Title:
The boy that forgot to die
Author:
evil minded
Date:
November, 8th 2011
Timeframe:
Second year at Hogwarts
Summary:
AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be, and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?
Disclaimer:
I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, nor about most of the other characters in HP … I, however, would like to own one particular Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …
Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16
Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …
Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
Previously in "The boy that forgot to die"
The boy however seemed to have a mind on his own as he stood there, rooted to the spot, and not understanding as it seemed, still watching him with large green eyes. But he, Snape, he at least had himself back under control and he at least was master of the situation again, and taking the boy's upper arm he simply led him to the bathtub and lifted him in, ignoring the short struggle before the boy ghost sighed and relaxed into the warmth, the water around the nearly translucent form wavering for a moment before it went through the child's body – at least in this area and situation the ghost making no exception, while it, at the same time, reminded him – the boy was a ghost, barely alive, an inch away from death's doorstep and knocking loudly for being let in.
The boy that forgot to die
Chapter eight
I will be here
Or he needed to see Hogwarts one last time
So – Snape knew.
Snape knew that he was his father, and he knew since … yesterday – as it seemed.
Was that the reason, that he was so strange now? How had he found out? Would he really, not abandon him now? He knew that Snape had not left, his mom had told him that it simply had happened and that no one had been to blame, but – he simply had needed someone to blame when he had been so stupid to start his sentence. He had been so scared and so hurt and so confused and so – and so anything! He simply had needed someone to blame and someone to – to do anything! He had needed Snape to react in one way or another, and even if it only would have been in pushing him away or punishing him for his words, at least he then would have known where he stood with the man.
But now?
Snape had not gotten angry.
Well, yes, he had gotten angry, but somehow, he knew that Snape had not been angry with him for his words but that he had been angry at something else … or someone else.
What would Snape do now? Surely, he would not acknowledge him, he hated him too much for that. Not to mention that they were two now after all, his body and his ghost, and surely Snape would not be ready acknowledging two of him.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
"There might be two of you at the present time, but I guess it will not stay this way." Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry said. "I suggest that you actually take the soap and start to at least try and wash yourself. I also suggest that we find a way for you to be re-united with your body."
"No!" The boy ghost shouted, looking up at him, startled. "No! I don't want to! It … it hurts in there … and … and …"
"I do understand your reluctance, child." He said, starting to run a cloth with soap down the boy's back, his hand going through the ghost's body the moment he reached the water line, and shuddering he run his hand back up towards the boy's shoulders – where he was again able to touch the boy without his hand going through. "I do however fear that your body will die at one point or another if you won't go back. Your body won't be able surviving in the long run without you as his spirit."
"So what?" The boy ghost asked, quietly, and again he could make out signs of fear … fear of him, for his questions, or for his reluctance – his shoulders being pulled forwards, the little muscles on his neck, shoulders and back tightening in expectation of a blow and his hands going up a bit to protect his head if necessary. "He's never been happy anyway! He'd be better off with being dead anyway!"
"Repeat this particular sentence once more, and you will find yourself in more trouble than you are able to handle, believe me." He growled darkly. "Surely you do not believe this after I have told you that I won't leave you just moments ago? Lean forwards and cover your eyes with this cloth so that I can rinse your hair. You will have to trust me, Harry." He then added, softly. "I do realize that I have never given you any reason to trust me, ever, but you will have to trust me now, as I do not intend on abandoning you. You are my son, and I do know so by now – what means that you will have to deal with me as I will have to deal with you."
"You … you do not have to …" The boy choked out, softly, and he clearly could hear that it was not what the idiot child really wanted.
"What a mess!" He snarled with an angry scowl on his face at the stupidity of the boy. "A true Gryffindor being the son of the head of Slytherin house, imagine! You will have to work on your infuriating habit of sacrificing yourself and your own needs for the sake of others. Do you really think I do mind, you idiot child? Do you really think I would have admitted that I knew about you being my son instead of denying it if I would mind?"
"You … but … but you hate me so much … and …"
"Get out of that bathtub and get dry." He growled, cutting the boy's words off and taking a towel from one of the shelves that stood opposite the bathtub. "I do not hate you, you idiot child. You are shredding my nerves and you will be the cause of grey hair before my early death, I am sure of that – imagine, me with grey hair – but that is what each and every child does. I have known what I got myself into the moment I have started teaching here at Hogwarts ten years ago, having to deal with insufferable and insolent little snots such as yourself – but I do not hate you."
