Title:
The boy that forgot to die
Author:
evil minded
Date:
November, 16th 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"
After a while however the boy had started to relax and he had even closed his eyes while eating, savouring the taste of the soup and as strange as it was – Severus Snape felt satisfied with the child being so – happy. As if – as if it made himself happy.
What a ridiculous thought!
He was Severus Snape. He was a dark and tough man, a spy and Death Eater, the head of the most shunned house at Hogwarts and definitely the most hated teacher imaginable – nature itself trembled with fright and held its breath while he passed and – he was not a happy man!
And surely not because he had made a child happy!
He did not make children happy!
The boy that forgot to die
Chapter sixteen
Babbling in the Steaming Kitchen
Or if only he had known
"Thank you, sir." The boy said, getting him out of his thoughts. "I've been to the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, but this here is even better. I've never been to eat outside before."
"Would you care for a dessert?" His traitorous tongue asked before he could stop himself – again doing what Severus Snape never was doing, making any child happy.
"Really?" The boy asked, his green eyes large, and for a moment he looked like a small little ghost that was told that he was allowed to rattle extra loudly with his chains during the night. "I've never had dessert outside of Hogwarts!"
'You have never had enough food to begin with, outside of Hogwarts!' He thought, but he didn't say anything. The boy was happy right now and he would not destroy that, the green ghostlike eyes for once sparkling with delight and bliss, the boy's normally so pale cheeks rosy for once, and he didn't regret having brought the child here instead of having lunch at the castle.
"Dudley didn't like it so much, but he asked for it an'way 'cause he knew he could eat it in front of me an' I had to watch but never got it." The boy rambled on, swinging his feet back and forth, and most likely unaware that he did what he had refused doing for days, talking about his life with the Dursleys and his abuse – or neglect. "'M sure he wouldn't be so corpulent if he hadn't wanted to pick on me all the time with him getting desert, and sweets, and me not." The boy went on and he nearly huffed at that – corpulent really being a very gently description for that whale of a boy that was Harry's cousin. "I'd like trying that hot chocolate with marshmallows one day, with mini marshmallows. Aunt Petunia always had a package of those tiny, little marshmallows in her cupboard, but I've never dared to try them."
'Of course not.' The Potions Master thought, but again he kept his thoughts to himself.
"But in pre-school we've had those large marshmallows once, though not with hot chocolate, but everyone who'd managed tying their shoelaces got one, and I did manage and so I got one. I quickly ate it before Dudley could take it away though, because he didn't get one, because aunt Petunia always tied his laces and he'd never learned it. He complained about it at home … well …" Of course, he noticed the short pause and of course he also noticed the boy stopping to swing his feet, and averting his eyes for a moment, noticed the boy stiffening for a moment before he continued, and he knew what the boy did not tell – namely that he had been punished for being better than his cousin, and for getting something his cousin had been denied. "Well … aunt Petunia showed him how to do it, and two weeks later he'd actually managed, but he didn't get a marshmallow in pre-school then though, because they didn't have some anymore."
The Potions Master couldn't help smiling while he listened to his son's rambling.
Yes, the boy indeed were telling a few very interesting things when he rambled – for example how idiotic the Dursley boy really was, needing three weeks of intense training to learn how to tie his laces – in preschool – and how very spoiled this whale of a boy was while Harry himself had been neglected so very much that he needed to quickly put any food into his mouth so it couldn't be taken away anymore, while he was punished – most likely even beaten – for managing something his cousin had not managed, or for getting a marshmallow, while his cousin had gotten none.
If it had been any other child, he would have dismissed the boy's rambling as annoying and irritating babbling, but with Harry, it was a different story. He not only knew how important it was for this child to speak his mind about such things, but he also hadn't seen the child smiling so broadly in a very long time and with a trace of guilt, he realised that this would probably fall under the boy's classification of 'the best days of his life', and it was then that he promised – he would create more of such happy days for his son.
For them both, because as unlikely as it was – and surely, he would not admit it, never – but he was happy as well.
Perhaps.
A bit.
