Hand Me Down Clothes

Chapter Eight!

'Are you awake, Mr Dumbledore?'

'I am now, Harry.'

'Are we still going flying today?'

'What's the weather like?' asked Mr Dumbledore, whose eyes were still closed in a futile attempt to catch just that little bit more sleep.

'It's fine!' said Harry, assuredly.

'Cloudy?' questioned Dumbledore keenly.

'Noooo…'

'No?'

'No.'

'Blue sky?'

'Ummm, yeeees,' hedged Harry, shiftily.

'Yes? Or no?'

'It's kind of dark still, Granddad.'

'That would be because it's only six thirty, Harry.'

'Do you think we'll be able to go flying?' asked Harry, hopefully.

'I think so,' approved Dumbledore, opening his eyes to see Harry's excited form before him, wearing his Gryffindor lion pyjamas.

'Would you like a cup of tea, Granddad?'

'I would very much like a cup of tea, Harry,' smiled Dumbledore, 'but if you're going to get one, please put on your dressing gown and my slippers.'

'Yes sir,' said Harry, he beamed at Dumbledore then disappeared from the old man's view. 'I'll be right back,' Harry called as the large bedroom door swung easily open at his touch and he padded through it, slightly encumbered by Dumbledore's large slippers.

Harry was greeted by a dozy Fawkes who cooed and then tucked his head back beneath a vibrant wing, the office had that strangely empty presence, without Dumbledore there, and in the eerie grey light of morning.

The revolving stairs were a little sluggish, but Harry was not deterred, and cheerfully greeted a grouchy gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office, before setting off to find the kitchens, confident that he would be able to find them.

Twenty minutes later he wasn't so sure, did they have kitchens here? After all, it was a magical school, maybe they just magicked cups of tea into existence! And it was beginning to get darker and dingier down here, with the stairs surrounded by high walls and ominous painting. Nervously Harry decided to ask one of the men in the paintings if he could help, Mr Dumbledore had introduced him to the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts, a Mr Dippy, who was dead, yet apparently still able to talk in picture frames, yesterday.

'Excuse me, Sir, but can you help me? I'm looking for someone who knows the way to the kitchens,' Harry asked politely of a thin but dapper looking man dressed in, had Harry known it, Slytherin colours.

The picture made no reply accept to twitch one of it's eyebrows disdainfully, as if little boys were beneath it's notice, still, Harry was used to this sort of reaction and immediately made to back off, when, quite unexpectedly, the picture swung aside and out stepped a man. Tall and angular wearing many layers of black, only his back was apparent as the stranger raised his wand and muttered a few choice curses, Harry wondered whether this was a real man who could help him, or just a picture man who had stepped out of his frame.

The tall man turned around sharply and came face to face with Harry, who gave a shy smile.

'ARRRGGHHH!' yelled Severus Snape, who wasn't accustomed to coming across what looked like a James Potter who had gotten in the way of a shrinking potion, wearing fluffy lion pyjamas and huge tartan slippers.

'Hello,' said Harry, twisting his hands together and wondering if he was in trouble.

The tall man, who had sallow skin and greasy black hair that would have made Aunt Petunia's fingers itch for the kitchen scissors, stared at Harry as if he was a ghost, but a ghost that made him very, very mad.

'You! You…. YOU!' he roared, Harry backed away. 'How dare you come down here! You think you can go where you want! You, just like your damn father! You, YOU!-'

'I just want to find the kitchens, Sir,' said Harry who was backed against the wall as this stranger towered over him and bellowed like an angry bull.

'DON'T SPEAK WHEN I'M TALKING! Your father didn't have any manners either, rude, ignorant egotistic fool!'

'I-'

'Shut UP!' roared Severus Snape, and grabbed Harry by his dressing gown, lifting him off the floor and shaking him so that he flopped around like a rag doll.

