Speak to Me

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.

Summary: Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in his room, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?

Warning: Possibly A/U, Mentions of Abuse. OotP Spoilers, HP/SS SLASH (Will be HP/SS slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So don't pressure me.), Some bad language. Possible Strong prejudice against Gays, as well as Apathy towards them and nasty remarks.

Ch. 6 - Lessons

---

It was the next morning when Harry woke that he heard voices coming from down the stairs. He stretched and yawned; a yawn which consisted only of the sound of air leaving and entering his mouth with terrible force, no vocals were included. There wasn't much point in trying to sleep anymore, anyway. His body still hadn't adjusted to using beds.

Harry quickly got up, out of bed, and got dressed. He pressed his hair down flat with his hands and made his way down the stairs, silently, to see what the commotion was.

"Perhaps we should wake Harry so you two can say good-bye to him?" Molly Weasley's voice echoed through the corridor.

Hermione perked up, and opened her mouth to say yes, but was stopped by Ron's warning tone. His tone, which warned Hermione, sounded honest and worried about his friend's well being.

"We should let him sleep," Ron said softly, "he's always had a hard time sleeping, I'd hate to ruin whatever time he has sleeping by waking him."

"How thoughtful of you." Harry saw Mrs. Weasley's lips curl into a smile as he stepped onto the landing. The woman hadn't seen him; she was smiling at her son. "Although, I would have liked to give him a hug. That boy-"

Harry cleared his throat in interruption, smiling at her, her not wanting to hear her finish her sentence. He stepped closer to the group before being attacked.

Hermione nearly pounced on him, flinging her arms around his neck in a tight hug, She whispered so softly Harry had to strain to hear her words. Even then, they were almost incoherent. She had her face buried in his neck, hiding her moving lips so Ron wouldn't know she was speaking.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'll find a way to keep in contact with you. I-I'd drop Ron to be your friend in a flash, but it's really complicated. I hope you forgive me. I'm working on a way to communicate secretly with you."

Harry hugged her tighter, closing his eyes, wishing a way to say what he wanted. He knew nothing would come out, though.

There was a muffled noise in his neck, one that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Hermione stepped away, releasing him from her grip, Harry's arms loosening automatically. Hermione sniffed and rubbed the underside of her puffy, red eyes. He was right, she was crying.

"I'll see you soon, Harry." Her voice came out bold, in a way he wouldn't expect a crying person to sound.

Ron's eyes followed Hermione out, deciding he'd have no choice but to deal with her later. He didn't like the way she hugged Harry. Why would that bother him, though? Harry would never take Hermione, since he's gay.

He shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to move any closer to Harry. He knew he'd have to if he were to hide his disgust for the thing in front of him from his mother. He wouldn't hug Harry. He'd shake his hand.

Ron made to step towards Harry but stopped when he found his mother blocking his way. Her arms were suddenly around Harry, pulling him into a hug that she'd bestow on any of her kids. Molly Weasley's eyes were red and puffy, wet with tears. She was even sobbing against Harry shoulder. Harry squeezed her.

"I have not seen you for so long, Harry dear, and now it's going to be a long time until I see you again." Molly sniffed and released Harry, stepped back. She pulled a hanky from her purse and dabbed her eyes. "I will miss you Harry. Take care of yourself."

Harry flashed his best smile at her, hoping to convey his gratitude and affection through his facial expression.

Ron stepped up to Harry and stuck out his hand the moment Mrs. Weasley finished saying good bye. Unluckily for him, she stayed in the room waiting for him.

Harry smirked, deciding to take revenge on this so-called friend. He calmly received Ron's hand, in acceptance to shake.

"Later, Mate. See you in school." Ron's voice held emotions that were clearly fake, in Harry's point of view. When did Ronald Weasley become an actor?

Ron's hand, and the rest of the 17 year old boy, started to retreat. Harry's grip suddenly squeezed Ron's hand, causing the boy's eyes to widen in surprise, and the actual boy to nearly stumble. He did stumble when Harry yanked him forward, wrapped the other arm around him in a tight embrace.

Ron's face was bright red when he was finally released. He mumbled something and quickly made his way out of Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry before following out behind Ron.

Harry turned and started to the kitchen, grinning to himself. What had Ron made of the hug? Harry was willing to bet Ron wouldn't dare to come within 100 feet of him now. The kid deserved it, of course.

He moved efficiently into and through the kitchen, not paying any attention to Snape. Snape was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and reading the Daily Prophet. Or he was, until Potter came in and disturbed him by moving around soundlessly.

Harry stopped as he reached for the cupboard, realizing how incredibly strange the kitchen as set up. He had forgotten he wasn't in a muggle home, and that things were much different here. Luckily for him, many of the things he saw here were just older versions of what he used in the Unicorn's Horn.