A tiny little bit – perhaps …
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
"Ron told me of Gambol & Japes once." The boy suddenly said and looking over Snape noticed that they were passing a shop that was decorated in such bright decorations that he couldn't help wincing for a moment, the colours clearly showing that it was a Gryffindor, owning the shop now. He hadn't been in there for many years and so it must have changed hands to the next generation by now. And seeing that he had confiscated many of the products sold by Gambol & Japes throughout the years, he knew that they weren't of the same quality as those he had bought there, once, to use on someone named James Potter and Sirius Black.
Of course, he knew why the boy had given this particular hint and, of course, he would not allow the boy such nonsense!
Looking down at the boy and seeing the child's longing expression – "would you like going inside to have a look what might be so interesting in Mr. Weasley's opinion?" – he knew he couldn't deny the child something that he never had been allowed before, especially as he himself had been here as a teenager himself. "I myself wonder if they still have the same products they used to have when I have been your age." He then added with a smirk on his face, just to see his son's startled face.
"You've bought joke things, sir?" Harry asked, blinking up at him open-mouthed and with stupidly large, green eyes.
"Do not look so shocked." The Potions Master smirked. "I have not been born as an adult after all. And close your mouth, lest you catch flies." Harry abruptly shut his mouth.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
The moment they had gotten home, and Severus had enlarged their shopping so that Harry could put it away, the boy had been standing there for a moment before his bloody Gryffindor bravery, boldness and rashness, this blasted Gryffindor impulsiveness and foolishness had taken the upper hand and the idiot child had – hugged him!
Him! Snape!
Leaning his forehead against his chest and wrapping his arms around his waist, the idiot child had hugged him!
He had – reluctantly – replied after a moment of hesitance, knowing that he was never going to get used to Harry's tendency to hug or being hugged, but he had and now, an hour later, the boy already being in bed and sleeping, he was sitting in his armchair, a tumbler of whiskey in his hands and still knowing that he never ever again would forget the feeling of those small arms around his midsection.
He had felt as good as when little Harry had wrapped his small arms around his neck, back then, when his son – his son! – had been barely two years old. He remembered what it had felt like, back then, now he remembered, after the memory charm Dumbledore had cast over him was gone, now he remembered, and he remembered what it had felt like, being a father, having a son.
He had thought that he never ever again would be able going there, that he never ever again would feel the same, that the boy that now had come into his life so suddenly was too old for that, that surely, he wouldn't feel the same about a twelve year old, like about a two year old – but having the child, his son, hugging him so infuriatingly – it had felt the same. But of course, he never would admit that.
Getting off his armchair he went over to the boy's room and opened the door a bit, peering inside.
The ghost child was laying in bed, sleeping peacefully, his back to the wall and curled into a small protective ball, but peacefully for once. They'd had other nights, when the boy had slept restlessly, suffering from nightmares and panic attacks, so a peaceful night was very welcomed for once in a while.
Frowning he got closer and sat onto the edge of the bed, slowly extending his hand to brush away some strands of the black hair from a pale face – and not for the first time he wondered – how was it that he could touch the ghost, or the half-ghost, whatever Harry was at the present time. He simply didn't understand it.
He had read books, and more than one, on the subject – and the last one had been a small and old handwritten book from a wizard named Nathaniel Detmold who'd had a son that was half alive and half dead, half a living boy and half a ghost. The problem was – the book had given him no solution as Nathaniel Detmold's brother had killed the boy a year after his spirit had left his body, because he had been unable to watch the dead and unresponsive body of his nephew any longer. The ghost form had remained behind in the world of the living, having nothing to go back to and having no place to go, to find peace either.
There was however one thing that had made him thinking – one old spell in combination with a potion, Nathaniel Detmold had been ready to try, if his brother had not been faster and had killed the child before he had been able doing so … he would have to do some re-searches and he already had ordered some books on the subject.
Frowning he ran his hand one last time through the boy's hair before he forced himself to get up abruptly. He left Harry's room and then crossed his quarters, hurried through corridors and up some flights of stairs until he reached the infirmary and entered.
