Ok, just to warn you people who might not notice it: there's a timeskip! We are now on the day before Harry's 11th birthday, and he's already gotten his Hogwarts letter, which as you remember started trying to get to him a couple weeks before his birthday in the book.
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Harry stared sullenly out the window at the countryside flashing by. They hadn't even let him ride with Fredrick. One of the people in the car with him tried to catch his attention, but he turned the volume up on his mp3 player and ignored her. She was the reason he had to leave in the first place.
They pulled up in front of a large, official-looking building, and Harry scampered out of the car as soon as it stopped, clutching the backpack containing his laptop and DVD collection tightly to his chest. That, and the mp3 player, he wouldn't allow any of the people who had come to pick him up touch. And he also had his secret weapon in the bag, which made it even more important that he keep it out of reach of those who wanted to hurt Fredrick until the time was right to smash them with it.
He kept just out of reach, close enough that they didn't think he was going to run away, but far enough that he didn't have to endure their supposedly reassuring pats and touches. If he wasn't playing the traumatized innocent, he would have snapped at them, warning them he would press harassment charges if they didn't leave off. But he didn't want them to know just how far into the legal system he had penetrated. He had, with only minimal assistance from Fredrick, worked his way through math as far as algebra, English up to the ninth grade level, theoretical science up through what was usually taught at high schools, the basics of the social sciences, including geography and government, and ancient history, which had always fascinated him. Fredrick had also taught him every language in his formidable repertoire, including Spanish, French, Italian, and English of course, along with a handful of Latin, Greek, and Russian.
He rolled his eyes as they escorted him into the private room of the doctor's office as though they expected him to try to bolt at the unfamiliar environment. But although he had never been to the hospital before, he had been a regular doctor's office enough to be comfortable with them, though he didn't really like them. After all, a brother might do his favorite sister a favor and take his beloved nephew to the doctor for his checkups so she could take the time to do something for herself.
When the doctor entered the room, Harry dug into his backpack, as the woman who had taken him away told him that they had found no evidence that he had been to a doctor since his kidnapping. Snorting softly, he handed the doctor the copy of his medical records, with a cover containing all the information on the doctor's office and his medical and insurance policies stapled on the front.
"Fredrick gave them to me to keep up with. He said it would teach me responsibility, so he wouldn't be responsible for setting a brat on the world." He smiled as he said that, remembering the giggle fit that had overtaken him when Fredrick had said that, since he'd just pointed out that Dudley had never gotten to touch anything important, even if it was about him. The doctor leaned back against the counter, flipping through the records slowly, then walked out of the room, taking the folder with him. Harry suppressed a malicious smile when the woman who had brought him here nearly punched the door in frustration.
Sensing they were going to be waiting a while, he pulled his laptop out of his bag, plugging in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. He grabbed his headphones and settled in to wait. He really wished he had some popcorn.
Maria sighed with exasperation as the boy ostentatiously thumbed the volume on his iPod, turning even more towards the window. He acted like she had been the one to hurt him, not Rogers. And he hadn't smiled or laughed once since he had realized they were taking him away from his kidnapper, taking him back home. Since Rogers had been escorted to the waiting police cruiser, he had only spoken when one of the social workers could get him to admit they had caught his attention, which wasn't easy.
She needed to go over his experiences living with Fredrick Rogers, though. The man was an accused child molester, though he had never been convicted. The child in question turned out to have been raped by her father, and that was what had triggered her running away in the first place. Dirty business, but it had been enough, when added to the girl's obvious trust of the man, to get Rogers off. She hoped to correct that wrong today, and had set it up so that they went straight from the house to the hospital for a complete medical examination, and the same in his education, then to the courtroom for the preliminary hearing.
He was clutching that backpack so tight; she wondered what he had in it. He had barred them all from his room, locking it from the inside as he packed. The rather large suitcase filled with clothes and accessories he had surrendered to them, but he had nearly taken Jimmy's hand off when he tried to take the backpack. It was obviously important to him, and perhaps that was what was really important. It was probably only some childish treasure, anyway. The child had been through a rough time, especially for a little boy not quite turned eleven, and he needed whatever reassurance he could find, since he would not allow them to comfort him. He wouldn't even allow them to touch him, but the way he shrugged them off implied that he didn't consider them worthy of contact with them, rather than fear of touch.
