Mo Chridhe

Chapter 3

Harry reluctantly followed the Slytherin. Feeling sick to his stomach…was he going to be punished? Could other students punish each other? He didn't want to be told to go home. Back to the Dursley's, and so ashen faced he followed the boy, Flint praying he'd get to stay. He stalled at the sight of the dungeons, but Flint's gentle tugging had him following. Were they going to Flint's friends where he'd be beaten? Like Dudley and his gang? Usually, they just ambushed him…then again there weren't usually adults around when he began beating him up.

The relief Harry felt was immense when they walked into one of the empty room within the dungeons. It was well lit when they entered.

That relief did not go unnoticed by Marcus, which made him frown darkly. It made the kid flinch, his body turning a little in defensive pose but not fully. It made Marcus unconsciously clench Harry's wrist causing Harry to flinch and a muffled cry to leave his lips.

That sound had Marcus letting Harry's wrist go abruptly. Watching Harry cradle his hand and wrist, and his heart sank. Perhaps his thoughts weren't quite so far from reality after all. It was impossible, he thought, before inwardly scoffing his own back proved it wasn't. Come on, there was no way that this kid could be abused. Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed it. He was the kids magical guardian, he saw him all the time.

What if he was hiding it like him…that worried Marcus more than anything…but why hadn't he spoken to one of his tutors? Someone, anyone?

It never once passed Marcus' thoughts to ask why Harry hadn't just used magic against them.

"I have articles here, from the Daily Prophet," Marcus declared, beginning to set the paper out one at a time against an old unused potions lab bench. There was no light in Harry's eyes, no glimmer of recognition, or sheepishness at being caught in a lie. He was just plain confused, and Marcus was becoming increasingly concerned. Was this even the real Harry Potter? Was the real Harry Potter hidden? A squib? But no, Harry Potter looked too much like Charlus Potter, who was Harry's great-great-uncle. Charlus and Fleamont, you wouldn't have been able to tell them apart if not for the hair. The potion Fleamont had created worked on Charlus but not himself. Thus, Charlus had manageable hair, artistically tousled, while Fleamont had decided to grow them after their parents' deaths. This he recalled his parents saying. "One of them is of your parents, it's the attack that night, it's the one turned over." Warning the brat, he might be a bit of a shit – okay a big shit – on the Quidditch pitch but that didn't make him unfeeling or incapable of empathy.

Harry padded forward, his brows furrowed, he didn't get what the Slytherin was going on about. Why was he giving him an article about his parents? Everything was so confusing, his breathing hitched when he saw one particular article, it was about him. Unless there were two Boy-Who-Lived's which was unlikely, he wasn't that thick.

He knew when he was born, he was…he was three when that article was printed. This said Dumbledore had seen him, knew he was doing very well and thriving. Being offered anything he required to have a good strong upbringing. Blinking rapidly, he dropped the article like it was burning his fingers.

Without any finesse he grasped the second article, it was an article six months later, his birthday, squinting he read it baffled, confused and deeply, deeply hurt. A birthday party with his nearest and dearest? Another article squashed in his hands. Breathing laboured he picked up the next one, all in order, another seven months later…the first of his tutors picked as 'Heir Potter' begun his beginners' lessons.

Harry shook his head as if he could dislodge the words that made no sense to him. They didn't fit into his reality; they weren't his reality. He still didn't understand why the headmaster would have anything to do with his life. The echo of all the words he'd heard pertaining to Dumbledore spinning around in his mind. How he was a hero, had defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald. How great he was, how great his parents were, how they were all in Gryffindor. Sickness began to crawl up his throat and into his mouth.

His thin bony hands grasped for the next one, 'excelling at his studies and exceedingly like his father with a mischievous side' mischievous side? He kept going through them all, the articles becoming smaller as the years rolled on. Until Dumbledore was only commenting on this largely fictitious life of his once a year or so. There was one, when he was five, what he did read might as well have been in a different language. His 'magical guardian' apparently had taken on the Black-Potter seats in the wizengamot whatever that meant. The last article that wasn't upturned was read with blurry eyes, not sure whether it was his inability to breathe or the tears that were causing it. 'During a spirited discussion Harry said he was excited to start Hogwarts and hopes he isn't overwhelmed by everyone' oh, it hurt.

It hurt so much.

"What's a magical guardian?" Harry asked, tear filled green eyes staring beseechingly at Marcus Flint. As if he was the only thing keeping him stable, strong. In a way he would have crumbled if he was on his own.

