Fourteen: Zakopane to Warsaw
Storm clouds were gathering above them. Sometimes, the train would go through long stretches of clear skies, and Harry would have to blink hard and fast to rid his vision of overexposed dots. But inevitably, they would go right into rain again, rivulets of it thrown back and forth on the windowpane, trembling with the motion of the train.
Harry was wrapped up in his wool jumper, and covered with Snape's coat, and he was cold anyway. It was, he thought, the kind of cold you couldn't shield yourself against.
They'd been travelling for hours and the day had darkened into evening. Snape had been highly irritable throughout, telling Harry off constantly for putting his feet up on the seats and then for not putting his feet up on the seats, for following him everywhere and for fidgeting and leaving crumbs from the blueberry bun on the floor and for asking if he could read the Daily Prophet. It had been a relief when he'd finally dozed off: he couldn't talk when he was asleep and he couldn't walk around, which helped Harry keep track of him. The last time he'd let Snape out of sight, he'd nearly died. Harry was not going to have that happen again, even if that meant annoying Snape by sneaking out of the compartment to wait for him by the toilet.
He'd expected to feel all around worse about what had happened to Agata. He'd felt worse about Quirrell. But all he could think was that it took a terribly hateful person to try and kill someone just because of a tattoo on their arm, without ever knowing the full story or finding out that Snape wasn't evil anymore—Harry supposed he might understand it better if he had a sister himself. But Voldemort had killed his parents, hadn't he, and Harry wasn't about to go around murdering people who might have worked for him in the past.
The thing that he did feel bad about was, in the end, the way Snape tensed even in his sleep when a curve in the tracks jostled his broken arm. And Harry could have stopped him ever being in danger at all, if only he'd been less selfish about staying in Zakopane, and told the truth when he'd realised Agata could do magic.
He had hoped before that Snape wouldn't find out about it, but only because he hadn't wanted to leave. The idea that he might find out now made Harry positively sick, the consequences of such a thing vaguely defined yet horrendous all the same. He might as well be dead if Snape ever found out. The world might as well end.
The secret of it pressed heavy and molten on Harry's tongue.
The old man sat across from Harry got off at the next station. Snape woke up briefly, blinked blearily, then dozed off again. Harry waited a few minutes for his breaths to properly lengthen, then shook off the large coat and went through the pockets until he'd found the Daily Prophet Snape had yelled at him about.
Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived to Be Dark Lord?
The trial for custody over Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, is set to begin Monday, and still the underage wizard remains elusive. With the wizarding society frantic over the fate of a boy gifted with unique and unstudied powers, Hogwarts Headmaster and Potter's current legal guardian, Albus Dumbledore, might well be hiding the full story from the public.
We have approached Dumbledore for a comment on Potter's mad tale of You-Know-Who's possession of ex-Hogwarts Professor Quirinus Quirrell. 'I trust Harry's every word, but for the purposes of the trial, this context is unnecessary,' Dumbledore says. 'Even if one were to distrust Harry's account that he has faced [You-Know-Who] yet again, they must nevertheless trust that the boy's magical reaction to the threat of a much older and more experienced wizard was entirely understandable, if unusual.' Dumbledore has been criticised for his attempts at writing the battier parts of Potter's story out of the narrative, but what if his refusal to engage has deeper, darker roots?
The Prophet has managed to gain special access to a source from Potter's early childhood. Ms Bethany Green (37), schoolteacher at Potter's muggle primary, reminisces: 'He was always an odd, troubled child. He zoned out during most lessons and struggled a lot—there's been some unpleasantness, I remember, with him playing strange pranks, climbing the roof, dangerous things like that. And he was always scruffy and skinny, not dirty, exactly, but there was something unhygienic about him—difficult to put your finger on, really. There must have been trouble at home, and I remember there were some attempts made (…) to interfere, you know, to get someone to visit or—but he wasn't battered or bruised, either, and somehow, it never went anywhere. (…) Oh, yes, I am convinced he was abused.'
Green's account hardly resembles the idyllic childhood of safe anonymity we have imagined for the Boy Who Lived, but it certainly makes it easier to understand how such a child might be driven to kill. And an abuse survivor so easily capable of defeating wizards twice his size is certainly one to watch out for.
'Did he make up that mad tale about You-Know-Who to drive suspicion away from himself? Perhaps so,' says Lucius Malfoy, Ministry official and head of the Malfoy family, who will be testifying on Monday. 'Could he have truly seen him? No one knows what happened the night of You-Know-Who's demise or what impact that had on the child, magical or otherwise. I struggle to believe a Hogwarts teacher, respected by staff and students alike, could have spent the year walking around, merrily possessed by You-Know-Who… But a magically traumatised boy would have been an easy target.'
Mr Malfoy refused to speculate further. But the Prophet will not be cowered: possession would explain Potter's supernatural abilities, the queerness perceived by his schoolteachers, and perhaps even the inability of his muggle relatives to properly care for him. 'They may have intuited something was off about him,' says Gilderoy Lockhart, Daily Prophet's Dark Arts correspondent. 'I myself have seen many a time that muggles can sense with their hearts what they can't hope to see or understand as a wizard might, especially if what they are sensing poses a threat to them.'
As Mr Malfoy says, we are unable to do more at this juncture than speculate. But even if Harry Potter has not in fact been possessed by You-Know-Who, an abused boy who struggles to connect with peers and wizarding society, makes up tales and wields a power none of us can understand, may be well on his way to becoming the next Dark Lord without the extra help.
Read the Prophet's exclusive on Potter's custody trial on Monday.
