Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:

Thank you everyone for your reviews. I really find them encouraging… (as you may be able to tell, since I've updated a week earlier than usual.) Oh and I should warn you there's a bit of child abuse in this chapter...

Back to the Dursley's

"Mr. Potter," Snape said in a casual sneer. His voice lacked the familiar malice that Harry was normally privy to. Instead, his voice contained a more fatherly scold—Potion's Master style.

This made Harry inwardly cringe; the all too frequent feeling of guilt crept back into him. If Snape found out what Harry had just done… Pranking Quinn's office after curfew was exactly the thing Snape had expected Harry to do—before the boy had finally managed to show Snape otherwise. But now, after executing an almost Marauder-like prank, Harry found himself begging fate not to let Snape find out. Despite the fact Harry had just cause—his arm carrying many bruises as evidence—he could not see Snape condoning his behavior.

It was in this mindset that Harry gathered himself off the floor. "I needed to talk to you, sir," Harry lied weakly. But then he remembered. He needn't have felt so guilty… it was a half-truth after all. Harry really had been trying to talk to the man earlier that day—he had to tell him about his arm. Perhaps Snape will overlook my weak voice as embarrasment rather than an obvious lie, Harry thought.

"In the middle of the night?" Snape snidely asked. Or not…

Harry shrugged, "Er… you said I could come to you whenever I needed to talk."

Snape's face visibly relaxed… it appeared much friendlier—for Snape. No sneer, no anger… just a calm blankness. Snape looked directly in Harry's eyes. In that moment Harry realized he had Snape's complete attention—he was going to listen.

The boy swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat… where to begin. "Er…" Harry hesitated. How should he tell Snape what had happened? Perhaps he could just lift up his sleeve…

Before Harry could continue, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Snape pushed Harry protectively behind his body and withdrew his wand.

Gracelessly, Quinn lumbered around the corner, holding out his wand. He was panting and out of breath. Seeing Snape, Quinn controlled his stride and straightened his robes.

His anger, however, was not in control. "That boy," Quinn shouted, pointing his wand at Harry, "has just wrecked my classroom!"

Harry stepped out from behind Snape; he would not cower behind anyone.

"Is that true?" Snape asked neutrally, neither accusing the boy nor defending him.

At first, Harry felt put out. He thought Snape should defend him. He then realized it wasn't really Snape's place. There was no real reason why the man should defend him. Worse of all, in this instance, Harry didn't deserve a defense. He was guilty. Well, he was sure that he didn’t wreck anything—it was just a prank.

Meeting Snape, eye for eye, Harry said, "It was nothing more than a prank. I merely rearranged some furniture."

Harry was unprepared for the flash of emotions in Snape's eyes—disappointment, anger, and then the worst of all, betrayal. And in the next moment it was all gone, Snape's regular stoic mask was back in place.

"Just rearranging furniture?" Quinn spat. "Then why did I have sparks flying about my classroom? Any of which could have ignited a fire!"

The Wizbang, Harry realized. Although he knew they were safe from starting a fire, he wasn't about to present any more information.

"Nothing to say?" Snape sneered in his usual manner this time.

Harry felt his breath catch. It was like the wind was knocked out of him. He did have a lot to say… about his arm…about Quinn. But in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to open his mouth. He was sure Snape hated him again.

"You will clean up my classroom," Quinn ordered, "and restore order. Then we will discuss your punishment."

Quinn stepped aside, waiting for Harry to start walking. The boy took a step, all the while staring at Snape, willing the man to intervene. He wanted nothing more than to tell Snape about his arm. He knew Snape would protect him, whether they were on good terms or not—the man was a teacher after all. But for pride's sake, he didn't want to do it in front of Quinn—he didn't want the git to know he was a wimp… seeking out help.

Mentally kicking himself, Harry couldn't help from asking Snape, "Shouldn't you come?" It was an odd question, but considering the situation, Harry was in a lot of trouble. Snape was a head of house, a long established member of the faculty…

"I can't see why this is any of my business," Snape replied casually. "but, of course, you will need to speak with your head of house." Snape said the last sentence more to Quinn than to Harry. In response, Quinn nodded.

