For The Boy Who Has Everything by Foolish Wishmaker
Summary: Voldemort is dead, but the world is going to hell anyway. Harry is forced to go into hiding as Snape's son. Little does he know, it isn't just a useful disguise.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape > Severitus Challenge Main Characters: Draco, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Remus, Ron, Sirius, .Snape and Harry (required)
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: Alternate Universe, Resorting, Slytherin!Harry
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Romance/Slash
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 29 Completed: No Word count: 189045 Read: 191048 Published: 21 May 2007 Updated: 06 Oct 2013
Chapter 4 by Foolish Wishmaker

Some time before dinner, Harry tried to find Lupin. He wanted to ask him... a lot of things. He was worried about Ron, and Hermione, and Hedwig, and Lupin himself. He thought Lupin had acted warmer toward him at lunch, so perhaps, this time, Harry might get some answers out of him.

He didn't find him, however. None of the doors on the second or first floors led to rooms that looked occupied, though neither Snape's door nor the library would open for him. Harry tried the door to the cellar, but finally he gave up; clearly you needed a password or the right combination of wand taps to open it, and it was hopeless otherwise.

He was about to give up and return to his room when he heard a commotion on the third floor.

Without thinking, he ran up the stairs, coming to a halt when he saw Lupin stagger out of a room toward the end of the hallway, shutting the door behind him and almost collapsing against it.

Harry ran up to him just as Lupin managed to slide the lock closed.

"What was in there?" he asked.

Lupin wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his robe and pushed himself shakily away from the door. "What? Oh..." It seemed to Harry he was thinking quickly. "Not sure, to tell you the truth. I had wondered why this door has such a complicated lock on the outside. You know what they say about curiosity." He peered at Harry closely. "Please don't get it into your head to try to rid this house of its... nastier... inhabitants, all right, Harry?"

"Why would I?" Harry asked peevishly. Lupin was talking as though Harry routinely went looking for something dangerous to take on. "I don't want to come face to face with some ghoul, or whatever is in there."

Lupin didn't say anything.

Harry abandoned any plans he'd had about speaking to Lupin. "Anyway, it looks like you've handled it, so I'll just go back to my room." A little less grumpily, he added, "I'll see you at dinner."

"I don't know if I'll make it," Lupin replied. He was holding one hand to his temple. "I feel a bit of a headache coming on."

Harry nodded miserably. Another meal alone with Snape. "I hope you feel better soon, then."

At dinner, as he sat opposite Snape and tried to ignore the fact that Snape was reading a fresh copy of the Daily Prophet, he wondered if he ought to tell Snape about what he'd seen earlier. Snape might not know the reason Lupin hadn't felt up to joining them.

He didn't have to, as it turned out. Half-way through the meal, Lupin came in, looking terrible with blood-shot eyes. He ignored the food and pulled Snape aside.

Harry knew he wasn't supposed to be listening in, but it was impossible not to, even though Lupin was speaking almost too low for Harry to catch what he was saying.

"I wanted to warn you -- there's a You-Know-What on the third floor."

Harry frowned. A You-Know-What? That thing Lupin had locked up earlier didn't even have a name Lupin was willing to say out loud? He knew it was for his benefit that Lupin didn't name it - Lupin had called Voldemort by his proper name while everyone else insisted on the You-Know-Who nonsense, so he certainly wouldn't be afraid to call a magical creature by it's proper name.

"It must have taken over the cupboard after I removed the ghoul -- I thought he was back until I opened it. For now I've got it locked in across the hall, but..."

"I will take care of it," Snape said.

"I would like it gone before..." Lupin's eyes darted to Harry, who pretended to be very interested in his soup. "Well, you understand."

"Perfectly," Snape said, shooting a disgusted look in Harry's direction.

Lupin left, taking some food with him, and Snape returned to the table.

They ate in silence.

"You are not to set foot on the third floor, Potter," Snape said as Harry finished and started to stand up. "Is that perfectly understood?"

"Yes," Harry said, trying to keep from sounding sullen. He didn't care what was up there.

"What?"

"Yes, it's perfectly understood, sir."

Snape's glare was on him all the way up the stairs.


 


 

He would have kept his word, too, really he would have. He had no intention of going anywhere near the locked door on the third floor, and no desire to know what was inside.

As usual, the decision was taken out of his hands.

He was on the stairs, fully intending to go to his room and read Quidditch Through the Ages until he was tired enough to fall asleep, when he heard a funny sound. A kind of scraping.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Like nails -- or claws -- on dry, flaky wood.

In hindsight, what he should have done was turn right around and get Snape... and maybe he would have done it, had he not heard another sound. A much more chilling sound.

It was the click of a lock opening. Harry would know that sound anywhere.

More scraping -- a different kind of scraping -- and Harry, frozen on the stairs, knew that up in the third-floor hallway, the no-longer-locked door was being slowly pushed open.

He sprinted up the stairs, wand out. He knew perfectly well that it wasn't the smartest thing to do; if Lupin, a fully-trained wizard, could barely manage it -- whatever it was. But he wasn't thinking of anything other than that if he could get there quickly enough, he could slam the door shut again before the creature got it open wide enough to get out. Then he could go for help.

