Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.
Sticks, Stones and Broken Bones
Chapter 11: Off to see the Wizard
"Harry," Mr Weasley called from the kitchen, and Harry raised his head to look towards the door from his position on the sofa, confusion in his eyes. "Could we speak to you for a moment?"
Harry had spent most of the morning with Ron, mostly playing chess as he tried to put his exhausting late night talk with Mr Weasley behind him, but it appeared that his brief reprieve was over, and he sighed as he mentally tried to prepare himself for what was probably yet another difficult discussion.
He turned his head, green eyes immediately noticing the expression of confusion on Ron's face; it seemed that the redhead had no idea what Mr Weasley could want with his friend, and for that Harry was grateful. It was bad enough that he had embarrassed himself in front of one person; he didn't want to look weak in front of his new friend as well.
After the conversation he had had last night with Mr Weasley, Harry had been feeling slightly more relaxed in the Weasley household. Of course, his doubts hadn't disappeared overnight – they probably wouldn't ever leave him completely – but he did feel safer now. His future was still uncertain, and he had so much information still to deal with, things that he had been avoiding even thinking about up until now, but in a strange way, he actually felt like he might be able to deal with it all now.
Or, at least, that he wasn't completely alone in dealing with it. He supposed that the embarrassment he felt at being so emotional was a fair trade really for the knowledge that he wasn't alone here.
Harry got up quickly, abandoning the game of chess he had been playing with his friend as he walked cautiously into the kitchen to meet with Mr and Mrs Weasley. Nerves wracked his frame but he pushed them away. He was safe here. Mr Weasley had promised he would be safe here.
"Harry," Mrs Weasley said fondly, and Harry could already feel himself becoming attached to the kindly woman. Today was only Harry's second day in her home, but already she had shown him more care and, dare he say...love than his Aunt had ever shown him in the entire ten years that he had lived with his relatives.
Mrs Weasley smiled at him as he walked slowly through the doorway, and Harry felt himself relax even more, though his instincts still meant that he was slightly tense, especially when he realised that both Weasley parents had their attention completely focused on him. It was a little unnerving, especially after two years on the streets where he had been essentially ignored and treated as if he was nothing better than dirt. Come to think of it, his life at the Dursleys hadn't been much better. There, he had been compared more to a slug though...
"Sit down, dear," she said softly, interrupting his rather morbid, depressing musing, and after shaking himself rather forcibly to dispel the memories that he'd rather not think about, Harry followed her instructions, taking a seat at the kitchen table opposite both Ron's parents.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Mr Weasley asked kindly, and Harry felt himself blush slightly as he looked into the older man's eyes. He definitely felt embarrassed by how much he had let slip last night, and how he had acted in front of Mr Weasley. He blamed tiredness on his lack of inhibitions; he usually controlled his emotions better than that, but something about the casual kindness with which Mr Weasley had talked to him, reassuring him and listening to him without judgement, even feeding him without getting annoyed about being disturbed, had undone something in Harry.
"I'm fine," Harry said softly, and he almost meant it. He kept his gaze on the table, fiddling nervously with his hands as he waited for one of them to speak.
"That's good," Mr Weasley said, and as Harry looked up, he was surprised to see that the man actually seemed as if he meant it. Harry chanced a glance at Mrs Weasley and judging by the lack of surprise on her face at the conversation, the two had already talked about what had happened late last night. Oddly, Harry didn't mind all that much. It kind of felt as if they were just worried about him. Butterflies seemed to fly through his stomach at the very thought.
"Now, Harry," Mr Weasley continued, as Mrs Weasley placed a plate of shortbread biscuits in front of him. After an encouraging nod from Ron's mum he took one and returned his attention to Mr Weasley, who began to talk once more.
"I trust you remember during our conversation last night, when I mentioned I'd be meeting with Professor Dumbledore today to discuss your education?"
Harry nodded, barely concealing the anger he still felt towards the old Headmaster, regardless of how sorry the old man was. Curiosity did rise in him, however, eventually overtaking the anger. Truth be told, he was desperate to find out what was going to happen to him now. He probably couldn't stay here forever, and if he was ever going to make something of his life, he's need to go to school and learn something.
