The-Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter

Chapter 2: The-Boy-In-Pain

Words: 3,031

Rated: M

AN: Fair warning this will have Dumbledore bashing but Dumbledore isn't an evil incarnate in this one. Ya, I don't really know about this chapter. Seems kinda wordy but whatever. Have fun.

Harry punched his pillow and laid his aching body on his four-poster bed. His first day back at Hogwarts had been the usual affair. Of course there was the surprise of Snape somehow becoming the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry had shrugged at Ron's outrage, not particularly caring what Snape did. If he was incompetent in teaching others to defend themselves (which he strongly suspected was the case), Harry would just have to reinstate the D.A. Of course the slytherin table had erupted in applause while everyone else had merely groaned. Dumbledore had finished the opening of the new school year with his usual jovial and yet vaguely threatening speech.

The rest of the night had passed without incident and before Harry knew it he was headed for bed. The marks on his back twinged a bit when he changed into his night clothes, but he steadily ignored them. He had considered getting them healed but with the new professor probably changing everything around he would have no idea where to find a healing draught. Besides, the marks didn't hurt that bad and they would fade on their own eventually, so there was no pressing concern.

His Uncle had avoided Harrys' face in preparation for him returning to school, which made his chest a smorgasbord of different coloured bruises, and his back an interesting arrangement of welts and cuts. The effect was quite startling, but Harry didn't care as long as his heavy school robes covered them. He didn't want someone noticing something and causing an unnecessary reaction.

He was looking forward to the new year. His godfather was still a sore topic he desperately hoped no one would bring up, but people had finally started to believe him about Voldemort's return and were hopefully preparing to protect themselves from the future conflict. People were finally taking the threat seriously and lines were being drawn from those with the conviction to fight and those who will run. It was definitely going to be an interesting year. Harry just hadn't expected the fun to start quite so soon as breakfast the next morning.

He was listening to Ron rant and rave at the ridiculousness of Snape's new position with an amused smile when the usual flurry of owls brought everyone the post. Harry (who stoutly refused to subscribe to the daily prophet) received nothing, but took notice when a hush went over the entirety of the great hall. He looked up from his breakfast of plain oatmeal to see hundreds of students intently reading the daily prophet. They all shared similar expressions of shock and disbelief, no matter what house, age or whether they came from dark families or light ones. There were a few first years who looked confused, but Harry suspected they were muggle-born. It was an uncommon reaction to say the least and Harry felt the small part of him that craved gossip take interest.

Suspecting that it was some kind of tragedy so horrible and shocking that it forced even death eaters to grow a conscious, Harry expectantly turned to Ron. Harry felt his concern increase as he took in Ron's stricken expression.

"Mate…" Ron started.

"What? What is it? What happened?" Harry questioned. Hermione was crying with full force as her gaze met his. Wordlessly, she shoved the paper across the table.

His first thought when he glimpsed the image accompanying the article was that some poor bastard was getting the shit kicked out of him. The picture looked as though it had been taken through a door and neither subject seemed to notice. It was only when he read the title that he recognized the subject as himself. He felt his breath leave him and his chest tighten. He quickly scanned the article, feeling a deep and dark rage settle in when he discovered Rita Skeeter had followed him home. That rage was quickly pushed aside for uneasiness as he realized the entire great hall was reading about him getting beaten up and screaming and crying and begging for it to stop and oh god.

He stood abruptly, poised for when the idea of what the hell he was supposed to do next came to him. A flash of light came at him from the slytherin table. Harry was too caught up in his own horror to react. The spell completely ate his cloak and later the shirt he had on underneath, leaving the damning evidence exposed for the scrutiny of the entire hogwarts great hall. At least before he could have said Skeeter was lying. Now there was no lying, no deceit. Not even Malfoy could say he spinned that story for attention.

Despite himself, Harry felt his gaze stray to the slytherin table. Everyone there looked vaguely nauseous, staring at Harry stupidly. His eyes met that of his archrival before he quickly looked away. Once again without his consent he turned to take in the head table. His gaze was interrupted by a small legion of teachers marching towards him. Headed by Dumbledore, at his left was Snape and his right Professor McGonagall. They were only a few feet away when Harry noticed he was shaking. Tears of frustration made their home in his eyes, and he unwillingly tried to step back, which caused him to trip over the bench he was sitting on. The world spun as people shouted and the pace of the teachers march sped up. The tension in the air was so thick and dark that Harry felt a breath of relief leave him when spots appeared in his vision. He gratefully embraced the darkness, which he would later reflect on as not being very gryffindor, and made his way to the ground. Before his head could touch the cool stone, a body smelling of soot and potion fumes caught him.

Severus Snape stared down at the newspaper that dared to ruin his breakfast. The bloody bird had plonked the stupid gossip rag right on his tea, effectively ruining morning.

