Silver Spoon Child Eating off a Paper Plate by MellarkandArt

Harry barely had any time to register any of this before his insides seemed to be sucked through a tube and he was fighting off the urge to puke out his guts on unfamiliar ground. He’d no clue what had just happened to him, but he certainly wasn’t in Little Whinging any longer. Snape of course was still there, though, because why wouldn’t he be?

“What the bloody hell was that?!” Harry shouted once he’d gotten the contents of his stomach back under control.

“It would do you well to watch your language, Potter,” was Snape’s harsh reply. “And perhaps recall that you are currently at my mercy.”

Well, no one had ever accused Harry of having too much self-preservation. Besides, he didn’t think that Snape would actually hurt him, not really. Dumbledore might let a lot of things slide when it came to Snape and his students, but he somehow doubted that physical abuse was among them. Harry could handle any verbal sparing thrown his way.

“I apologize, Professor,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Might I inquire as to what just occurred, sir?”

Snape glowered at him, but answered his question nonetheless. “Apparition, Potter, something akin to the Muggle idea of teleportation. An act that only big-boy wizards get to do. It’s doubtful that you’ll live long enough to perform the action yourself.”

Instead of showing offense at the thinly veiled you are the child and I am the adult, Potter comment, Harry decided to channel his inner Hermione and took it in another direction. “So grown-up witches don’t get to apparate? That’s rather sexist, isn’t it?”

Snape didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he made a sharp gesture for Harry to follow him and strode off to God knows where. Harry, however defiant he tended to be at times, didn’t hesitate to obey.

“So, what are blood wards?” Harry asked as they walked, not having forgotten Snape’s accusation that he had broken them, but still unaware as to what they even were.

“One might think your first question would be ‘Why was my home on fire, Professor Snape?’ ‘Do you think that my family is alright, Professor Snape?’”

“Oh, well, that too,” Harry said offhandedly, opting to ignore the snide tones and poor imitation of himself, and not mention his lack of both home and family. He supposed that he should care, and it was all a bit concerning, really, but it was just that he had a lot on his mind just then.

“You are unbelievable, Potter,” Snape said, true disgust in his tone now. “But I suppose your disregard for your family is hardly surprising, considering the deplorable kind of person you are.”

Harry wasn’t sure how someone as deplorable as Snape felt they had any room to comment on one’s humanity, but he didn’t care much about what the professor thought about him anyway, so he kept walking without comment. They’d not been walking in the empty field for long, when suddenly a house materialized in front of them. Harry gaped at it, confused by this development, but unwilling to ask the man in front of him any more questions. He still hadn’t even explained the blood wards, something that was quite obviously important.

Of course, the man was just full of surprises, and he started to explain the blood wards just as Harry had mentally complained about it. “Blood wards,” Snape started as he pulled out a key and began unlocking the door to the house, and Harry mentally gaped at how normal of an act that was, “are a very powerful form of protection that is - or shall I say was - surrounding your aunt’s home.” Snape opened the door and walked inside, waiting impatiently for Harry to follow before slamming it closed. The house was pitch black when they entered, but Snape waved his wand for the lights which revealed a surprisingly cozy-looking living space.

“As long as you resided with your aunt and considered her home your own, then you would be protected by the blood wards, which protect you from the Dark Lord himself. They were essentially an extension of your mother’s sacrifice, a testament of her great love for you.” Here Snape sneered, but it seemed half-hearted, until a moment later when it came on full force. “And now you’ve broken them, throwing away the very last piece of that sacrifice.”

“I broke the wards?” Harry sputtered indignantly. “They’re the ones who kicked me out!”

“And you didn’t even attempt to smooth things over?”

“The Dursleys think that I tried to kill their son,” Harry said blandly. “You can’t just smooth over something that’s shattered.”

Snape simply hmpfed, walking away from Harry and over to the fireplace. “I must contact the headmaster. Stay there and do not move, do not snoop, do not cause a disturbance in any way. You are on thin ice, Potter.” He even went so far as to put up a silencing charm around the fireplace so that Harry couldn’t overhear the conversation.

