Unsaid 7

Severus didn't know what he had been thinking when he decided to take in Harry Potter. He should have fought Dumbledore with all his might and never give in. He should have dueled the old man, should have left the country, anything, before Harry Potter ever set foot inside Hogwarts.

He had been feeling irritated, as his Enlightening Potion was a failure, the ginger root wasn't fresh enough, and all he wanted to do was finally get some work done. But the boy had the gall to escape from him into the school. Surely Dumbledore should have seen this coming. If Harry was recognized by any of the students, his life could even be in danger. The Dark Lord may have been defeated, but there were many sects of evil wizards who would want the glory of defeating Harry Potter.

It had taken him hours to track down the blasted boy. He only made any progress when one of the ghosts had directed him to where the boy might be. He had found Harry practically lounging in the owlery. He could hardly think as he grabbed the boy's arm and it somehow made him even angrier to feel that the skin was frigid.

Severus sat at his desk, not touching the stack of potion essays that he needed to grade. He could feel it again, that horrible sinking feeling. He felt it when Harry had somehow aligned Severus to his horrid relatives.

"I'll stay in my cupboard, I promise!"

Severus let his head rest on his hands. He hadn't felt so entirely dirty since…well, in about seven years. He had become furious again, but not at Harry. No, he was angry with how Harry ate his food as quickly as possible, or at how he cringed whenever Severus raised his voice, or how he was so obsessed with learning about his parents, or how his arm was cold from sitting by the open window, or how his clothes were unbelievably filthy.

Though Severus had really only acted on the last part. For at that moment, he didn't think he could look at the boy unless it was in clean clothes that actually fit him. But Severus was still angry, but he really didn't know who the subject was anymore. He was angry at Harry, he wasn't angry at Harry. It didn't make sense and he wished he could kill Dumbledore.

He didn't know how long he sat, moping, in his office before he finally came out. He was being entirely unproductive and thought he should retire early. He paused at the doorway, spotting Harry reading on the couch.

Well, he suspected he was trying to read. It was a book of critical potion essays from Severus' bookcase. An hour ago he would have been furious at the boy for going through his things. But now he was just exhausted.

Harry looked up at the sound of the door opening, but immediately hid his face, like he was ashamed. Not really knowing what he was doing, Severus sat himself down on the other side of the couch. "I know you probably don't understand a word of that."

Harry flushed and handed the book to Severus. "Sorry." He still wasn't looking up.

The man took the book and placed it back on the shelf. Then, strangely enough, he picked up another book and gave it to the boy. It was some silly fairytale book that he never read. It was some joke present from the headmaster.

Harry looked at it curiously, flipping through the pages. "The Wi-Wizard and the Hopping Pot? The Foun-tain of Fair For-tune?" He read slowly and awkwardly.

Severus frowned. "Did they not teach you how to read either?" He hadn't meant to sound severe, but Harry flinched anyway.

"I'm not good at reading and I don't like it when Miss Rogers makes me read from the board," he murmured, shutting the book and putting it aside.

"Why not?" Severus didn't know why he was asking. He could feel a headache coming on.

Harry shrugged. "It's hard to read the board. I can read better from a book, but she always makes me read from the board and it's harder."

Severus suddenly had a very strange thought, and he looked at Harry closely. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he was suddenly reminded of how much the boy looked like his father. Except for one thing. Severus suddenly took the book and held it up. "Read the title." Harry was frowning, but he didn't look like he wanted to defy Severus. He began to scoot forward, but the man stopped him. "No, read it from there."

"Uh, T-Talls…or…Bundle the D-Dald?" He was flushing and hesitating.

Severus looked at the cover, the title in a large blocky print; he would be able to read it from across the room. He frowned and slowly lowered the book. "Have you ever had your eyes examined?"

"I can read! I just can't read good." Harry was starting to get upset and Severus sighed.

"Well, you can't read well. And I didn't mean to insult you, I was merely inquiring if a healer has examined your eyes."