He got there. He even had his hand on the edge of the door, ready to push it shut with all his strength.

It was pushed open with enough force to send Harry smashing into the opposite wall.

He stood in front of the wide-open door, face to face with the one thing he never could have been prepared for.


 


 

It was a Boggart.

A simple Boggart.

A creature Harry had known how to defeat since he was thirteen years old.

And yet, he stood with his wand at his side, unable to move, completely frozen in place, unable to even look away.

The Boggart didn't move either.

It just stood there, wearing Sirius' face, and stared at Harry with angry, accusing eyes.

Harry didn't raise his wand, even when feeling returned to his body. There was nothing that would make this Boggart amusing.

He knew, suddenly, why Lupin had to wrestle it into the room, rather than destroying it with one simple incantation. He suspected that, just as his no longer took the shape of a Dementor, Lupin's Boggart was no longer a silvery full moon.

He didn't know how long he stood there. Time didn't exist.

"RIDDIKULUS!"

Harry unglued his eyes from the Boggart long enough to see Snape bearing down on him, his face contorted with fury.

There was a crack! and the Boggart stumbled, but it didn't change. It was still Sirius, still angry, and now one hand reached for Harry's throat.

"RIDDIKULUS!"

The Boggart stumbled again, and turned to look at Snape, its mouth curling in a sneer. Its hand was inches away from Harry now.

Snape reached him first, and pushed him out of the way; Harry sprawled on the floor.

Snape, now standing where Harry had stood, facing the Boggart, raised his wand one last time. He didn't say a word, but a blast so powerful that Harry threw up an arm to shield his face sent the Boggart flying back into the room from which it had escaped; its body came apart, dashed into a thousand pieces as though it had been formed of sand; it was blasted through a wardrobe, and hit the far wall as nothing but a wisp of swirling air.

It was gone.

Harry stared. He couldn't stop staring at the place where it had vanished. There was nothing there; just a heap of sawdust that had been the wardrobe.

He probably would have laid there forever, staring at the wall, if not for the firm hand that grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and hauled him off the floor, holding him up so that he stood on tip-toes.

He was wrenched around so that he faced Snape, and behind him, looking just as furious and disbelieving, Lupin.


 


 

Harry sat in his bedroom.

The door was locked. He was locked in.

Snape had half dragged, half shoved him all the way there from the third floor. But that was after Lupin was done with him; Harry had lost all will to resist, after that.

He had tried to explain, but it was useless. He knew it was useless before he got more than a sentence out, and fell silent, letting the barrage of furious words wash over him. He had learned at the Dursleys that when someone was this angry with him, the only thing he could do was wait it out.

Of course they didn't believe him. No one ever did.

Snape thought Harry had done it specifically because mere minutes earlier Snape had told him not to. Lupin seemed to agree, and brought up Harry's offer to help with the ghoul and then wandering on the third floor earlier....

Harry lay down on the bed and shut his eyes tightly.

It was like the Boggart had been burned into the inside of his eyelids. He kept seeing it and the way it had stared at him; he saw it reaching for him over and over again.

And he couldn't help it -- he had more questions.

Why hadn't the Boggart changed for Snape? Snape had been right there; that's what Boggarts do; it should have changed into something else. Something Snape feared.

Maybe Harry's fear had been stronger, because if anything, the Boggart that reached for Harry was worse than the one he had first encountered. Sirius' face, younger and healthier than the last time Harry saw him alive, somehow held more accusations that the skeletal post-Azkaban face the Boggart had assumed at first. He looked, more than ever before, like a man cut down in the prime of his life.

It was a long night.


 


 

Harry fully expected to spend the entire next day locked up, but shortly after dawn the door was unlocked and Lupin stuck his head in.

"Harry? Awake?"

Harry nodded from the bed. He was sitting, already dressed, with a book open in his lap, though he hadn't done more than stare blankly at the same page for the past half hour.

"Well, then..." Lupin paused, looking uncertain. "Come down to breakfast. We'll talk."

Harry followed him silently down to the kitchen.

"I may have... overreacted... last night," Lupin said when they were sitting at the table with tall glasses of iced pumpkin juice and plates of sweet rolls, fruit, and chocolate biscuits. "Mind you, you are not excused; that was a very foolish thing to have done. However, I was not feeling well and my reaction was out of proportion." He looked at Harry over the rim of his glass. "I dare say you got punished enough as soon as you opened that door."

Harry had 'I didn't open the door' on the tip of his tongue, but bit it back with great effort. It wouldn't do any good, and if Lupin was ready to move on, Harry could live with being blamed for something he didn't do. He was used to it. So, instead, he looked down at his plate and nodded.

"Let's consider it forgotten," Lupin said with a wave of his hand.

"Are you feeling better today?" Harry asked. He really did want to know.

"Much," Lupin said. "Although, I doubt it will last. The moon will be full the night after next."

Harry thought about bringing up the cellar, but changed his mind. He wasn't going to take the chance of starting another argument.

"Is Snape --"

"Professor Snape," Lupin corrected automatically.

"Professor Snape, then," Harry amended. "Where is he?"