There was no answer this time, no reaction at all while the boy ghost held the towel in front of his body as if to hide behind it – without using it to dry himself.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
"You do not believe me." Snape said. "Understandable. Over the past year I have shown my dislike to you often enough. Be assured however, that it never had anything to do with your person but with – your father, or rather with your adopted father as this is what I guess happened, James Potter having adopted you. James Potter and I – we have already been enemies back at school, and I have to admit that I, foolishly, have allowed my hate towards him, being transferred towards you, assuming that you are his son – and not mine as my memory of this has been erased. If you think that I will have you redressing in those atrocious clothes, then you are mistaken. No son of mine will be dressed like this." He growled again the moment the child looked around in search of his clothes and with a wave of his wand he summoned two sets of his own pyjamas.
"But surely you wouldn't … surely you can't … not that I wouldn't like to … but you … no! You only would … no!"
"Stop this rambling and get dressed." He growled, shrinking and reaching one set of pyjamas and socks at the boy who was saying some interesting things when he rambled, like that he would like to having him – him! – as a father, he thought. "Again – I would not be here arguing with you, if I would not do so by free will – or did I ever give you the impression that I did things against my wish?"
"No! You only will …"
"For Merlin's sake! I will not abandon you, and I will not hurt you either, you idiot child!" He nearly shouted in exasperation, ignoring Poppy who came out of her office at the two raised voices, a scowl of disapproval on her own face. "And now get into these pyjamas! I won't have my son sleeping in a ragged and stained shirt that is the seize of an elephant just because his former caretakers have neglected and abused him to a point of near death …"
"'M not …"
"You are and I will make sure that …"
"'M not … that what you say …"
"You are not even able naming it, you idiot child!" He said, his dark eyes blazing angrily. "You are not even able to say the word abuse! Get dressed!" He then added, taking a deep breath to calm himself, knowing that it was neither the boy's fault, nor his place to blame the boy for anything. He should spare his anger for the Dursleys. "And you better do not tell anyone of this conversation, Poppy, as I will have to take security steps before I do face the headmaster with this. Get dressed now, Harry, and try to sleep a bit or at least rest for an hour or two. It has been a terrifying day for you so far, and even as a ghost you look paler than you have before. I will be here."
He watched the boy doing as he had told him, while he sat on the edge of the other bed for a moment, shrinking the second pyjama before cautiously dressing the physical part of his son in it, mindful of the recently healed limbs, Harry the ghost all the while sitting on his bed and watching him handling his body.
Even shrunken the pyjamas swamped both boys, made them looking almost like dolls, and with another silent vow to pay back the Dursleys for their – kindness – Severus tucked in first the unconscious child, before he went over to the ghost child that still watched him warily and gently forced him down, pulled one of the heavier quilts up to cover him.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
It hadn't taken Harry long to fall asleep and as the boy's actual body was unconscious anyway – the Potions Master sat there and watched both boys sleeping, wondering what the future would bring.
Would he be able to convince the boy's ghost to go back into his own body where he belonged to? What would happen if he were not able to, if the boy's ghost would simply refuse going back? He knew that he wouldn't be able forcing the boy ghost. It simply wasn't possible to force a ghost to do anything to begin with. But what would happen then, to the boy's body? How long would he have a chance to survive without his ghost, his spirit? And if the boy died in the end, what would then happen to the ghost? Would he stay? Would he leave, simply vanish and move on to wherever ghosts moved to? But how could he convince the boy to go back into his body?
Moving over to the bed the actual body of his son lay in he wondered for a moment if he should rouse him.
He would like to leave the boy in his deep unconsciousness for a few days or at least hours longer without disturbing him, to allow his body to heal properly, but he knew that the boy needed fluids desperately. Surely no food yet, his stomach surely was too small and damaged for that yet and wouldn't be able to handle anything to eat at the present time anyway, but watered milk with a bit of honey and some light broth he surely would manage. He also would like to give a pain reliever and he surely would not risk spelling anything into the boy's stomach yet. In other words – he had to rouse him, and he better did this while Harry the ghost was still asleep so he wouldn't have to deal with watching his body being in pain again.