Harry paused. "You mean a doctor? No, I've only been to the doctor to get my shots. They never looked at my eyes."

Severus cast tempus to look at the time. It wasn't too late, he supposed. "Well," he said, standing up. "I think there is somewhere you need to visit. Tell me, have you been to the infirmary?"

-

Harry had once been to the nurse's office at school because he threw up in class. The teacher sent him away and the nurse said he had a fever. Aunt Petunia was very angry to have to come to school and pick him up. She shut Harry in his cupboard and he was so thirsty it was awful. Ever since then, he never went to the nurses, even when he felt really hot and sick in class.

The infirmary at Hogwarts was much larger than the office at school. It had a lot of beds with curtains. There was a boy there, several years older than Harry, with bright red hair. He was sleeping, but his entire right arm was bandaged.

An older women with a crisp white apron came out of her office and gasped when she saw Harry. She immediately glared at Snape. "Severus, what-?"

"I can assure you that Potter is in perfect health and I have done nothing wrong," he quickly interrupted and pushed Harry forward. "I have a favor to ask. Can you please give Mr. Potter an eye examination?"

"Oh?" She gave Harry a curious look. "Well, sit down over here and we'll have a look."

She motioned towards a bed and Harry slowly moved forward. He still didn't quite know why Snape wanted his eyes checked. Was there an illness that made him not be able to read very good? "I'm not sick, Miss," he decided to clarify.

The woman smiled kindly. "I know you aren't, and you can call me Madam Pomfrey, dear." Harry sat down uneasily and flinched when Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and held it to his eyes. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't touch you with it, I just need a look."

She was saying something and the wand shined very brightly in his eyes. She moved it around a bit and the light kept flickering and changing colors. Harry tried not to blink, but he did a couple times by accident.

Eventually she put her wand down. "Well, Harry, you are certainly in need of some glasses." She was writing something down on a piece of paper. Harry rubbed one of his eyes. He had never been told he needed glasses before. He wondered how she could tell. He also thought it was very strange that she put the piece of paper into the fireplace. Madam Pomfrey looked to Snape.

"They'll be here momentarily. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Snape nodded, then looked at Harry, "Stay here," he said sternly and followed Madam Pomfrey into her office.

Harry swung his legs on the bed, wondering what glasses would do. He then noticed that the boy with red hair was awake and staring at him. He wondered if he was doing something wrong and stopped swinging his legs.

"Hey, are you really Harry Potter?" the boy asked, sitting up in his bed. Harry could see that the bandage went around his neck and torso too.

"Yeah, what's your name?" The boy had a friendly round face, but Harry was a little scared. He had never talked to a teenager before.

"Charlie. Hey, come over here for a sec." He gestured with his good arm. Harry slowly stood up and looked at the office door. He supposed it wasn't bad because he wasn't leaving or anything. He stood next to Charlie's bedside. "Well, you really are Harry Potter!"

Harry suddenly felt self-conscious. "Yeah," he murmured. He didn't know why Charlie was staring at his forehead. It could be his scar. The Dursleys always said it was ugly. Harry tried to cover it up with his fringe. "How did you get hurt?"

He shrugged, then flinched from moving his shoulder. "Came across some Ashwinder eggs, exploded on me. But that's not the point, you're Harry Potter. Why are you here? Aren't you seven?"

Harry didn't know why the boy was so interested in him, or how he knew his age. "I'm staying with Sn-Professor Snape for the Easter Holidays."

The boy's eyes only got wider. "Snape? Really? Blimey, and I thought my holiday was ruined from those blasted eggs. But here is Harry Potter, staying with Snape. Wait until I tell Bill and Percy, they will be so jealous that I didn't have to go home."

Now really confused by Charlie's response, Harry felt really uncomfortable. "Why?" He murmured.