He had skittishly stayed just out of reach going through the hospital, but though he looked around curiously, he showed no inclination to run. Which was slightly odd, as he had made it clear that he didn't want to be with them, but he almost seemed to be trying to reassure them that he wouldn't run. If he had been older, that's exactly what she would have thought was going on.
He sat calmly on the examination, and she admired his self-possession, even as she wondered what could have possibly caused it. A child shouldn't sit that still. He wasn't even tapping his fingers when the doctor walked in minutes later.
She turned her attention away from the child to the doctor, explaining that she needed a complete medical examination, since she had found no evidence of any medical history at all, when the child interrupted with a sweet smile and the comment about teaching responsibility by letting him keep his medical records. The doctor took the file slowly, and his face grew more and more involved as he read, until he suddenly turned and hurried out of the room, muttering vaguely about 'calling them'. She gritted her teeth, and clenched her fist, but restrained from any other release of her temper because of the boy. It would be most unprofessional to go hitting walls in front of him. He might think she would hit him next. And they were on public property anyway, which meant she could be fined if she did any damage. Not to mention, such behavior would likely make her loose her job.
When she turned back to the child from her pointless staring at the door, he was sprawled out on his stomach, completely enthralled with something he was watching on the screen of a seventeen-inch laptop. She smiled at him, though he wasn't paying attention to her.
It was nearly half an hour later when the doctor walked back in.
"I do apologize for the wait, but since the child was kind enough to give me the phone number of his doctors office, I felt it was necessary to call and verify what I was reading. However, since I have this, I can shave a few hours off of the examination. If you could clear the room please?" the tone of his voice indicated that this was not a request, and the boy relaxed as they filed out, sitting up straight on the table.
"Have they been bothering you, child?" the doctor asked sympathetically as the door closed. Harry shrugged.
"They seem to think that I need reassured that I am going to be returned to my oh-so-loving family as soon as possible. I don't even want to go back. I went with Fredrick in the first place because he was the one who found me clothes when I was cold, and fed me when I was hungry, not the Dursleys." He looked at the doctor measuringly. "If I showed you something, would you make sure it stayed secret until the hearing?" Looking intrigued, the doctor nodded agreeably, and Harry pulled a small manila envelope from his bag. He handed it to the doctor, who took it silently and opened it. "It wasn't just my med records I had. Everything pertaining to me, I kept." Onto the table spilled out ten letter-sized envelopes. Harry laid them out by date, and the doctor smiled at the shaky hand on the first couple, evidence that Harry had labeled them himself.
When he got a good look at the pictures in the first envelope, however, he dropped them on the floor, eyes wide with horror. Swallowing hard, he picked them up, looking carefully at each one. He swiftly went through the rest of them, relaxing when the terrible emaciation was softened considerably in the next set, and was mostly unnoticeable a year later.
"Anything else I can do for you before I examine you?" he asked, not meeting his eyes.
"A letter saying you unsealed the envelopes?" Harry asked. The doctor smiled at him, and promised it would be done.
Hours later, Harry was escorted into a small, yet echoing room. When he got near the front, he saw Fredrick sitting at a table, and he broke into a run, flinging himself into the man's arms just as the Judge entered. Not at all bothered, Fredrick carried Harry up with him when he stood, holding him securely against his chest. Moments later, a security guard stepped forward to take Harry from him. Harry resisted, clinging to him.
"Youngling, stop. You are only causing trouble." Harry looked up at Fredrick, teary green eyes wide.
"Fredrick, I don't want the to take you away from me. I love you, Fredrick." Fredrick tousled his hair affectionately.
"And I you childling, but you must cooperate now. You know this." Harry sighed, but slid down, walking back to the table where his supposed rescuer was waiting, ignoring the guard watching him carefully. He climbed up to sit on the table, playing the lost child for all he was worth. He didn't want any attention on him besides sympathy, or even pity. As long as they underestimated him until it was his turn, he would be happy.