Harry sat up straighter in his chair, pushing away the small amount of anger he still felt towards Professor Dumbledore as he turned his attention fully to Mr Weasley. He had a feeling that Dumbledore was desperate to get him enrolled in the school, and he cursed his own lack of control over the whole question of his future.
"Well, I spoke to him this morning," Mr Weasley said, frowning slightly as he looked at Harry's face and at the anger he could detect there, "and he's agreed to set up a meeting this afternoon to discuss how your education will proceed."
"Okay," Harry said unsurely, confused as to why Mr Weasley was telling him this. His future wasn't any more concrete than it had been last night, so he couldn't quite work out why they had called him in here. What did they want to talk to him about?
His question was soon answered however, and with it came a strange sense of forboding.
"Professor Dumbledore suggested that perhaps you would wish to join the meeting," Mr Weasley told him, and Harry's eyebrows rose up slightly in surprise. He certainly hadn't seen that one coming. "I'm ashamed that I didn't think of it myself. It is your future after all."
"Oh," said Harry lamely, emotions running wild in his chest. He had never, not once in his entire life, had an adult consider how he felt about something. Decisions had either been made for him, or he had made them himself without the help of an adult, but never had things been discussed, as if he actually had a choice in the matter. Everything had always seemed to have been forced onto him, and he felt his brain throb slightly as he tried to comprehend this new development.
"Now, Harry," Mrs Weasley said kindly as she took note of his reaction. "You don't have to decide anything for the moment. No one will force you to go anywhere you don't want to. I'll make us some lunch and you can think it over."
"The meeting isn't until three this afternoon," Mr Weasley interjected softly. "So you'll have plenty of time to decide what you want to do."
"The meeting's at Hogwarts? The magic school?" Harry clarified tentatively, relieved to find that his voice wasn't shaking despite his turbulent emotions.
Mr Weasley simply nodded, hiding a small smile as he noticed the excitement light up in the young boy's eyes when he spoke about the school. It was clear what Harry wanted to do; the problem was going to be convincing the teachers. That, and finding a solution that suited everybody. Harry still needed a lot of help and support.
"Who else will...be there?" Harry asked quietly, although he was afraid of the answer. He was having enough trouble dealing with one family at the moment; he didn't really fancy being paraded in front of a huge group of strangers.
"It's a school matter, so all the Heads of Houses will be present, along with Professor Dumbledore and myself," answered Mr Weasley.
"You'll be there?" Harry asked, hope shining in his eyes despite the worry rising in his chest.
"We're your guardians now, Harry," Mr Weasley said, a thought confirmed with a nod from his wife beside him. "I'd do the same for any one of my children."
"Do they...do they know about me?" Harry asked nervously, not even able to process that last thought yet.
Mr Weasley frowned at the question, but he answered anyway, although it was clear that he wasn't quite certain what Harry wanted to know.
"They know that you are Harry Potter," Mr Weasley began, but sensing that there was more to the question, he continued. "They know some of your history at the Dursleys, and they know that you ran away, but I don't think they know where you've been for the last two years, nor how you have been living since the night you ran away."
"Oh, er," Harry began, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He could handle that. "I...I'd like to go then..."
"Are you sure, Harry?" Mr Weasley asked him, and he nodded confidently, trying desperately to push away his anxiousness.
Harry had never been given the opportunity to have a say in his own life before, except when he had been on the streets, and there his options had been severely limited, almost to the point where he had had no real options anyway. Now that he had been presented with this opportunity, however difficult it might be to face four new strangers, he knew he couldn't afford to pass it up.
"Okay, then" Mr Weasley said with a proud smile, and Harry gave him a tentative yet sincere smile in return.
After moment though, as if reminded of something else, Mr Weasley's expression grew serious once again.
"There's something else, Harry," Mr Weasley began as he sighed deeply. "We'd like you to get a medical check-up from a Professional Healer,"
Harry began protest but Mr Weasley raised a hand to continue, and Harry found that the words were stuck in his throat as looked at the two of them, and how much they wanted him to do this.
"Now hear me out, Harry," Mr Weasley said firmly, although he made sure to make it clear that they weren't going to force Harry into anything. "We know you're still in pain from the fight you were in, but on top of that, we need to make sure you're as healthy as possible. And I'm afraid neither of us are medically trained. We just want to know that you're okay."