Charlie seemed taken aback. "Well, umm, cause you're Harry Potter…Say! Can I have your autograph?" He was digging around his bed stand. "I swear there is some parchment here…"

"Charles Weasley! Stop moving around this instant!" Both boys whirled around as Madam Pomfrey marched towards them. "You said you didn't want to scar, then you must listen to me and stop moving!"

Harry backed away as Pomfrey nearly wrestled the teenager into his bed, then quickly closed the curtains. He could hear complaints from Charlie and sharp reprimands from the nurse. He turned and saw Snape frowning at the closed curtain. "What were you talking about?" he questioned.

Harry shrugged. "He was hurt by some eggs and he wanted my autograph." He noticed Snape was looking at him now, frowning deeper. "I dunno why he wanted my autograph." He rubbed his forehead. "He also knew my name. It was weird."

The fire behind them suddenly flared and a small package spat out. Snape turned around and picked it up. "Come, we need to leave."

All the way back to the dungeons, Harry wondered if Charlie had been hit on the head. Perhaps that is why he was acting weird. He was talking about exploding eggs after all. "Professor?" Harry asked timidly. "Why did Charlie know my name?"

Snape hesitated for half a step. "Many wizards and witches know your name."

"Really? Why?"

The man didn't answer until they were at the door to his rooms. "It is because of something you probably have no memory of. It is not something that is appropriate to discuss at this time." He walked into the living room and sat down in one of the chairs. "But it would be best to avoid other students, we don't want too many people to know you're here."

Harry nodded, he was used to being hidden. The Dursleys like to hide him from the neighbors and it helped if Dudley couldn't find him with his gang. He looked at the package in his hands, it wasn't even burned.

He looked at Snape, but the man was staring into his fireplace, thinking about something very hard. Harry decided he could open the package. It was a pair of glasses wrapped in velvet cloth. He tried them on. "Whoa," he gasped.

Snape looked at him. "Do they fit?"

Harry blinked, really seeing the man now. "Your hair is greasy," he blurted out.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Very astute. Now do they fit correctly?"

Harry touched them and nodded slowly. He looked around the room and felt a little overwhelmed. Everything looked different. He could see the letters on book titles, each stone on the wall, and how Snape's eyes weren't just dark, they were black. "Wow," he breathed, wishing he had glasses years ago. He pushed them down his nose and saw the world go fuzzy again. It was strange, he didn't realize his vision was even blurry.

He walked over to Snape's bookshelf and looked to the very top, where he could read the titles of the books out of reach. "What are you talking about?" he heard the man ask.

"What?" He turned around, and then realized he was saying the titles out loud. "Oh, just reading." He suddenly remembered the book Snape had handed him earlier. He looked to the couch and saw it quite easily. The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He suddenly grinned very broadly. Miss Roger's couldn't humiliate him anymore. Feeling a bit hyper, he hopped over to Snape. "Thank you!"

The man gave him a strange look, possibly because Harry was bouncing. "For what?"

"You gave me glasses of course. I can see now, it's so weird."

"If you had competent relatives, you would have had glasses a long time ago. It is nothing to thank me for." Snape sounded a little angry and was still looking into the fireplace.

Harry suddenly remembered that it was only a few short hours ago that the man was ready to throw him back to the Dursleys. He suddenly didn't feel very happy. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"For what?" Now he turned and was glaring. Harry went to go sit back on the couch.

"I'm sorry for being a burden." He put his feet up and hugged his knees.

Snape stared at him for a very long time and Harry felt very self-conscious. He didn't realize before how piercing his eyes were. He finally sighed very deeply. "Go to bed." He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Harry didn't want to argue, so he went to the bedroom and put on his pajamas. They were softer now and he had forgotten if he thanked Snape for making his clothes better. The man didn't look like he wanted to be bothered, so Harry crawled into bed. When he heard the crinkle of paper, he realized that his family tree was still there. He could see better in the dark with his glasses and he could just make out the faces of his parents. He fell asleep, imagining them smiling at him.

