“Harry? Come here, please,” Severus called down the hallway for his son after showing the court advocate, Whitney McDonald to a seat. The man had arrived to go over the preparations one last time prior to the start of the trial the next morning.

Harry hurried down the hallway, tugging at the hem of his school jumper to straighten it and giving Severus a rueful smile as he walked over to Whitney, holding his hand out for a welcoming shake.

“Hullo, Whitney,” he said pleasantly as the two shook, and then took their places on the chairs. Severus sat on the divan after summoning a full tea service for them all.

Whitney McDonald was a pleasant middle-aged fellow, with thinning, sandy hair that always seemed to be the permanent perch for a pair of reading glasses that periodically were placed on his nose. He had pale blue eyes that, while merry, also held deep emotion when the man was moved by the cases he had to represent. Remus, of all people, had recommended him to Severus, and Harry got along well with the man, for which Severus was grateful.

Whitney had gently helped Harry understand the court procedures and, with his Muggle degree in psychology, had been able to get Harry to open up about what had happened during his years with the Dursleys. Whitney had been a few years ahead of Severus in school, and was a Slytherin – although he had never been tempted in the seventies to follow Voldemort. Instead, he had devoted his life to helping children who had to face the court system, and helping them heal.

“It’s good to see you Harry, are you ready for tomorrow?” Whitney accepted the cup of tea Severus handed him, and reached out to choose several biscuits from the wide array the elves had provided.

Harry sat back in his chair, a guarded look coming over his face. “Not really, but I know I have to do it. I just don’t like it,” he groused.

Whitney chuckled kindly at that. “You don’t have to like it, Harry – people rarely do – all we ask is that you are prepared for what could happen in the courtroom. Are you?”

Harry thought a bit, thinking about all the information Mr McDonald had given him over the last couple of weeks, and the exercises he and Severus had gone through to keep him from panicking when he got into the room itself and had to face those people. He felt that now he could do this.

He nodded his head at the advocate. “I think I’m ready. I should be able to handle it,” he assured the man.

“Good. Severus, you two will need to be there at nine a.m., with all the paperwork to hand. Is Madame Pomfrey joining you as well?”

Severus nodded. “She is, she has all the documentation from earlier in the summer when we rescued Harry, and Harry has allowed us to extract memories from his time with his relatives. I also have journals from a squib that lived nearby, Mrs Figg, and she is also willing to testify. She was placed there, at Dumbledore’s behest, to watch over Harry.”

“Good, good. And the solicitor has duplicates of all of this? Excellent.” He drank off the rest of his tea and sat the cup and saucer back down on the table. “I will take my leave then and see you in court tomorrow.” He stood up and walked over to Harry’s chair, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder and giving it a companionable squeeze. “It will be alright, Harry. You’ll see.” He nodded over at Severus and then walked to the front door and let himself out.

“Harry?”

“I’m okay, Dad, really…”

Severus was going to say more, but a knock sounded on his door and he stood to go answer it. He was surprised to find Marcus Flint standing outside.

“What is it, Flint?”

“Sir, Professor… there’s been another attack. Professor Dumbledore sent me for you,” the boy blurted out.

Severus looked over at his son, who had stood up from his chair at the news. “Did you hear? …” he asked the boy, but Harry shook his head in the negative, terror clearly written on his face.

Severus turned back to the upperclassman Slytherin standing in his doorway who was clearly upset at seeing Harry in his head’s rooms. “Flint!” he growled, catching the older boy’s attention. “Head back to the common room and tell everyone to stay there. No one is to leave until the all-clear has sounded. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir!” The Quidditch Captain retreated hastily and headed back down the corridor towards the Slytherin territory. Severus turned back to his son.

“Stay here, Harry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He didn’t wait to see if Harry obeyed or not, but took off at a run towards the upper reaches of the castle, slamming his door behind him.

This time it was several hours before his father returned, and Harry was beside himself with worry. Draco had left their quarters earlier in the afternoon and headed back to the dorms, so Harry had no one to talk to. He even briefly considered using his cloak, to see what was going on, but he knew if his dad caught him, his punishment would make potion ingredients preparation look like gourmet cooking. He stayed put instead. But he couldn’t help worrying over why he hadn’t heard Gertrude this time. Who was letting her out and why? Why was he the only one who could hear the big, honking snake? They needed to find out where she was coming from and who was letting her out. He curled up on the sofa, letting the fire in the grate mesmerise him until his dad came home.

