Harry plopped himself down in front of the Halloween feast and loaded his plate. His fork was halfway to his mouth when he noticed that Hermione wasn't at the table to deliver her customary lecture for ruining his teeth with pumpkin juice and cauldron cakes.
"Neville, where's Hermione?"
"I heard from Parvati that she's been locked up in the girls' bathroom since charms crying."
"What? Why?"
"Well after charms, Ron started badmouthing her to Seamus and she heard him call her a know-it-all." Ron looked up from his food. "Oy! It wasn't my fault!" Harry glared pointedly at Ron and got up to find Hermione. Appetite forgotten, Harry stalked down the halls to the girls' bathroom in a dark mood. As he turned a corner, he heard screaming and broke into a run. He burst into the bathroom to find a massive creature wielding a club standing there among the stalls. It was a mountain troll dressed in rawhide and furs, clearly incensed. Upon closer inspection, he saw Hermione collapsed under the sinks, obscured from the creature's view. Thinking her dead, Harry's vision turned red and he was consumed with rage that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt. The troll swung at him, hitting stalls and sending debris everywhere. Harry barely dodged in time and hissed as slivers of wood cut his face. Unable to think or even hear the words of the floaters in his mind, Harry took his wand in hand and cast the first spell to kill he could recall. The troll was split nearly in half by a cut that travelled from its forehead to its groin. The carcass thudded to the ground with the sickening sound of flesh on wet tile.
Soaked in blood, Harry heaved, riding out the waves of his rage and heard the thundering of the floaters in his head. Calm, they rumbled, the girl is unharmed. You can see that with your own eyes. Harry's eyes snapped to Hermione, still curled under the sinks where she'd fainted. He could see her life force still firmly tethered to the living plane and her chest still rising and falling steadily, clearly alive. Another cry from behind him startled him and he spun to find the Hogwarts staff headed by the headmaster observing the scene in shock.
"Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall seized him by the shoulders, checking over. "Is any of this blood yours?"
"No, no, please professor I-I-" Harry was frozen, still reeling from his experience. "Hermione! She's there under the sinks. I don't know if the troll hurt her!" Madam Pomfrey pushed her way through the throng of teachers and bustled her way to the sinks, scooping Hermione into her arms.
"She's alright, Mr. Potter, only fainted. I'll take her to the infirmary." The mediwitch looked to McGonagall. "I'll need to examine Mr. Potter when you've finished with him." McGonagall nodded and Pomfrey left for the infirmary. The headmaster strode over to Harry and spelled the blood off of his clothes.
"Harry, my boy. Take a breath and tell me what happened."
"I left dinner to find Hermione. Someone told me she'd been crying and I was worried. When I got here, I saw the troll and-" he bit his lip. The floaters were thundering again. You must not tell him what you did. He must not know of your power. Harry was panicking again.
"What happened, Harry, you must tell the headmaster," McGonagall said, kneeling to his level. Dumbledore looked at him expectantly, a hint of suspicion forming on his face.
"It was accidental magic," said a voice from behind them. Everyone's heads snapped up as Professor Quirrel emerged from the debris of a stall sporting a cut on his cheek.
"Quirinus," Snape said as he approached Dumbledore's side, "What are you doing here? I thought you went to warn the students about the troll." Harry couldn't help but notice him limp.
"I was, but when I saw your injury from earlier, I didn't think you could catch it and thought I could head it off from a different route." Tension was apparent between the two men and crackled in the air between them.
"Mr. Potter, is this true?" the headmaster asked, levelling Harry with a piercing gaze, "Did you kill this troll?"
Seeing his chance, Harry nodded shakily, "Yes, I don't know what happened, but before I knew it, the troll was dead."
"Do you remember exactly how you did it?" Dumbledore's voice was odd, growing more suspicious by the second.
"No, professor." Harry didn't dare say more and ducked his head. Do not meet his eyes, child, the floaters were saying.
"Albus," Snape cut in, "You can't expect a first year to possess the know-how to take down a fully grown troll."
"I agree," Professor Quirrell said, fixing Snape with a confused look.
"Nevertheless, what you did was extremely foolish, taking on a mountain troll by yourself. Ten points from Gryffindor for your senselessness," McGonagall said, seizing both of Harry's shoulders. She wasn't angry exactly, only worried for Harry's well-being.
