1989 to 1990, childhood
All things had to come to an end at one point or another.
As Harry learned four weeks into staying with Severus Snape, during what was apparently his last check-up with Healer Wright (for now), his current caretaker was a teacher at Hogwarts and as Hogwarts was a boarding school somewhere in Scottland, he would stay there for the duration of the school year until the summer holidays came around again.
It should have been obvious, in hindsight. Harry could have easily put two and two together based on what Snape had mentioned at one point or another and the things he had read in Hogwarts: A History. But Harry had been too busy keeping himself from freaking out at how peaceful life with Snape was. At how little he got punished.
(He didn't like to remember all the times something had made him panic and he didn't want to know whether he had accidentally called on his freakishness. He hadn't been punished a single time, so probably not. Or perhaps he had and it was … fine …)
Harry had apparently never been meant to stay with Snape permanently.
Harry didn't understand why, then, they had put him with Snape in the first place and not wherever he was supposed to stay permanently.
Harry … was content with things as they were. But he understood that Snape had responsibilities as a teacher and Harry couldn't stay on his own for months on end.
"Harry?"
Harry blinked. "Ah, sorry."
Healer Wright gave him a kind smile. "That's alright. May I ask what distracted you?"
"Oh, it's just – Well, I hadn't realised – But I really should have – that – well." He ducked his head. "I thought I was going to stay with – But it makes sense that it wouldn't be possible."
"I see."
Healer Wright exchanged a look with Snape.
"This should have been communicated with you earlier, of course. It is partially my fault for not realising, either."
Harry shook his head. "It's fine. I don't mind."
"Are you sure? It's fine if you do."
"But that won't change anything. It's simply not possible."
"Anything is possible. I'm sure special arrangements could be made."
Harry faltered. "But –" He glanced at Snape, who was watching him impassively like he always did during his sessions with Healer Wright. Harry clenched his skirt tightly in his hands, pressing them against his thighs. "That would inconvenience everyone. I don't want that."
"You do not wish to be a bother."
Harry nodded.
"That is very kind of you, Harry. But your wants and needs are important, too. What do you want, Harry?"
Harry looked down at his knees. He knew what he wanted. But Harry had never gotten what he wanted. Not once in his life. Not until –
He consciously unclenched his hands.
"I don't want to go back," he said in a small voice.
"No one intended for you to go back. You won't ever have to go back. Do you understand that, Harry?"
Harry looked up at Healer Wright's earnest gaze.
"Those people will not be allowed to hurt you anymore. Whatever the future may bring, we will make sure that you will have a home where you feel safe and cared for."
Harry looked at Snape and whatever expression he must have been making finally broke the man's impassive facade. Harry expected the dour look – Snape's range of expression was rather limited and Harry could never be quite sure what look hid which emotion – but then blinked in surprise when Snape let out a strangled sound.
"You cannot possibly – Why would you feel – safe and cared for with - with me?"
"Perhaps," Healer Wright said lightly, "you are kinder than you think, Severus."
Snape gave the man an incredulous look. It made Harry want to laugh. He didn't.
Snape wasn't kind. Harry knew that. But Harry had been living long enough with the man to figure out how things worked with him and what he could and could not do and … it was easy. There were rules and those rules made sense and were easy to follow and there were no nasty surprises, nor punishments for unspoken rules Harry hadn't known existed. It was … Harry knew how to do that.
If they placed him with new people, he would have to learn all over again and he would have to look out for hidden rules and possible traps and pitfalls and be on his guard all the time once more.
"How about this?" Healer Wright said. "We could arrange a meeting with the Longbottoms – we could even do it here, if you wish – and then you can decide for yourself whether you would like to live with them or stay with Severus. Or," he added when he saw Snape's look, "we can see about finding another nice family for you. There are many that would be happy to take you in."
Harry doubted that.
"We can do that," he said slowly. "I'm not ... opposed to meeting them." Harry glanced at Snape. "It doesn't have to be here."
o
Augusta Longbottom was a stern, older woman with a rather particular sense for fashion. Her dress would have been perfectly respectable tough rather old-fashioned if it hadn't been for the moth-eaten fox fur around her neck and the stuffed vulture adorning her witch's hat.
Her grandson Neville was a round-faced boy around Harry's age with blonde hair and bucked teeth and a face most suited for a sunny, bright smile rather than the awkward, shy one he was wearing.