Begrudgingly he glanced at the headline and stopped. The-Boy-in-Pain by Rita skeeter. Severus just stared at the article blankly for a few seconds before sitting back and article featured numerous photos that looked like they had been taken incognito of the celebrated boy hero being savagely beaten. There was no way this was true. Arrogance such as the one Potter has cannot be cultivated in an abusive environment. Besides that, Dumbledore would never have let the golden boy get near any muggles that could hurt him.

Severus glanced up and watched as Potter clutched the article without moving. Everyone in the great hall were staring at boy wonder, waiting for a reaction. Potter rose suddenly and glanced around wildly.

One of Severus' little snakes sent a dissolving curse and then everyone was treated to the sight of many weeks poor treatment. The sheer number of bruises and lacerations made a chill of unease run up his spine. That damage might be fake, but it sure looked real.

"Severus" Dumbledore said breaking him out of the trance the whole great hall seemed to be in. The old wizard gestured for Severus to follow him and they quickly rose and started for Gryffindor table, with the boys head of house following closely at Dumbledores other side.

At half way the boy turned to face them and the panic and humiliation was written clear across his face. Whatever was going on here, whether abuse or any number of reasons, it had obviously taken its toll on Potter.

The boy started to sway and before anyone could react the boy was falling to the ground. Severus, being the closest and not past the age of one hundred, was the first to reach him and quickly supported his underfed body with Severus' own.

The entire great hall broke into tense whispers that resembled buzzing bees. Severus lowered Potter to the ground and braces his head while doing a cursory diagnosis. The boy had fainted. He faced Dumbledore to await orders. The old man was pale and tense.

"Get him to the hospital wing."

The ex-potions master quickly complied and levitated the prone form. The din became louder the closer he came to the door. The could see the rest of the golden trio being grilled for answers. Many of the younger years and hufflepuffs were crying. The slytherins were maintaining a passive air as they gossiped, but all were pale. Hagrids' booming sobs rang out through the hall and despite the situation Severus couldn't help but sneer. Then he, and the legion of teachers made for the hospital wing.

The sound of an argument intensifying drove Harry from his blissfully ignorant state. He tried to make out the familiar voices but could only really remember Mrs. Pomfrey's shrill tone. Annoyed, Harry tried to make out the gist of the conversation.

"-do you mean heal him? The ministry needs his injuries documented for evidence!" a scottish woman's voice rang out, jerking Harry conscious from his half-awake state.

Harry groaned and lifted his head to peer into the eyes of his spectators. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey completely halted their conversation. It seemed the adults were paralyzed, waiting for some kind of reaction. Harry didn't quite understand why he was in the hospital wing yet and for all he knew he could be dying of dragon pox. Harry felt a spell he hadn't notice break at the far end of the hospital wing by the door and the room was suddenly full of muffled cries of outrage. There seemed to be a herd of angry students banging on the hospital wing door and crying out for answers. Harry could vaguely hear his friends in the mix but before he could truly try and listen all four teachers sent strong silencing spells at the door.

As his wits returned to him, Harry remembered his first day of the new year at Hogwarts start with such a dreadful secret coming to light and felt his cheeks heat. He sat up in his bed and turned to the headmaster.

"Professor, I'm so sorry. I had no idea she'd followed me home."

It seemed that was the wrong thing to say as the room seemed to grow a few degrees colder as the women both turned to face Dumbledore with equally appalled expressions while Snape's mask of neutrality paled a few shades. Dumbledore himself seemed to keep an expression of profound loss on his face as he shrank back from his fellows' fury.

"You knew about this?" Harry's head of house asked, taking a menacing step forward.

"You willfully endangered a child?" The mediwitch continued, striding right next to the animagus.

Harry, sensing the conflict, quickly threw his arms in the air in surrender and defended the man whom he loved like a grandfather.

"No! I never told him! It's the fact that that Rita Skeeter can follow me home and learn my secrets I'm apologizing for!"

The two women sucked in a breath and turned from the headmaster to face Harry. Harry cowered under their pitying looks. Both women had gone from emotion to emotion within seconds and it scared the living daylights out of him. Harry was well aware what these women could do and having all their attention on him was really messing with his nerves.

"Harry dear…" Madam Pomfrey began, "you know it's not your fault this happened to you?"

Harry felt a sliver of fear go up his spine but reined himself in and scowled.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is what we're going to do now that the "Boy-Who-Lived" is going to be seen as a weak kid who gets beaten by muggles. Voldemort's right around the corner and people can't be distracted by this."

Harry waved his hand for emphasis and then crossed his arms, hoping that he'd gotten his point across. Honestly, it's not like his uncle has anything on the Cruciatus curse.

