Title:
The boy that forgot to die
Author:
evil minded
Date:
November, 14th 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
"Yes." The professor said and he couldn't help thinking that the older wizard looked nervous suddenly. "I have taken guardianship over you without your consent as I won't have you in Dumbledore's clasps any longer and as I won't have you going back to those muggles ever again and for securing this, I needed guardianship over you – with, or without your consent. But I have not re-claimed you as my son officially, yet, as I have no intention of doing this without your consent. I do know that I have already done enough damage on you during the past year, and I did not wish to force you …"
He wasn't able to finish his reasoning though …
The boy that forgot to die
Chapter fourteen
It will be the same in any house
Or how different the world would be without you
"Yes, please." The boy said and the Potions Master stopped mid-sentence, his dark eyes piercing the ghost sitting in front of him, a small ghost that was his son. "Yes, please." The boy repeated after a moment in which he had taken a deep breath, the small voice sounding strangely choked. "No one ever really wanted me, and no one ever went through the trouble of going to the ministry to get me, and to keep me safe. So yes, I …" There were no more words, a choked sob cutting off any more words and a moment later the boy curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his mid-section like he so often had seen the boy doing – and suddenly he couldn't stand seeing his son in such emotional pain anymore.
Slowly he got off his own chair and went over to the ghost, taking the small and thin form into his arms. He simply lifted the boy off his chair and sat down, positioning the boy on his lap and pulled him close. Why did this feel so right now? Why had never anyone done this for the boy in the past? And it was clear that no one, ever, had done this for the boy, the child melting in his grip, unable to keep his emotional pain locked away any longer.
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there with the ghost child in his arms, his ghost-like son crying silently, only the shaking but otherwise tense shoulders and back giving away his crying, and he didn't know what to do with the child. But then – most likely there wasn't anything to do at all, the young wizard was clearly just in need of being held, of being allowed to cry for once – and again, he barely could fathom that no one ever had done this for the child. How wrong he had been about this child!
"'M sorry …" The boy murmured after what seemed to be an eternity during which he continuously had stroked his hand over the soft mop of black hair. "I …"
"There is no need to apologize." He quietly said, tightening his grip when the child tried to pull away. "No, you will listen for a moment. You have never been provided with an adult in your life who wanted you, who supported you, or who comforted you. The contrary had been the case – you have been neglected, starved and beaten to the point of death even. It is I, who has to apologize, not you. Because I have wronged you in more than one way and I am sorry for that. I do want you, I do care about you, and I would like to make it up to you. I do want you in my life."
"You really would want me?" The boy asked, incredulously, pulling away from him again and this time he allowed it, kept the boy sitting on his thighs, small hands he had used to push himself up resting on his shoulders, those green eyes large. "But …"
"I do." He simply said, scowling at the boy. "All I need, is for you to approve and sign the papers at the ministry."
There wasn't an answer, but the boy throwing his thin arms around his neck and clinging to him with a near death-grip.
"Is this emotional outburst of yours meant to be taken as your approval?" He finally managed to drawl, while at the same time, realizing that he didn't sound like he had his heart in the drawl. It was hard to believe that only two weeks or so ago Harry and he had barely been getting along. Now the boy was accepting his request to take him into his family, formally.
"Yes, please, sir." The boy repeated, whispered into his ear, loosening his grip on him only slightly. "Yes, please. Wanna have you as my father for real."
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
"What will happen the moment I go back into my body?"
The Potions Master shot up his head and cast a sharp look over at the boy. They'd had a short dinner, neither the boy nor he being very hungry after the emotional outburst, but he had insisted that the ghost ate a little something at least. Of course, he knew that, as the ghost he was, he would keep the skinny, skeletal form he now had, his injuries had healed but at least some bruises that refused to vanish had been left, too, after all, but he nevertheless wanted the boy to eat at least a little, seeing that he'd never before had enough food to begin with. He would make sure that this changed.