Snape turned, robes billowing dramatically as he stalked down the corridor. Harry watched the man's retreating form with disbelief. He wished things had gone differently… and now he didn't know what to do. He figured he should feel sad; it seemed quite obvious he had just lost Snape's trust, and probably friendship too. But all he felt was angry. Snape should know something is up! Harry thought. He wanted to shout, to rage at the man to open his bloody eyes.

The only words that left Harry's mouth were, "She's busy!" He wondered if Snape would realize he was talking about McGonagall. A part of him wanted the man to know that he was going to be alone with Quinn, there would be no going to Professor McGonagall to discuss the "punishment."

Snape didn't stop or even pause to acknowledge whether or not he had heard Harry's comment. The man disappeared around the corner and Harry felt hope drain away.

A rough hand reached out and grabbed Harry by the back of the neck. Quinn continued to forcibly guide Harry towards the defense classroom. It was a silent trip and Harry didn't put up much of a fuss, being deep in thought about what had just occurred. He hated what happened; pranking Quinn's office was probably one of the most awful things he could have done to make Snape angry. Yet the worst part was probably that he lied to the man, saying he had been looking to talk. He remembered Snape's first reaction, giving his full attention to Harry. And after Quinn showed up…Snape looked betrayed.

He thinks I was using him! Harry gasped. It wasn't until he reached the door that Harry realized he was an idiot for not showing Snape the bruises on his arm. Bloody hell! Harry cursed to himself. I should have opened my bloody mouth! And now I'm walking into this classroom for another punishment… am I stupid? Knocking himself out of his funk, Harry twisted out of Quinn's grasp and flailed out an arm to push the man away. With his other arm, Harry pulled out his wand. He may have a weak body, but his magic was strong.

"Expelliarmus," Quinn shouted before Harry could put up any sort of defense. The wand went flying through the air, landing further down the corridor.

Harry didn't pause; he balled a fist and took a swing. His hand didn't make contact with its target. Instead, Quinn had grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm backwards until the shoulder burned in pain. From this point on, Harry fought back with a lot more restraint. It was difficult to thrash and kick, when each movement was met with a sharp twitch to his arm. This was how Harry was led into the defense classroom, and he wasn't released until he was tossed to the floor.

"You will learn your place," Quinn shouted as he walked over to his desk.

"After you," Harry replied sarcastically, carefully masking any of his fear. He got off the floor and fled to the classroom's door. Twisting the handle he found that it was warded shut…his wand was still out in the hall.

Turning back to Quinn, Harry quickly assessed the situation. Normally, the scene would have been quite hilarious. In the middle of the room was the pyramid of desks and above them, stuck to the ceiling, was a collection of chairs. There was really no evidence of the Weasley's products, as the Wizbang had long since run its course.

The only item that remained had now been discovered as Quinn retrieved his ruler. The man's nose turned up in disgust; Harry could only imagine the smell. For a moment, Harry wished that the dungbomb might have some toxic properties… or maybe Quinn could be allergic. But when the man looked up, eyes glaring through the cloud of green smoke, Harry knew he would not be so lucky.

"Come, Mr. Potter," Quinn called calmly.

Harry shivered. "Like I would," he shouted across the room.

Quinn advanced towards him at a slow calculated pace. Harry contemplated trying to avoid the man, running around the room like a trapped animal. In the end, he recognized, Quinn would probably use magic to restrain him. So Harry would not run, he would use his Gryffindor bravery to fight back as much as he could. He doubted the man would kill him, just beat him up a bit… he could handle it.

Too bad the chairs are on the ceiling, Harry thought. They might have made good weapons.

"Turn around, Mr. Potter," Quinn commanded.

"My arm too small of a target?" Harry shot back.

Suddenly, Quinn shot forward, grabbed Harry by the front of his robes and tried to forcibly turn the boy. Having none of it, Harry fought back and ended up falling to the floor, smacking his head into the stone wall.