'ENOUGH!' suddenly came forth a voice, so strong and mighty that the very walls trembled, and froze Severus Snape in his position holding Harry by the scruff of his neck above the stony ground.

'You will release him, now,' continued the voice, now dreadfully quiet, smooth as ice and as dangerous.

Severus Snape immediately loosened his hold on Harry and the boy fell, dizzy and bruised to the floor, Snape swallowed hard and stared straight ahead at nothing.

'Harry?' asked Albus Dumbledore, coming forward and offering a hand to the cowering child, Harry flinched and Albus Dumbledore looked heart broken.

'Harry, it's me, Granddad,' he knelt beside the crumpled blue dressing gown and messy ebony locks and softly touched the boy's shoulder.

A few murmured words of comfort and some reassurances and Harry was in Dumbledore's arms, this left Dumbledore in a quandary, he could not reprimand Severus with Harry tensed in his arms, it would upset the boy.

He settled for a quiet warning, 'I don't ever want to see that kind of behaviour again! We will talk more on this later, Severus, you can be sure of it.'

The Slytherin Head of House let his lips curl into a scowl, so Potter had already become the Headmaster's favourite, how unsurprising, how terribly sickening, but he didn't say anything, no one fooled with Dumbledore when Dumbledore stopped playing the idiot and grew so magically fearsome.

Dumbledore picked up Harry with him as he rose again, and slipped his slippers back onto Harry's feet, they had fallen off as Severus shook him.

'Come Harry, I shall show you the way to the kitchens, I believe you owe me a cup of tea!'

*"*"*"*

'Now, this is a Comet two sixty, an old model, but one that's best to learn on. Remember what I said, kick off from the ground, hover and then lean forward to land smoothly again. Don't go too high! Do as I tell you! Okay?'

'Yes, Madame Hooch,' agreed Harry, happily.

It was eleven o'clock in the morning and Harry, Madame Hooch, Mrs McGonagall and Granddad were stood in the middle of the quidditch stadium, of which Harry was still in awe, the grass was green and soft beneath their feet and sandpits covered the ground beneath the goal posts. Towering far above, reaching up to the clouds, rose the four house boxes and the two staff boxes, all bare of decoration, for they were in for cleaning before the school term started again and in the distance, the three goal posts stood proud at either end of the pitch.

'Now, stick your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!',' commanded Madame Hooch, who was enjoying herself thoroughly, although somewhat worried about what the Headmaster might do to her if she allowed any harm to come to his newly acquired Grandson.

'UP!' cried Harry, and the broom jerked up and smacked reassuringly right into his hand, Harry grinned.

'Oh, goody!' said Madame Hooch. 'You're going to take after your father!'

'Don't make the boy nervous,' snapped Minerva McGonagall, who was worried about the Ravenclaw third years timetable, she thought she might have double booked their Charms with first year Hufflepuffs.

'Mount!' said Madame Hooch briskly, ignoring Minerva, Harry eagerly did as he was told, the broom was rather large for him but they had been fairly confident he could handle it. 'Keep that wrist straight, that's it! Now then, on my mark, one two three -kick off!'

And Harry kicked off. Straight into the air like an arrow, no wobble or sliding off the end, up and up he soared and felt like a bird, free to fly away from troubles or worries, fears and pains. Turning the handle he turned sharply, eliciting gasps from his audience had he been close enough to hear them, and banked into a steep climb before abruptly twisting and shooting at breakneck speed toward the ground, coming up at just the last moment before he would have surely crashed.

Curving around he made his way back to his spectators, carving a snake like path through the air before landing expertly before Madame Hooch, breathless and happier than he'd been in a long time.

'Seven years old,' whispered Madame Hooch, hands gripping her silver whistle tightly. 'Seven years old! Mark my words boy, you're for professional quidditch when you leave Hogwarts!'

'With yet a decade in education to go, Georgina, we can possibly expect better things from the Boy Who Lived than a short career in sports,' said McGonagall acerbically.