Every night since he had brought the boy here, he had come to sit by his son's actual body as well as he did with the child's ghost form and more than once, he had wondered – wouldn't it be easier for all of them if he took the boy's body down into his quarters as well? He didn't want to place it into the room he had given his son's ghost form, the boy surely feeling not only scared by his – nearly dead body, but the child had never having had a room to himself either. He did not wish to take that from his son now that he had it.
He knew that it was ridiculous to sit with the child here in the infirmary, the boy was without his ghost, he wouldn't know if he was here or not, and he wouldn't remember, even if he would ever have his ghost back. He couldn't hear him, and he couldn't see him, he couldn't sense him even. People said someone in a coma could sense their family or friends being there – but Harry was in no coma, he was – except for his lungs breathing and his heart beating – dead. A person in a coma still had their ghosts – Harry did not, his ghost had left his body and was living in a complete different part of the castle.
And nevertheless, he came here every night to sit with the still body, to –
But the boy's body wasn't always still! Not for the first time he frowned while sitting here.
It seemed restless when his ghost form was restless and vice versa.
Frowning he leaned closer and ran his hand through the boy's hair, brushing strands of black hair from a pale face – like he had done with his son's ghost form just minutes ago. What if –
What if he wouldn't try … but no, this would be ridiculous, and it would never work either.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
"Like I said – I wish to resort Harry." He said, causing Minerva to sigh and Albus to scowl at him. "So, if you would please hand over the sorting hat?"
"Are you really sure that this is what you wish, Severus?" Albus asked.
"Have I ever demanded anything that was not my wish, old man?" He asked, ignoring Harry looking up at him startled and ignoring some of the drawings behind Dumbledore's desk lifting their eyebrows at his tone of voice and his choice of words with the headmaster.
"Mr. Potter?" Minerva quietly asked the boy and he nearly growled at her. But well – she only wanted to make sure that it was Harry's wish as well. He would do the same with any of his Slytherins being in the same position – just that he would have done more and spoken with his student in privacy.
"I'd like to, Ma'am." Harry quietly said, not looking up from the floor and he only could imagine how the boy felt. "'S not 'cause of you, Ma'am, but … I don' feel safe in the tower an'more an' I don' feel well there an'more either. The others 'nly shun me 'cause they're scared."
"I have heard about the incidents in the tower, and they are punished for it." Minerva said, and his scowl deepened. But well, if the boy wanted to stay a Gryffindor – he would not go against Harry's wish.
"'Know." Harry said finally looking up. "But that won't change how they feel – they still run from me in classes and during lunch."
"But you're a Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Minerva then said, trying one last move.
"'M a Slytherin as well." Harry said, again averting his eyes and he looked down at the small ghost, frowning.
He would know it if Harry were a Slytherin, not to mention that one couldn't belong into two houses and the sorting hat definitely had sorted Harry into the house of Gryffindor over a year ago. He had been there, he had witnessed it! And that was the reason as to why a sorting always was done in front of all four heads of houses as well as the headmaster. Not a re-sorting, mind you. A re-sorting could be demanded by any head of house, and it could be done with only the presence of the former head of house, the head of house that had demanded the re-sorting if different from above mentioned person and the headmaster. But the original sorting had to take place in the presence of all four houses and the headmaster.
But then – "Oh, but he should be." The bloody hat had said, causing him to whirl around and look at him in shock. "He should be yours, he is yours actually!"
Could it be that the sorting hat had not only meant Harry being his son but – Harry belonging into his house as well? Harry being not only a Snape but a Slytherin as well? But how? The hat had definitely sorted Harry into Gryffindor, he had been there, and he had heard the hat's decision, had heard him calling out "Gryffindor". Like it was the rule he had witnessed it a year ago for Merlin's sake!
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
"You have heard my son." He finally said, wanting to end this finally before Harry got too restless and unease. The boy had been through enough already and he didn't need this kind of crap added to anything else that had been done to him.
"Very well." Albus sighed and got off his armchair to approach the shelf on which the sorting hat was sitting for centuries.
"Getting the chance of leaving this board twice a year now?" The hat asked even before the headmaster had approached him and he smirked, wondering why the blasted piece of cloth had not gotten into the conversation earlier – it just would have been like this one.