“It was Justin Finch-Fletchly,” Severus remarked as he finally re-entered his rooms a few hours later, soon after the all-clear had sounded. It was now close to curfew. Sitting wearily behind his desk, he summoned a glass of brandy. “And Nearly Headless Nick,” he added as he took a deep sip of his brandy, letting the liquor settle his nerves.

“Justin? But I just saw him in the library earlier,” Harry exclaimed, sitting up. He’d had a run-in with the Hufflepuff earlier in the day when he’d gone to the library to meet-up with Hermione. The boy had stated out loud that he thought Harry had let the beast out on Friday night, taunting him to his face. Harry had gritted his teeth and explained he’d been in his dad’s quarters at the time, and had stomped out of the library after apologising to Hermione and before Madam Pince could swoop down on him. He had felt as if every eye in the place had followed him out.

“Yes, and enough people overheard that conversation to think you were behind this attack again.” He took another sip, savouring the taste as it slid over his tongue. “Oddly enough, Flint is letting it be known that he saw you here, and couldn’t have been at the scene of the attack; unfortunately, very few are listening to him.”

Harry sighed as he grabbed his knees in his customary shield position, rocking a bit in place.

Severus mentally groaned as he took in Harry’s posture, and went to sit down beside him. “Harry, I don’t want you worrying about this right now, you have enough on your plate with tomorrow. This isn’t going to be solved tonight… Come in!” he called out irritably as a knock sounded on his door.

Draco rushed into the room, walking quickly over to the sitting area. He took in his brother’s anguished face and sat down on the edge of the divan facing the smaller boy.
“Merlin’s beard, Harry, this is not your fault! Tell him it’s not his fault, Uncle Sev!”

“I have told him, Draco; perhaps you can get it through that Gryffindor, self-sacrificing hide.” Severus said, throwing his hands in the air and settling back in his seat.

Draco took in the miserable form of his friend and in a swift move, had Harry surrounded by his arms as he hugged his brother. He ignored the feeling of contentment he felt with Harry safe in his arms, and concentrated on easing the boy’s suffering.

Harry sniffed as his arms reluctantly snaked around Draco’s torso, and his head lay on his brother’s chest. He could hear the soft heartbeat, and feel his brother’s magic licking at his shields and surrounding him with warmth. He finally pulled away and smirked at the wet spot he had left on the blond’s robes.

“Sorry,” he said, nodding his head toward the spot.

“Shut it, git,” Draco said good naturedly, cuffing Harry on the shoulder. “Look, it’s late, and I need to get back to the dorms before curfew. I just wanted to check on you before tomorrow. Are you going to be alright now?”

Harry nodded, touching his brother’s arm gratefully.

“Good, I’ll just see myself out then – good luck, Harry.”

“Thanks, Draco,” Harry said quietly.

Severus got up to walk his godson to the door. “Thank you for your help Draco, I wasn’t sure I was getting through to him. He feels responsible for everything. Are you sure your father never mentioned his plan to you?” he tried once more.

“No, I only knew he had one, but not what it was, or how he had gone about it. I do know he has things belonging to the Dark Lord hidden underneath the dining room, but I’ve never been allowed down there. I’m sorry, Uncle Severus.”

“No matter, I’m sure all will be revealed in time. I’ll pass on the information about the dining room; in the meantime, you need to hurry on along to your dorm.”

“Yes, sir. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Draco. Goodnight.” He opened the door for his student and watched a moment as he travelled in the right direction for the Slytherin dorms.

When he returned to the room, Harry had already headed for bed, so Severus Nox-ed the lights and headed for his bedroom after sneaking a look at the already sleeping teen.

****

The next morning found Severus and Harry walking to the gates of the school after breakfast. They had eaten in the Great Hall, or at least attempted to eat on Harry’s part. He had managed a piece of toast and his juice before giving it up as a lost cause. Hermione had tried to encourage him, in her own inimical way, but a pleading look from him finally shut her up.