So – did this mean that Harry considered going back into his body finally? One quick glance into the child's scared and unsure gaze was enough to know that – no, the boy wasn't ready for that yet, but at least he thought about it.
Well, he knew that they would have to do it again, signing the papers and visiting the ministry when Harry returned into his body, if he ever would return, that was, but for now it would be enough. And, of course, they would have to deal with more pain and horror the moment he went back into his body, the moment both boys' pain and fears all became one again.
"Then we will have to visit the ministry again, of course." He said, keeping his other thoughts to himself. He would not startle the boy and he would not pressure him either – at least not until it wasn't absolutely necessary. "But for now, this situation is as good as it would be with your body sitting here instead of your ghost."
"You're mad." The boy said and he frowned, placing the cup of tea at the table in front of him.
"No, I am not mad." He said, leaning his lower arms onto the table. "Of course, I would like you going back into your body as soon as possible, as I do not know how much longer your body will be able to survive without you, and as I do not know what will become of you the moment your body died. But, I am not mad. I actually do understand your reluctance."
"What will happen now?" The boy then asked and again he could feel the unsureness radiating off his son. The child was not used to being in a family where he was integrated and where he was welcomed and could be happy – and where he was integrated into a daily routine, as the boy's question clearly showed.
"What do you mean – what will happen now?" He asked, leaning back and knowing that right now most likely their first fight would arise. "The first thing to do is for you to explore your room and then go to bed. Tomorrow after your morning classes I will take you to Diagon Alley as you are in desperate need of new clothes and other things. And after that – I do consider resorting you, and preferably into my house, not to mention that we will have to visit the ministry next week on Wednesday."
Like he had thought – the boy looked up at him sharply at the mentioning of a resorting, his green eyes going large.
"But … why would you do such a thing, sir?" The answer came in a startled voice.
"Because I have watched your fellow Gryffindors shunning away from you or chasing you off because of your ghost form for long enough now." He answered with a scowl on his face. "I will not have this going on for any longer."
"Would be the same in any house." The boy murmured. "They're scared."
"I do not care if they are scared or not, Harry." He growled. "They have no right hurting you in the process and honestly, after a year of living at a school like Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – they should have gotten used to being around ghosts. Not to mention that you are their friend, and one does not turn their back on a friend just because he becomes a ghost. Such a thing, is just not done."
"Do you have friends amongst the ghosts?" The boy curiously asked, looking up at him with large eyes and for a moment he couldn't help the corner of his lip twitching upwards at the question. The boy wouldn't have asked such a question of him of all people a month ago, that much was for sure.
"The ghosts at Hogwarts are too old so that I could have known them while they were still alive, and so we do not have the same situation here, but yes, I do have friends amongst the ghosts. And before you ask," he added upon the boy already opening his mouth, "one of them is the Bloody Baron, whom I indeed consider a very close friend of mine."
The boy grinned at him broadly for a moment, but then he became serious and nearly sad again.
"It will be the same in any house anyway." He then repeated, shrugging his shoulders.
"It would not be the same in Slytherin." The Potions Master said, scowling. He knew of the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor, of course, and he also could understand the boy's line of thinking, of course.
"Would be." The boy scowled back, and he lifted his eyebrow at the nearly perfect scowl that seemed to make a miniature Snape of him. "Especially with Slytherin, they'll have their field day."
"They won't – because no Slytherin would ever dare going against their own – and especially not against the son of their head of house."
"So, I would just be safe from them because of you being my da- … father." The boy said, blushing a crimson red and averting his eyes at the near slip of tongue.
"No." He answered, not commenting on the word 'dad' the boy ghost nearly had said, but getting off his chair and placing his hand onto his son's shoulder for a moment. "You should know that many children in my house are in a similar position like you, seeing that they are raised by parents that are Death Eaters, and even if none of them turned out dead so far, they do know what it means. Therefore, they display the same mask in front of others you have displayed to keep the last remnants of your dignity intact. And therefore, they stand up for each other, they stick together. Until now, you only ever have learned to know their mask, as they only ever have learned to know your mask. Perhaps they will need time – but they will understand. And you as well, I am sure of that – if you just give them a chance."