"Minerva," Dumbledore said soothingly, "As you can see, everything worked out in the end. I think Mr. Potter deserves some commendation for being so brave for the sake of a friend. Fifteen points to Gryffindor for your bravery, my boy." Albus straightened and turned to leave.
McGonagall turned to Snape. "Severus, I need to take care of this corpse and make sure the students are secure in their dorms. Could you take Mr. Potter to the infirmary?" Snape nodded and gestured for Harry to follow. Quirrell followed them out into the hall. They made an unexpected detour to Snape's office near the dungeons. Snape pulled the door shut and knelt in front of Harry with Quirrell watching on from his side.
"Potter, I need you to be honest with me, now," he said urgently, "Where did you learn that curse?"
"Which one, professor? I thought you said it was accidental magic." Harry forced himself to remain calm with the floaters' encouragement. Quirrel knelt too and spoke in reserved tone that was more intrigued than accusatory.
"I think the professor was referring to the unmistakably dark curse that bisected the troll, Mr. Potter. No act of accidental magic could produce such a specific curse." Harry stiffened, clamming up as he tried hard not to let the panic show on his face.
"Harry," Snape said gentler, sensing his distress, "We will not punish you for any of this. That spell you cast was a rudimentary cutting curse, but a dark one that left an energy signature that could only come from one with an affinity for dark magic." Snape looked frightened, a strange emotion on his face. Harry's brow furrowed.
"If that were true, why didn't Dumbledore sense it?" Harry shook slightly, looking up panicked still.
"Only others with the dark magic affinity can sense something that subtle. Answer me, Harry, how is it that you can cast this curse?"
Harry's mouth floundered a bit. "It-it was in the books required for Defense." Snape blinked and whipped his head around to sneer at Quirrell.
"Severus, the book was a complete repertoire of defense spells. I was only going to teach the first half of neutral spells. I didn't expect a first year to read all the way to the end and have the power reserves to cast anything more dangerous." Intrigued, Quirrell pulled out his wand. "Harry, I'm going to test your magical core to read your affinity index. Do I have your permission?"
Harry looked uncertain. "Will you tell Dumbledore if I am? Dark, that is?" Both Snape and Quirrell looked at Harry as if he'd grown a second head.
"Why Mr. Potter," Quirrell said slowly, "Why wouldn't you want the headmaster to know? He could protect you. I'm sure you're far too valuable to him to let you come to harm." Harry clammed up again, knowing he'd made a mistake.
"I'll only do it on the condition that you do. Not. Tell. The headmaster." he muttered, almost to himself. Quirrell and Snape shared a concerned look before Quirrell waved his wand at Harry, whispering the words to the spell. When he was done, his eyes widened.
"He's as dark as they come, Severus.," he confirmed. Snape sighed hard, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had the worst migraine in the world.
"James and Lily's son with a powerful affinity for dark magic," he almost whimpered, "Why don't you want the headmaster to know, Harry?"
"I don't want to draw attention to myself. Please," Harry pleaded, "If he knew, I'd be in trouble."
"Harry," Quirrell said, tentatively offering a comforting hand on his shoulder, "A dark affinity doesn't mean you'll be in trouble. It just means we have to tweak your academic work to include control over darker magic. Most people remain neutral and those who have affinities for one side or another can even be said to be more powerful than those who do not. It's not a bad thing, it's just a different kind of magic."
Harry shook his head adamantly. "I don't have any problems with being dark. It's just Dumbledore that I'm worried about. He expects me to be a light wizard, I know it. If he knew I wasn't-" Harry stopped, noticing too late that he'd said too much. "Something bad will happen."
Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere with the boy, he sighed. "Despite how idiotic and irrational your fears are, we," he said giving Quirrell a pointed look, "will not tell Dumbledore about this...incident."
"Thank you," Harry said, sinking with relief.
"Stand up, Potter, we're taking you to Madam Pomfrey," Snape clucked, rising to his feet. Harry stood from his stool on shaky legs and promptly threw up from the nausea he'd been fighting since he entered the room. At once, Snape was at his side while Quirrell vanished the sick away. Snape ran a basic diagnostic spell. Quirrell looked on. "Perhaps magical exhaustion or shock?"