"Okay...I mean...it makes sense, I suppose," Harry agreed reluctantly, as he moved his shoulder gently, still finding the area incredibly sore. He knew they meant no harm in it, and that they were only doing it because they cared about him. Oddly, he felt that strange fluttering in his belly again at the thought of someone actually wanting him to be okay.
"So are we going to a hospital then?" he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. As much as he knew they were only trying to help, Harry hated hospitals with a passion. They didn't exactly hold good memories for him.
"Actually, since the meeting is at Hogwarts, I thought we could swing by the hospital wing there and visit Madame Pomfrey," Arthur told him. "She's the school nurse. I believe she stays at the school during the first few weeks of the holiday to replenish the Potion supplies, so I'm sure she'll be available to give you a check-up. Is that okay?"
"I suppose so," Harry said quietly. It wasn't ideal, but he supposed it was better that a hospital and he didn't want to disappoint the Weasley parents by refusing to go, not when they had done so much for him in the last few days.
"Thank you, Harry," Mrs Weasley said as she patted him gently on the shoulder. He did his best to supress the flinch that flared up naturally at the touch, but he was sure Mr Weasley had noticed.
"One more thing, Harry, and then you can get back to your chess game," Mr Weasley said, and this time he had a slight smile on his face. "Here."
He held out his hand towards Harry and the black haired boy found his hand shaking slightly as he tentatively took the object that was being offered to him.
"Glasses?" Harry said, desperately trying to keep at bay the tears that he could feel forming in the corners of his eyes.
The glasses had round lenses, but unlike his old, ugly pair, these had an elegant gold frame to hold them in place. He felt his heart drop though, as he examined them properly. They were clearly made for an adult, and would definitely fall off his thin, gaunt face of he tried to put them on.
"We noticed that you seem to have a problem with your sight, Harry dear," Mrs Weasley said, her concern rising as he noticed the wide range of emotions that flitted across the black haired boy's face. "Short-sighted?"
Harry just nodded. He wasn't sure how he felt at the moment, and he certainly didn't have it in him to verbalise anything at the moment. He was sure his voice would crack, and he didn't want to show any weakness.
"As it happens, so am I," Mr Weasley said, pointing to his own pair, those on his face, before turning his attention to the pair Harry was holding. "These are an old pair of mine, but I don't mind if you borrow them - just until we can get you your own pair, of course. I know our prescriptions won't be the same, but at least it might be an improvement – "
"They won't fit," Harry said dejectedly, holding out his palm as he offered the glasses back to Mr Weasley. Mr Weasley simply smiled though, and raised his wand.
He muttered a strange word, and to Harry's amazement the glasses began to shrink until they became a size much more suited to his face.
"Wow," Harry said as he placed the glasses tentatively on his nose.
He couldn't prevent a smile from tugging at his lips as he looked at the magical household properly for the first time. His vision was still slightly blurry, but the change was so startling that he wondered how he had been managing without glasses at all.
"Thanks," he whispered, as he took in the faces of Ron's parents, looking at them properly for the first time without squinting. He had been right; they did have kind eyes.
Harry smiled; he could see again, and although it wasn't perfect, it did make him feel better about the upcoming meeting at the school. Nervousness still gripped at his stomach, but at least now he felt less vulnerable.
Maybe he could do this.
As he and Mr Weasley made their way quietly towards Dumbledore's office, despite the nervousness he felt regarding the upcoming meeting, Harry could barely contain his awe as he stared at moving paintings, moving staircases, and real ghosts, trying desperately to take it all in.
He was in a bloody great castle.
The place was like something out of a fairytale, and honestly, if Harry wasn't hadn't just gone through a very uncomfortable visit with the school nurse, he would've thought he was dreaming the whole thing up.
When they had first arrived at Hogwarts, it had been in an unspectacular, yet painful, heap on the floor of the hospital wing. Mr Weasley had assured him that it was perfectly safe and normal to throw himself into the green flames that had erupted in the Weasleys' fireplace that afternoon, but Harry had been very reluctant to believe him. In the end, he'd only done it because Mr Weasley had gone first and had returned to prove that it was indeed possible to survive the ordeal.