"Left early this morning. He had to get more supplies for one of his potions, which suffered a setback..."

Harry had a nasty suspicion about what had caused the potion to be ruined. Snape must have gone to check on it following dinner, intending to take care of the Boggart afterward.

"Is he getting the supplies from Hogwarts?"

"I don't know. From his home, maybe."

Lupin didn't seem to want to talk about it -- his voice took on a wary tone -- so Harry changed the subject.

"Do you think Hedwig is all right? Ron said in his letter that he would send her back to me before they left. That was over a week ago."

Accustomed to being lied to and placated, he watched Lupin's expression closely. Lupin looked unconcerned.

"I'm sure she is all right. Owls, especially when you make a pet of them as you have of Hedwig, rarely stay away for long."

"But you don't think something could have happened to her?" Harry persisted. He had been having terrible thoughts about someone harming Hedwig to get their hands on a letter she may have been carrying for Harry.

"I doubt it."

Again, Harry had the feeling Lupin didn't want to talk about it. Sighing, he decided to let it go for the time being.

They finished their meal in silence.

"Have you found the books amusing enough?" Lupin asked as Harry helped him clean up.

"What? Oh," Harry grimaced as he remembered the two novels. "They're all right."

Lupin laughed. "A bit outdated, I imagine. I liked them well enough when I was your age."

Harry had a sudden thought. "Do you know... I mean, did my dad like any books like that?"

The smile vanished from Lupin's face. Harry had somehow said the wrong thing again.

"I don't recall," Lupin said. "James didn't read much aside from what was assigned."

"Oh," Harry said. "How about my mum? I always imagine her being a bit like Hermione and Ginny combined. When she was in school, I mean."

Lupin seemed to think this over. "More like Ginny, I would say. She was smart, of course... yes, a lot like Hermione in that respect, but it came so naturally to her that she didn't spend much time revising." He looked at Harry and smiled wanly. "I don't recall any specific books she had read for pleasure. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Harry mumbled. His throat was tight. "I just wonder sometimes."

"Of course you do," Lupin said, an old warmth -- from a time before he had any reason to feel any grudge against Harry -- returning to his voice. "It's natural." He paused, contemplating Harry with a sort of intensity that didn't seem to fit with the subject of their conversation. "I imagine you would do anything to have your parents back. To belong to someone, I mean."

Harry gulped. Of course he would. To have his mum or dad back... how could he not want that?

Lupin sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Harry managed to squeeze out around the lump in his throat.

"It's not," Lupin said, shaking his head. "You should have had a chance to grow up like a normal child. So many things... didn't work out. Some you aren't even aware of."

Like Sirius, Harry thought miserably. That had been his very last chance at a family.

Lupin seemed to shake himself and changed the subject.

"I think you need something to occupy you."

Harry looked at him blankly.

"It just so happens that I have a nearly complete list of subjects to be covered in Sixth Year N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts class. If you were so inclined, you could try to get some of the reading out of the way. Some of the theory behind Defense is quite complex, and while I'm sure you were at the top of your class -- or near it -- you may find the required reading difficult to keep up with when you have other classes as well."

That sounded reasonable enough, Harry supposed. "Sure, I'd like to take a look at it."

Lupin walked over to the cabinet and removed a few sheets of parchment from the bottom drawer. He handed these to Harry.

 

Confronting the Faceless
Chapter 1: Theory and Practice An Introduction
. . . .

 

Beside each chapter, in Lupin's handwriting, were copious notes.

"Er... how come you're working on this?" Harry asked, looking up at Lupin curiously.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to take a look, seeing how there has been so much inconsistency in the way the subject has been taught."

"Will she be the new Headmistress?" Harry asked hopefully.

Lupin's shoulders slumped a little. "I hope so... Yes, let's hope it will be so. She would be wonderful."

"Better than Umbridge," Harry said.

"Umbridge is not coming back to Hogwarts," Lupin said firmly. "She would have been gone sooner had certain facts..." Lupin's eyes darted toward Harry's hands -- Harry looked down and saw that the light was catching the thin white scars on the back of his hand -- before he went on. "She is facing an inquiry at the Ministry and... well, she will not be coming back."

"Good," Harry said, resisting the urge to pull his hand out of sight.

"As I was saying," Lupin said, "I have a good idea of the subjects to be covered in your class, and it couldn't hurt for you to get started on your reading."

"How will I get the textbook?" Harry asked.

"I will take care of that," Lupin said. "I'm sure either I or Severus will be in Diagon Alley tomorrow. We're running low on a few things."

"Great, then," Harry said. He couldn't get very enthusiastic about the prospect of studying a textbook, but perhaps it would help him pass the time and leave him with more free time once he got to Hogwarts.

"And now," Lupin said, "I think you better go back to your room." He dropped his voice. "Strictly speaking, I wasn't supposed to let you out."

Harry grinned.


 


 

Despite having to eat both lunch and dinner alone up in his bedroom, Harry felt it had been a good day. In any case, it was his first day at Grimmauld Place that he hadn't been yelled at for one thing or another.

Of course, being a prisoner in his bedroom made it hard to do anything worthy of being yelled at.