The floo suddenly flared and Professor Flitwick and a man and a woman dressed in work robes entered. Flitwick pursed his lips as he purposefully strode towards the scene. He stopped next to Dumbledore and intensely whispered in the headmasters' ear. The old man gave a little nod and the newcomers came forward and presented themselves to Harry.

The woman had kind eyes but radiated power, like she could easily maim but would never feel the urge. She had delicate dark locks held back in a tight bun with large spectacles. She came forward and offered her hand to Harry which he reluctantly shook. There were callouses on her hand. Harry pulled his own hand back quickly after the greeting.

"Hello Mr. Potter. My name is Alexandra Hopkins. You can just call me Alex. And this-" Alex said, gesturing to the dark skinned man standing next to her, "is Ezra."

The man stood straight backed with a grim expression and dark eyes. He kept his chin up and nodded towards Harry instead of offering his hand.

The two waited expectantly, but Harry remained silent, glaring just a bit.

A small frown went across Alex's' face but she pressed on. "We come from the department of Magical Children Regulation and Safety from the Ministry of Magic and we will be handling your case."

Harry then had the very strong urge to hiss at the woman but controlled himself. It wasn't her fault that the woman got assigned the most pointless case from the lot. He just straightened his back and tried to look as poised as possible despite fainting only a few minutes prior. The woman didn't bat an eyelash at the reaction. Harry kept his voice controlled as he faced the woman.

"And what exactly is your purpose?"

The woman smiled warmly again and continued her explanation.

"During the process it is our job to gather evidence and investigate any and all persons involved in the crime. We are awarded auror status and have the same privileges and techniques as them, but are not called such because the crimes we investigate are more…" she faulted, "passive…"

Her partner's lips twitched and he flexed his fingers as if to completely contradict her.

"Naturally we are going to have to take your statement. Seeing as how you've been living there for fifteen years other things might pop up though the investigation. I will be the liaison between you and the investigation. I'm also trained to best assess mental stability and the consequences of trauma, so I suspect we'll be seeing each other a lot from now on."

Harry regarded her coldly. She really thought he would be traumatized by what uncle Vernon had done? When he'd seen people die, scream, writhe, and beg? When he himself had been under the cruciatus and felt words carved into the back of his hand? And yet someone knocking him around some was the most traumatizing thing to happen to him?

The woman opened her mouth to speak again but Harry crudely interrupted her.

"I will not be giving a statement. Do the investigation without me. Or don't, I don't care."

Harry made to get up when Madam Pomfrey bustled over and firmly pushed him back abed. Harry glowered but didn't struggle.

"Now listen here young man, I don't care whether or not you comply with the ministry but you're not leaving here with all those injuries. Now stay there while I fetch the necessary potions."

The group watched the mediwitch bustle off. Alex sighed, but turned to face the headmaster instead.

"I'm afraid, Albus Dumbledore, that you will have limited to no further contact with Mr. Potter."

Ezra came around behind the headmaster as if to stop him from fleeing. The old man continued to look weary and defeated but nodded nonetheless. Harry wasn't as forthcoming.

"What do you mean no contact? That's stupid! He's the headmaster of the school. I can't just avoid him. And it's not like he ever hit me."

An infuriating softness invaded Alex's eyes as took a seat from the chair next to him and pulled it up to his bed. Harry unconsciously shrunk away from the woman.

"He's being investigated for the willful endangerment of a child. He's lucky he's still allowed to work at all."

Harry swallowed. This was happening. This was real.

"I'm not a child anymore."

Her partner finally spoke then, "You are in the eyes of the law."

The woman sensed the unease that had overridden Harry's rage and quickly stood to face the witnesses.

"I'm going to have to ask that all but the matron leave as we will need to speak with Mr. Potter privately."

The two professors who had watched the dispute between the ministry official and Harry silently nodded and left, taking Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick with them. They left by floo to avoid the angry mob.

"Now, Mr. Potter…" the woman started, "what's your earliest childhood memory?"

When the professors landed in Dumbledore's office no one spoke. Minerva took one hard look at Albus and then turned on her heel and left, with a nerve-wracked Flitwick hot on her heels.

Severus took one of the seats sitting in front of the headmasters desk and patiently waited for his mentor to take his place. The old man warily got behind the huge desk as if it were a foreign position, and not one he took every day.

"Albus…" Severus began, "this actually happened didn't it? There are no lies being told here by that blasted Skeeter woman is there?"

It didn't feel like a question, but the headmaster nodded anyway. The potions master waited patiently for Dumbledore's explanation.

"I knew…" Severus tensed at these words. "I knew that he wasn't happy. I simply thought because his cousin was larger that he was that he was picked on. I never knew…"

The man took a deep breath, "I never thought an adult would strike a child in such a manner. Especially not family."

Severus blinked, then nodded. He stood swiftly and made for the door.

"You are a fool Albus."

From the other side of the door Severus could hear the soft weepings of the headmaster.