He cast the same monitoring charm he had cast over Harry's body so that he knew how deep the ghost was sleeping and he frowned at the charm, telling him that the boy wasn't sleeping at all – but wasn't awake either. Well – so much for casting medical charms at ghosts.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
Angrily he went through the corridor that led from the infirmary to the entrance hall which he crossed before opening the door that led to a chamber beside the great hall, the staff room.
Back then, during the first day after he had taken the boy from Privet Drive, he had put a hand on the boy's injured arm before he had brought Harry out of the deep sleep and to the edge of consciousness to prevent him from flailing if the boy was frightened when he woke, and then he had poured the pain reliever first, a calming draught after that, then a general healing potion, and finally a few sips of light broth into the child's mouth before waving his wand and setting him back to a deeper level of unconsciousness, glad that during all those long minutes the ghost form of the boy had not woken – and he had repeated this procedure several times a day, now, and each time he was cursing silently, in his mind only.
Of course, he was not angry at the boy and surely not at his ghost either, but he was angry at the headmaster for meddling in his life – again – and he was angry at Minerva for not having a closer look at her own students, but most over – he was angry at himself for neglecting and abusing his own son. And no, he did not excuse himself with the little fact that he had not known.
And of course, he was angry at himself for feeling – affected by the brat to begin with.
It was one thing the idiot child being his son, but it was another thing acknowledging it in the boy's presence and it also was a completely different thing to feel affected even, by the boy and the boy's ghost.
"Good evening, Severus." Minerva said the moment he entered the staff room. "How is Mr. Potter?"
"The actual boy or his ghost, Minerva?" He drawled, lifting his eyebrow at the deputy headmistress. "You should be a bit more specific at the present time."
"I'm sure that Minerva meant both forms, Severus." Albus said and the moment he looked over at the old headmaster a bout of anger soared through his body – and mind. "He will be alright, won't he, Severus?"
"Physically or mentally speaking, Albus?" He growled. "You, too, should be a bit more specific at the present time. He practically is dead, Albus and I do not give a damn what you say – Mr. Potter will not be spending another goddamn night at this blasted tower, or you can find yourself a new professor. Nor will he ever go back to the Dursleys."
"Severus, surely you …" Albus began, frowning at him.
"I will not discuss this, Albus." He answered, remembering.
Flashback
Frowning he watched the actual body of his son, the one that was not a ghost but a real child, shivering and moving restlessly. He didn't make big movements, but small ones only, that indicated – he still was out but felt unwell nevertheless, restless.
Three days.
It had been three days since he had taken the boy's body from the Dursleys, but still – neither was there any improvement concerning the boy's health, nor was there any improvement concerning Harry, the ghost, going back into his own body, and not for the first time he wondered – was the boy's body even able to recover while his ghost was separated from him?
Sighing he left the infirmary.
He knew that he wouldn't be able doing anything to make the boy resting more peaceful right now, he had learned throughout the past few days that both forms of his son depended on each other – the more restless Harry's ghost was – the more restless was his physical form. And he always seemed restless whenever he was in that blasted tower of his.
End flashback
And so, he had gone up there. Had given the password and had entered the Gryffindor common room, scowling at the bloody fat lady for calling after him that he was a Slytherin and that a Slytherin didn't have any dealings here. He was a head of a house, and a head of a house was allowed in any common room – even if it was not common for them to visit those that were not their own.
The scene he had stumbled upon it had had him seething, however.
Flashback
"He's really going nuts, listen to this: 'He just couldn't die like this, at the hands of his uncle. He couldn't leave the world like this, there were so many things he wanted to say before he left, so many things he wanted to do, so many things he had to do before he left, he wanted to say goodbye to his friends, and he wanted to tell them how much he loved them.' That's really gross." He heard Granger reading the moment he entered the Gryffindor common room, frowning at her words and slowly he went over to the wall where he would be shadowed so he would not be noticed immediately.
"He's speaking of himself in the third person! And then here, listen: 'He needed to fulfil the prophecy and he had to destroy Voldemort for good. He needed to live, and he needed to see Hogwarts one last time … he didn't want to die and most importantly, he didn't want to die like this, he didn't want to die alone.' The rest is missing, but I think we all can guess what he wrote, it's a last will, sort of." Granger said. "I can't believe he would actually write a last will. I mean, it isn't as if he …"
"And I cannot believe you just read that boy's personal thoughts to your entire house, Miss Granger." He said while stepping out into the room, the students who had been facing the idiot girl turning quickly, paling, while the girl quickly threw the remainder of the paper into the fireplace to her left.