When she greeted Harry with her wrinkled, claw-like hand, she told him that she had known his parents personally.
"My Frank and his Alice – that is, Neville's parents – were close friends with Lily and James. Fine people, those two, fine people ... My son and his wife would have gladly taken you in, if not for ... Well." Pain flashed across the old woman's face. "Neville, here, can be proud! They were formidable and well-respected Aurors, after all. Highly gifted, too."
If Harry hadn't already been uncomfortable by that point, this would have been the tipping point, for Augusta Longbottom narrowed her eyes and looked down her nose at her grandson and continued, "Unfortunately, it seems dear Neville, here, hasn't got his fathers talent, I'm afraid to say ..."
The old woman sighed.
"But he's a good boy, of course." She gave Harry a sharp look. "And I can see that you have the potential to follow in your father's footsteps. You look just like James, too. Except for the eyes – those are your mother's."
Harry hadn't known that.
Harry barely knew anything about his parents, truth be told. And what he did know, he couldn't be sure was true, considering all he knew came from the Dursleys and the Dursleys hated freaks. His parents, it turned out, had apparently also been freaks.
(Magically gifted, he told himself. People like him didn't like to be called freaks.)
Harry didn't retain much of the conversation that followed. Augusta Longbottom kept domineering it, talking to Snape as if it was already decided that Harry would come live with her. Snape barely got a word in and neither Harry nor Neville Longbottom said a word at all.
Harry would have liked to talk to the other boy. He seemed friendly, if a bit shy. In the end, it didn't matter. If Healer Wright had told the truth and Harry really would be allowed to choose, then there was no way he would willingly choose to live with Augusta Longbottom. Harry could not imagine feeling safe under her care. Rather, the woman seemed to have high expectations and failing those would not be an acceptable outcome. Snape didn't have any expectations of Harry at all beyond him adhering to the few rules the man had set.
"What now?" Harry asked when they were back home, greeting Hedwig by scratching her behind the ears and earning himself a lapful of purring fur in return.
Snape's nose wrinkled. "Now, it seems I must write to the Headmaster and figure out how to convince him of an alternative solution."
"The Headmaster?"
Snape gave him an indecipherable look. "It was Dumbledore who arranged for you to live with the Longbottoms."
"Oh."
Harry hesitated.
"What is it?"
"Did – Mrs Longbottom said my parents were aurors. What does that mean?"
"They weren't, technically," Snape said after a moment of weighted silence. "They joined the Order right after graduating from Hogwarts and fought in the war against the Dark Lord from then on." His lips curled in distaste. "I believe they lived off your father's inheritance."
Harry blinked. "There was a war?"
There was another moment of silence as Snape gaped at Harry.
"You do know how your parents died, don't you?"
Harry hesitated, then slowly shook his head. He didn't think what the Dursleys had told him about their deaths was true.
There was another, even heavier moment of silence as Snape gave Harry an incredulous look.
"Your parents," Snape began slowly, "died protecting you from the Dark Lord."
"Oh," Harry said, then, "Who was the Dark Lord?"
Another moment of silence, a heavy sigh accompanied by closed eyes and a pinched nose, then Snape retrieved several books from his shelves and gave them to Harry.
"Keep in mind that they are not entirely accurate. If you have any questions after reading them, don't hesitate to ask."
Harry looked down at The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Events of the Twentieth Century, Modern Magical History, Notable Magical Names of Our Time and many more titles of similar fashion. Snape, he had learned, owned books about literally everything.
Harry wasn't sure what he would find in these books – it couldn't be anything good that much was obvious. Still. He wanted to know.
Harry looked up at Snape and tried his hand at a smile. "Thank you."
o
The books were ... a lot. They were also, as Snape had warned, not entirely accurate or even complete accounts. For one, not a single one of them mentioned the Dark Lord's name, calling him 'You Know Who' (which always made some part of Harry want to say "No, I don't know who.") or 'He Who Must Not Be Named'. The latter puzzled Harry until he asked Snape about it and the man explained to him that speaking the Dark Lord's name had, back when he had still been in power, invoked his wrath. Literally and figuratively. During his reign of terror, the Dark Lord had apparently come up with the Taboo – a powerful spell that informed the Dark Lord about anyone who dared speak his name out loud, which made tracking down his enemies quite easy.