The next morning, Snape seemed to feel he had been punished enough -- or, more likely, Lupin had convinced him -- and Harry was allowed to take his meals in the kitchen again.

The only thing to mar his mood was the fact that Lupin did not show for either lunch or dinner, and the meals were rather grim as a result.

As soon as the dinner dishes had been cleared, Harry intended to leave the kitchen as quickly as he could.

"Just a moment, Potter."

Harry sighed. Now what did Snape want?

Snape came a few steps closer -- too close for Harry's comfort -- and looked down at him with disapproval.

"I do not agree that this is the best method of keeping you occupied," he said, "and I doubt you will take advantage of this opportunity; however, I have purchased a textbook for your use."

He held out a slightly battered book; obviously second-hand.

Perhaps he caught Harry appraising it, because his lips thinned. "I do not approve of wasting money on new things when there is no need to do so. The book is perfectly serviceable, and you may as well begin to get used to not having money to waste on frivolous things."

Harry, who'd had his fill of tatty hand-me-downs thanks to the Dursleys, thought of his Gringotts vault filled with gold and didn't agree. Still, it didn't matter to him. He reached for the book. "Thank you."

Snape pulled the book out of reach just as Harry's fingertips touched it.

"I suspect Lupin did not bother to set down any terms," he glared at Harry as if this omission was his fault. "There will be no unsupervised spellwork."

Harry nodded.

"If I hear of anyone or anything being hexed as a result of something you read in this book, you will dearly regret it."

Harry nodded again. Who would he hex, anyway?

Still glaring, Snape shoved the book into Harry's waiting hand. "I imagine you're quite satisfied," he sneered.

Harry had no idea what Snape was on about now. He worked on holding his tongue.

With a final menacing glare, Snape stalked out of the room, muttering angrily under his breath. "Werewolves at a school full of children... She would have to be mad."

Harry stood rooted to the floor.

He couldn't have heard right.

Snape couldn't have meant -- ?

Lupin would have told him.

Wouldn't he have?


 


 

He didn't see Lupin until the next day, and he had no chance to speak to him over breakfast, with Snape there.

Lupin looked worn-down and gaunt, and barely ate anything. He kept rubbing his temples and the light seemed to hurt his eyes even after Snape dimmed all the lamps. Before Harry had finished eating, Snape had to help Lupin out of the room.

Harry poked at his corn flakes and wished he could follow them, but Snape had sent a glare directly at him as he and Lupin disappeared up the stairs, so he figured he better stay where he was.

Snape returned alone.

"Do you..." Harry began before he could stop himself. He reckoned he may as well finish. "Do you think Lupin's worse than usual?"

Snape put down the teacup he had just picked up and looked at him hard. "How astute of you to notice," he said scathingly.

Harry felt himself reddening. "I meant... worse than he usually is before the full moon."

Snape took a long sip of his tea. "I suppose he may be."

Harry had not been expecting Snape to give him a straight answer, and so was not terribly surprised to not get one.

"Well, what's wrong with him?"

"I couldn't possibly say," Snape said. He gave Harry another hard look. "Though I imagine stress has played a role."

Harry felt a twinge of guilt, but, after all, it had not been his fault he had been taken from the Dursleys and brought to where he could cause Lupin more stress.

"Can I ask you a question? Sir?"

Snape seemed to wait for him to go on, so Harry took that as assent.

"Why did you take me from the Dursleys?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Not bubbling over with gratitude, are you Potter?"

Harry scowled. "Thanks. I was just fine over there, you know. I expected to spend the whole summer."

"It was not up to you."

"I know it. It never is. I just wondered why." Under his breath, he added, "It's not as though anybody wants me here."

Snape didn't pretend not to have heard. "Someone wanting you -- would that make a difference?"

"Of course," Harry said without needing to think about it. "It would make all the difference."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Really? Perhaps you had better give that some further thought."

Harry, whose thoughts immediately ran to Lupin and Sirius and the previous summer, didn't know what Snape was talking about.

After a moment, Snape took another sip of tea and leaned back in his chair.

Harry, too, relaxed somewhat, only then realizing that his knuckles had turned white where he had gripped the edge of the table.

"Can I ask another question, sir?"

Snape gave a brief nod.

"What's in the papers that you don't want me to know about?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. Harry broke eye contact very quickly.

"I would think," Snape said in a very deliberate tone, "that after the Boggart your curiosity would be somewhat... dampened."

Harry, still avoiding Snape's eyes, nodded. It had been. A little. "I still want to know."

Snape leaned forward over the table, bringing their faces closer and making it impossible for Harry to avoid looking at him.

"That's the problem with you, isn't it, Potter? Always wanting to know things you have no business knowing."

"It's my business if it's something about me," Harry said angrily. "If someone had just told me last year that Voldemort was trying to get me to the Ministry of Magic -"

Snape slammed his hand against the table, causing everything to rattle. "What? You would have sat in Gryffindor common room like a good little boy?"

Harry glared at him. "I would have if I'd known!"

"Yes," Snape said acidly, "you have such a spectacular track record for using information appropriately. It's stunning, really, that anyone would be reluctant to give you more of it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, his stomach clenching.