Although, in the end he had arrived safely, Harry still had no particular desire to repeat the experience.
Almost as soon as he had pulled himself off the cold, stone floor, shakily trying to dust the ashes from his borrowed clothes, he'd been accosted by a stern looking nurse, barely giving him time to readjust the glasses he had just been given.
Obviously having been expecting him, she had nudged him towards a hospital bed, and had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to strip out of his clothes and put on a hospital gown.
He had done so only because she looked the type of person who he shouldn't upset, but he had been unable to stop his limbs from shaking slightly at the action. Tense, he had waited on the bed nervously before she had come to greet him, and her expression upon seeing him did nothing to quell his fear. He didn't miss her eyes fly up to look at his forehead, to where his scar would be visible had it not been hiden behind his messy black hair. Neither did he miss the tears that prickled at her eyes, nor the short gasp that escaped from her lips when she took in his appearance properly for the first time since his abrupt arrival.
Two days at the Weasleys had not been nearly enough to erase the damage done by two years on the street.
The examination itself had been relatively painless, all things considered, although he had forced himself, halfway through, to close his eyes so that he didn't have to look at the pity in the nurse's eyes as she catalogued every abrasion, bruise and scar. He hated pity, almost as much as he hated being reminded of the past. It had been excruitated to be laid bare like that, each scar reminding him of a terrible incident, a past pain that he would rather forget. For years, he himself hadn't even been able to look at himself in the mirror, but it had felt nothing short of mortifying, somehow, for someone else to have seen him like that, even if she was a nurse, and a stranger at that. He had been completely vulnerable throughout the whole check-up, and he'd hated it.
She'd seemed to have collected herself by the end, and had told him, much more gently that time he noted, to put his clothes back on while she went to have a word with Mr Weasley. The Weasley patriarch had mercifully not been present for the ordeal.
Obviously, the news had not been good, especially judging by the concerned look on the man's face, although Harry wasn't entirely sure what Mr Weasley had been expected. He had been living on the streets after all; he wasn't exactly going to be the picture of health, but he felt fine now. Especially after drinking some of the disgusting potions that the nurse had given him.
Now, as he and Mr Weasley walked down the corridor without speaking, Harry forced himself to put the uncomfortable experience behind him as best he could. After all, he was feeling much better. Sighing slightly, Harry took in the small frown on Mr Weasleys face as they paused outside what appeared to be a statue. He was about to say something, to convince Mr Weasley that there was no need to worry and that he was actually fine, when the statue began to move.
Harry had become so accustomed to magic over the last couple of days that he almost didn't jump this time.
Shaking himself slightly as his cheeks reddened, embarrassed by his reaction, Harry simply followed Mr Weasley as he walked up the stairs that had appeared from nowhere, nervousness causing his stomach to do somersaults as his breathing grew slightly erratic. Bracing himself, Harry forced his legs to move, keeping his head down as he walked through the threshold and into the office.
The sight that greeted him nearly took his breath away.
Harry could barely contain his awe as he looked around the most incredible office he had ever seen. Ornaments, all clearly magical, seemed to cover every surface, and more moving portraits covered the walls.
He could have looked at the place for days, especially now that his vision wasn't plagued by blurriness. Curiosity swelled inside his chest, but a small cough brought his attention abruptly to the matter at hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr Weasley fidget slightly and it reassured him to see that perhaps he wasn't the only one who was nervous.
"Hello, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said softly. Harry simply nodded to him, still unsure of what to say to the man who had effectively condemned him to ten years of hell. It was clear that the old man felt remorse for his actions all those years ago, but that did nothing to erase the scars, both inside and out, that still plagued Harry to this day because of that man's decision.
Dumbledore simply looked at him sadly, but did not move to apologise again, and for that at least, Harry was grateful.
"This is Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape," Dumbledore said, as he pointed to each one in turn.
McGonagall was tall, with her dark hair pulled tightly in a bun, and Harry immediately got the impression that she was not a teacher to cross. There was an certain intelligence about her that intimidated him slightly, and he knew almost instinctively that she would be a hard person to lie to. Despite that though, there was something about her, something in her eyes, that led him to think that she was the kind of person you wanted on your side.
