AN: So I'm really sorry for the wait for this chapter XP It wanted to be written perfectly, and when I FINALLY got that done, then my new computer crashes. I seem to be a cause for technical malfunction lol.

Thankfully I wrote this chapter and most of the next on paper already, therefore the loss was manageable.

As always I'm so happy that you all are reading this fanfiction, and would like to thank every person who does.

Disclaimer: I own the paper this story was written on, but not the pen. The computer isn't even mine, so I DO NOT own Harry Potter, or anything that pertains to it. Thank you.

Warning: Unfortunately the story seemed to take a mind of its own, therefore it will get darker before it gets better. I will maintain putting appropriate warnings with each chapter, so no one should be surprised XP

For this chapter, mentions of abuse, and mention of rape/non-con (non-graphic)

-Chapter Five-

-=Doubts and Discovery=-

Harry talked little that weekend. Once the initial talk with Snape was over, Harry had little else to say. He simply sat at the little table, quill scratching against the parchment.

At one point Snape ventured to ask what he was writing, but all he got in reply was "I don't know".

The boy was becoming frustrating. He vaguely understood Dumbledore's reasoning with needing Harry to stay in his quarters, but with his ever thin patience about to snap like a dry twig, it was all he could do to not wring the boy's neck.

He knew, however, how counterproductive that would be. Potter had yet to admit out loud what a few of the staff were sure of. Oh, he admitted that he'd fallen, and that once or twice he'd been cuffed by his uncle. He admitted to a nasty bruise across his face, but when the subject of how it got there was breached, the child would firmly shut his mouth or change the subject. That is, when he was talking.

Snape began to worry that besides being angry at the adults, he was depressed. Not that he'd really cared about the boy's feelings, but what effected the boy's welfare was certainly something to monitor.

What really threw him off, however, was Harry's sudden interest in going back to his quarters in the Gryffindor towers and seeing his friends. For nearly a day and a half the child remained listless, almost haunted, and suddenly he wanted to go back to his friends. Snape chalked it up to comfort, because Potter mustn't really have been interested so much as now he felt like a fish out of water.

"So?" Harry asked, breaking Snape from his musings. "When can I go see them?" 'Or am I still in trouble?' Harry thought harshly. How could one stupid skipped class and being tired in detention have turned into this?

"I believe the headmaster has divulged that you had to return home for the weekend as there was a death in your family." The dark haired man replied, making his way through the room to the tiny kitchen.

It wasn't as though Snape needed to cook, they had house elfs aplenty; but he preferred tea made by his own hand after a long, grueling day.

The confused Gryffindor put the stopper back into his ink bottle and wiped the quill on his shirt.

"I understand those clothes aren't in the best of shape, Potter, but I will ask you to refrain from making them worse. You can use something else to wipe your quill on…. No! Not your pants either." He snapped, frustrated.

Professor McGonagall had been kind enough to bring a few sets of the boy's clothes; even a pair of night clothes. Severus had taken offense to the fact that she had picked the rattiest of what he had to own, and even brought him a shirt with a Quidditch team's playing across the front. He'd come to the conclusion long ago that the male children of the Potter line had no taste in casual wear. Even the Weasley boy had eyed the shirt with something akin to disgust the first time Potter had warn it, but the look was short and actually well hidden.

"Who died?" Harry asked when he entered the kitchen, a slight hint of concern in his voice.

"It's a counter measure." The potions master replied, nearly slamming the kettle onto the stove. How could the child show sympathy to that family after… he continued. "No one has died, but with your little stunt and what we've found out, it would be best to keep you out of the paper, and any other prying eye."

"What have you found out?" Harry pressed, eyebrows narrowed and clipped his sentence sharply.

"I'll thank you to keep yourself in check while you're in my quarters, Potter. I won't be spoken to like that." Did this child play dumb or was he competing with Longbottom? "And to answer your question, we have found out that you have come by your injuries by curious means. The staff agrees that we need to find out the extent of your… injuries."

Harry scoffed, "I'm a quidditch player who falls down. And I have a rough cousin who doesn't understand just how much bigger he is than me." 'Or his mum.' Inwardly he was reeling. They couldn't know everything. "So if that's all you people are worried about, then you should just let it go. I doubt that you people show Seamus this much attention when Crabbe or Goyle..."

