“If you think I’d willingly ask the Dursleys for help, then you’re mad.  And if you think I’d ask you, after you told me I was exaggerating about them--.”  He cuts off abruptly and purses his lips.  

“Impossible,” Dumbledore states coldly. “They are your family.  They would never harm you.”

“They weren’t feeding me.  Ron and his brothers had to break me out.  There were seven locks on the door!” There are tears gathering in his eyes, but he ignores them.

McGonagall is looking at him with wide eyes.  Snape is looking at him with a strange calculating stare.  But Ron. Ron is nodding vigorously.

“I cannot believe that you continue these lies in front of other people, Harry,” Dumbledore merely states.

“I’m not!” He cries out, his hands balled up in fists as he looking imploringly between him and other two adults.  “Why would I lie about things like this? That’s why I asked to stay here for the summer!”

I have no home, he nearly says.

“If,” Snape’s silky tones cut easily and quietly through their argument, “Mr Potter is telling even an inkling of the truth--which I doubt--then perhaps we should have it confirmed with Madame Pomfrey.”