'What's wrong with a career in sports!' demanded Georgina Hooch, glaring at McGonagall.

'Whose the Boy Who Lived?' piped up Harry interrupting a possible argument.

The three adults stopped and looked at each other uneasily.

'He's you,' finally said Dumbledore, calmly blinking as if he was doing a lot of thinking behind his benevolent expression.

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Why?'

The two woman looked at Dumbledore, who sighed in resignation.

'It's a long story Harry, I'll tell you this evening, now you can do more flying.'

'Why can't I know now?'

'I thought you might want to do some more flying,' said Dumbledore, who was not looking forward to having this conversation with Harry, it saddened him to have to tell the boy such unhappy things. Harry paused and weighed it up.

'Can't I know now and do some more flying?' he asked suggestively, seeking Dumbledore's approval.

'Well yes, I suppose you can,' reluctantly agreed Dumbledore, he glanced at the two ladies who were still eying each other with some scorn.

'I have some timetables to sort out,' said Mrs McGonagall suddenly, 'I shall see you at dinner, Harry,' she turned and quickly strode away.

A more pointed glance was needed for Madame Hooch who was still marvelling over her newly discovered flying prodigy.

'Ah, I have some brooms to uh, polish,' she said, then winced at her own blatant lie, school brooms were so old that polishing would turn them into coal.

'Do you have something to do, too?' asked Harry turning to face the only adult left.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore, Harry's face fell. 'I have to tell you a story about when you were just a little baby…' Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured up from apparently nowhere a bright yellow blanket, upon which he sat, and produced a bag of lemon drops from within his robes. 'Join me Harry,' he said, and patted the space next to him invitingly. Harry obligingly sat, eyes intent upon the Headmaster.

'Now, you know that your parents were killed?'

'Yes, you told me so,' said Harry quietly.

'Well they were killed by a very evil wizard-'

'Evil?' asked Harry, looking worried.

'Some wizards, just like people who aren't magical in your Aunt and Uncle's world, are bad, they hurt people in the name of power and purity,' Dumbledore paused, seeing Harry's expression begin to become a little glazed.

'There are bad wizards as well as good ones, Harry,' he simplified.

'Okay,' said Harry.

'Now this bad wizard's name was Voldemort,'

'Voldemort,' repeated Harry, 'funny name, sounds like a mouldy wart.'

Dumbledore chuckled, 'For some reason he liked it, he chose it when he became the Dark Lord Voldemort and started gathering followers in his dark and evil ways.'

'Oooh,' said Harry, who was actually finding the tale a little entertaining.

'Voldemort killed everyone who stood in his way, Harry. Nobody lived when he decided they should die, his followers, called Deatheaters inspired terror by torture and terrible terrorist attacks on the public, people were afraid, Harry, very afraid.'

Harry nodded, swallowing hard, the tale was getting scary, but he stayed where he was and listened.

'Now your parents were crucial in the fight against Voldemort, they had defied him three times and lived! Voldemort knew this and was angry, so one night in October he came to your parents house, where they lived with their son, with you. You were just one year old!'

'What happened next?' asked Harry, Dumbledore leaned forward and took Harry's hands in his.

'Voldemort killed your parents, Harry. Your father died trying to protect his wife and child, and your mother tried to save you from the killing curse and received it herself.'

Dumbledore paused as Harry snuffled and blinked hard, it was not a pleasant thing to hear, the details of your parents deaths.

'Then, Harry, then Voldemort turned his wand upon you, a one year old boy, whose parents he had just murdered in cold blood, and uttered the curse to end your life. But it did not work! The curse rebounded from you onto it's originator and Voldemort was defeated, and fled, weakened, a shadow of the power he had once been!'

'What?' exclaimed Harry. 'Voldemort tried to kill me?'

'Yes, Harry.'

'But why couldn't he kill me, if he killed all those people, and my mummy and daddy?'