-

The next couple of days were better, but still a bit boring. Harry didn't complain. It was, after all, much better than being chased by Aunt Marge's dogs.

He read through the fairytale book and found it very silly, but it was much more interesting than the potions books that took up the rest of the bookcase. Dumbledore would stop by sometimes and talk with Harry about magic. Sometimes Harry thought he was making stuff up though. How could there be dragons and nobody except wizards would notice them? Dumbledore would also have really long talks with Snape that Harry knew he shouldn't be listening to. So he would go into his room.

To keep him busy, Snape had given Harry a list of words to practice spelling and definitions. He would sometimes look at it, but he mostly used the paper to play with the quill and ink. It wasn't as easy as pencils, but he would pretend to be an old wizard like Dumbledore writing a spell book. He mostly doodled.

Snape also started to let Harry watch as he made potions. Though he had to make sure to sit on the stool away from the ingredients and not move. Harry would sometimes make a comment, but Snape didn't seem too interested. The man would be concentrating very hard and often muttered under his breath. Harry didn't think making potions looked that hard. It looked a lot like when Aunt Petunia made a stew. Though her stew never turned purple.

Harry didn't mind it was a bit boring. It was much more entertaining to watch Snape, cursing under his breath as a potion bubbled, and rushing constantly to the cupboard to grab new ingredients, than to sit around all day.

Finally Harry got the nerve to knock on Snape's office door one afternoon. The man spent a lot of his time there and Harry guessed it was because he was a teacher. When he went in, Snape was at a large desk, with a stack of papers beside him. Harry couldn't stop staring at the bottles and jars that lined the walls, filled with disturbing creatures and objects.

"What is it?" Snape didn't even look up as Harry stood on the other side of the desk.

"Can I go outside today?" He asked timidly.

Snape paused a little while writing and pulled out his wand. He was muttering under his breath and Harry wondered if he was talking to himself or doing magic. A small clock appeared and showed the time to Snape.

"Please, I promise to be good. Can I see the lake?"

Snape sighed deeply and said something very similar to damned headmaster, but Harry wasn't sure. "I suppose I may escort you around the grounds."

But it was raining, pouring really. Harry stood at the large doors of Hogwarts and stared at the sodden ground. If Dudley was being really annoying, Harry would sometimes go out in the rain. The Dursleys never seemed to mind, as long as he avoided tracking mud on the carpet, which wasn't that hard, since the front door was so close to his cupboard. Harry looked at Snape, wondering if the man would let him run around a bit. Harry just really wanted to be outside.

Snape was frowning, but he conjured a small raincoat. "Only for a few minutes." Harry hurriedly put on the raincoat, his hands shaking with excitement. He barely heard Snape mutter: "At least no students will be around."

It was wonderful to be out on the grass and Harry gave a whoop and ran all the way to the lake. He liked to run, except when Dudley was chasing him. He would probably get chosen first for football at school, but the other kids were afraid of Dudley. Harry always wanted to be on a team though, and he pretended like he won some great race once he reached the lake.

He searched along the bank for skipping stones. He had never skipped a stone before, but he had seen it on the television. He threw a flattish stone into the water, but it just plopped in. Looking for something larger, he found a big rock and hurled it in. Once it hit the water though, something seemed to rise from the middle of the lake and fling it back with a giant tentacle. Harry screamed and laughed and ran from the shore. He didn't know what that was, but he guessed it didn't like getting rocks thrown at it.

He saw Snape was still by the doors, staying under the awning. He ran over, though now he was a bit breathless. "You coming out?"

Snape was looking at Harry's legs, which were soaked and covered in mud. "No, I think not."

"Please, I wanna see the Kittich Pitch!"

Snape looked very confused. "You mean the Quidditch Pitch?"

Harry tugged on his sleeve. "Yeah, can you tell me about it?" He managed to get Snape to move a few steps towards the strange field. "How do you play?" He noticed that the man's robes didn't seem to be getting wet.