Feeling dizzy and disoriented, Harry barely understood Quinn's command to stand. He was already of a mind to get to his feet, but when Quinn wanted it, Harry decided to crawl away. The motion made him nauseous, and he wasn't too sure if he really could have stood. He didn't get far before the ruler first made contact with his back. The force had knocked him to his belly, and the sharp, sudden pain was almost enough to make him cry out.

Harry lay there, cursing himself for being an idiot. He should have told Snape!

Two feet stepped into his line of sight. "Stand up, Mr. Potter," Quinn ordered again.

"Oh, go to hell," Harry replied, punching the man's shin with as much strength as he could muster. He braced himself for the inevitable blow.

Looking up when it didn't come, Harry wondered why the man was just holding the ruler over his head. Was he trying to be threatening? Glancing at Quinn's face, Harry noticed the man wasn't sneering, rather he was startled. Harry was about to check himself out, wondering if there might be something scary or strange about him. Before he could look down, Harry noticed the hand that was holding Quinn's arm back. Second's later, the man pulled Quinn's arm down. As the defense teacher's body shifted, Harry could see the attacker behind him—Snape!

The Potion's Master twisted Quinn's arm around his back into an odd angle. The recently silent room was filled with the man's scream as his arm snapped and the ruler clattered to the floor. A minute later, the room was silent again after Snape's fist made contact with the Quinn's head.

Numbly, Harry watched as the defense teacher fell limply to the floor. Staring at the body, he wondered if the man was now in fact dead. He didn't notice Snape kneeling beside him until he felt the pressure of the man's index finger on his bruised forehead.

"Ow!" Harry gasped, pulling his head away from Snape's hand.

"What happened?" Snape asked through a clenched jaw. He was obviously containing a lot of his anger. Despite his mood, Snape was quite gentle as he helped Harry sit up.

"He wanted me to turn around," Harry explained. "So he could beat me, but I fought back. And then he threw me towards the wall. That's how I hit my head." Taking Harry's chin in his hand, Snape turned the boy's head in order to get a better look at the injury. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Harry continued, "He hit me with his ruler, too, once on the back." He really hoped that he didn't sound like a tattling little child, but he wanted Snape to know everything. "Last detention," Harry said, rolling up his sleeve, "he hit my arm."

"Last detention?" Snape spat, "And you didn't tell anyone?"

"I tried to," Harry appealed. "I just couldn't figure out how to say it."

"How about 'Professor Quinn hurt my arm,'" Snape replied in a biting tone.

"Well, I kept talking about defense teachers and how almost all of them have tried to hurt or kill me!" Harry shouted back. "You knew I had just come from a detention! You're a spy. You should pick up on subtlety."

"Oh, that's rich Potter," Snape snapped. "So I should have deduced what happened to you, of course. And now it's my fault you've been attacked again."

Harry looked away; this wasn't going very well. "Er, no," he said quietly. He could feel Snape staring at him, but he couldn't manage to meet the man's eyes.

"I wasn't really listening to you," Snape confessed. Harry looked back at the man, whose anger seemed to slip away. "I had a lot of work to do and I figured you were just whining about the past. I didn't have time for that."—There was a pause—"But if you had told me what Quinn had done, I would have listened. In fact, I highly doubt you would have been in this situation if you had opened your mouth earlier."

"I—" Harry wanted to defend himself.

Snape cut him off, "Even today, in the hall, you should have said something. Why would you let Quinn take you off on your own? That is such a stupid decision!" The last sentence was shouted as the man's anger once again returned.

"I… I, er," Harry didn't know how to respond, he already knew it was stupid. "You were so mad, when you found out about the prank… I—"

"You were using me," Snape accused, "hoping I would get you out of trouble."

"No, I wasn't!" Harry shouted. "Er, well… I didn't want to come back and have Quinn beat me up, but you can hardly blame me for that!"

"I didn't know he'd do this," Snape replied.

"Why did you come then?" Harry asked.

Snape hesitated, looking unsure how to respond. "I had a feeling…I knew something was wrong." Silence followed for a while, before Snape finally spoke again. "We need to tell Dumbledore. He could use as much time as he can get to find another Defense teacher."