"Potter." Snape slammed his open hand onto the countertop.

The boy flinched. It wasn't extremely visible, and most would have missed it. Most people, though, weren't trained to notice small details as Severus was. "So you're telling me you wanted all the adults to take notice of a few bruises because your guardian's won't reprimand their son when he gets heavy handed?"

Harry squared his shoulders. "Yeah, so what?"

Harry's mind was screaming at him that he was going about this all wrong. Hadn't he wanted to be taken out of the Dursley home? Hadn't he wanted someone to notice that this last summer, something had changed with his Uncle? That the walrus of a man had caused him to bleed? But at the same time, he couldn't really divulge all the information they wanted. It just wasn't possible.

"So all those things you said about your uncle getting very mad and things getting out of hand weren't true? That you are actually fine in that house, and that you lied?"

"Yes." Harry replied flatly, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow like Snape had. Best take the safe route.

"Go to your dorm, Potter." Snape said icily, his voice wavering as though he were trying his hardest to keep from yelling. "I do not enjoy being lied to, and will not have you acting like a child. Gather your things, we're leaving."

Harry turned without protest, a lump in his throat. How stupid were adults to believe him when he said that he had been lying? And why did they TRUST him?

He gathered what few things he had, his clothes, a quill and some paper, and stuffed it into his homework bag as best he could.

"We will floo into the headmaster's office. From there you can be on your way. And I want the truth by the time you come to class tomorrow, written out. Understood? I do not care how long, but I want the full truth by the time class begins."

"Harry!" Hermione called. She ran to Harry, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. "Where have you been?"

"Ms. Granger," The headmaster smiled, waving. "I trust that he will tell you as soon as he can breath. May I have a moment?" He motioned for her to follow him.

She let Harry go. "Ron's upstairs." She said shortly. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to see you, I'll be right back."

Harry nodded, but watched the two walk down the hall a ways, then stop and begin talking. He hesitated, but walked up the stairs to put his things away.

"Mate!" Harry said, sitting up in his bed. "Where've you been? Hermione's been driving me bonkers and we asked McGonagall what was going on but no one…"

"Calm down," Harry laughed, setting his bag down and began sorting through his bag and putting things away. "Come downstairs with me, and I'll tell you both."

"Ok." Ron said.

"What's wrong with you and Hermione?" Harry asked, pulling his second shirt off and grabbing his robes.

Ron frowned. "It's nothing. Why are you wearing so many shirts?" Ron asked as Harry pulled his sweater on.

"Cold… it was uh, cold when I went home."

"Home?"

"Come on, I'll explain downstairs."

As the pair climbed down the stairs, Hermione had just climbed back through the portrait.

"What'd the headmaster want?" Harry asked quickly, then paused. He shouldn't look so interested.

"Oh, just to talk about my classes," Hermione waved her hand back and forth in front of her face. "But that's not important. Why were you gone all weekend?"

Harry scratched his arm, thinking hard. He'd come up with an intricate lie, and was sure they'd believe him, but he couldn't really lie to his friends anymore. He felt bad enough about how much he'd lied already.

"You have to promise you can't tell." Harry said, looking around the room. There was a small corner not occupied, and what few students that were still in the tower were all sitting comfortably by the fire.

"We won't, Harry." Ron agreed immediately.

Hermione frowned and followed them to the corner. "About what, Harry?"

"You can't tell, Hermione…" Harry pleaded.

"Come on, we only have a few minutes before we have to go to the dining hall, Herms." Ron sighed, nudging her with his elbow.

She sighed, but nodded. "Fine. Now what's wrong?"

Harry glanced around the room again, then began. "Over the summer my uncle got really angry and… well he was meaner this summer, so he pushed me really hard and knocked me down. I broke my wrist. He accidentally hit me too, but I think that was just because he was really frustrated. Anyway, the teachers have been following me around and Snape has been asking me all kinds of questions."

"That git?" Ron interrupted.

"Quiet, Ronald. Let him finish."

"Yeah, but I'm fine and I don't want them worrying. I just made him really mad blowing his sister up…"

"But that was an accident."