Harry resisted rolling his eyes, just barely. He opted just to stare at the floor whilst Snape was at the Floo, lest he be accused of snooping merely by looking around the room. Though what he had already glimpsed at proved to be a fairly normal looking room. No torture devices hanging on the walls or caldrons lying around. How odd.

Now that he was faced with a moment of silence and inaction, Harry couldn’t push aside thoughts of the Dursleys with indifference any longer. He really didn’t like them, but he certainly didn’t wish harm upon them. Not that often, anyway. He wondered why the house had caught on fire. It was rather odd and random, the house to catch on fire almost as soon as Harry left…

Harry frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t just a coincidence or a normal house fire. The way Snape had explained the blood wards… What if he wasn’t the only one who had been protected by them? Did that mean that Death Eaters had started the fire? If that were so, then what else might they have done?

Harry tried to squash down his blooming panic, but it was a difficult thing, especially as Snape seemed to have finished his Floo call with Dumbledore and was coming toward Harry with a grim look in his eyes and seemed to be assessing Harry before he spoke.

“The headmaster wishes to speak to you,” he said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a piece of paper that he handed to Harry. “Read and memorize.”

Trembling slightly, Harry took the paper and read it. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s this?”

“Relevant information. Have you ever Floo’d before?”

Funny he would ask something as simple as that but not mention the Apparition at all. Still, Harry grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“The Muggle raised do tend to be rather inadequate at such things,” Snape said a bit snootily. He went back over to the fireplace, taking Floo powder off the mantel and taking a handful, giving some to Harry. “We will be Flooing to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Do be sure to pronounce it correctly, I’ve no desire to be chasing you down all throughout the Floo network.”

Harry flushed in embarrassment, wondering if Snape somehow knew about his first botched attempt at Flooing. Surely he couldn’t, though, as he’d asked if Harry had ever Floo’d before. But then again, the man was fond of trick questions so maybe that didn’t mean much.

Harry approached the fireplace, practicing the pronunciation in his head a few times before throwing down the powder and loudly declaring, “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!”

He came out on the other side on his hands and knees, coughing up chimney soot. He didn’t have to make the effort of getting to his feet on his own, as hands reached down to assist him. He panicked at the foreign touch for a moment before he saw his Godfather’s face grinning down at him.

“Sirius!” Harry exclaimed excitedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, Harry, this here lovely house you're in is my own!”

Harry looked around then and took in his surroundings. He wondered if perhaps Sirius was being sarcastic, as the house looked to be skin to something out of a horror film, but he didn’t voice this aloud for fear of being rude.

“Oh, wow,” said Harry. “It’s nice.” His face must’ve said his true feelings for him, as Sirius simply laughed at this.

“I know it’s awful, kiddo. Come, into the light. Merlin, it’s dark in here, I know,” Sirius said, pulling him out of whatever room they had been in. He wasn’t wrong, it was extremely dark and dreary in there, though it did light up for a moment as Snape came through the Floo. Harry glanced back for a moment but Sirius completely ignored the man. Probably for the best.

“This is where I grew up,” Sirius continued talking mindlessly. “My folks took the name ‘Black’ very seriously. I hate it here, but I suppose it’s better than Azkaban. And it’s been very useful for the Order.”

“What’s the Order?” asked Harry.

“It’s Dumbledore’s organization of people against You-Know-Who, basically,” answered Sirius. “Very hush hush, but it was founded during the first war. Your parents and I were in it, of course, as was Remus…”

“Oh,” said Harry. It sounded fairly important. He wondered why no one had ever told him of its existence before.

“Pretty cool, eh?”

Harry wasn’t sure if the necessity for such an organization could really be considered cool, but he nodded anyway. Sirius glanced at him as they walked past a staircase and into brighter light, frowning. He stopped abruptly, and Harry looked behind him in confusion. There was only Snape, looking bored. A hand reached out to tilt Harry’s chin and he flinched at the unexpected contact. He turned back around to find Sirius, who looked absolutely appalled about something.

“What’s wrong?” Harry questioned, dread pooling in his stomach.