"Fredrick Rogers, you stand accused of one count of kidnapping against one Harry Potter. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty," Fredrick replied steadily.
"One charge of sexual assault against one Harry Potter."
"Not guilty."
"One charge of violating the terms of your release as a suspected child offender." Fredrick paused for a long moment.
"That, I am guilty of," he said finally, as though it hadn't occurred to him before that he would be charged with that. Maria smirked triumphantly.
"Your Honor?" Harry said, just loud enough for the judge to hear. "I have some records for you, if I may. They didn't find anything because anything that was about me, Fredrick let me keep up with it. It was all in my room, which was the only room they didn't search."
"Why not?" the judge asked.
"He locked us out until he was finished packing. I had wondered what he was keeping from us so fiercely, your Honor, but I figured that he didn't need the stress of fighting with me over what was probably a trivial matter on top of everything else."
"Why didn't you give the records to them, child?"
"She," Harry gestured to Maria with his chin, "wants Fredrick to get in trouble. I didn't trust her."
"Bring them to me then, child. I assure you, my only interest is seeing justice done." Harry nodded and dug out a small manila envelope, and three thick folders, a blue one labeled 'med', a green one labeled with a dollar sign, and a purple one labeled 'edu'.
"The envelope is photographs of me, taken once every six months from when I moved in with Fredrick."
"Moved in with?" The judge repeated questioningly. Harry nodded.
"I'd been going to his house every day for a year and a half. On my sixth birthday, which was a Friday, by the way, he offered to let me live with him, and I said yes."
"Why did you go to his house?"
"I'd go every day after school, and he'd help me with my homework, and give me something to eat. Between him and school, I never starved, but I was hungry. Dudley stole my lunch a lot, and I usually didn't get dinner, and never breakfast. I bet they didn't ever report me missing until Sunday afternoon, when it became obvious I wasn't going to just show up again." After a few more questions, the judge retired, going to look over the new information. Harry carried his laptop over to Fredrick and curled up on his lap, feet braced against his knees, setting the computer on the table in front of him. Maria frowned, but Harry glared at her so fiercely she decided discretion was the better part of valor and left him alone, making a mental note to get the boy into counseling for Stockholm syndrome. The boy obviously had an unhealthy attachment to his kidnapper.
Harry stared blindly out the window of the smallest bedroom of the Dursley house, thinking. Fredrick hadn't gotten off, because he did know he wasn't supposed to be around kids unsupervised for another year and a half, because he had taken in some girl who had gotten raped, and they thought he might have done it. He had taken Harry in anyway because he couldn't stand to see kids getting hurt.
He rolled his eyes as his aunt pounded on the doorframe and stiffly announced that dinner was ready. Since the trial three days ago, they were being watched so closely that they barely dared talk to him for fear of saying something wrong and getting him and Dudley taken away. He was sure that it wasn't loosing him that they were worried about.
Honestly, the only reason he was here was because he had gotten a letter of acceptance from his parents' alma mater, and he was leaving in September. If he had been going to the public school, he would have been placed in state custody to remove him from a potentially abusive situation. He snorted to himself. The state department was a joke. Was potential abuse four moths of the year actually enough better than potential abuse all the time that it was really ok to leave him here?
He made his way to the dining room, sitting at the end of the table, with a healthy amount of space between him and his relatives. Just as he finished filling his plate, there was a brisk rapping at the door. Harry stood before anyone could say anything, knowing that none of them would be willing to interrupt their meal when it was probably someone wanting to talk to him anyway.
He opened the door to see a tall, dour man in a severe black suit. "I'm looking for a Mr. Harry James Potter," he said coldly.
"You've found him," Harry said cheerfully, ignoring the man's sour disposition.
"You are Harry Potter?" he said disbelievingly. Harry nodded.