Neville had given him an encouraging smile and Ron was apparently avoiding him, as he hadn’t shown for breakfast. Ron’s little sister, Ginny, whispered a good luck to him, before heading to classes, hugging her books to her chest – looking a bit pale. He liked Ginny, in a brotherly way, and he wondered why she was looking so bleak when it was only the second week of school – but he had too many things to worry about without adding another one. He shrugged to himself and continued nibbling on his toast.

Harry had sat facing the Slytherin table, so he caught the supportive look Draco gave him and felt better knowing his brother was going to be with him, at least in spirit, for the duration. He just prayed the trial would be quick.

When they reached the road just outside the gates, Harry allowed Severus to hold him as they turned in place and apparated to Diagon Alley. They hurried through the Leaky Cauldron and exited onto a busy Muggle street where they quickly took the underground to the Muggle government’s ministry complex. Harry nearly burst out laughing when he saw his father heading for an ordinary red call box standing on the corner of the street, but Severus motioned him over to enter with him. Harry looked aghast at the disconnected handset wondering how they were going to call. Severus solved the mystery when he dialled in a set of numbers and a voice came out of the air.

“Welcome to the Ministry for Magic. Please state your name and business.”

Severus calmly responded, “Severus Snape and Harry Potter, prosecution witnesses in the trial of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley.”

“Thank you. Please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.”  Harry watched as two metal disks rolled out of the change slot. Severus pinned one to the front of his robes and handed the second to Harry. Harry saw that his read ‘Harry Potter, witness’.

He nearly jumped as the floor began to drop and the inner workings of the call box dropped like an elevator.

The pleasant voice came on again letting them know they needed to have their wands scanned at the security desk and wished them a pleasant day as the box hit the floor of an underground complex that reminded Harry of an old tube system.

Harry marvelled at the sheer enormity of the complex, and all the people flooing in with bursts of green flames through the numerous fireplaces lining the walls, Ministry employees hurrying everywhere, and the fountain of magical brethren in the centre of the atrium with its golden statues with the water splashing merrily into the pool at the bottom. Harry could see gold, silver and bronze coins glistening beneath the water and read a sign saying that all donations went to a hospital.

Harry followed Severus to the guard desk where their wands were weighed and registered, and where they obtained information as to where the trial was to be held.

“Courtroom nine, professor,” the guard relayed. “It’s scheduled to start in a half hour.” Severus gently took Harry’s forearm and began leading him across to a bank of elevators that led down to the courtrooms. They ran into Whitney on the way, and picked up Albus and Poppy as well.

“Albus, what are you doing here?” Snape asked sharply.

“I’ve been called as a witness, for the prosecution,” he explained. Severus sighed, he supposed that it was necessary, and led their little band onto an elevator pressing the button for the lowest level. Harry watched in amazement as paper airplanes buzzed around the ceiling lamp, exiting on their own as they stopped at various floors. Whitney explained to him that they were memos.

When they reached the correct level, Dumbledore led them to the courtroom, through the phalanx of reporters yelling their questions and snapping pictures. Harry paled at the number of journalists, and felt the beginnings of his agoraphobia starting again. He was grateful when they walked past the courtroom doors, and they entered to find a large chamber with tiered seating that all faced the central, parquet floor.

On that floor was a hard wooden chair with black iron chains dangling from it. Two tables faced what appeared to be the court – Albus whispered it was the full Wizengamot, before stepping toward the group of officials to speak with them before the trial began – and they took seats next to their Barrister, one Jason Allgood, a recommendation from Whitney. At the other table sat another wizard in Barrister robes who apparently was the representative for the Dursleys.

Harry looked around the room and saw that all the benches were practically full, and he turned and saw Madam Pomfrey join Mrs Figg behind him. Mrs Figg gave him a watery smile and a little wave of encouragement while clutching her handbag in her lap and looking nervously around herself at all the other people in the chamber. Severus had told him that they might have to use her as a witness.

As he looked around the chamber some more, he saw Ron’s mom off to the left with a balding redheaded man, wearing glasses, sitting next to her. He assumed the man was Mr Weasley. They gave him a sympathetic smile, which he returned. He pointed them out to Severus, who took note in order to have a word with them later. Harry’s gaze continued past the similarly robed members of the Wizengamot and around to the right side of the chamber where his eyes landed on a man who looked like an older version of Draco. He tugged again on Severus’ sleeve.