Harry's grip on the edge of the page tightened. A bit came off, torn and crinkled.
He didn't know what to do. Was it possible that he was possessed by Voldemort? It would explain why he could do all the freaky magic he'd done recently, and how he'd managed to kill Quirrell, and what if that was why the Dursleys—
No. He had seen Voldemort's face on the back of Quirrell's head. He knew what had happened. And Voldemort had been weak when he possessed Quirrell, he'd needed the unicorn blood to make it even that long; there weren't very many unicorns running around Surrey.
But if you weren't Harry, if you hadn't seen what he had, then the theory made a whole lot of sense, didn't it? What if Hermione read it in the paper and believed it? What if Ron's parents saw it and told him he couldn't be friends with Harry anymore? And what if Snape—Snape had read it already, and he'd seen Harry use that same wild mountain magic Agata had done. What if Snape believed Harry was possessed, too—or, maybe worse than that, what if he thought Harry was dangerous all on his own, since he'd seen him do wild magic and he'd said that it was harder for people who didn't have nice parents to grow up good, and he knew about what Aunt Petunia used to do—
One hand still clutching the newspaper, Harry felt around the coat pockets again, until he sensed that warm tingle on his skin that told him his wand was near.
He pulled it out, breathless and guilty, and then pushed it quickly under the hem of his trousers. It dug into his stomach and hipbone some, but it was held secure by the belt and hidden under his shirt.
'What are you doing?'
Harry froze.
'Let me answer that for you,' Snape said, sounding plenty menacing even though his voice was laced groggy with sleep. 'You are reading. While that is an activity I would usually recommend you do more of, not less, you are reading something which I am fairly certain you are not supposed to read.'
He stared at the paper in his hands, the relief dwindling with Snape's every word.
'What are you reading, Potter?'
'The paper,' Harry said under his breath.
'I can't hear you.'
Red-faced and shaking, Harry lifted his eyes. 'The paper, sir.'
'The paper. I believe we had a conversation a little over an hour ago about this very paper, didn't we? And are you allowed to read this particular paper, Potter?'
'No,' Harry mumbled. 'But I should be.'
'You should be?' Snape's tone turned dangerous. Harry scooted back in his seat.
'They're writing about me,' he said, trying to sound brave. 'You can't tell me I'm not allowed to read it when they're writing about me.'
'Oh, but I just have,' Snape leaned across the aisle between the seats and plucked the paper out of Harry's hand. 'There are two extremes of journalistic approach, Mr Potter: complete investigative honesty and utter sensationalism. Whoever wrote this piece—a Miss Skeeter, apparently—subscribes to the second school. When there is an article published about you that I believe holds any substance, I will happily allow you to read it.'
But it did hold substance, Harry thought. It had it right that the Dursleys hated Harry, and about the time he got on the roof of his school by accident, and that he'd been odd and—and unhygienic—and who knew that better than Snape?
'Where are you going?'
'Toilet,' Harry choked. He didn't bother to close the compartment door behind him, and raced to the end of the wagon, relieved to see the bathroom was unoccupied.
For a while, he sat on top of the toilet bowl, head hidden in his hands. Hunched over as he was, the stolen wand bit painfully into his lowest rib. What was he doing to do with it anyway? Cast Lumos and get all in Snape's face in the hopes of blinding him? So far, Harry's wild magic had only kicked in when someone's life was in danger, and he found it difficult to believe Snape would try to kill him. But if he changed his mind and decided to give Harry up to the Aurors, they wouldn't have much trouble searching Harry for the missing wand and taking it from him anyway.
Would they send him to prison? If not, would he be sent back to the Dursleys, or would Dumbledore believe what the article said? Or would he maybe think that Harry was too dangerous to be allowed near muggles? He'd thought once that if he were expelled, he could go live with Hagrid. But now that simply breaking his wand wasn't enough, they might never allow him anywhere near other Hogwarts students again.
A man knocked on the door and called out something insistent. Harry rubbed at his face, then got out, keeping his eyes low on the ground. A small queue had formed, well into the corridor, and they were all giving Harry looks that varied from annoyed to concerned.
He didn't stop at their compartment. Instead, he went to the opposite end of the wagon, where he sat down on the floor by the heavy door out. Through the little round window, he saw nothing but the darkness of unlit fields and thick forests. The blurred glints of small towns were so short-lived you could easily miss them if you blinked. The train jostled and shook, and he banged his teeth against his curled-up knees a few times, but it was better out here than back in with Snape. Even if Harry kind of wished he had his coat at least, to cover himself against the chill creeping in through the door.
Some time later, Snape came to find him. For a while, he stood looming over Harry in silence, expectant perhaps that Harry might look up to meet his eye, or at least get to his feet. It would have been the polite thing to do. But Harry felt so tired.
'Get up,' Snape said finally. 'Come, you'll sit back in the compartment.'
When Snape took him by the shoulder and pulled, Harry made his body heavy and loose.
'What, you're a cat now?' Snape asked drily. 'I can't lift you with one functioning arm, Potter.'
Harry didn't have the strength for that much fighting. Pliable, he followed Snape into the compartment, where he allowed himself to be arranged on the seat and covered with Snape's coat until it was tucked in tight around him. After that, Snape stepped out onto the corridor again and closed the door behind him. A claw tightened around Harry's heart when he realised Snape might not want to be near him anymore. Was he afraid of Harry? Or repulsed by him?
For the rest of the journey, Snape stood just outside the door, looking through the window into the dark nothing.
Well, this one's a bit of a downer. That seems a poor way of ending the year, so there's an extra chapter today to make up for it - make sure to check it out!