"Ron…" Hermione glared, and the red head rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but you know how Percy gets when he's really mad and says things he doesn't mean."

"Harry, that's different." Hermione interjected, frowning. "You can say something, but hurting a child isn't ok. That's abuse."

Harry paled, but the other two took no notice, because Ron had glared at Hermione and she rolled her eyes at him.

"It's not… Hermione everything's ok, ok? I'm fine."

"Come on." Ron said. "Dinner time…"

Thankful that Ron had enough sense to move on to something else, he started following Ron. "Hermione, you promise not to say anything, right?"

With a heavy sigh, she nodded. "But if it gets bad… then you HAVE to tell. And I swear if I find out…"

"Everything will be fine, Hermione. Like I said, it was just an accident."

She followed him to the great hall.

He was supposed to write the truth to Snape, but every time he started writing it, it sounded pathetic. So what if he'd been knocked around a bit, weren't all children? He found himself alluding to things he really didn't want to think about. He crumbled the paper into a tight ball, willing the memories to go with it.

When a few other boys came into the room, he stuffed it into his pocket, and wrote what he thought the teachers should hear; if he couldn't tell a half truth, he might as well tell a full lie. They needed to get off his back, and they really didn't need to know everything.

So when Harry went to take a bath, (it was his safest bet since it looked like no one else was going to tonight) he didn't notice the paper fall out of his pocket.

When he left the room, Ron picked it up and read it. His face paled considerably, but he didn't say anything. Putting it into his bag, he waited for Harry to come back. When he couldn't find anything to say, he lay down and went to a fitful sleep.

To say that the weekend with Snape had curbed some of the animosity between the two was an overstatement. The next day in potions hadn't fared very well.

Harry put the paper on the desk and sat down. Class began with instructions on the board, brewing the potion, turning it in, then writing down the homework.

"Potter, stay." Snape said shortly.

"We'll wait for you outside," Hermione said, then pulled Ron from the room.

"Yes?" Harry said. When Snape shot him a glare, he added a very snarky "Sir?"

"I thought I told you to give me the truth. What is this?" He pushed the parchment back at Harry.

"The truth?" Harry made a face.

Snape rubbed the side of his head. "I said I will not have you lie to me. Why, pray tell, have you written this rabble? I told you I didn't care for the length, but I see that that kindness was wasted. So tomorrow I expect to have another parchment fully explaining the truth. If you lie again, and write… this," he gestured to the parchment like it was animal droppings, "I will require a length, and you will have detention again. Understood?"

Grabbing the parchment off the tabletop, Harry glared. "Yes, sir." He shot back, then stalked out.

"Come on," He told his friends, a very sour expression on his face.

Ron paused. "I forgot something in the room, hold on. I'll just meet you in the next class, ok?" The red head disappeared back into the room.

Hermione rolled her eyes, saying something like 'Would forget the colour of his hair if it weren't for a mirror,' and led Harry to their next class.

"What is it that you need, Weasley?" Snape asked while he erased the board.

"Um… sir… I found…" Ron frowned, gripping the folded parchment in his pocket and looking back.

"You found what?" The potions teacher snapped, turning around to face the boy.

"Well, I sorta overheard you telling Harry that he needed to write a parchment about something, and I think that's what he was doing last night."

Snape said nothing, but raised an eye brow and huffed.

"Well, it dropped out of his pocket when he went to take a shower last night, and I read it. I thought it was a love note or something…" He added hurridly. In truth he wanted to see if he could use Harry's homework for help… "But, what I found was, well…" He frowned and pulled the paper out of his pocket. "I don't think Harry would joke about something like this." He reached out to give it to the Professor.

Snape unfolded it, his interest piqued. His eyes scanned the scribble, unmistakably the student in question's handwriting. He paused, his face devoid, and set it on the table. "Have you told anyone you found this?"

"No, sir. I tried to ask Harry about it last night, but if it was true I didn't want to break my promise…"

"Promise?"

Ron froze, heart speeding up. Harry hadn't known about the paper, so he couldn't feel too guiltly about handing it over, but he'd promised not to tell about the talk.

"Shall I get the headmaster?" Snape asked sharply, irritated. Didn't the child realize the severity of the situation?