Marcus' gut wrenched seeing the misery that was consuming Potter whole. He'd watched his reactions, no eleven-year-old kid was good enough to trick him. He had been doing nothing but watching him. Every single micro-emotion he displayed. It made Marcus feel wretched that he had caused it, and the question alone…he knew, he knew that this kid wasn't kidding. He didn't know what a magical guardian was.

"A magical guardian is normally picked by the parents or grandparents in the event that the godparents aren't capable of providing the care a magical child needs." Marcus said, crouching down a bit so he wasn't looming over the kid. He could see he'd made the right decision since he relaxed a little. Still, he knew it wasn't going to last, not once he was done revealing everything. "However, Dumbledore can gain guardianship of anyone signed up to attend Hogwarts that has godparents unavailable. You have been signed up since the moment you were born, or so it's been proclaimed." Easier done when nobody knows who they are, or if only one is chosen.

Harry felt numb, his mind was blank, he was beyond bewildered, beyond angry. It was a familiar sensation, just somewhere safe, where he didn't have to think, didn't have to feel.

"Did you even know who Dumbledore was before coming here?" Marcus asked, eyeing the youngster, he already knew the answer. He did, he just wanted conformation, he wasn't sure what he'd do with it though. What could he do against the might of Dumbledore?

Harry stared into dark eyes, green eyes desolate, broken, "No," he confirmed, shaking his head, tiredness making him feel so, so drained.

Marcus' dark eyes took on a sympathetic look, not pity, never pity. To survive what the did? There was nothing to pity, they could pity the dead, those that don't make it. Which begged the question, just how badly hurt was Potter? How long had the abuse gone on? Recalling the flinch and the cry of pain without the threats to tell. Yeah, long term abuse for sure even he couldn't stand people being anywhere near his back and it had only been a few years. "Did you grow up with Muggles?" barely refraining from baring his teeth. He knew if he reacted at all the boy might flee or clam up.

Harry wavered on whether to tell him or not, but it wasn't as if it was a secret. He'd already told Ron and Hermione the bare bones. That he lived with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and his cousin Dudley when they'd enquired about where he stayed. Hermione had said something about the books curiously never mentioning it. Feeling sick and weak, he swayed before he knew it his backside met the ground, but it didn't hurt.

Marcus noticing Harry's predicament reached forward in a flash, grasping Harry's arm and easing him into sitting position without hurting him. He had no idea where Harry hurt, so he was being cautious, he could only imagine the pain of say a broken arm or wrist if he pulled him instead of allowing momentum do its job but making sure he wasn't hurt in the meantime. "Kid, you alright?" Marcus asked, his worry genuine, nobody passed out like that, not without reason.

"I live with my aunt and uncle," Harry blurted out, easing himself out of Marcus' hold, watching his hands and face obsessively.

Marcus allowed Harry to retreat, noticing his alert cautiousness, he was the same during the summer holidays. Especially while in the same room as his grandfather, he was obsessively alert over his wand, so he had at least some warning if he took it into his head to start whipping him. Harry was expecting to be hurt by him, that hurt a little, but Merlin only knows what the kid had been through. "Wait, aunt and uncle? Muggles then?" knowing that Charlus and Dorea were dead, and they were as close to an aunt and uncle on the Potter side as he'd ever get. Evans must have had a sibling then, she was definitely a Mudblood.

Harry swallowed and nodded in conformation, yes, Muggles, the way he said it though, like they were disgusting, like dog's dirt. The Dursley's would have hated that for sure, they tried so hard to come across as normal. He had to smother the laugh he wanted to let out at the sheer indignation they'd feel at this wizard's feelings for them.

Marcus unfortunately, couldn't conceal his reaction to the knowledge he was right. Disgusting Muggles it just confirmed that they weren't worthy of the air they breathed. Although, to be fair, his parents weren't exactly Muggle haters, his grandfather couldn't stand them though. Just how badly had the hero of the wizarding world (at least the light side) been abused by Muggles? What was Dumbledore thinking? Putting Potter with Muggles? Did he honestly think he was going to get away with this? Lying through his teeth for years? What was he hoping to gain from this? Was there a chance that Dumbledore knew?

"Are you hurt right now?" Marcus asked the eleven-year-old, not even a teenager yet, not quite.

"I'm fine," Harry parroted almost automatically, an instinctive reaction to being asked that question.