“Dad, is that Draco’s father over there?” He indicated the direction with his eyes. Severus let his gaze follow his son’s and spotted Lucius immediately. They gave each other barely imperceptible nods; Lucius letting a frown mar his visage for a slight, unguarded moment before returning to its smooth, patrician lines.

“Yes, Harry, that is Lucius Malfoy,” his father confirmed.

“And the stick?” Harry asked fearfully.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what he can do with that walking stick. It also contains his wand in the handle,” he pointed out. Harry shivered as he imagined Draco being beaten with the shiny, ebony surface. He got a brilliant idea all at once and whispered it into his father’s ear. Severus looked thoughtful for a moment before looking down at his son.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I think we need to do this,” his son insisted.

“I will look into it after this is all over, it may take some doing. All right?”

“Thank you!” Harry said before giving his father a quick hug. His happiness was short lived, as it died a moment later.

A witch stood up, at the stroke of nine o’clock, pounding her gavel to gain the rooms attentions. When that was obtained, she motioned for a clerk to read from the parchment in front of him.

“We are gathered here for the trial of Vernon William Dursley, Petunia Rose Evans-Dursley, and Dudley Vernon Dursley – minor, in the matter of the abuse of minor Harry James Potter-Snape. Secretary for Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Winterveil, presiding. Will the accused enter the courtroom?”

A huge oak door to the side of the chamber clanged open and the sound of chains dragging and clanking preceded the actual view of the Dursleys entering the courtroom. They were dressed in grey prison shifts and seemed to have lost some weight. Petunia’s hair, usually well-coifed, was now pulled back in a severe bun at the back of her head and she looked more homely than usual without any makeup on. She glanced over at Harry, but quickly looked away again, only to be caught by Severus’ gaze. She gave a little start, bouncing her eyes between the boy and his father before narrowing them, pinching her mouth, and taking her seat.

Dudley looked scared out of his wits as he looked around the room, and whimpered all the way to his seat, his hands covering his arse. Vernon looked daggers at his nephew as he crossed the floor, rattling his chains in the boy’s direction as if to say, ‘See, look what you’ve done to us!’ Harry swallowed hard, but let his eyes show the pity mixed with disgust he felt for his uncle as he gazed back at the man.

The Auror in charge of leading the family, yanked roughly on Vernon’s arm in order to get the man to take his seat.

The witch in charge shuffled the notes in front of her before looking towards Jason Allgood. “Mr Allgood, I believe you wish to amend your charges?”

Jason stood up and walked around the table to stand in the centre of the room. “If it please the court, Mr Potter-Snape would like to drop the trial of his cousin, Dudley, in favour of the boy going to a remedial centre for the duration of his schooling, along with probation for a period of six years after leaving school, a tracking spell to be used during that time to monitor the child’s activities. He would be assigned a counsellor and it would be mandatory that he take certain classes concerning anger management, along with community service at a Muggle Abuse Crisis Shelter.”

The witch turned to the Barrister at the other table who had leaned in to confer with his clients. Harry could see Petunia nodding her head and shooting Vernon one of her glares before he acceded as well, blustering all the way.

“Well, Mr Ragger – do your clients agree to this offer?” Madam Winterveil asked.
 
“We do, your honour,” said the councillor as he too stood up at his table.

“So be it. Auror, please take Mr Dursley back to his cell, and get him ready for transport to St Brutus’ Academy.” Dudley meekly followed the Auror out of the chamber, but looked back at his cousin, and then his parents, with fear in his eyes before he disappeared behind the massive door that led to the holding cells. The deal had been one that Harry had initiated when they had spoken to the solicitors office. He truly felt that Dudley was only following the example set by his parents and, if he had a more positive environment to encourage him, he might be able to change. His parents were adults, however, and should face the music.

Severus laid a hand over Harry’s as they watched the formalities proceed.

“Mr Allgood, do you have any further recommendations before we continue?” the presiding witch asked.

“No, your honour.”

“Then we may proceed with opening remarks. Mr Allgood, I believe you are first?”