Sirius’ face twisted and he turned a hateful glare onto Snape. “What the fuck did you do to my godson, Snivellus?” he growled darkly.

Snape looked a bit taken aback by the accusation and narrowed his eyes at Harry, scrutinizing him. Harry remembered, then, how Uncle Vernon had attempted to strangle him earlier in the day. He rubbed the area absently, feeling heat creeping up his bruised neck. “Oh, um, that wasn’t, er…”

“Don’t cover for him, Harry,” Sirius said quickly. “I’ll protect me, just tell me the truth and we can tell Dumbledore and-”

“I assure you I was not the one to strangle the brat, Black,” Snape sneered. “If I’d gone so far as to attempt it, he would most certainly be dead by now.”

Harry hadn’t been sure if Sirius could become any angrier, but he discovered that he could. “I swear, Snape, if you touched one hair on his head-”

“I’d never lay a finger on such an unruly mop-”

“I’ll kill you, you can bet I will-”

“Willing to return to Azkaban so soon?”

“It’ll be worth it.”

“And leave your godson here to fend for himself, what a pity-”

“Oh, would you two please stop?” Harry said, rubbing his fingers across his temple to soothe the headache he felt coming on. “Snape didn’t do anything to me. Or he didn’t do that, at least. Where’s Dumbledore, anyway? I thought he wanted to talk to me?”

Sirius still looked ticked off and suspicious, but he accepted the subject change. “Oh, yeah, sorry, Harry… he’s just in this room, here…” Sirius led them to a door at the end of the hall, opening it to reveal a sitting room with a couple of chairs and two couches facing across from one another, one of which was where Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin were both seated.

“Harry,” Remus greeted with a warm but tired smile. “Come and sit.”

Harry glanced up at Sirius and, oddly, Snape, as though requiring permission. Snape gave a single nod while Sirius ushered him forward and onto a couch. Snape took a seat on a chair close to Dumbledore.

“Harry,” Dumbledore finally spoke, no trace of a twinkle to be found in his eyes. Harry gulped. “I wish I could say that it’s good to see you, but under these circumstances…”

“What circumstances are those?” Harry asked nervously.

“I assume Professor Snape has told you of the broken blood wards?”

“He informed me of their existence, yes.”

“They no longer exist. You should not have left the house, Harry,” Dumbledore said sternly.

“Well, maybe you should have told me about these blood wards if they mattered so much!” Harry said defensively.

“The relevance hardly matters, you were directly told not to leave the house!”

These blood wards were obviously pretty important, Harry thought, as he had rarely ever heard Dumbledore raise his voice in general, and certainly never before at him. It was not at all a good feeling, and Harry didn’t know what he could say to make it better.

The silence that followed was stifling. Shockingly, it was Snape who came to his rescue. “Headmaster,” the man began, almost hesitant. “The boy claims not to have left of his own free will. He was kicked out.”

Dumbledore’s eyes appeared to blaze. “I sent her a howler to remind her of her responsibilities, I find it hard to believe that she didn’t-”

Considering there was only one female in the Dursley household, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who the her was. “You sent Aunt Petunia a howler?” Harry managed to choke out. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising, it being a howler or the fact that Dumbledore and Aunt Petunia had any correspondence at all.

“I take it that it must have arrived after you’d already left,” Dumbledore sighed. “Well, I suppose I should inform you of what happened once the blood wards broke. It only took mere minutes for the Death Eaters to descend upon your home, setting it ablaze and taking your aunt and uncle hostage.”

Dumbledore stated all of this so matter-of-factly that it kind of made it all the more horrifying. The Dursleys, captured by Death Eaters? Had they been taken to Voldemort? Oh, God, all because Harry had left. Harry stood up before quickly sitting back down, breaths coming fast as he contemplated just what he might have sentenced his relatives to.

“So as you can see,” Dumbledore murmured, “your actions have consequences.”

There were hissed rebukes of “Albus,” all around, even coming from Snape. “I hardly think that the midst of a panic attack is the right time to scold the boy,” Remus said in his soft tone.