'Your mother sacrificed herself for you Harry, she gave her life to try and save yours, and that is a very powerful protection indeed!'

'I… I don't understand,' stuttered Harry.

'Your mother's love protected you even when she was dead, Harry, that is why Voldemort could not kill you, that is why you bear that scar upon your forehead, that is why you are known throughout the wizarding world as the Boy Who Lived!'

Harry was very quiet after this startling news, silently digesting it and wriggling his toes in his new trainers as his brows knotted in thought.

'But,' he said suddenly, frowning in concentration, 'how come nobody else had defeated Voldemort before now? Didn't anybody love anybody else enough?'

'I'm sorry?' asked Dumbledore.

'If love can save you from the killing curse, then why didn't anybody else survive?'

Dumbledore paused, it was a darn good question and he did some quick thinking, he was already skirting several issues that he didn't want Harry to know about for many years yet.

'The love, Harry, has to be so strong that you would sacrifice yourself for the object of your love, sometimes only mothers can have that sort of special love.'

'I thought you said he had killed families before, wouldn't the mummies in them have wanted to save their children?'

'Well, yes, Harry, but your circumstances were unique,' hedged Dumbledore.

'Oh,' said Harry, Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief and then felt guilty for doing so. 'Why?' asked Harry forthrightly, Dumbledore twitched nervously.

'Well, you're really too young to understand Harry,' he said and the guilt that scourged him inside made the old man unhappy for many days.

'Oh,' said Harry, 'Okay,' he accepted. 'Will you tell me when I'm older?'

'Yes, Harry, I promise!' agreed Dumbledore fervently.

'Did my mummy and daddy give me to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?' asked Harry.

'No, Harry.'

'Then who did they give me to?'

'They gave you to somebody else, but he, he couldn't take you,' Dumbledore prevaricated, uneasily.

'Why not, Mr Dumbledore?'

'Sometimes grownups aren't able to take care of a child Harry, that's all,' explained Dumbledore.

'Is this something else you'll tell me when I'm old enough to understand?' Harry sounded a little peeved.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' chuckled Dumbledore, wrapping an arm around the boys shoulders.

'Who gave me to the Dursleys then?' asked Harry. 'Why couldn't I come straight to you?'

'The Dursleys were your next of kin, therefore your next legal guardians,' said Dumbledore, wondering if he was starting to sweat, he had never known such interrogation.

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Does the person who gave me to them, know you've taken me away?'

'Yes, Harry, because it was I who gave you to the Dursleys, and I'm more sorry than you'll ever know about that decision.'

'I thought it might have been,' said Harry, surprising Dumbledore, who looked down, amazed at the little boy's intuitiveness. 'It's okay, I'm glad I'm with you now.'

'I'm glad that you're here, Harry,' said Dumbledore, taking a deep breath, very much relieved that question time was over.

*"*"*"*

At dinner that night the professors were all seated and just beginning to enjoy the meal, with a few late arrivals, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were involved in a discussion involving the latest edition of Transfiguration Today and Harry had slipped away unnoticed.

Cautiously he made his way behind the chairs, small enough to attract little notice as he did so, then gathering his courage he pulled on the black sleeve of Severus Snape.

'What the- Potter!' snarled Professor Snape upon seeing the boy at his sleeve. 'Get off me, and don't you dare touch me again!' and went back to his meal only to feel another tug at his sleeve, mindful of his promised talk with the Headmaster, Severus did not yell, with the result that he snarled from between clenched teeth.

'What?

'I'm sorry about this morning,' said Harry so quietly that it was indistinguishable from the inane chatter of the staff and the noise of eating utensils.

'What?' queried Professor Snape, leaning down to hear, against his better judgement.

'I'm sorry about this morning,' repeated Harry, obediently.

Snape stared.

'But Mr Dumbledore says you shouldn't have shook me,' added Harry, braver now that Mr Sallow Skin was no longer snarling.

