, Severus, really they do. I," Albus breathed heavily, searching the dark haired wizard's face, "I think of you as my son, one of my own, and it pains me to know that I have…to have caused you to suffer, so. I'm sorry, Severus."
Remus could only watch as the two stared at each other, eyes communicating what words could not. At long last, when Remus had been convinced Severus was about to either lunge across the desk or collapse to the floor in tears, a small smile graced the Potions Master's lips.
"Thank you," he whispered. Albus smiled in return, eyes suspiciously wet, and cleared his throat.
"Now, about your son."
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Harry's knees buckled, his body sagging in the vice-grips of the two Aurors. Harry had woken, by force, to find himself somewhere in the bowels of what he assumed to be the Ministry. Aurors had dragged him into a standing position before Fudge, whose wild eyes still glinted dangerously.
"Harry James Potter, you are hereby charged with the murder of Cedric Diggory; the attempted murder of Vernon Dursely, Petunia Dursley, and Dudley Dursley; the illegal use of excessive magic by a minor; the…"
The pounding in his ears and the spinning of the room grew with each breath. He gasped for air, mouth filled with a bitter, coppery taste. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed against the whirling room and trying not to cry out in pain, anger, sorrow…yes, he had killed Cedric and knew he should be punished for it, but the rest, the rest wasn't true! He had just been trying to defend himself, he had been scared…the Dursley's hadn't even been home! He lifted his head, hair in his eyes, and tried to plead with the Minister.
"Please…" he gasped, voice rough and weak, "I didn't…didn't mean to…please, please let me see Professor Dumbledore…"
Fudge sharply slapped Harry across the face.
"Quiet, stupid boy!" he growled.
Harry quieted, trying to stifle the harsh coughs the sudden movement had triggered.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"As I was saying. Harry Potter, you are hereby a charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and are to be held in a solitary cell in Azkaban until trial." Fudge smiled and nodded to one of the Aurors. "I want him sent directly to confinement, by portkey. Arrange it."
The Auror glanced at the prisoner.
"Minister, shouldn't we first bring him to the doctor? He's obviously…unwell." His eyes lingered on the broken form of Harry Potter. /More like half-dead…/ He had no doubt that the boy, imbalanced, was a murder, but he was still human, and still no more than a child…
"Are you *questioning* me, Catheus?" The Auror in question averted his eyes.
"No, sir. Of course not, sir," he quickly replied.
"Take him. Now." Fudge turned and left the room, robes swirling triumphantly, followed by the other Aurors present. Catheus approached the crumpled form in the center of the room, the boy having been abandoned by the other Aurors to his care. The boy lifted his eyes, and pleading, pain- filled emerald met cold blue for a moment.
Catheus hastily looked away and began to key the portkey.
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TBC…
Drop me a line, and tell me what you think…I'm getting into somewhat vague territory plot-planning wise (I have a couple ways I could go), so your input would be greatly appreciated!