Snape laughed.

"I don't," Harry said again. "If I'd known Voldemort could send visions into my head -"

"You were TOLD he could!" Snape snarled at him. "You were told over and over again, and what did you do? You did nothing. You put everyone's lives in danger because you were not going to be bothered with a little problem like the Dark Lord being able to possess you at will."

Harry's chair scraped the floor as he leaped up. "That's not true!"

"Of course it is. He was in and out of your head all year."

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!"

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "Believe whatever you want, Potter. The fact is, you wouldn't have known if someone was in your head, would you have, given your obstinate refusal to close your mind to intrusion."

"I did my best!" Harry said, remembering all the hours and energy wasted in Snape's office.

"Really?" Snape's eyebrow arched to match the curl of his lip. "You practiced clearing your mind every night? You put secret rooms and locked doors out of your thoughts? You told someone when you began having visions?"

Harry turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.


 


 

Alone in his bedroom with the door locked, it was a lot harder to rage against Snape's accusations. Doubt started creeping in.

He had told about the visions; one had saved Mr. Weasley's life. And Snape had found out about the dreams featuring the locked door, so Harry hadn't needed to tell anyone else.

All right, so maybe he hadn't put that locked door out of his thoughts. And maybe he hadn't practiced enough. Maybe it would have made a difference, or maybe he still wouldn't have made any progress. Snape hadn't managed to teach him anything, and it had been Snape who had cut short Harry's study of Occlumency.

But even that had been Harry's fault in part.

All right, so maybe a small part of what Snape said was true, but that still didn't address the real reason everything had gone wrong. If they'd told him why he needed to learn Occlumency; if they'd told him why Voldemort was sending him visions of that locked door...

And Harry couldn't quite forget that it was Snape he had spoken to last before making the worst series of mistakes of his life. Snape had failed to do anything that could have prevented it all.

And as for Voldemort possessing him all year... that was rubbish. Ginny had been possessed, and there had been clear signs. Harry hadn't experienced any blackouts or done anything he later didn't remember doing. Not only that, but Voldemort had tried to possess him at the Ministry of Magic, and even though Harry had suffered a short blackout as a result, there had been no mistaking what was happening. You just couldn't miss something like Voldemort being inside your head.

Could you?

Besides, Voldemort hadn't been able to possess him for long. Harry had the distinct feeling that something had gone terribly wrong for Voldemort the moment he had entered Harry's head.

He told this to Snape over lunch.

"You knew about the door at the Ministry of Magic."

"And I told you to put it out of your mind," Snape replied coldly.

"Voldemort got into my head just before he and Dumbledore dueled. I knew it was happening."

Snape looked annoyed. "Despite many attempts to instruct you, you still fail to understand subtle differences, Potter. Of course you would know if someone forced the whole of their consciousness inside your body. That is quite different from rummaging through your mind... or extending the connection just enough to see through your eyes."

"What do you mean, see through my eyes?" Harry demanded. "What for?"

Snape's mouth thinned into a line, and he looked as though he were considering his next words carefully. "Dumbledore believed... that it was possible -- likely, even -- that the connection between you could make it possible for a weak form of Legilimency to be performed through you."

"He..." Harry frowned. "He could have read someone's mind by looking at them... while I was looking at them?"

Snape looked even more annoyed; Harry almost expected another lecture about Legilimency not being synonymous with mind-reading. But all he said was, "Possibly."

Harry hesitated. Something clicked into place. "Is that why Dumbledore would never look at me? Never look directly at me, I mean?"

There was a long pause.

"Yes," Snape said finally. "It's possible that was his reasoning."

"But you don't know?"

"No."

"But..." Harry's thoughts were in complete disarray. He tried to pull together some meaning. "Dumbledore told me he could have taught me Occlumency himself. He must have been good at it. Why would he care if Voldemort tried to get into his head? He could keep him out!"

Snape huffed irritably. "Your understanding is faulty."

"Explain it to me again, then!"

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Please," Harry added quickly, "sir."

Snape considered for a few moments. "The likeliest scenario is that an unexpected question posed at an ill-timed moment could have elicited an emotional response from Dumbledore. Such reactions are particularly difficult to keep in check, and thus a skilled Legilimens is able to glean information without the need to forcefully extract it from the subject's mind. As I have told you before, even a skilled Legilimens is unable to pull information out of another's mind as if reading an open book. However, if the right questions are asked, the subject's unintentional response is often enough."

"And he could do that," Harry said, feeling a little nauseous, "just by being near someone?"

"Legilimency does require eye contact in most cases; however, the fact that Dumbledore also chose to avoid being in your presence more than necessary suggests that he feared avoiding looking directly at you was insufficient."

"But why didn't someone just tell me? I don't understand!"

Snape shook his head. "I have no way of knowing what Dumbledore's precise reasoning was. No doubt he felt you were unprepared to grasp the importance --"

"Well, we'll never know, will we?" Harry cut in angrily. "BECAUSE NO ONE EVER TELLS ME ANYTHING!"

The glare that Snape fixed on him caused Harry to slump back into his chair and look down at the floor.