"It's not magical exhaustion, it's a side effect of refeeding after a long period of starvation. Go get Poppy." Quirrell bolted out the door while Snape pulled out a potion and emptied it down Harry's throat. The potion burned all the way down, but Harry could feel his spinning world levelling out a little.
"Potter," Snape said gently from above him, "Tell me how it is that you are showing signs of severe malnutrition that dates back years. Be honest with me, please. I only want to help you."
Harry looked Snape right in the eye and found that all malice from the past few weeks was gone from his expression, leaving only horror. The floaters whispered in his head. Trust him. His words are genuine. Harry weakly lifted a hand to Snape's forehead and reached out with legilimency to show him, not everything, but enough. Everything the Dursleys had done to him passed between them in a matter of seconds followed by the knowledge that Dumbledore placed him there and fear that such a man who would leave him in such a place without checking in on him or telling him anything of his own life could only mean him harm. Snape sat stone faced, occlumency shields barely holding under the torrent of memories and his own emotional distress.
"Don't tell Dumbledore,"Harry said as he pulled his hand away.
"Potter-how-?" Snape's mouth floundered as he searched for the right words. Potter was a victim of abuse at the hands of that damned horse-faced woman and her husband and he didn't trust Dumbledore. That last thought had Snape the most troubled.
"I won't tell the headmaster, Potter, but I have to tell Madam Pomfrey," Snape said, gathering Harry in his arms. He thought his composure might break when he felt how spare and thin Harry was, but let the urgency of the situation take him over as he sped off to find potions after depositing Harry in a chair. Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room just as Snape was returning with several armfuls of potions. She took in Harry's slumped form and ran her diagnostic spells. Her eyes widened in shock, but she maintained her professional manner. Knowing what she would find, Snape handed her potions and she spelled them into Harry wordlessly. Satisfied that he was stable, she levitated an unconscious Harry onto his back and moved him into the hospital wing. Later on, when both of them had time to calm down, Poppy Pomfrey found herself sharing a pot of tea with Snape in her office.
"Severus, what in Merlin's name happened to that boy?" she said, warming her hands with her tea cup, "The diagnostic spells revealed abuse that stretches back to his infancy. The only reason he is alive is because everything he sustained was magically healed by his own magic reserves. I can't tell for certain how his magical core is fairing, but it seems to be uncompromised. Harry has at least that going for him."
"I know, Poppy," Snape said, dropping his face into his hands, "He showed me everything."
"Showed you? You couldn't mean-"
"He's a natural legilimens. He showed me everything that happened to him at the hands of those monsters." Despite Harry's misgivings about Dumbledore, Snape felt that he could trust Poppy with this matter because they had an understanding about children in abused households. Snape dealt with many darker families who, under the pressure of the war, took out their anger on their children. Understanding the need for discretion, they turned the cases over to ministry social services as they came and let Dumbledore assume what he wanted to.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Poppy said, taking a sip of the tea, "If his magical core was powerful enough to keep him alive this long, who knows how powerful he could be? What should we do? This time, reporting it to child services might not be the best idea."
"I don't know, but he adamantly refuses to tell the headmaster."
"I can understand if he has trouble trusting authority figures. It's a wonder he chose to trust you at all. For now, we should nurse him back to health as best we can and suggest that he go somewhere else for the summer."
"Poppy, it's more complicated than that," he huffed, ignoring Poppy's incensed muttering that sounded suspiciously like "Of course it is".
"There are wards around Privet Drive that protect him from the dark lord. He has to stay there at least once a year for the wards to stay intact."
"At this rate, I think those relatives of his have done more to that child than he-who-must-not-be-named ever has." Poppy huffed indignantly.
"The best plan that I can come up with right now is to get him through at least two weeks at his relatives' house and then discreetly get his classmates to invite him to their homes for the rest of the summer."
Poppy nodded, finger on her chin. "Since Dumbledore cannot legally monitor where Mr. Potter is spending his holidays, that sounds like a good plan." Knowing that neither would get any sleep that night, they spelled the teapot full again and brooded together until their patient stirred.