“Yes, your Honour. The prosecution intends to show that Vernon and Petunia Dursley did wilfully neglect, abuse, starve and embezzle funds of their nephew, Harry James Potter-Snape. Further we will show that this was done with full knowledge of Mr Potter-Snape’s status as a wizard, and an understanding of the consequences to them if they ever intended harm to him.”

Jason sat back down with a gesture towards the other table that they could take the floor. Mr Ragger stood and faced Secretary Winterveil.

“Madam Secretary, I will show that the Dursleys feared for their lives and were only protecting their family from a person they believed would harm them. He had already shown wilful destruction of their property, and to their persons. Mr Dursley only attacked the boy in self-defense.”

“Right, like there was much an eighty pound boy could do to him,” Severus snorted in an undertone to Dumbledore, who had rejoined them when Jason had begun his opening remarks.

“Patience, Severus. That Barrister knows it is a flimsy defense, as does the court,” Albus soothed.

The trial dragged on through the morning as Jason brought forth testimony from Madam Pomfrey, showing the court the numerous injuries discovered on Harry’s body as well as all of the abuse. Vernon leered over at Harry at that point, before Reggie Ragger could tell his client to stop badgering the victim. Harry nearly lost his composure, and his breakfast, at that point, starting to tremble and sweat.

Severus pulled a tiny vial of calming draught from his robes and got Harry to drink it, before pulling the boy closer to him and rubbing a soothing hand over his back to get him to calm down, effectively shielding him from seeing the Dursleys. He could hear his son murmuring over and over, ‘I claim my life; I claim my life.’

Jason showed the court the Pensieved copied memories from Harry, then he brought forth Mrs Figg’s journals and the court had to recess in order to peruse the many entries from over the years and also to look over the medical records, as well as review the Pensieve testimony.

The Weasley’s came down from the stands, at Dumbledore’s summons, and Arthur led the group to an employees only lunchroom where they were able to obtain trays of hot food for lunch. Dumbledore ate quickly and left the table, citing a need to take the opportunity to speak to some colleagues and Harry and Severus were left with Mr and Mrs Weasley. Arthur offered to take Harry on a short tour of the Ministry, which left Molly and Severus alone at the table.

Molly broke the silence. “I must say, Severus, I was amazed at the reveal of Harry being your son, but I saw today that you two have seemed to bond. I confess I’m a little protective of him – I was the one who showed him how to get on the train last year. He looked so lost, I just wanted to take him home, feed him up properly, and take care of him.”

“Yes, Harry told me the story – he was very grateful that you were there to give him the proper instructions. Hagrid forgot to tell him how.”

Molly tsked before taking a sip from her cup. “Well, alls well. … Severus, I wanted to ask you how the children are doing this year?” Molly continued.

Severus took a sip of his tea as he considered his reply. He couldn’t have hoped for a better opening. “Percival is doing well, maintaining his ‘O’ so far – but it is only the second week of class. The twins seem to be working themselves up to some mischief, but I have them well in hand. I’ve discovered that if I give them ‘detentions’ on a regular basis and let them brew to their hearts content, it curbs their prankster side. Ginevra is quiet in class, a bit tentative in her brewing – but not too bad, so far.”

Molly noticed the absence of her sixth son immediately. “And Ronnie?”

“Ah, there we seem to have a problem. He is inattentive in class unless Miss Granger prods him along from her station behind him, he is very disrespectful of me in particular and most of the other teachers in general – except for Professor McGonagall, who seems to be the only one who can make him behave. He has also shunned Harry since our relationship was revealed at Opening Feast.”

“He WHAT!” she blasted. Severus nearly smirked to himself, but managed to keep his face impassive.

“Yes; apparently he has decided that Harry has somehow turned traitor by being my son and has made it clear that he thinks Harry should be re-sorted. Miss Granger has already pointed his errors out to him, twice, and the twins have also told him he needs to shape up, but it does not seem to have gotten through to him, yet.”

He could almost see steam pouring from the mother’s ears as she listened to his explanation. Molly Weasley in a good tirade was a sight to behold.

“If he was at home, my spoon would be walloping him a good one!” she growled. “I take it a howler from me probably wouldn’t help at this point, would it,” she asked, almost hopefully.