"We were at war, Potter," Snape said, finally. "Information was not given out freely."

"We're not at war anymore," Harry said stubbornly. "And still no one tells me anything." He went on quickly before Snape could retort. "Look, I just want to know if my friends are all right, and what's happening at Hogwarts, that's all! I haven't had any news at all since school let out, and I'm stuck here --"

"I assure you," Snape said acidly, "that you would not be here if it could be in any way avoided."

"Then I want to know why it couldn't be avoided!" Harry exclaimed. "That proves something is going on and that it concerns me!"

"It does not concern you." Snape was speaking in that slow, deliberate tone again, as though it could will Harry to accept his words without argument. "Unless, of course, you choose to stick your nose where it is not needed and does not belong. We all know how well that works out, don't we, Potter?"

Harry scowled. "I'm not sticking my nose in. I just want to know."

Snape stood up. "Go back to your room, Potter. This conversation is over." He swept his empty plate and cup off the table and dispatched them to the sink with a wave of his wand. "I have things to do." With that, he turned his back on Harry and began to fill a tray for Lupin.

Harry continued to scowl at Snape's back, but he knew it was useless.

He finished eating, but didn't leave the kitchen. He didn't think Snape would tell him anything else, but he couldn't help trying.

"Still here?" Snape asked sarcastically over his shoulder.

Harry didn't reply to that.

"Fine," Snape said. "Here --" He shoved the heavy tray into Harry's hands. "Be useful. Take that into the drawing room. I'm late as it is."

Harry followed Snape's quick glance at a clock above the stove.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"I am," Snape said, and didn't elaborate. "I should be back before the dinner hour. If not, you are to be in your bedroom before nine." His eyes bore into Harry's. "Need I remind you there is a full moon tonight?"

"I know," Harry said sullenly. "So what? He's taking his potion."

Snape's expression hardened. "In your bedroom before nine. Say it, Potter."

"I'll be in my bedroom by nine o'clock," Harry repeated in a monotone, feeling that it wasn't worth arguing. It wasn't as if there were a hundred ways to amuse himself at Grimmauld Place. He probably would have gone to his room after dinner anyway.

"See that you are," Snape said, and went ahead of Harry upstairs.

Lupin was in the drawing room when Harry came in with the tray. He was lying on a couch, a book face-down on his chest. His eyes were closed.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to wake Lupin if he was sleeping; Lupin looked terrible and could probably use all the rest he could get.

He put the tray down as quietly as he could on a table next to the couch, and started to back away.

Lupin's eyes fluttered open and slowly focused. "Harry?"

"I, uh, brought your lunch," Harry said. "Snape's gone. He said he had something to do but he wouldn't say what."

"Professor Snape," Lupin admonished, sitting up with a soft groan. "Thank you, Harry. I did intend to come down, but somehow I only made it to this couch..." He smiled a little sadly.

Harry sat down on the edge of a chair. There were a few things he wanted to ask Lupin, but he wasn't sure now was a good time to do so.

Lupin looked at him over the rim of his cup. He seemed to guess what Harry was thinking.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Go on," Lupin prompted. "I can see something is bothering you."

"You look terrible," Harry blurted out. He felt himself reddening. "I mean... I know it's the full moon, but..."

Lupin bit into a piece of bread and chewed slowly, looking thoughtful. "Yes, it has been worse than usual. Severus is making another potion, which helps a great deal, but I missed a few doses this month..." His voice trailed off.

Harry felt guilty. He remembered the night of the Boggart and the ruined potion. He didn't think it was a stretch to imagine a connection.

"Anyway," Lupin continued, "you needn't worry too much on my behalf. Was that all you wanted to ask?"

Harry's mind raced for a moment - there were quite a few questions that he was holding back. "Is it true you will be teaching at Hogwarts?"

Lupin looked startled. "Where did you hear that?"

"Snape said something about it," Harry said. Remembering Snape's exact words, he plunged on, "Something about werewolves at a school full of children, and a 'she' who was mad to allow it. Does that mean Professor McGonagall will be Headmistress?"

Lupin ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I... I don't think it's certain, but... possible."

"Then it's true," Harry said happily. "You'll be back!"

Lupin blinked, his brow creased in a half-frown. "Yes, it's possible."

"I'm glad," Harry said. "You were the best teacher we had."

"That... is not saying much," Lupin said, still frowning.

"Fine, then," Harry said. "The only decent teacher we've ever had. How's that?"

Lupin smiled weakly. "More accurate, in any case."

They were silent for a few minutes, while Lupin picked at his food and Harry wondered if more questions would dampen the mood. He really would be wholeheartedly thrilled if Lupin returned to Hogwarts. It just might be the only thing he had to look forward to.

"Was there something else?" Lupin asked.

Harry nodded. "About a hundred things, but you don't want to hear it, do you? We'll just argue again." He paused. "Snape told me some things about Voldemort. How he could get into my head all year and I didn't know about it."

Lupin stiffened, his face darkening. "I'm not sure that was appropriate."