Snape did try to explain to Harry how to play Quidditch, but the boy was really too hyper to listen. He did catch a few things while hopping around the large pitch. "Do they really fly on broomsticks? Can I have a broomstick?" Harry didn't wait around for an answer, but ran from one end to the next, pretending to be on a broom and scoring goals in the massive hoops.

Eventually his energy gave out and he fell on the ground. It didn't hurt, mostly because he landed in a pool of mud. He sat up and squeezed the mud between his fingers. But Snape was suddenly picking him up by his elbow. "I believe that this has been enough playtime."

Harry wiped his hands on his raincoat, but it didn't help much. "When can I play Quidditch?"

"Not until you are a second year." Snape had turned around and was heading back towards the front doors.

Harry ran to catch up and took Snape's hand, swinging it happily. "I can't wait until I come to Hogwarts. I can come, can't I?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I rue the day, but I have no doubt that you will get your acceptance into Hogwarts."

Harry looked back towards the Quidditch Pitch. "Really? How do you know I'm a wizard? I've never done magic."

"Trust me, Potter, you have performed a great feat of magic, though I highly doubt you remember."

"Was it when I was a baby then?" Snape didn't answer, but Harry felt his hand tighten briefly. Harry squeezed his hand, but the man didn't show if he felt it.

The cool dungeons made Harry shiver. Once in the rooms again, Snape summoned a couple of towels and held Harry back from moving further. "I will not have you tracking mud everywhere." And he crouched down to scrub Harry's head with a towel.

Harry groaned and grabbed the towel from him. "Stop!" Snape just raised an eyebrow and Harry noticed that the man's hair was just as wet. "You're wet too." He grinned and threw the towel at Snape, scrubbing the hair. Surprisingly, the Snape just kept still and let Harry dry his hair. Harry liked that.

Eventually the man stood up and pushed him towards the bathroom. "You need a bath," he muttered.

Harry didn't like baths. When he was really little Aunt Petunia used to scrub him until his skin hurt. When he became older, she refused to let him 'waste the hot water'. He groaned. "Really? I'm already dry."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "No, you will bathe." He began turning on the faucets and Harry was glad to see the water was steaming.

He leaned forward. Snape's bath was much deeper than the one at the Dursleys' and had a couple more faucets. While Snape had turned around, he quickly turned on another and found bright pink bubbles pouring out. "Cool!"

But before he could reach for another, Snape had turned off the bubbles. "Stop playing around and get in, you're tracking mud all over the floor."

Harry eagerly stripped and laughed at his hands and feet, which were covered in dirt, while his chest of completely clean. The water was hot and, sitting, it went up to Harry's chin. He took off his glasses so he wouldn't lose them in the water. He pushed around the few bubbles that remained, while Snape left and brought back some clean clothes.

"Do I need to help you?"

Harry quickly shook his head and dunked beneath the water. Snape handed him a bottle that Harry assumed was shampoo. It smelled like peppermint. Snape left him to finish, but it didn't take Harry too much time to clean himself. He just liked being in the deep bath tub and sneaking a few more bubbles from the other tap when he thought Snape wasn't listening.

Eventually his fingers were pruned and he decided to get out. Once dressed, he didn't see Snape in the living room, but the office door was slightly open. Harry walked in before realizing he should have knocked.

There was a tall student in there, with a red and gold tie. Snape didn't noticed Harry at first, but the student did. "So it is Harry Potter!" He said it so triumphantly that Snape quickly turned around, glaring at Harry.

"Uh…hallo," he muttered, but Snape had already turned back and was ushering the student out of the room. Well, more like shoving, as the boy was trying to get a better look at Harry.

Harry quickly retreated to the living room and waited for Snape to come in. "Sorry!" he said instantly.

Surprisingly, the man just waved him off and locked the office door. "I must remind you not to enter my office without knocking." He sighed. "But I cannot blame you for this instance, it seems like half the boys in Gryffindor suddenly have questions about their potions homework."