Harry nodded. Standing up on his own, he noticed that although his head still hurt, the dizziness was gone. Blushing, Harry accepted his wand from Snape—the man must have found it in the hall. Lifting his arm, he winced, the shoulder was still sore from how Quinn had twisted it. "Shouldn't I go see Madame Pomfrey?" Harry asked.

"Your injuries can wait," Snape replied. "They don't appear too serious."

Before he left the room, Harry caught sight of Quinn. The man was in a heap on the floor, his right arm at an odd angle. Harry was relieved to note the slight rise and fall of the man's chest as he was still breathing.

After warding Quinn's door—no one in or out—they made their way to the Headmaster's office, without saying anything. During the trip, Harry's back was becoming more stiff and painful. He wondered how hard Quinn must have hit him to cause such pain in one blow. Perhaps I'm being a wimp, Harry thought.

Harry didn't catch the sweet that Snape called ordering the Gargoyle to move. In fact, he wasn't too aware of his surroundings until Snape was about to knock on the door. "I thought Dumbledore was out," Harry stated.

"He was," Snape replied. "But he returned." He paused to look at Harry. "You tried to talk to the Headmaster about Quinn?"

"Er, not really," Harry replied. "I told Hermione and Ron… Hermione said Dumbledore was out. We tried to go to McGonagall, but she was busy."

"So, you didn't try to talk to anyone else?"

"Honestly, Snape, how many people do you expect me to go to before I take care of matters myself?"

"So that was the reason for what you did to Quinn's classroom," Snape decided.

"No, it had more to do with what Quinn did to Hermione," Harry replied.

"What!" Snape's eyes went wide.

"He had her write lines," Harry said quickly. He wasn't so sure what Snape thought had happened, but whatever it was, he looked ready to kill. "Shouldn't I tell you and Dumbledore at the same time?" Harry asked, knocking on the door.

The door opened. Snape and Harry made their way over to the Headmaster’s desk. The old man sat there, apparently waiting for them. His eyes were in full twinkle, regardless of the fact it was getting late. Does he ever get tired? Harry thought.

"Just the two people I needed to see," Dumbledore said kindly. "Would either of you like some tea?"

Both Snape and Harry settled in to the chairs sitting opposite the Headmaster and accepted a cup of tea. Harry was a little annoyed to notice that it was flavored lightly with lemon. From Snape's sudden scowl, Harry was sure the man was annoyed as well.

"Harry has something to tell you," Snape prompted.

Harry directed his own weak scowl towards Snape, before starting in on his tale. Somewhere along the way, Dumbledore's eyes had lost their twinkle only to return later when Harry attempted to gloss over the details of Snape's actions.

"Rest assured," Dumbledore responded once Harry was done, "I will take care of Professor Quinn." Behind the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes, Harry caught a small glimmer of raw power. In that moment, Harry was sure he understood why Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort feared. Involuntarily, he shivered; he noticed that Snape reacted as well. Dumbledore smiled, refilled everyone's cup of tea and then continued, "That covered, I have other news to share as well." His face grew a bit sadder, while maintaining its comfort. "Harry, your relatives’ conditions are starting to look grim. They are not expected to live much longer."

"What?" Harry asked more out of shock than confusion.

Dumbledore continued, "The ministry has decided to push for custody of you, in case the worst might happen."

"A ward of the ministry?" Harry gasped. "Would I go to an orphanage or something?" He shuddered. The Dursleys were bad, but he thought an orphanage would be worse. "Please, there must be something you can do," Harry pressed.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied, pulling out a piece of parchment. "While Minerva was dealing with the ministry officials, I was at the ministry securing this contract. If we can get your Aunt to sign, it will give me temporary guardianship of you in the case your relatives die."

"And then what?" Harry asked.

"If they die, I can protect you, and help find a proper guardian for you."

"This all depends on if you can get his aunt to sign the document?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "Do you think it's possible, even in her state?"

"Maybe. It depends on how much she cares for the boy."

Harry laughed, "Then it's a no—my aunt hates me."

Snape ignored him and continued to talk to the headmaster. "I will need to take the boy with me. She might be able to fight the potion's effect long enough to sign a contract. We should have a ministry official with us, as witness, in case the signature doesn't come out well."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I will ask for my contact in the Office of Child Welfare to meet you."