"Accio Mr. Potter's lines." He drawled with a voice as cold as ice while waving his wand at the Gryffindor fireplace and a few pieces of paper floated out of the flames and over to him, plain and white muggle paper that was singed and burned and with another wave of his wand and a "repair yourself" the paper did as he had just asked of it.
"This will be fifty points taken from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for invading Mr. Potter's privacy and detention for the remainder of the month." He drawled, his dark eyes on the paling girl as cold as was his voice. "And another ten points for each person that so willingly had listened to Miss Granger's reading. I fear that this is the first time since this school has been invented that a house actually starts with being in the negative – deeply in the negative."
End flashback
What he had seen upon entering the boy's dormitory however – it had him startled, and again, it had angered him to unspeakable heights, the boy laying on the cold and stony floor beside his bed, sobbing with not only pain but with fear as well – and with shame.
Of course, he had reported the incident to Dumbledore – who had done nothing so far … as always.
"This – blasted tower – is the Gryffindor tower and seeing that Mr. Potter is a Gryffindor he will stay up there, Severus." Minerva said, her face resolute and he scowled at her.
"He will not, Minerva, at least not until your other Gryffindors have learned to handle their own classmates with a bit more humanity." He growled at her. As much as he respected Minerva amongst her colleagues, but sometimes that woman and her loyalty towards her lions who bullied other students was more than just annoying.
"Surely you are not implying that I would allow my students inappropriate behaviour, Severus!" Minerva gasped at him, startled. "Don't you think that this is a bit farfetched?"
"That depends on the question if you would describe a student urinating on the bed of another student – inappropriate. Do you know what I found after Miss Granger has read Mr. Potter's private thoughts aloud to the remainder of your house?" He hissed at the woman, leaning close. "I have found Mr. Potter laying on the floor beside his bed because the Misters Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas have urinated on his bed – simply because they wanted to know if a ghost would mind a soiled bed at all."
That at least shut the woman up and he scowled one last time before straightening up, barely able to keep from growling out aloud.
"Has even anyone ever looked in on the boy before he – died?" Snape asked, wondering why it was that he felt so angry at the boy being so easily pushed aside now that his destiny concerning the Dark Lord was so unsure, as he seemed dead and his dark eyes especially pierced the old headmaster, Dumbledore, who took a deep breath. "And now not even here at Hogwarts he can feel safe. Is that not what this castle was meant to be there for?"
"You are correct, Severus … of course." The old man said, sighing, and he scowled. Dumbledore for once had gotten his hint. "I shall find a new place to sleep for him immediately and a new guardian for him during the school year. I just don't know who would take in a ghost boy."
"He can't be brought back to his family anyway." Filius said, leaning back in his armchair and the Potions Master lifted his eyebrow at the half goblin. "Well, considering Poppy's reports so far, I am just surprised that his accidental magic didn't flare and kill his relatives during one or another episode of their abuse. Maybe he was just afraid of using his magic for being beaten because of it, and so he suppressed it."
"And now he has locked it completely within his own core." The Potions Master whispered, more to himself than to anyone else, remembering the boy trying to cast a warming charm at his soup he'd had him eating two days earlier – the charm being cast unsuccessfully, as had been some others.
"Do you think that he will go back to his body anytime soon?" The charms teacher asked, and he took a deep breath.
"He will be going back the moment he has learned that he can go back, that there is someone who really cares about him, and I fear not anytime sooner." He answered.
"Well, then we have to tell him." Pomona said, smiling happily.
"That will work nicely." He drawled sarcastically, his dark eyes blazing angrily. "He won't believe words anymore, but only actions. He needs to trust the adults around him and that won't happen anytime soon, after he has been neglected and abused for years, and to the point of his death – while none of his teachers have intervened."
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
To be continued
Next time in "The boy that forgot to die"
Surely Snape would stay Snape
Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …
House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:
29 Points - Slytherin
07 Points - Gryffindor
27 Points - Ravenclaw
06 Points - Hufflepuff