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
It had started as an already warm morning and it had gotten warmer, nearly hot within the hours, the day becoming one of the last really hot late summer days, or perhaps early autumn days, and the students were outside in t-shirts only, without wearing a jacket during their break after their morning classes.
And so – after trying the dungeons, the library and then even the astronomy tower – the Potions Master went outside in search for his son, his eyes easily finding some of the Gryffindor second years and even though he knew that they had not many dealings with the boy ghost lately, he nevertheless marched over to them. They at least might know where the boy kept himself, seeing that they had their classes together with Harry after all and as he had not shown up in their quarters after his morning classes for lunch – most likely to avoid a visit to Diagon Alley this afternoon.
Granger and Weasley were standing together with Finnigan and Thomas, discussing animatedly, Longbottom and the other Gryffindor second year girls not being amongst them.
"I don't think it was such a great idea and I'll tell McGonagall if you won't stop." He heard Granger saying and he frowned. Surely the girl had seen many rule-breaking from her two friends last year and even had partaken in some of them as well – and she had never run off to Minerva, at least not to his knowledge.
"What?" Weasley asked, startled, looking at her as if he had seen a hippo in a rollercoaster. "Why would you do such a thing?"
"Because what you're doing isn't funny and it isn't fair either." The girl hissed and if he was right in thinking what this was about, then he had to agree with the know-it-all for once.
"What's it with you?" Finnigan asked, shoving Granger away and the Potions Master scowled. A little bully he had here as it seemed. "Keep your nose …"
"You – better keep your hands – by yourself, Finnigan, and away from girls." He growled at the boy upon coming close enough. "That will be ten points from Gryffindor and if I see you pushing another student once more, then you will find yourself in detention. Miss Granger, come with me."
The girl looked at him scared for a moment, but then she gave a short nod away and he turned, approaching the building before turning sharply and advancing on her.
"Do you happen to know where exactly Mr. – Potter is?" He asked her, ignoring the girl's eyes narrowing at him, he didn't care about it becoming known, seeing that he had taken preparations, and no one would be able taking Harry from him now.
"He didn't say anything." The girl said before she averted her eyes, clearly ashamed. "But I've often seen him near the lake lately."
"Hmm." He made, watching her thoughtfully. "How is it, Miss Granger, that you do know about your – former – friend's … whereabouts and that you are defending him against those morons, while you do shun him like your entire house seems to do except for Mr. Longbottom?" He then asked.
"Dunno." The girl said, shrugging her shoulders.
"I am sure, that from an intelligent student such as you, I can expect a better answer than the one you have just now given away, Miss Granger." He said, lifting his eyebrow at the girl in his typical Snape-manner. "I really do expect better from you than that."
"It's just … he's a ghost!" The girl then said, and his eyebrow went even higher. "It's just … it's gross! How can he be a ghost? I mean, it's … I just don't know!"
"Are you still scared of ghosts after a year you have spent at a wizarding school where ghosts are a normal occurrence?" He couldn't help asking.
"No, not generally." Granger answered and he frowned. "But if one of those ghosts happen to be your friend suddenly – that's just … it's scary."
"Understandable." He growled at the girl. Merlin, he didn't have time for the bloody girl's whims, but for the sake of his son – perhaps he could get her to speaking with the boy again. "But – do you not think that it might be just as scary for Harry himself? That perhaps, he might need a friend right now, Miss Granger? Just think about it." And with those words he sharply turned, walking away, towards the lake, in search of a boy ghost that was his son.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
It was not even ten minutes later that he found the boy ghost, sitting on one of the boulders near the lake, looking over the water as if it had always been a dream of him to swim in there. Wordlessly he sat down beside him, looking over the lake as well, and noticing the Squid sprawling its arms in large circles through the water.