Flitwick was equally intimidating, but in a different way. Harry had become good at reading people over the years, and he immediately got the impression that despite his tiny size, Flitwick was a powerful Wizard. His keen eyes surveyed Harry, and the black-haired boy almost flinched at the intelligence contained within them.
Sprout was again different, but Harry immediately felt himself warm to her. The Professor's kind eyes looked at him with an expression that was as warm as a hug and equally welcoming. She was the friendliest of the four, but there was an intelligence within her that led Harry to believe that she was by no means the weakest.
It was the fourth Professor, Professor Snape, that almost had Harry reaching for the door. Tall, regal and intimidating, Harry unconsciously took a step back as his own green eyes met the black obsidian depths of the Professor's, eyes containing such intensity that Harry had to resist the urge to flinch. The look that the greasy haired Professor was giving him was enough to chill his blood. Harry wondered what he had done to make this man hate him so much...
"Now, shall we get down to business?" Dumbledore said cheerfully, although there was a strain in his voice that he couldn't quite keep hidden. Harry looked warily over to Snape, still unnerved by the hatred contained in the Professor's eyes, as he took a seat next to Mr Weasley at the table that had been provided for the meeting.
"Young, Harry," Dumbledore began. "Now, since we're gathered here to discuss your future, I think it's only appropriate if you begin. Tell us, Harry, what is it you want to discuss?"
What did he want? What a strange question. How on earth was he supposed to answer that?
"What do you mean, Sir?" Harry asked, careful to keep his tone polite as he fought down the surfacing doubts that were rising up in his mind.
"Well, let us begin at the beginning, so to speak," Dumbledore answered, surveying Harry from above his half moon spectacles. "What schooling have you experienced so far? How far are you in your muggle education for example?"
"Oh, er, right," Harry said nervously. "Well, I went to primary school, and I wasn't too bad there I suppose. Not top...but not t-too bad. After I...well, you know...I didn't really go to school. I can read and write though, I promise! I just need a bit of practice – "
"Harry, calm yourself," Dumbledore said gently. "That is quite alright."
"What experience do you have of magic, Mr Potter," asked the tall Witch curiously – McGonagall, Harry reminded himself.
"I...I've always been able to do...weird stuff, I suppose," Harry began uncertainly. "Although I didn't know it was magic at the time. When I was younger...when I still lived with...them...I used to do it all the time, but never on purpose. Once I...left, sometimes, I'd get this feeling, you know...in my chest, and I'd be able to...wish for things to happen..."
He ducked his head in embarrassment as the eyes of all the adults noticably widened.
"Albus," McGonagall said, shock clear in all their expressions as she turned to the Headmaster. "He's been doing conscious, wand-less magic. This is incredible!"
"Indeed it is," Dumbledore agreed, although he seemed slightly wary as he looked over to the frail boy in front of him. "How often did that happen Harry?"
"Not much, only when I was in...d-danger really," Harry answered quietly. "Sometimes it didn't even work..."
"Even so, Headmaster," piped up Flitwick excitedly. "The boy is powerful."
"There is no doubt," Dumbledore agreed, but there was a frown on his face that left fear in Harry's heart. "But that is simply not enough for him to enter the school this late into the admissions process. He is far too behind to be allowed to join children his own age, and yet I'm not comfortable placing him the new incoming students either."
Harry felt his heart drop.
"But surely, allowances could be made, Albus," Mr Weasley pleaded, and Harry raised his head in hope. "He'll need to be trained."
"Hogwarts is not the place for him to do it," Snape said bluntly, speaking for the first time since the meeting had begun. "That sort of power combined with the fact that he is untrained...it simply would not be...safe to have him around the other children."
"Albus, what if we trained him then?" McGonagall suggested, turning desperately towards the Headmaster. "Outside of the school. He is living with you, is he not, Arthur?"
"He is," Mr Weasley stated surely.
"Then, if Molly is willing, she could privately tutor Mr Potter during the week. Then at weekends, we could take it in turns to supervise his progress and give him specialised teaching in our respective fields. With the one-on-one tutoring, and a lot of hard work...why, I expect Mr Potter could be caught up with his age group in a year, maybe two."