'Oh shouldn't have I?' snapped Snape, tetchily.

'No, you should have just told me to go away, and I would have. Granddad says that violence is never the answer,' answered Harry very confidently.

'Oh and Granddad's always right is he?' asked Snape, sarcastically.

'No,' admitted Harry, smiling, 'but he knows a lot of things, and has lots of cool socks and sweeties.'

Snape stared.

'When the Graddad's your boss, it's best to agree,' pointed out Fred Flitwick, with a slight smirk.

Snape cursed under his breath and turned back to his meal. Before long some one tugged at his sleeve.

'Go away!' he hissed, gripping his knife and fork so hard his knuckles went white.

'Um, did you accept my apology?' asked Harry, Snape turned around and growled at the boy before turning, once again back to his meal.

Harry, eyes wide, stared at the back of Snape's head, had he just growled? How odd these wizards were! He giggled and then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth as the man's back went tense, but more giggles found their way out, and the harder he tried to keep them in the more that came out and the louder they got!

'Care to share what the joke is, Potter?' hissed an irate Snape, poking a fork in Harry's face.

'No, Sir!' smartly answered Harry, and got a filthy look for his troubles.

'Then leave me alone!' said Professor Snape, so furious that one of his knuckles cracked and a cricket ball of a headache formed just behind his right temple.

'Yes, Sir!' rapped Harry, standing to attention for Professor Flitwick's benefit, who had turned and winked at the small messy haired boy. 'Good night, sir,' Harry added before making good his escape and returning to his seat at beside Minerva McGonagall.

'Where've you been?' she asked him curiously, an eyebrow raised royally.

'I went to visit Mr Sallow Skin and say sorry for scaring him this morning,' readily explained Harry.

'Who?' asked McGonagall, thinking she had misheard.

'Do all wizards growl?' asked Harry, digging into Shepard's pie with accompanying veg and gravy.

'What?' asked McGonagall again, now totally confused.

'Growl,' repeated Harry, he grinned disarmingly up at her as she floundered for words.

'Just occasionally,' said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily as he peered around McGonagall's flustered form at Harry. 'That was very brave of you Harry, to go and apologise to Mr Snape.'

'Very brave,' nodded Poppy Pomfrey, from a little further down the table where she and others were listening in.

'He doesn't seem very cheerful,' said Harry.

'Over grown bat,' muttered Sinistra, the normally introverted Astronomy professor.

The giggles spread the length of the table.

'Is he really a bat?' whispered Harry, enquiring of McGonagall, for he was not sure what the boundaries were in this weird yet wonderful world of magic, unfortunately his high pitched voice carried, and Severus Snape snarled viciously at his innocent mashed potatoes.

'Investigation is still ongoing,' answered Professor Vector, rather wickedly, as earthy Professor Sprout chortled and sprayed food over her dinner area.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and order was restored, Professor Snape, red as a radish on heat, left swiftly, without eating desert.

'Over dramatic vampire,' said Sinistra, derogatively.

'Hush!' ordered Vector, Pomfrey and Sprout, repressively, glancing apprehensively at Dumbledore and Harry.

Some time passed till Harry thought it safe to pipe up again and ask whether all wizards were descended from animal origin, he didn't, however, understand the amusement, nor the discussion this sparked off, which was probably a very good thing.

*"*"*"*"*"*"*

A/N: This fic is nearing it's end, but now I'm here I find myself wondering what Harry's later years will be like, etc, should I write a sequel? Or should I let sleeping fics lie?

Still, it's not over just yet! Next update could be some time, as I'm off to University (ach noooo! Just given away my age! LOL) and will be very busy settling in etc.

Thank you to all my faithful reviewers, and to those who are new! Please leave reviews, I love to hear from you all! It's so amazing that all these people have loved the magical world of Harry Potter so much, that they visit the web to explore more of his world! I would also be interested in hearing your ideas for future fics, I love throwing idea's around!