The two men continued to discuss their plans. Harry and Snape would leave tomorrow, despite the fact they had classes. After a while, Harry couldn't concentrate on the conversation. Instead, he worried. He was going back to the Dursley's.

He was brought back to reality when there was a loud knock at Dumbledore's door. When it opened, Harry was surprised to see Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville come pouring into the room.

"You have to come," Ron shouted, in his panic. He didn't notice the room’s inhabitants. "The defense classroom is warded shut and I think Harry's in there."

From behind the redhead boy, Hermione added, "Professor Quinn physically attacked Harry and he was—Harry!" She ran over to him and launched into a hug. Moments later she released the boy, looking him over. It didn't take long for her to notice the large bump on his forehead. "Did Quinn—" Harry nodded. She turned to Dumbledore. "Something must be done about Quinn. He's physically attacked Harry twice now. That sort of behavior cannot be allowed. Furthermore—"

Dumbledore waved his hand, effectively cutting the girl off. His face was lit with amusement as he spoke, "I will take care of matters, Miss Granger." He looked over the rest of the students, "However, it is getting late, well past curfew. Unless you have further pressing matters, I suggest you all go back to bed. As you can see, Harry is now safe and cared for."

They all hesitated before leaving the office. Ron looked over at Harry, silently asking if the boy was okay. After Harry nodded, Ron backed up to leave. Neville was still lingering in the doorway. It hadn't taken the boy long to spot Snape. Yet despite his fear of the Potions Master, Neville would still be on hand in case Harry needed defending. Hermione gave Harry another hug, and then told the boy to see Madame Pomfrey. Ginny stood debating whether or not to approach Harry. She settled an encouraging nod and then followed the others out of the room.

"I assume they were also involved in your little prank," Snape spoke up.

"Not all of them," Harry replied.

"And you won't tell me who."

"No."

xxxxx

Sitting on the couch in Snape's quarters, Harry waited for the man to return from his meeting with Dumbledore. After his friends had left, Harry was also sent away so the other two could discuss Snape's Death Eater meeting. Of course, Harry complained, stating he had a right to stay. But the Potion's Master glared and threatened to send Harry off on his own to see the overly fussy Madame Pomfrey. So Harry relented, flooing down to Snape’s quarters, and now he stared at the fire, impatient for the man to return. His eyes were getting droopy, and he almost fell asleep.

The familiar dark figure stepped out of the floo.

"Please don't make me go to the hospital ward," Harry pleaded, sounding more like a begging child than he intended.

"Come, follow me," Snape ordered. "I have a Bruise-healing Paste in my lab. And you can take a Pain Relieving Draught for your headache."

Harry was about to state that he didn't have a headache, until he stood. He was hit with a sudden strong sensation of throbbing pain. He vaguely wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

Dragging his feet, he followed the Potions Master back to his lab. They paused briefly while Snape said a few enchantments, tapping the stones where the door to Harry's room used to be.

"Sit," Snape commanded, as he pointed to the couch in his library. Harry did as he was told. Snape disappeared into his lab, returning a minute later with a tin canister and a small cup. "Drink this, and rub this into the bruises on your arm," Snape instructed, as he handed over the potions. Harry drank first and then went to work on his arm. After a moment's hesitation, Snape took some of the paste, and gently tended to Harry's forehead. "This bruise won't go away completely," Snape explained, easing the awkwardness of the situation. When they were done, he added, "I should do your back, too."

Feeling much less pain, Harry made his way to his room, which now had reappeared in the stone wall. On his bed was a set of school-issued pajamas. Slipping them on, Harry wasted no time climbing into bed. Within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he was out.

xxxxx

"Would you hurry up?" Snape called behind the closed door.

"I'm coming," Harry answered, running his fingers through his hair. Eyeing himself in the mirror, he grimaced. For lack of better muggle attire, Harry had decided to wear his Weasley jumper. Although it was embarrassing to wear in public, nothing else he had fit at all well.