Dumbledore seemed to be considering this, and Harry felt hope flare in his chest once again.
"Yes, I suspect that could work," Dumbledore mused before turning his attention to Harry. "Would you be willing to study, to work hard, and to do any homework you are set to the best of your ability?"
Harry gulped. "Y-Yes, Sir."
"Arthur," Dumbledore continued. "Would Molly be willing to undertake such a difficult responsibility, do you think?"
"I'll ask her, but I'm sure her answer would be yes," Arthur answered, sparing a small smile for Harry.
"Then I think we have a possible solution," Dumbledore said, and the relief was palpable in his expression. "We can finalise the details at a later date, but I think it's safe to say we have a solution that suits all. Once he has adequate control over his powers, and has reached the level of his peers, Mr Potter will be allowed to join the school officially."
"There is just one thing, Headmaster," sneered Snape, and Harry held his breath slightly as he looked towards the dark-haired Professor. "How can we be so certain that this boy is worth our time? How do we know that we can trust his word? He could have been living with Death Eaters for all we know -"
"Severus!" admonished McGonagall, but the greasy haired Professor carried on regardless, turning his cold eyes to Harry.
"It is a fair point Minerva. I'm sure we're all a little curious as to where Mr Potter has been hiding all these years," Snape said, and Harry felt his heart beating madly in his chest. "After all, we know very little about the boy. I'm not sure I, for one, entirely believe his story that he simply chose one day to...run away. Who helped you?"
"I've been...in London...on my own..." Harry answered as panic began to rise within him, extinguishing any hope he had left.
"But Mr Potter," Snape spat out, and this time Harry couldn't hold back a flinch. "How could you have possibly been in London, when you were supposed to be living with your relatives in Surrey?"
"They...I...I ran away," Harry answered feebly, as he took in the shocked faces of the other Professors. They, apparently, hadn't expected this interrogation either, but neither did they seem ready to stop it.
"So, boy, answer us this," the greasy-haired man sneered, his expression one of intense dislike. "How is that, as young as you were, you still managed to get all the way to London by yourself?"
He doesn't believe me, Harry thought desperately. He had been worried about this. From the moment a meeting had been suggested, Harry had been hampered with the feeling that he wouldn't be worth the trouble. He knew he was the supposed Boy-Who-Lived, but he also knew that he wasn't exactly hero material. He'd worried that once they realised that simple fact about him, they would toss his cares aside and leave him to fend for himself again.
Harry's breathing grew erratic, despite the fact that plans had already been made to accommodate him. Once they realised how much he had suffered, how broken he was now, would they go back on their word?
"Please, Sir," Harry said, trying to reason with the man, as he felt the opportunity of studying at this school trickle away from him. Teachers at his old school hadn't liked him either.
And no one there had ever believed him.
"Mr Potter," Snape said patronisingly. "Your story is simply not possible. You were a small child. You had no money. You would have died in hours -"
"I nearly did die!" Harry exclaimed angrily. He had gone through too much in his life to let this bitter, angry man ruin the one opportunity he had to make things better.
"And yet you did not," Snape sneered, talking to the room as if he was a prosecuter trying to convince a jury. "You are lying, Mr Potter. You could not have possibly made it all the way to London on your own, as you suggest. You are trying to gain our sympathies with false tales of hardship, when instead I suspect you have probably been pampered for your whole life! I'm afraid your lies will not work on me -"
"There was a man!" Harry burst out, almost against his will. Once the words left his lips, he knew he regretted them, but there was nothing to be done. The teachers, and Mr Weasley he noted, were looking at him expectantly, each with no idea as to what they were asking him. That they were asking him to relive one of the darkest memories he had...
Mr Weasley looked towards Harry, not even bothering to hide his concern as he took in the paleness of his face and the slight shaking of the boy's limbs.
Both he and Molly had decided, almost as soon as they had met the boy, to take things slowly and let him move at his own pace. That had included getting him to talk about what had happened to him. Harry had clearly been traumatised and they both knew it would do no good to force him to speak about the horrors he had faced in his young life. Instead, Arthur had just offered the boy an outlet, careful to make himself seem available to talk to, without forcing Harry into it.
Looking at the terror in those striking green eyes now, Arthur knew he had made the right decision, and that forcing Harry to talk was wrong...