"Well, it's better than not telling me anything!" Harry said. "I mean, at least it explains some things. I'd rather know." He looked Lupin in the eyes. "There are a lot of things that I really, really want to know. Maybe you don't think I should know them, but that doesn't help me to stop wanting to know."

Lupin seemed to consider this, which was more than Harry had expected. "I imagine it is hard."

Harry sighed. He doubted Lupin could imagine it. "I want to know if Ron and Hermione are all right."

"Yes, they are," Lupin said.

"Would you know?"

"Yes."

"So..." Harry frowned. "You've been in contact with them?"

"As I've told you before, the Order is still quite active. There are still threats, and we are still dealing with them. Or, I should say," Lupin said, bitterly, "the others are. I have not been very useful in that regard. Hermione's family is being monitored, and are not considered to be in any danger. The Weasleys have been in contact."

"From Egypt?"

"Yes," Lupin said, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"I know they're not," Harry told him. "Ron wouldn't have been allowed to say so in a letter. They're in hiding."

Lupin pursed his lips and didn't reply.

"Fine," Harry muttered. He didn't need Lupin to say anything; he had already worked it out for himself. "I'm worried about Hedwig."

"I told you not to be. I'm sure she'll turn up."

But Harry wasn't satisfied with that. Lupin couldn't know unless he had seen Hedwig, and if he had seen her, then he was deliberately keeping her, or information about her, from Harry. Harry wasn't sure which of the two possibilities upset him more.

"I want to know if Hogwarts is definitely going to be open in September, and that I'm definitely going to be allowed back."

"Of course it will be," Lupin said. His brows knitted together. "And of course you are. What in the world have you been thinking, Harry?"

"You said they couldn't find a new Head, and that it was closed," Harry reminded him. "I figured the Ministry was going to meddle."

"And it will," Lupin said, looking unhappy about it. "Dumbledore had a virtually free reign, but that won't be the case for the person appointed as his replacement. And as I've told you, nothing is certain, and there has been some question about the best person for the job. However, don't let that concern you. It's politics; it will all work itself out for better or worse. Hogwarts will reopen."

That did make Harry feel a little better. No matter how badly things went, he would still rather be at Hogwarts than anywhere else.

He plunged on.

"I want to know what the prophesy was about." The damned little glass ball had cost him so much; he wanted to know what was so special about it. "The one Voldemort wanted so badly."

Lupin smiled wanly. "I'm afraid I don't know, and I doubt there is anyone left alive who does. Otherwise, why would Voldemort have needed you to get it for him? The only people who could remove it were the two it concerned; that is, you and Voldemort, and I believe Dumbledore was the only one who had heard the whole thing."

"But it was about me?"

Lupin hesitated, but nodded. "I believe it had something to do with why he wanted to kill you, Harry, but I don't know more than that, and even that is purely speculation. We will never know now. No other record exists."

"But," Harry said, frowning, "if Voldemort tried to kill me because of the prophesy, he must have known what it said. And if he knew... why did he want it?"

"I don't know, Harry. Perhaps he only knew it existed, and that it concerned a particular child. He was extremely paranoid, and he was known for reacting to lesser threats than that."

Harry nodded, but was not completely satisfied.

"I want to know why I couldn't stay at the Dursleys. Was I in danger there?"

He thought Lupin was not going to answer him, but after a moment Lupin nodded. "Not in danger of the kind you must be thinking of, perhaps, but... vulnerable. Yes, that's the best way to put it. The Order no longer had the resources to ensure your safety, and..."

"And what?"

Lupin shook his head. "It seemed best, that's all."

But Harry knew that wasn't all. There was something in the way Lupin spoke that made him think there was something bigger there.

"But, why --"

"I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit tired, Harry," Lupin interrupted. He had pushed away the tray and leaned back against the cushions. "Perhaps another time."

Harry sighed. That wasn't even a fraction of what he wanted to ask, and some of Lupin's answers had been less than satisfying.

"If you like," Lupin said, "there are some old magazines over on that shelf by the window. Vintage. Might be of interest to you."

Harry went over to the shelf and picked one up. It was very dog-eared and yellowed, but it was a Quidditch magazine, and he wasn't going to complain about it being old.

"Thanks," he said. "This is really great."

"I found them in the back of a cupboard and thought you might like them. By the way, has Severus given you your Defense textbook?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Last night. I haven't had a chance to look at it yet. But, thank you."

"If you run into anything you don't understand, you're welcome to ask me."

"I will."

Harry decided not to go upstairs. Part of him hoped Lupin might be willing to answer a few more questions after he rested for a bit. Part of him, he admitted, just wanted to defy Snape, who seemed to think Harry should spend all his time shut up in his tiny bedroom.

He made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs and flipped slowly through a magazine. It wasn't as flashy as some of the ones he'd read with Ron, but it was still more interesting than any of the other reading material Harry had access to.

It was getting quite late, he knew. Lupin was dozing. Harry wondered if Snape would be back by the time it got close to sunset, or if he would have to wake Lupin up. He still didn't see why Lupin shouldn't spend the night in one of the bedrooms, where he would surely be more comfortable, but he knew Lupin wouldn't be happy with him if he failed to wake him in time.