“As much as I am sure it would satisfy you to send one, I sincerely doubt that it would do any good, and it may actually hinder. I’m just letting you know so you are aware of the situation – we may be in for a long haul on this one; Ronald strikes me as being able to hold a grudge for long periods of time,” he observed.

“Aye, he’s one who likes to dance on the grave – that one. You will let me know if it escalates, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’m glad Harry has more adults like you on his side. He hasn’t had much of that in the past.”

“Aye, that is truly obvious – those people are evil, Severus.”

Severus nodded his agreement as he finished off his tea and reached for the pot to pour another, but he noticed Arthur returning with Harry in tow.

“Well, Severus, Harry seemed to enjoy the tour, eh, my boy?” Arthur asked as he gazed down at the small youth.

“Yes, thank you, Mr Weasley!”

“You are quite welcome, Harry. We ran into your Barrister on our way back here, he says court will be resuming in ten minutes.”

“We better return downstairs then,” Severus stated and stood up from the table. Arthur gave Molly a hand up and this seemed to be the signal to the table that they were done, as the dishes vanished with a little pop.

****

When the court returned after lunch, looking very grim indeed, Jason conferred with Whitney and Severus and then, after calling Albus to the stand to have him relate why he had placed Harry with his relatives, he called Harry to the stand. He deferred the questioning to Whitney.

Harry let Whitney lead him to the stand, and Severus allowed the court to administer one drop of Veritaserum after downing another tiny vial of calming draught. Harry kept his eyes down as he passed where his uncle sat glowering at him – he could hear the man mumbling under his breath - and his stomach churned with acid as he sat down in the hard chair facing the court. He didn’t like having Vernon behind him; it made him feel vulnerable when he couldn’t see where the man was. The chains rattled once, causing Harry to jump, but fell silent without ensnaring him. He kept his eyes on his advocate the entire time he was in the chair.

Whitney smiled at him as he came close to Harry. “Doing alright, Harry?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whitney pushed his glasses up so they perched on his forehead. “Now Harry, they’ve given you a potion called Veritaserum. Do you understand what that is?”

“Yes, sir. It ensures that I only tell the truth.” The room was starting to go a bit hazy at the edges.

“Correct, Harry. I think the potion has taken effect. Shall we test it out? Try to lie to me, Harry; who is your real father?”

“James… Severus Snape.” He had tried, but it was as if the truth was being pulled from him like taffy; he was physically incapable of lying.

“Well done. Now Harry, I’m going to ask you some questions about your home life with your relatives. These will be just like the questions I’ve asked you over the past few weeks. Just concentrate on me, and talk only to me. Try to pretend that no one else is around us, alright?”

“I’ll try, sir.” Harry wasn’t sure if that would be possible, with Uncle Vernon growling behind him, but he would try.

Whitney began asking Harry the same questions about his life with the Dursleys, focusing on the abuse, the starvation, the endless chores. He asked questions about his clothes and where they came from – causing several court members to shake their heads and murmur, as they realized that this tiny child, this saviour of their world, was expected to wear his humongous cousin’s cast-offs.

“Harry, when did you realise that what the Dursleys were doing to you wasn’t what other children experienced.”

“When I started primary school. I tried to tell a teacher, but she called the Dursleys and told them what I was saying, and they told her I was liar. Uncle Vernon beat me really hard that day, and I wasn’t given anything to eat for three days and they kept me in cupboard all that time.”

“The entire time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They didn’t let you out to use the loo or go to school?”

Harry shook his head. “I had a bucket,” was his quiet answer.

The court nearly exploded with gasps, and the Aurors had to restrain several maternal-looking witches, Mrs Weasley included, who had their wands out ready to hex Vernon and Petunia.

Vernon just sat calmly in the chair as if he had not a care in the world; Petunia pursed her lips, but that was her only reaction. Secretary Winterveil had to pound her gavel several times to quiet the court down.

“When did you get to clean your body, Harry?” Whitney asked after the furore had died down.

“Once a week, five minutes under cold water,” was the automatic answer. Harry had never known a hot shower until he had come to Hogwarts, and he still revelled in them, taking even more, now that he had inherited his dad’s hair.

“Did you ever break anything or hurt any of your cousin’s toys on purpose, Harry?”

“No sir. There were a few times when my accidental magic made things happen, but I didn’t know what that was until I learned I was a wizard.”