"My apology for disturbing you, but …"
"I have already told you that – the boy is as much a Slytherin as he is a Gryffindor and if it were up to me, then he would have been in the house of the snakes since his first day as I have sorted him into Slytherin. I only have re-sorted him because it has been his wish."
"But then it is clear!" Albus smiled at them all. "Harry does not wish to …"
"Only because of misguided information, Dumbledore." The hat growled, cutting the headmaster off. "And I only allowed him because I knew that in the end, he would land himself in Slytherin sooner or later anyway."
"In other words – there is no re-sorting necessary because Harry already always has been a Slytherin as well as a Gryffindor?" The Potions Master asked, his eyes narrowed at the headmaster who apparently had known about that.
"Exactly, Snape." The hat agreed and Severus placed a calming hand onto his son's shoulder.
"Just to have all misunderstandings cleared – Harry might be a Gryffindor and he always might be one, but at the same time he actually is already a Slytherin, and I can take him into my house to live in the Slytherin common room if he so wishes?"
"Exactly, Severus." The hat again agreed.
"In this case – we are finished here." He said, increasing his pressure he had on the small ghost's shoulder before leading the boy out of the headmaster's office. His son had been a Slytherin all the time. He'd been a Gryffindor as well, but he also had been a Slytherin all the time! This blasted sorting hat had been right in so many regards. This child was his! He was a student from his house, and he was his son, he was his child, his responsibility, his snake, his Slytherin and yes, even his idiot Gryffindor, the child simply was his, and always had been.
If only he had known.
Because if he had, then perhaps the child could be alive still.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
It was a week later that he was sitting behind his desk in the potions classroom, not being an inch closer to the problem with the ghost child and the body of his son but having noticed a few other strange things and with a frown – one of his many frowns latterly – he watched the class leaving.
Draco was standing near the door, waiting for Harry, as was Theodore, Weasley was scowling into their direction and Granger and Longbottom were looking worriedly. Crabbe and Goyle were scowling at Weasley and Thomas and Finnigan were scowling at Crabbe and Goyle instead. All in all – it was a rather explosive mood lately between those two houses – since one particular potions lesson and since he had taken Harry to the part of the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was.
Flashback
"Put your wands away." He drawled upon entering his classroom. "And put your books away as well, you won't need them today. Now – we will start with the Slytherin side of the classroom. Mr. Malfoy, please do come over here."
Draco knew what would come next and slowly he shuffled over to his desk, stood there and unsurely looked over at him. He would like to give the boy a reassuring touch or at least smile – but for now he did not, out of several reasons, and one was that he did not wish the Gryffindors seeing behind his small dragon's mask. He could see beyond it, could see his godson's nervousness and fear, but not the Gryffindors.
"Take a sip of this potion please." He said, reaching the vial of the potion Draco had brewed the lesson before and the boy took the small potions container with a hand he barely could keep from trembling. There was one last begging look in pale blue eyes but then Draco took a sip of the truth potion.
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy." He then said, nodding in approval at the trust the boy displayed despite his fears. "Would you mind telling me what the Slytherin house colours are?" He then asked and he nearly laughed at the boy's frown.
"They're silver and green, sir." Draco said with a voice that was trembling.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." The Potions Master then smirked, reaching a different vial at his godson. "The counter potion." He then added and he smirked at the relieved face of the boy.
"Mr. Nott." He then waved the boy over to his desk, reaching him the vial with the potion Theodore had been brewing during their last potions class. "A sip if you please."
And the boy obeyed, took a sip, looking at him in a mixture of relief and fear still. Relief after the easy question he had asked of Draco and fear because he still feared he might go not as easy on him as he had on his godson.
"Very well, Mr. Nott." He then said, leaning against his desk. "Would you please tell me what the house elves had served for breakfast today?"
"Uhm … it's been oatmeal, pancakes, strawberries and bananas." The boy said, answering his question. "Together with tea and orange juice."
"Thank you, Mr. Nott." He then said, offering the vial with the counter potion to that boy as well, to take a sip.
End flashback
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
To be continued
Next time in "The boy that forgot to die"
How would you feel
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:
35 Points - Slytherin
07 Points - Gryffindor
27 Points - Ravenclaw
07 Points - Hufflepuff