In fact, the entire kitchen worked much differently than a muggle household's. There were no microwaves; no stoves or ovens, not even a refrigerator. Sure, there were things that held the purpose of those appliances, but they were different.

None of the Wizard appliances were run by electricity. Each appliance used Magic. The cupboards weren't even nailed to the wall, for they didn't need nails in the magical world. They didn't need paint, or glue, either. Magic could be used for anything.

The cupboards clung to their spots by a sturdy hovering charm. Whenever someone reached to get into a cupboard, the door would automatically move out of the person's way. Sometimes the cupboards rearranged themselves to confuse their owners. The Cold Box was much like the muggle refrigerator, and the Freeze Box was like the muggle freezer. They were boxes of sorts, made out of whatever substances the owner chose, charmed to keep whatever was inside of them at a certain temperature. In a Freeze Box there was no such thing as freezer burn. The wizard's equivalent to an oven; a Cooker, was also just a box; although different from the Cold Box or the Freeze Box. The Cold Box and the Freeze Box had a charm preset on them for a certain temperature. For a cooker, a wizard had to say the charm the instructions told it to. There were, of course, charms in place on it to tell when the food was burning and turn off, and timing charms as well. There really was not an equivalent to a microwave. Wizards could generally just heat the food up themselves.

There were, of course, no electric bills.

Wizards who were not allowed to use magic from being under aged, incapable, or doing a crime which caused their want snapped; or squibs, would have an issue with these sorts of Wizarding Appliances. So naturally, there was another whole set of magical items designed just for these special groups. Cookers with buttons and knobs, with magic already built into them were created. Smaller boxes were made-with only so many uses to them; for children for use as a muggle 'microwave.'

Those sorts of devices were never found in a wizard's home; especially not one like the Malfoy Manor or The Most Noble House of Black. Not even the The Burrow had one. That was because they couldn't afford one, of course. The Blacks and the Malfoys didn't need one because they had house elves; plus, they were above such things.

The cupboard door slid aside and a bag of bread opened itself, two piece of toast floating out of it and landing in Harry's hands. Harry smiled to himself and stepped away, letting the cupboard and the bag close themselves. He walked over to the Cooker.

"There is a House Elf for that, Mr. Potter." Snape's tone drawled, causing Harry to glare.

'And there is shampoo for that, Snape!' Harry thought inwardly as he opened the cooker and dropped his toast in. He closed it and with a wave of his wand, his toast was cooked. He opened it and removed his toast, biting into it.

He knew Snape had been watching him. He could feel the wizard's gaze.

"What, no taste enhancers, Potter?" The spy put down his article to sneer at Harry.

Harry sneered right back, being more frustrated with his inability to speak.

"What's this? Cat got your tongue, Potter?"

Harry glared more, feeling like steam was going to start spouting from his ears from the anger welling up inside of him.

"When are you going to give up this charade," Snape picked up his tea glass, getting ready to sip it, "Potter? Have you not enough attention as it were?"

Harry's anger was deafening. The very magical lights flickered a few times, and the cupboards shook. Snape smirked triumphantly.

"Letting your anger get the best of you, I see." He said calmly, setting his tea cup down and standing. He turned, with a swish, to exit the kitchen. "Meet me in the basemen-"

He stopped speaking the moment his tea cup, half full of hot tea, hit him on the head and broke. The tea dripped down his hair, onto his cloak, burning his skin.

He was cleaned in a moments notice; his wand withdrawn. He turned to Harry and stared at him for the longest moment, his expression completely blank.

Then he sneered. "Learn to control your magic, Potter. Otherwise ... it'll get you into serious trouble someday." The man allowed his sneer to change to a smirk. "9 O' Clock, Potter. In the basement."

With that, Snape was gone.

Harry took another bite of his toast, trembling from the adrenaline that had rushed through his system.

---

"Glad to see you've developed some punctuality, Mr. Potter."

Harry glared at the rude excuse of a welcome, and waved his wand. His enchanted writing pad floated in front of Snape.

'Where are Moody and Tonks?' it scrawled, in a clear blue.

"This is Occulmency, Potter. Moody and Tonks will join us in an hour and a half for regular dueling lessons. Then, about 2 hours after that, I teach you Dark Arts. Lets get started, shall we? Since you have such a poor ability for Occulmency, perhaps I will be able to see what really happened the night you attempted to smash everyone's hard work by ... running away."

Harry glared; but readied himself for the onslaught he was about to receive. Oh yes, Snape would be able to see what he wants; but it will be Harry's doings.

"Legilimens!" The deep voice of the Potion's Master came loudly.

Harry's walls flew up immediately; but his barriers reached out and grasped at Snape's mind. They pulled him in, forcing him to watch several weeks of Harry's year in the blink of an eye.