"Harry," Mr Weasley said softly. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."
"Yes, I do," Harry whispered, knowing in his heart of hearts that they would not let up until he told them, Snape especially. He needed them to believe that he wasn't lying. "I just need a second..."
Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself against the barrage of emotion invoked by such a simple question. How had he made it all the way to London?
"It was night. I was walking...by the side of the road in Surrey..." Harry began desperately trying to keep his voice strong, desperately trying not to show weakness. He wasn't a little kid anymore, and this had happened years ago. He could handle it. "And I was so tired, otherwise..." He trailed off, words failing him for the moment as the memories bombarded his mind.
"Otherwise what, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked gently.
"Otherwise I probably wouldn't have gone with him..." Harry answered, his expression pained as regret flared up in his mind. Such a stupid mistake...
"Who, Harry?" Dumbledore pressed.
"There was...he stopped his car," Harry replied, his eyes closed as if it could block out the face he had seen all those years ago. A face he would never forget. The first face of many he wished he could forget.
"He...asked if I needed a lift anywhere," Harry continued dully. "I thought he was trying to help. I wouldn't have gone with him...I know it was stupid...but I was so tired..."
"Oh, Harry" said a voice to his left. He thought it might have been Professor McGonagall but he refused to open his eyes so he couldn't know for sure.
"So I...I got in his car, and...he drove us to all the way to London. At the time, I didn't think much about...where we were going. I hadn't even planned on heading to London, really. I was just... I was glad to get away..."
"What happened then, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently, although his voice wavered slightly.
Harry opened his eyes but they were dull, and he was so far gone in his memories that he even forgot to be angry at the old man. He took a deep breath, steeling himself once again.
"When...when we got there, he parked the car on a deserted street. He turned to me...he turned to me...and said I had to...repay him. That I should...that I should...
"Did he...?" Arthur began, his eyes wide in horror as he fought to verbalise the words that were becoming so difficult to form.
"He didn't...touch me," Harry choked out, gripping his hands tightly together to try in vain to stop them shaking. "I didn't let him...I just panicked and punched him...you know...there. Then I got out the car and ran. Ran for hours..."
He looked from one horrified face to another, shock clear in each set of eyes as they stared at him as though he was a ghost.
Now, they knew how he had got to London on the night that he'd run away from his terrible life, but, as he looked at each one of their faces, he could tell that they wished they hadn't known at all.
"Please," Harry begged, clenching his fists in an attempt to keep whatever dignity remained as he turned to face Mr Weasley. "I want to go. Please, Sir, I want to leave."
Arthur didn't even have it in him to correct the distraught boy about calling him 'sir' again. Instead, he sent a glare worthy of his wife towards the shell-shocked Potion's Professor.
"You bastard, Snape," he said harshly, before carefully smoothing out his features so that none of the anger he felt was on his face when he turned towards Harry.
"Come on, Harry," he said gently, cautiously taking hold of the shaking boys arm to guide him towards the door. Harry flinched, obviously surprised by the contact, but he did not pull away and for that Arthur was grateful. He wanted to offer some comfort to the boy. As Harry had been telling them of a small part of the horrors he had faced in his young life, Arthur had never felt so helpless.
Because their involvement had come too late to save him.
"I'll take you home," he promised, his voice a mere whisper.
And so he did.
A/N- Hi everyone, I hope you enjoyed the newest instalment.
I'd particularly appreciate it if you could tell me what you thought of Harry's little story. I know it's dark, but Harry's life was never going to be easy, just like it isn't easy for any child living on the streets. This was just a small extract of the horror to show how truly vulnerable he was, especially in the early days, and how lucky he was to be alive.
I hope it wasn't taking it too far, but to me, it seems plausible that something like this happened. He was an eleven year old on the streets; it was a miracle that something worse than this didn't happen!
Anyway, I hope it read okay, and that the characters, especially the teachers, seemed in character. I'm curious to hear your opinions on Snape, since he's usually such a dividing character in the fandom. And I wonder how you'd like to see Lupin in all of this. Would you like him to be one of Harry's weekly tutors, or something more? I'll take anything you have to say on board.
Until next time, thanks for reading!