"I… Harry told us something about this summer." He couldn't let Harry get hurt. Yelling was one thing, but this? "He said his uncle broke his wrist and hit him a little, and that you were all worried about something and that's why he was gone all weekend."

Snape let the information sink in, then straightened, (if at all possible) even more. "Please go to your next class, Mr. Weasley. And do not mention this to Potter if at all possible, or you will find that he may get very upset."

Ron nodded, but already knew all of this. He paused. "Do… do you think it's true?"

"What," Snape asked sharply.

Ron looked down. "What he wrote. Do you think it… that it happened?"

"I hope not," Snape whispered, sounding pained.

Ron took his leave then, trudging out of the room.

Thanking whatever founder he had to, Snape was glad that that was the last potions class he had until after lunch. Snatching the paper from the desk, Snape hurried to the headmaster's office.

If any students thought it odd that the Professor was practically running through the halls, or if they stared, Snape took no notice.

Mumbling the password, and very irritated at the headmaster chose them from a list of candy, he walked into Albus' office.

"Ah, Severus." Albus said, his voice musical and light. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Snape slapped the crinkled, folded parchment onto the desk in front of him. "He will not go back." Severus said. "Potter will not go back to that place this summer, or any summer. Ever."

Albus frowned and started opening the folded paper. Snape didn't demand things, even when very irritated. He didn't yell, or forget his niceties. Not unless he was extremely frustrated.

The bespectacled man's eyes moved down the parchment, the hand against the desk becoming clenched the further he read. He set the it down, pushing his glasses up and pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes. What he really wanted to do was burn most of Private Drive down.

"How did you come by this?" He finally asked Snape.

"Ronald Weasley brought it to me after class. He said Harry had told Ms. Granger and himself earlier that evening that his uncle was the cause of a few injuries over the summer, and he wished us, the staff that is, not to know."

"Why didn't he tell us?" Dumbledore asked, more rhetorical than anything.

"Why didn't he… do you understand what you are saying!" Snape bellowed. "How do you tell a child to explain something like that. How could he even begin to understand what happened to him?" His breath came shortly.

"He could have let somebody know…"

"He thinks he DESERVES IT!" The potions teacher slammed his hands on the desk and glared.

Albus slumped. "Go get Minerva…" He said.

Snape straightened, then turned and stalked out of the room.

"Potter," Professor McGonagall said right after class ended. "May I speak with you?"

Harry sighed, irritated. What was with teachers today? He nodded. "Meet you guys later," Harry said, setting his bag back down on his desk.

"I need you to come with me. No, leave your things here. We can get them later, and we don't have time to take you your dorm to put them away."

Harry frowned. "Are we going somewhere?"

"The headmaster asked me to bring you in." She said shortly. She applauded herself for keeping her face straight when all she wanted to do was yell at the boy. Keeping something so important to himself…

They walked in silence, but instead of going to the headmaster's office, they turned down a different hall.

Harry frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. Where was she taking him? After a few more halls, the destination became pretty clear, and Harry's heart raced. Why did the Headmaster want to see him… in the hospital wing?

They entered the room, and Harry immediately saw Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and Snape towards the end of the room, speaking quietly by a window. Harry turned and made for the door, but McGonagall was quicker. With a flick of her wand, the door was shut and locked.

"Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry's fists clenched and he whirled around. "Which one told you." He hissed.

Pomfrey and McGonagall looked taken aback, but Harry didn't care.

"So you're not denying it?" Snape cut in.

"Denying what." Harry sneered, a very close impression of Snape. If the situation weren't so serious, Dumbledore would have laughed.

"Calm down, Harry," the headmaster lifted his hand slightly.

"No. Which. One. Told. You."

"Neither," The old man sighed, holding a misused piece of parchment up.

Harry eyed it for a moment, confused. "What's that got to…" He froze. That was the paper he had written... but hadn't he thrown that away?

"I… it was a joke…" Harry said, his voice losing the determination and anger. His face paled, and he looked sick. "I wanted to make… make Snape angry and wri-write more lies." His breathing came short and forced. Why wouldn't his voice hold? Why was he shaking?

No, no, no, no, this was all wrong. Why couldn't adults leave well enough alone?

Harry was yanked back from the doors by a strong pair of arms; he didn't realize he'd been pounding and yanking at it until then.