Marcus closed his eyes, refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He knew without a single doubt that the boy was watching his every reaction. Reading every micro expression that appeared on his face, and if he saw anger? He would most definitely clam up entirely and likely run, pretend this conversation didn't happen. "I was fine the other day too." Marcus got down to Harry's level, hoping that the 'shared' secret would make Harry more likely to share.

Harry shrugged; he knew better than to fall into that particular trap. He'd had a few school teachers show 'concern' for him, promise to get him out of his situation. More fool him for believing them, even once, let alone the three times he happened. Each and every time they promised nothing came of it, they never raised the subject again. Never seemed interested or bothered about him the slightest. He assumed they had spoken to his aunt and uncle and thought he was a hooligan like they called him.

Unaware of the other forces at play, to ensure that Harry remained in Privet Drive. In the care of his aunt and uncle, the blood wards, one wizard had decided, was too important.

"It's not abuse," Harry insisted.

Marcus' brows shot up, "I never said it was," he pointed out, ever the Slytherin, hoping to trip someone up.

Harry grimaced, well that was a bit impulsive, too impulsive by half. He wasn't normally like that, he preferred flying under the radar. Keep quiet, head down, and just try not to draw any attention to himself. It's like being here had loosened his tongue, made him a bit too fearless than he liked.

"Listen kid, you don't need to stay in pain," Marcus vowed softly, "There are potions that can help you, you saw that for yourself." and likely why he'd been asking in the first place.

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, grasping a hold of the bench and pulling himself up, gritting his teeth as he did so. He was long past the damn idea that he'd get the help he needed. People just didn't care, no matter how much the insist they do. Completely forgetting Marcus' earlier words, assuming he'd forgotten one of the articles he turned it over ready to read but blinked in astonishment instead.

"Is…that… my…my dad," Harry managed to choke out, green eyes wide in astonishment. Thin bony fingers traced over the features. "James and Lily Potter…" he breathed out.

Marcus' jaw clenched realizing this was the first picture Harry had seen of his parents. Barely five to six years older than him when they died for their cause. On one hand, respect for standing up for what they believed in…but with a child? Foolish, the Longbottom's had been the same. Everyone else that had children – including the Weasley witch – had stayed out of it. "Yes, that's a picture of your parents." His voice so soft that he barely recognized it. aghast at the knowledge that the kid didn't even know what his parents looked like until now.

Harry stared at Marcus tears filling his eyes, "They look…pretty." Pretty and young Harry thought, his mum didn't resemble Petunia in any way.

Marcus watched as Harry stroked over his parents' moving features, the picture unaware of their fate. The awe and turbulent emotions, nobody should bear witness to this, it was fiercely private. Pressing his hand to Harry's thin delicate shoulder, "They would want you to get help." using them to his advantage, what could he say? He was a Slytherin for a reason, plus Harry needed help.

A bittersweet smile appeared on his face, and Harry shook his head, no. There was no point, nobody really cared, he'd likely not care at the end of the day. Just like everyone else. He didn't know anything about his parents, what he had known was lies…there was no attachment to them. Oh, he used to dream of them coming for him and taking him away. Those people in front of him where nowhere near what he'd imagined…for some reason he had expected them to be older.

"Alright, then let me get the potions you'll need?" Marcus refused to give in, if the kid still refused, he'd stun him and cart him off to Professor Snape. He might tell him anyway; his hatred of all things Potter couldn't possibly outweigh an abuse case.

No way in hell.

There was no other alternative, he refused to contemplate the idea of his Head of House denying him.

A/n – Yes, you'll likely see smaller chapters for the next week or so, I'm doing yet more decorating (lobby hallway et…) so it's going to eat into a lot of my free time. I'll need to remember to wear my old clothes, got paint on my new-ish trousers lol silly bugger that I am and it's not came out either ugh that's gloss for you though, maybe I should just splatter it all over the trousers ha-ha it was a fashion a while ago after all 😊 eh, hopefully another wash will get rid of the remaining paint.

So, will Marcus be carting an unconscious Harry to Professor Snape and entirely obliterating any trust that was building up? Or will Marcus do everything Harry will need (with Sev in the know but Harry oblivious) or Harry trusting Severus and Marcus? With nothing outwardly changing between Sev and Harry in public? Sev is getting side-lined a bit too much in my newer stories 😉 so it would be nice for him to have a bigger part in the story! But it's nice to introduce new characters into a story you know? or will Severus' hatred of all things Potter cause him to deny Harry and not believe Marcus and do irreparable damage that he won't be able to correct? R&R please