"Won't you come in? Aunt won't like it if I keep you standing on the step." His tone indicated how little he wanted any interaction with his aunt. The man snorted, but stepped gracefully over the sill with the air of a man conferring a great favor. "Be right back." He darted into the dining room, grabbing his plate and sticking it in the fridge, so his aunt couldn't say she thought he was done and throw it away. She'd done that before.
"Who is it, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked nastily. Harry shrugged.
"Wants to talk to me. Should we go to the sitting room, or my room?" he asked indifferently, already knowing the answer.
"Dudders and I will be in the sitting room watching the telly," Vernon said predictably. "It's bound to be quieter in your room." Harry nodded.
"I'm sorry for the interruption, Uncle," he said softly as he headed out the door. He really wasn't, but apologizing seemed to calm his uncle, so it wasn't too much of a burden.
The man was seated stiffly on a paisley couch. Harry chuckled. "You look distinctly uncomfortable," he said, amusement in his voice.
"Very observant."
"Come up to my room. It's not so…" Harry glanced around the room, "suburbian." The man smirked slightly, but stood to follow him. Harry sighed in relief as they passed into his room, and sank down onto his bed, leaving the single chair for the other man.
Harry glanced around the room, trying to see it from a stranger's point of view. The walls and ceiling were a deep, rich blue, and the trimming, carpet, and the inside of the door were silver. His aunt had given him fifty pounds to make changes to the room, so that he wouldn't have a bare room like he had before he'd left. It seemed that the people from the state had only accepted it because at five, the only time he would be in his room was when he was put to bed. The paint and carpet had been new, but someone had given him the sturdy dark walnut bed and desk at a garage sale, and come to help him set it up. The desk chair had been five pounds at a second-hand store.
"At least someone in this blasted house has some taste," the man commented, stepping across the plush carpet that had taken the majority of his money.
"Thank you, sir." The man glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
"You did this?" Harry nodded.
"When Aunt came in to see what I'd done with the room, she said something about mother being the same even without the influence of 'that horrible boy'." Harry drew little quotes in the air, and the man snorted.
"She would. Never an accepting person, your aunt. I still fail to see why the old man placed you here."
"You knew my mother?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Why would you think that?"
"Because you obviously knew my aunt, from what you said, and if you didn't like her, which was also apparent, then you must have known my mother, because there's no other reason that you would be around her." There was a long silence.
"Yes, I knew your mother, and she is surely laughing at me." He sighed. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning."
"A name would be appreciated, among other things."
"Indeed. My name is Severus Snape. I will, of course, expect you to call me sir or professor, since I am an instructor at Hogwarts, where you will be attending. I've been sent to answer any questions you might have, since you haven't been raised in the magical world, and may be confused." He said this in a condescending tone, making Harry frown.
"What's to understand? Magic's real, and I'm gonna learn how to do it." He tilted his head. "Actually, I do have a question though. Could you tell me about my parents? From what I've been able to get out of my aunt, they met at school, so you must have known both of them if you knew my mother." Severus' mouth tightened, but he had sworn to Minerva before he had come here that he would give the boy a chance, and it was only natural that he would want to know about the parents he had never met.
"Your father was an arrogant brat, who thought he owned the world and could command everything in it. He was an only child and he was terribly indulged. I don't think he knew the meaning of the phrase 'you may not' before he entered Hogwarts. He and his friends played cruel pranks on anyone they didn't like, and they formed dislike easily. Your mother, however, was a sweet and gentle person. I shall never understand what she saw in him." Harry nodded slowly, obviously adding his words to his mental imagining of his parents. Severus nodded in satisfaction when he didn't immediately spring to defend his father, as his father would have done. Despite his looks, he was his mother's child in temperament.
"What do you know of your history, child?" Severus asked after a moment.
"Nothing. I couldn't find anything about them online other than a record of my mother's birth, and I don't trust anything my aunt and uncle tell me." Severus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on that, instead explaining the common view of Harry in the wizarding world. He even went so far as to vaguely define what the public reaction to Harry going to any house would be, so that Lily's son wouldn't be unprepared when he entered Hogwarts. Finally, he stood, announcing that he would be back at ten in the morning to take Harry shopping for his school supplies, and he had better be ready and waiting outside.