“And what about Dudley’s toys?”

“Dudley broke his own toys and would always blame it on me, so I would get punished,” he stated.

“What about the incidences of accidental magic, what would bring those about?”

“One time, Dudley’s gang was chasing me and I tried to leap behind some trash bins and ended up on the roof of the school. Another time, I set a snake on my cousin, and then one time I turned my teacher’s hair blue and…”

Whitney grinned indulgently as Harry let the Veritaserum run his mouth. There were several titters from the gallery as the child revealed normal instances of accidental magic. Whitney and Severus both thanked Merlin, silently, that the audience and court did not know exactly how Harry had loosed the snake. “That’s enough Harry,” Whitney told him and Harry cut off mid-sentence, as if a switch had been pulled. “Now, Harry, did you ever do any accidental magic against your Aunt or Uncle?”

“Not that I remember, sir. I was too frightened of them, I think.”

“Harry, I am going to direct this next question to your last day at the Dursleys. What happened that particular day?”

“Uncle Vernon had me do all sorts of yard-work and housework as he and my aunt were going to have a prospective client of his over for dinner that evening. Everything was to be absolutely perfect.”

“Did anyone else help with the chores? Like your cousin, perhaps? Or your Aunt?”

“Dudley? No, he was never given any chores to do – just me. Aunt Petunia cooked the dinner and made this magnificent pudding and Uncle Vernon sat on the couch and watched a football game with Dudley.” Murmurs arose again, chasing around the gallery.

“Were you going to participate in this dinner?”

“No, sir. I was never allowed to eat with them. When I was done with all my chores, my aunt gave me a piece of bread, a slice of cheese and a glass of water and I was told to go to my room and stay there, not to make a sound, and pretend I didn’t exist. The clients weren’t supposed to know I existed, you see.”

“What happened when you went to your room?”

“Not my room,” Harry clarified, still under the effect of the truth potion. “Dudley’s second bedroom – I just slept there. Err, when I reached the room, there was a house-elf there. Well, I didn’t know it was a house-elf at first, I didn’t know what he was. He had to tell me.”

“And why was he there, Harry?”

“To warn me not to go to Hogwarts. He said there was something dangerous there and that I shouldn’t go back, it wouldn’t be safe for me. I tried to explain to him that I had to go back, but he made such a racket that Uncle came up. The house-elf hid in my wardrobe and I passed it off as a chair tipping over. When Uncle left, the house-elf still insisted I had to stay there. He said it was for my own good. I refused.”

“What did he do then?”

“He left my room and I chased after him down the stairs. He used his magic to make my aunt’s pudding float into the lounge and land directly on the clients; then he disappeared making my Uncle think I had done it. I even got a warning from the Misuse of Magic office. That’s what really set my uncle off. He began beating me all over, and using his belt buckle. Then he threw me into the cupboard on top of my trunk. I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in the infirmary at Hogwarts.”

“Why did the warning set him off?”

“I didn’t tell them I couldn’t do magic over the summer. I thought it would make it safer if they thought I could hex them if they did anything to me,” he said sheepishly. There were whispers of commiseration and some good-natured chuckling at this revelation.

“Did it work?”

“Some… Dudley was scared of me, but Uncle didn’t let up,” he admitted.

“So, what did your aunt do when your uncle began the beating?” Whitney gently asked.

“Nothing,” he stated in a monotone voice.

“Nothing? She didn’t try to stop her husband?”

Harry was puzzled, Aunt Petunia stopping Uncle Vernon? “No sir, she cleaned up the pudding while he was beating me, and didn’t look at me at all.”

“She didn’t check on you in your cupboard?”

“No, sir. Not that I know of.” Whitney peered down at Harry then patted him on the arm.

“Thank you, Harry, I believe that is all. Mr Ragger will not be questioning you – this was only to have you state what you experienced in your own words. Let’s go back to your seat now.” He led Harry back to his father who gave him a bit more calming draught, before drawing his son close to his side, letting him hide in the folds of his robes so no one would see him shaking.

Secretary Winterveil consulted her notes before continuing on. “I believe we will take a short recess before we return. Mr Ragger, you will be up next.” She pounded her gavel three times and the Wizengamot filed out of the chamber.