Harry didn't know exactly what that meant. "Why did he know my name? Like Charlie? You said it was because of something I did when I was a baby. Was it the magic? What did I do?"

Snape closed his eyes. "Have you always had the habit of asking so many questions and not waiting for an answer?"

Harry thought about it seriously. "I dunno. I've never had anyone to talk to before." Snape was frowning again and sat down on the couch, Harry sat next to him, kneeling so he could face the man better. "Why won't you tell me?"

Snape was silent for a moment. "It is not appropriate for a seven year old boy."

"I'm almost eight. I will be this summer," Harry whined.

Snape looked at him closely then and Harry thought his eyes were very black. But he was giving in, even if just a little. He leaned forward slightly and Harry brought his knees up so he could hold them. "Many years ago there was a very powerful and very evil wizard who spread a wave of tyranny and terror across Britain. He cast so much fear in wizards' and witches' hearts that most people will only refer to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, or the Dark Lord."

"What was his real name?" Harry interrupted.

Snape pursed his lips. "Lord Voldemort…Voldemort," he said quickly and Harry wondered if he was afraid too. "He could control people against their will. He would torture those who defied him and he killed many people."

Harry was hugging his knees closely. "Really?" he whispered.

"This isn't some villain from a storybook, you have to understand. This man was real and most people do not like to talk of those dark times." He sighed deeply and was quiet for a long time. Harry didn't know if he should say something or not.

"What happened to him? Did someone defeat Voldemort?"

Snape was staring at him again and Harry did his best to hold eye contact. "Yes, but in the most unlikely form. It was you, when you were a baby."

Harry's eyes got very wide. "Really? But what could I do?"

Snape shrugged. "No one really knows what you did. But the Dark Lord came to you when you were around one year old, with the full intention to murder you. But you sent his curse back to him and no one has seen him since. That is why people know your name. Children are told about the famous Harry Potter from their cradle. Many books in the Hogwarts library have you written in them. And there are few witches or wizards who would not recognize you by sight, because of the scar the Dark Lord gave you."

Reaching up to touch his forehead, Harry felt really confused. "But how could I be famous? I've been beaten up by Dudley and his gang, I have no friends at school, my clothes are hand-me-downs." He pressed his forehead to his knees. "And I've slept in a cupboard for most of my life. That doesn't sound like some famous person. That sounds stupid."

He felt fingers touching the tip of his hair and Harry looked up to see Snape giving him a strange look. He didn't know what it meant, but he felt the man's fingers trace his scar. He wondered if Snape was trying to understand it too. "For the lack of eloquence, yes-" He retracted his hand. "-it does sound stupid. And though the Dursleys' treatment of you was most deplorable, it does not negate the events of your infancy. Students at this school, for better or worse, will recognize you and act in the most idiotic fashion in order to gain your attention. Perhaps the headmaster had some legitimacy in placing you with muggles, though the particulars are highly suspect."

Harry was rubbing his forehead. "Why?"

Snape gently tugged his hand down. "Because you wouldn't have to grow up in the world where you were fawned and spoiled for something that you had no control over."

"You mean like…Dudley? But that's not so bad." Harry thought about how much he hated his cousin, who got everything he ever wanted. He always wished that his aunt and uncle would turn to Harry instead. He knew he was jealous, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

But Dudley was also the dumbest kid in class, if the teacher was fair, and he was really fat. And he got angry over really stupid things and cried like a baby whenever something he liked broke. Harry thought it wouldn't be that great to be Dudley, but it would still be much better.

"I guess I like not being Dudley," he ended up saying.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Like he didn't believe him.

Harry unfolded his legs. "Yeah, Dudley can't come to Hogwarts and he can't be with you." He smiled suddenly. "I like it."

Those words didn't feel good enough, but Harry didn't know what else to say. It was only when he was in bed later, looking at his family tree, that he really realized it. He was happy.