Just as 'Lord Voldemort' (definitely not his birth name, Harry decided) was known as He Who Shall Not be Named, Harry Potter was known as the Boy Who Lived. Because he was the only known case to survive the Killing Curse. Cast by the Dark Lord. The books speculated about the particulars, but Harry believed none of that nonsense. Whatever had happened, it couldn't have been Harry's doing. How people knew so much about that night was also a mystery to Harry as he was the only witness to have survived and he had only been a year old at that point.
One hole in his knowledge filled, Harry continued to study the new set of books Snape had given him to learn more about the magical world's recent history. It could never hurt to know.
Snape, meanwhile, kept sending angry letters – or at least he was always angry when sending his letters – and leaving to personally meet with people (or one person, Harry wasn't sure) and being constantly irritated overall. Harry thought it would frighten him more, at first, but all Snape did was to speak harshly with him and Harry was used to being spoken harshly to. Snape didn't punish him for anything, because Harry didn't break any rules and that was already so much better than how the Dursleys would have treated him in this situation. It wasn't nice, but it was easily bearable. Harry tried to imagine what life with the Longbottoms would have been like, came up blank and decided he was fine with this.
Much of what was being discussed behind his back, Harry wasn't privy to and didn't try to find out, either. What mattered to him was the end result. He did learn, though, that Healer Wright played a big role in arguing on Harry's behalf to convince Albus Dumbledore about letting Harry stay with Snape. Harry really hadn't wanted to cause so much trouble for everyone around him. Healer Wright had to keep reminding him that it was alright.
Eventually, it was decided that Harry and Hedwig would be allowed to continue living with Snape and simply come with him to Hogwarts during the school year. Harry wouldn't be allowed to leave Snape's quarters while there unless under supervision – Hedwig could come and go as she pleased, though – but Harry was perfectly alright with that. Snape gave him enough books to keep him occupied during the lonely weekdays. After a few weeks of absorbing as much knowledge about the magical world as possible, Snape informed Harry that a colleague of his – a fellow Potions Master from overseas – had agreed to tutor Harry together with his youngest child during the times Snape was teaching.
The first time, Snape teleported – apparated – them, but from then on, they used the fireplaces with a magical green powder that turned the fire green and connected the so-called Floo Network all over the world. There apparently were limits when it came to distance, but it seemed to work perfectly fine to get Snape, Harry and Hedwig from England to Sweden.
The first meeting with Mr Risberg and his children Malin, who Harry would be learning with, and Mattias, her older brother who was attending Durmstrang, a school for the magical gifted not unlike Hogwarts, went ... well. It went surprisingly, really, really well. Harry and Malin got along splendidly and Mr Risberg was kind and patient in a way similar, yet different to the way Healer Wright always treated Harry.
Snape always without a fail accompanied Harry to the Risbergs' house in the mornings and collected him in the late afternoons after his last class was done. Often, this meant there was enough time for Harry and Malin to play after their lessons for the day were done. Not all lessons were taught by Mr Risberg, himself, some were taught by his wife and some by paid tutors. Mostly, Harry found, the lessons weren't all that different from the classes he had attended at school when he had still been living with the Dursleys. Only, this time Harry was allowed to be good at something, to be better than his fellow student, even. He was actually praised whenever he did well!
Snape and Harry spent the evenings and weekends together, though Snape was always busy grading homework and preparing for his next lessons. Harry gladly helped when asked, eager to learn how to prepare ingredients for potions and brew emergency potions for all sorts of incidents that could occur in lessons 'full of imbecile dunderheads and fools thinking themselves above following simple instructions'.
Snape eventually even let Harry check the essays he had to grade for grammatical errors. At first, Harry received copies of the originals, but Snape was soon satisfied enough to let him mark the actual essays. This soon turned into potions lessons, because Snape realised that Harry might learn incorrect facts if he kept reading through the rubbish his students wrote and by the time their first year living together at Hogwarts was over, Harry was confident he could grade the essays of the first and second-years all by himself, sitting comfortably in his armchair with Hedwig curled up next to him and a cup of tea at his elbow.
It was a good year.
AN
Writing Fanfiction means I don't need to rehash and explain things that every HP fan already knows, which is kind of nice sometimes. It would be different if I were writing an actual book.
I decided to make the Taboo a First-War-Thing, because the fear of the name is otherwise ridiculously overblown and rather nonsensical in some places. Although canon seems to me like it was a clever idea Voldy came up with as a result of everyone already being afraid of his chosen name.