It turned out that he needn't have worried about it. The sky outside the window had darkened only slightly, with a tint of gold and red, when the front door opened and then slammed shut.

Lupin's eyes snapped open. He sat up, stretching. "What time is it?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't have a watch. Snape's back, though, I think."

Snape was back. He came striding into the drawing room a few moments later, carrying a number of items in the crook of his arm and a steaming goblet in the other hand.

"Drink up, Lupin," he said, without bothering with any pleasantries.

Lupin took the goblet and drained it, grimacing.

"Upstairs, Potter," Snape said, sparing only a short glance in Harry's direction.

Harry left, but half way up the stairs remembered that he had left the magazines. He went back.

Snape and Lupin were no longer in the drawing room. Harry could hear their muffled voices coming from a small room off to the side. Harry thought they sounded angry.

He moved closer to the door, but he couldn't make out what they were saying over an odd kind of buzzing that filled his ears the closer he got. He thought there might be a silencing spell on the room -- it was easier to do one on a small space than a large one like the drawing room, and it would explain why they had gone in.

He went over to the shelf, but as he was about to gather up the magazines he noticed that the things Snape had been carrying were lying in a heap in one of the armchairs. Among them were several envelopes, all made of heavy yellowish parchment except for one, which was made of plain white paper.

Harry stared at it. Of course, a lot of people might be using a plain envelope, but it couldn't hurt, surely, just to see whom it was for.

He picked it up.

 

Harry
c/o S. Snape
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

 

Care of S. Snape? Harry frowned, not understanding.

The letter was from Hermione; he recognized her handwriting where the original address, Number four, Privet Drive, has been crossed out. She clearly wasn't writing to him care of Snape. Someone had intercepted the letter and forwarded it.

But why to Snape?

He was still holding the envelope in his hand, puzzling it out, when Snape and Lupin returned.

They looked equally angry to see him with it, before Lupin forced his expression into something more resembling mild disapproval.

"I'll take that, Harry," he said, holding out his hand.

"It's from Hermione," Harry said, not wanting to part with it even temporarily. "It's for me."

The letter flew out of his hand, his fingers suddenly grasping air, and was caught by Snape.

"I do believe it was addressed to me, Potter. Whether you get to have it is therefore up to me."

Harry glared at him, furious. "It was addressed to me! I don't know why they sent it to Hogwarts, but Hermione was writing to ME!"

"Severus," Lupin said quietly, "it doesn't matter now. He's -"

"I don't care, Lupin," Snape interrupted. "I will not reward this sort of behavior. If he gets the letter at all, it will be at my say so."

Lupin looked at Harry and frowned.

Harry was breathing very hard, finding his temper almost impossible to control now. He wanted to rip the letter out of Snape's hand. Snape had no right to take Hermione's letter, or hold it hostage.

"I want my letter," he said, his teeth grinding.

Snape folded the letter in half and slid it into his pocket, all the while looking at Harry as though he dared him to say another word.

"I WANT MY LETTER," Harry repeated.

"Harry --" Lupin began.

"I WANT MY LETTER!"

"Go to your room, Potter," Snape said, very quietly but with a deadly tone. "Now."

Harry stood there, shaking with fury, fists clenched, and he didn't move.

Snape's narrowed eyes bore into his. "Obey me, Potter."

Harry didn't move; the unfairness of the situation -- with Lupin standing right there and not saying a word -- was beyond his ability to bear. He rounded on Lupin, lashing out because Lupin's lack of support was worse than anything Snape could do to him.

"Are you going to let him do this? Why are you just standing there?"

Lupin spoke softly, but the anger flashing in his eyes was frightening. "Do what Professor Snape tells you. We will discuss this later."

"We can discuss this RIGHT NOW!" Harry snarled, completely losing it. "I want to know why he's living in Sirius' house -- MY house -- and why MY letters are going to him."

Lupin didn't answer him. He looked apprehensively at Snape, and Harry's eyes followed until he, too, was watching a very grim expression form on Snape's face.

"Because, Potter," Snape said, his low, deadly voice raising the hairs on the back of Harry's neck, "I am your legal guardian. Everything you own -- this house, any letters you may receive -- belongs to me."

There was absolute silence after this statement.

Harry, who had just a moment earlier been ready to do battle, now felt like his insides had turned into slush. All that was left of his storm of rage was a kind of howling wind filling his ears.

It couldn't be true, of course. Lupin was standing there, looking like he was bracing himself for an explosion, but he didn't contradict Snape -- what did that mean? Because it couldn't be true.

"What happens to you from this moment on," Snape continued, "is likewise for me to decide. You will remove yourself from my sight, and stay in your room until such a time as you can behave yourself properly." He paused. "I realize that may take years."

"You're lying," Harry said, but instead of coming out forcefully, the words hung limply in the air like deflated balloons. He raised his voice. "You're lying!"

Snape took a step toward him, looking as though he meant to grab him and shake him, but it was Lupin who spoke first.

His face ashen and his lips pulled back in a snarl, one hand on Snape's arm to stop him from advancing, he turned on Harry.

"FOR ONCE, WILL YOU JUST DO WHAT YOU'RE TOLD?"

To be continued...


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=1328