Walking out to the kitchen, he joined Snape for a quick breakfast. The man didn't comment on his clothes, nor did Harry say anything about Snape's muggle outfit. He wore the same muggle clothes as he had the last time they'd gone to the Dursleys, but Harry still found the sight strange. Finishing their toast, they made their way to the floo.

Harry went first, calling “Arabella Figg's." Keeping his mouth shut and arms tucked in, he had a fairly safe trip through the Floo. He still managed to fall to the floor, covered with ash. Recovering in time to get out of the way, Harry watched Snape step out of the floo completely composed.

Snape spelled the soot off both of them, while Harry got to his feet.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg," Harry greeted as the woman entered the room.

"Good morning, Harry, Snape," she said, smiling to both of them. "You're looking much bigger than the last time I saw you Harry."

"I can't wait till I'm back to my sixteen year old self," Harry replied.

"Oh, I'm sure you can't," Arabella continued pleasantly. "Are you lot hungry? I could—"

"Excuse us," Snape interrupted, "We must be on our way." Harry smiled apologetically, as he and Snape left quickly. Once out of the house, Snape explained. "We're running late. Mr. Penman is likely to be waiting for us."

The man was indeed waiting for them, briefcase in hand, on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive. A woman waited next to him. At first Harry didn't recognize her. Upon closer inspection, he remembered the woman from the Department of Mysteries. He blushed, realizing the last time he saw her he had been a baby.

"Martin Penman," the man announced, holding out his hand. He had a Percy-like air about him, although, not quite as condescending.

"Severus Snape," he replied, shaking the man's hand. "And this is Harry Potter." Harry stepped up and also shook the man's hand.

"Jo, from the Unspeakables Division." the woman introduced herself.

Harry was confused; he previously thought the woman was an Auror. He was about to ask that question, when he figured out he wasn't supposed to know her yet.

"I've been studying this case for a few weeks now," Jo continued, "alongside Kirk Richards, a healer from St. Mungos. He's still inside. But I must ask all of you to refrain from speaking anything that isn't absolutely necessary."

The ministry clerk was beginning to look nervous, holding his briefcase closer to himself as if were his first line of defense.

Jo asked, "What exactly do you plan to do?"

Snape answered, "We need Mrs. Dursley to sign a paper."

"This won't be coerced, will it?" Penman squeaked.

"Impossible," Jo replied. "I doubt Mrs. Dursley will do anything, at all. We haven't been able to get them to do anything. So she won't be able to sign unless she strongly wants it. I can't go into the details any more, Mr. Penman, but if you'd like, I can write you an official statement."

"Yes, that will do," Mr. Penman decided.

"Harry will be able to get Mrs. Dursley to react, as she has been ordered to kill him," Snape explained. "Harry, you will ask your Aunt to sign the document."

"Make sure you tell her what she's signing," added Mr. Penman.

Jo gave Harry further instructions on what to expect, where to stand, and what to do if they attacked.

It was odd entering the house. Harry struggled to call it a home, but it was still a place of familiarity he'd known his whole life. So it was very strange to see the house was void of the usual furniture. The walls were now lined with magical chalkboards. He noticed they scribed down everything occurring in the house. At the moment, it was recording their entry.

Snape nudged him from behind, and Harry continued into the sitting room. It took every ounce of bravery he had not to scream in horror. His once plump relatives were noticeably thinner. Not quite skinny by any means, but now their clothes fit like tents around them. Being much smaller than the others, Petunia's facial structure was now bony and sickly looking. They were all quite pale and sat at the couch staring into nothingness.

For a moment, Harry thought he would sick up. No mater how much he disliked the Dursleys, he never wanted them to die like this. It was horrible. Slowly wasting away…

A warm hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He had a task to do. Contract and muggle pen in hand, Harry approached his aunt. The man he assumed was Mr. Richards stood near Vernon and Dudley, while Jo stepped closer to Petunia. Mr. Penman stayed a distance away, just close enough to see and hear. And Snape remained right behind Harry, ready to step in if needed.