"Did you love my mum?" The boy suddenly asked, not looking over at him and he immediately turned his head towards the boy, watching him seriously for a moment, and he realized that there was more on the child's mind than simply trying to avoid a visit to Diagon Alley because he was embarrassed about his clothes and the fact that they had to be replaced because they were shabby and ragged as there had never been someone who had cared about the child. The boy ghost most likely had to sort out his entire life, his past, his place, his future, his parents, his roots, and perhaps even – his magic.
"Yes, I did love her, Harry." He quietly answered. "I still do love her."
"Even after she'd left you?" The boy asked and he took a deep breath.
"Yes, even after she had left me." He then answered. "For a long time, I had not known that it had been Dumbledore who stood behind all that, that he had meddled with my memories, that he had taken you from me, or that you have even been mine to begin with, Harry. For me, in my memories, Lily, your mother, simply had left me, but yes, I still love her. What is done is done, and we cannot change the past."
"But if you never had been with her to begin with, then she'd never left you and then you wouldn't have been in pain because of it." The boy quietly said, following his own childish logic and he nearly smiled at the simple line of thoughts.
"That might be, Harry, but if I never had been with your mother, then you would not be here either." He then answered, frowning. He didn't like the way the boy was thinking. "Your mother would have been with James from the beginning and then, perhaps, there would be a different son of hers, or a daughter of her in your place, but not you as you are distinctly part your mother and part myself."
The boy looked up at him, huffing, and he nearly looked angry, one thought clearly written over his face – the way his life had been so far, he wasn't abject to never having been born.
"Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad, me never being born." He then said, just voicing the thoughts the Potions Master had had a moment ago when looking into his son's pale and nearly translucent face and he felt a pang of sadness at those words. The boy was so miserable he wished he'd never been born? What kind of an existence was that? Severus had definitely always had the wrong view about Harry, and he vowed, then and there, to try and get to know who he really was, despite his differences with the pre-teen.
But then – he didn't have such differences with the boy lately, he had to admit that, the ghost form of the boy clearly being much more bearable than the physical form of the boy until now ever had been – or at least last year had been.
"How different the world would be without you, Harry – there is no telling what terror may have reigned upon the wizarding and muggle world alike if you had not inadvertently stopped the Dark Lord as an infant." He quietly said, leaning back against one of the larger boulders and pulling the boy close with him. "Each person, no matter how big or small, no matter how rich or poor, or how brave or cowardice, makes a significant impact on the world around them just by simply being there. And you fall into that more so than most. I know for sure that my life would be massively different if you had never been born – and not for the better."
"You wouldn't have been angry at the thought that I'm James Potter's son you had to see each day." The boy whispered.
"Back then, before your mother took you and left, I nearly had two years with you, Harry." He whispered, remembering how he had treated the boy last year. "And these two years have started to shape me, even if I lost you then. And now, I do have you back again, child. Do you not think that this might have changed me? That this might be important to me?"
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
Harry nodded slowly, knowing what Snape meant, but not feeling any better about it. Maybe he was being melodramatic, but he'd never really had anyone to talk to about these things before – the Dursleys surely had been the last ideal kind of persons for him to have a heart-to-heart with, after all.
And Ron and Hermione?
Well, he hadn't known how to breach the subject of Snape being his father to the two of them, because Ron would have hated him back then, already. And he hadn't known how to breach the subject of his relatives, and how they treated him to Ron and Hermione either, because – he just hadn't been able admitting his weakness to them. Not to mention that last school year he had been away from the Dursleys, and the world had been perfect, for ten month, until he'd had to go back.
But now – now he had someone whom he could ask such question, whom he could ask about his family, about his real family, not the Dursleys – even though his father wanted to talk about them, too, whatever reason for – but he could ask him about his mom, and about him, about his grandparents, perhaps, and about what he could be doing with his life, now that he might have a perspective … perhaps …
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
To be continued
Next time in "The boy that forgot to die"
Never mind what – I do want you
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:
31 Points - Slytherin
07 Points - Gryffindor
27 Points - Ravenclaw
06 Points - Hufflepuff