"Stop it… let me go," Harry struggled.

"Who did it, Potter." It was Snape that was holding him. Not roughly, and he wasn't hurting him, but he wouldn't let him go. Why wouldn't he let him go?

"No one… it was a joke…"

"Potter," Snape said firmly.

When Harry struggled more, Snape sighed. He wanted to make this as painless as possible, to try to distance Harry from it, but it wasn't working.

"Harry, who raped you?" Snape was glad he was holding Harry, because the boy's legs gave way then. Snape noted that the boy was light, because when he pulled him up and set him on the bed, he hardly exerted himself.

Albus was glad that the room was empty except for the four teachers, now. Harry was shaking, was sobbing into Snape's robes, and wouldn't let go.

"Harry," Minerva said softly, stepping forward. "Was it… was it your uncle?"

Harry looked up immediately. "No! God no!" he shook his head, then realizing the situation, let the potion's Professor go.

Tears still ran down his cheeks, and he was still shaking, but he seemed more in control of himself now, even if it was only a little bit.

"Harry," Madam Pomfrey stepped forward, holding a vial of something. "I need you to drink this."

"It's not true," Harry said stubbornly, pulling his feet onto the bed. "It was a j-joke."

"Please just drink this, then we can talk, ok?"

Harry eyed the potion. What more had he to lose? He downed it quickly, then gave it to the healer. Immediately everything felt… light and fluffy. The heavy feeling that pressed down on him, the anger, the guilt, the pain all seemed far away now.

"How do you feel?" Pomfrey asked.

"Calm…" Harry said.

"That was a calming draught, Harry, so you should feel that way for awhile, all right?"

The boy nodded.

"We need to talk about the note, Harry." Albus finally said, stepping forward.

Harry looked him in the eye. The worry had made it so hard to talk about it, but now… it all seemed so stupid to worry about it. He was safe at Hogwarts. "Ok."

"Harry, did you lie about the things you wrote in the note?"

"No."

"And about how someone… hurt you in a different way than hitting you?"

"No…"

"No what? Was it a lie or the truth?"

Harry frowned and tried to remember all the reasons he shouldn't be talking about this, but they didn't exist anymore. "It was the truth."

McGonagall and Pomfrey stiffened, and the healer couldn't think of what to say. The realization was, beyond disturbing.

"Who was it, Harry?" Snape said, and Harry looked over to the potions master. He looked perplexed, even upset. And although Harry had cried on him, he was still sitting beside him. He was even rubbing his back. It felt nice.

"Who was it?"

Harry blinked. "My cousin's… his friend's older brother…"

Again he searched for a reason to quit talking, but there was nothing. "I was walking past Dudley and his friend's at the park, and they started to kinda talk to me." Everything was coming out , like when one feels sick and everything comes up.

"Then his older brother comes over and tells them to stop, and tells me he'll take me home. That he just had to stop at his house. And I should go into his house for a minute just in case they followed me. But… he dragged me to his room and…"

"Enough," Snape said. Even the mild potion wasn't working to stop the emotions; the boy started talking faster and started crying again.

"Here," Madam Pomfrey said, handing Harry a second vile. "It'll increase the potency of the first potion, but not too much. Ok?"

Harry downed it quickly, wanting the fear to go away, and within moments, felt better. But he felt drowsy…

"Harry, don't go to sleep yet, ok?"

But he couldn't stay awake; he was so tired. A strong arm around him was the last thing he registered before sleep claimed him.

McGonagall stood there, silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

"How could we have not known?" The healer whispered, wiping her own tears away.

Snape lay Harry down.

A small child. How could anyone do that?

"What do we do with him?" Snape asked.

"I have a private bed in my room for… well for really bad cases. I could put him in there for the night."

"That would be best. Will you take care of him, Poppy?" Albus asked.

She nodded.

"We need to discuss this. McGonagall… Severus. My office?"

The pair nodded and followed the headmaster out, both sparing a glance at the boy as they left.

-Chapter End-

AN: Omg…. I feel so bad for torturing Harry like that XP

Please, if you have any comments feel free to leave them. Criticism is welcome, flames are not. I did warn you before the beginning of the chapter, so don't be angry with me.