Snape withdrew himself from Harry's mind, forcing Harry's grasp away.

They were both panting with exhaustion when they were finally back in the real world.

When Snape finally caught his breath, he spoke.

"How dare you manipulate my mind so; and make up fake memories, Potter."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. Why did this man refuse to believe such a thing would happen to him?

"I must, of course, congratulate you on your progress in Occulmency. You ability was very unexpected. It does not, however, merit arrogance. Mr. Potter, you are dismissed. Return here at 10:30 for your dueling lessons."

Harry blinked in surprise, befor shrugging and exiting the basement.

Snape stared after the young man who was leaving.

Could Harry Potter, son of James Potter; THE James Potter, really have been treated like that?

Granted; that live in no way compared to his own, except for the neglect and lack of love.

Love, however, was an unnecessary and dangerous emotion. Severus Snape, Professor and Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a Death Eater of Voldemort's inner circle, and spy for the Order of the Phoenix, hoped he would never fall in love.

Ever.

---

Harry returned to the basement a few minutes before 10:30. Severus Snape was no where in sight.

"Hi Harry!" Tonks said happily, grabbing Harry and pulling him into a tight hug. She released him and stepped back. "Shall we begin?"

Harry shrugged.

"Let's test your ability first, Potter." Moody grunted, moving towards the more open area of the basement. "Tonks will be observing to see what level you are at."

Harry nodded, and only moments later found himself dodging a knock-back curse. He threw one right back with all his might, immediately rolling on the ground. As he anticipated, a curse flew over his head.

Harry threw a tickling charm at the Auror before rolling a few more times and jumping to his feet.

The Auror was dodging his spells seemingly effortlessly. The two went on like that for about an hour.

Harry was exhausted, worn out. The effort of throwing and dodging curses had taken a lot out of him. Now he found himself pinned to the wall with a holding spell. His wand found itself in Moody's left hand.

He was soon released, and found himself on the floor with a bottle of water in his hands. He leaned his head back against the wall and drank heavily.

"There are 16 Duelist Levels, Mr. Potter." Moody voice came, monotonously. He and Tonks had huddled together and spoke for a few minutes after he released Harry. Harry suspected they were discussing him.

"The levels are based from a wizard's dueling strategy, rather than power. A wizard's power is measured by how forceful their spells are. There are 11 Power Levels." Moody started to explain, raising questions in Harry's mind.

Tonks picked up from there. "There are also two more sorts of levels. There are 7 Concentration Levels. This measures how well a wizard is able to focus their power and control it. The last, a measure of the Wizard's overall ability, are Magician Levels. There are 61 Magician levels. To get you Magician level, you add your Duelist Level and Power Level together and multiply them by two, and then add on your concentration level."

"I have a Duelist Level of 12, Mr. Potter, and a Power level of 8. 12 plus 8 is 20, doubled is 40. My concentration level is perfect, so my Magician level is 47." Moody explained, taking a seat in a chair and peering at Harry through his magical eye.

"I have a Duelist level of 14, Power level of 7. These added, and doubled is 42. My concentration level is 5, so my Magician level is 47 as well. Moody and I, although he is stronger than I and is more able to control his Magic, have the same Magician level because I have a better strategy than he does; and strategy makes up for about 52 of the Magician Level."

Harry was listening intently. He was dying to know what his magician level was.

"You concentration level matters lease, obviously." Moody muttered. Harry smiled. "Harry, your concentration level is at a 3. It seriously needs to be worked on. Your power level, on the other hand, is a 9. This going off from you spectacular Patronus charm, and of course, the way your magic reacts when your angry. Your power is so heavy it overflows when your anger begins to rule you. Your mind unconsciously keeps your magic under control, but when your emotions go haywire, your mind looses it's concentration. This is also another reason your concentration level is so low. Your Duelist level is 7, which is good for a person your age. Most 6th years have a duelist level of 2 or 3."

"So, with this said, your Magician level is 35." Tonks said quickly, getting bored of the long lecture, "The average dope has a Magician level of 31, which puts them just above the halfway point."

"We're here to help you work on your weak points. First, we will perfect your concentration."

"Hey! We should perfect mine, too. That way I can surpass your Magician level."

Moody glared at her, "If you do so, I will easily surpass you by learning better strategy, for that's what you will be teaching Harry." He countered.

"We're going to be taking turns teaching you, Harry. Your power level can also go up, but Remus Lupin will help work on that with you. His is the most knowledgeable in the area of gaining power. He started out with a Power Level of 3 and now has a power level of 10." Tonks said simply.

Harry nodded, weakly pushing himself to his feet. He hoped the next lesson wasn't too strenuous.

---

Hope you enjoyed my story up to this point.