Closer to his aunt, Harry kneeled down to look her in the eye. He shivered, staring into the blank emptiness, wondering if she were dead already. Swallowing, he said, "Aunt Petunia, I need you to sign contract. It will give Professor Dumbledore custody if… if you should die." There was no response, her eyes didn't even move. It was scary watching them remain fixed, without even blinking. "Please, Aunt Petunia," Harry begged, "you must do this. Just think, you'll be rid of me once and for all."

Petunia's eyes suddenly shot in his direction, causing the boy to stumble backwards. Breathing quickly, Harry got back up. Get a grip, he told himself; she's just Aunt Petunia… why am I afraid of my Aunt?

He resumed his crouched position, carefully avoiding the woman's eyes, which were now staring blanking at him. Making a decision, Harry looked at his Aunt’s hand. It rested lifelessly on the arm of the couch, pale and bony; it appeared half-dead. Reaching out, Harry placed his hand on top of hers, ready to continue his plea.

Instantly, his Aunt jerked to life, reaching out and seizing the boy round the neck. Within seconds, both Snape and Jo were holding her back. With an evil intent she'd never possessed, she fought back, trying attack.

"Please, Aunt Petunia," Harry appealed, "please help me, please sign the papers."

Something flashed in his Aunt’s eyes—for a moment he saw her there. The woman that took care of him, albeit resentfully. But she had raised him, yes neglectfully, but she had taken him in and protected him for years—even though she didn't want to.

Guilt welled up in him. Harry knew it was his fault. Something like this would never have happened to his Aunt if he'd never been thrust on her. It wasn't fair. No wonder that Petunia didn't want him. Look what came of it.

"Please," Harry begged again.

The woman before him sagged into Snape and Jo's arms, all fight leaving her body. They lowered her down to her knees. From there, Harry saw a glimmer of his Aunt hiding in the blank stare.

"Let her go," he mouthed. Reluctantly they complied, but remained looming over her just in case.

Slowly, Harry scooted the parchment across the carpet. A part of him winced at the floor's dirty condition; his Aunt would have hated that. He set the pen down, just in front of Petunia's right hand—careful not to touch her again.

After a moment, she picked up the pen. And, fighting a battle against her own limbs, she scribbled across the bottom of the parchment. Done, she collapsed to the floor.

Snape leaned down, grabbed the parchment and then motioned for Harry to follow.

The boy wasn't paying attention to him; instead he was staring at the heap that had once been his proud Aunt. He looked to the curtains, worried for once, that the neighbors would see her.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia," Harry whispered, "I'm sorry." He reached out to touch her shoulder, but before he could, Snape pulled him to his feet. "I'm sorry," Harry continued, looking towards his other relatives. He wasn't aware of Snape carefully pulling him out of the room. All he could focus on was the dying forms of his relatives. "I'm sorry," he shouted louder, his voice cracking.

Snape dragged the boy all the way back to Mrs. Figg's. Halfway there, Harry had finally stopped shouting his apologies and had grown silent. He vaguely heard Mrs. Figg say, "Oh dear," as the two crossed her sitting room. Snape had to take the boy through the Floo with him.

It wasn't until Harry was safe back in Snape's quarters before Harry opened his mouth again.

"Oh god, Snape," Harry moaned. "Did you see them? What have I done?"

"Harry, their condition is not your fault," Snape assured.

But Harry didn't hear the man. He continued, "They never wanted me, Snape. They never wanted to be a part of this. If I hadn't been thrust into their life, they would be fine right now. If I—"

Snape grabbed Harry's chin and forced the boy to make eye contact. "Harry. It is not your fault!"

Harry stared at the man, unable to respond. The words washed over him without sinking in. No matter what the man said, it was his fault. The Dursleys had been added to a growing list of people who had to suffer because of Harry's existence. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, and countless other souls died because of him. And now the Dursleys died—all because Harry was thrust upon them. Who else would die because he continued to live?


You must login (register) to review.
[Report This]


Disclaimer Charm: Harry Potter and all related works including movie stills belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros, and Bloomsbury. Used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made off of this site. All fanfiction and fanart are the property of the individual writers and artists represented on this site and do not represent the views and opinions of the Webmistress.

Powered by eFiction 3.5