Harry put his face in his hands, eyes scrunched closed. “I’m fine. I didn’t- they said I had to go, I couldn’t-”

“You’ve had many disputes with your relatives before, I can’t see any reason why you couldn’t have stayed and sorted it out this time.”

With those words, Harry’s fear and despair quickly morphed into anger once more. “Stayed for what?” Harry snapped. “To be locked in my room and starved for days all because I tried to save their son’s life?”

Snape scoffed, apparently through with defending him. “Starved, Potter?”

Harry’s anger grew tenfold. He turned to face Sirius, pulling down the collar of his shirt. “You want to know who was choking me? That was before the dementors attacked Dudley.” Harry turned back to Snape, glowering. “Pardon me for not wanting to stick around to find out what else he might have had in store for me after…” Harry trailed off, realizing a key detail missing in Dumbledore's announcement. “Oh, God, you said my aunt and uncle- is Dudley-?”

“Your cousin made it out in time,” Dumbledore reassured quickly, though he looked startled and disturbed by Harry’s recent rambling. Severed him right. “He was able to escape the Death Eaters and went to Arabella Figg’s house for safety.”

“Oh, good,” said Harry. Dudley was a jerk, but he was still just a kid following his parents’ example and Harry hardly wanted him, or any of the Dursleys, really, to be captured by Death Eaters and taken to Voldemort.

“Harry- your family-” Sirius started, looking just as disturbed as Dumbledore, but Harry didn’t let him finish.

“They’re not my family,” he said blandly, though he hardly felt the vindictive pride that usually came with that statement. The Dursleys were worse than dead, now. And it was all because of him.

“All the same. They did this to you?” Sirius continued, gesturing vaguely at his neck. Harry reached up a hand to feel at the bruised skin of his neck, wondering how bad it might actually look to the other people in the room. He hadn’t seen it yet himself.

“Well, yeah,” said Harry. “Though I guess it was just Uncle Vernon in this case. Still, I don’t know why you’re surprised. I think I’ve mentioned that they don’t like me, a few times, actually.”

“Dislike and hatred are two very different things,” Remus said calmly. “You painted a very different picture of the situation here, Harry, and I think you know that. You never mentioned physical abuse at all.”

“Oh my God, it hardly can be called abuse,” said Harry. “You’re overstating it by a mile. He was just a little ticked off is all.”

“What did you do?” Snape asked, likely looking for some type of dirt on him.

Harry rolled his eyes, pleased to be able to say it was something so minor. “I was trying to watch the news on the telly.”

“Your uncle strangled you over watching the news and you don’t consider that abuse? Sirius asked blandly.

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “None of this matters, anyway. The Dursleys, do you think-? Well, I suppose they couldn’t possibly be okay, but I guess… They’d have to be alive, right? Otherwise, what’s the point in taking them? But I guess they’d be getting tortured right now, then…” Harry found that his stomach was beginning to hurt, and it was still a little difficult to breathe.

“You are all idiots,” he faintly heard Snape say as though through a conch shell. “It’s usually not the best idea to tell someone that their only family, one apparently not on good terms at that, is dead because of him.”

“Dead?” Harry echoed, looking up. “So you think-?”

“The boy is going into shock,” Snape muttered, reaching into his robes and pulling out a vial and giving it to Harry. “Calming draft, Potter, drink it now.”

Harry obeyed, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do and was willing to do pretty much anything to make this desperately tight feeling in his chest go away. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe guilt, maybe grief, though he doubted it. The draft helped to ease it a little, but not much.

“He needs to understand-” Dumbledore was saying, apparently Harry had missed out on some part of the conversation.

“What he needs is rest,” Snape said snidely. “Guilt-tripping him won’t rebuild the wards. Not that anything could at this point.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore sighed. “I suppose he can stay here.”

“Damn right he can stay here,” Sirius said. “It’s my house and my godson, after all. It’s my say who's welcome here and who's not.” There was a pointed look given in Snape’s direction. Snape sneered right back at him.

Dumbledore stood, brushing off his robes. “Very well, Sirius,” the man said wearily. “I hope you will continue to be so welcoming toward teenage boys, as Harry’s cousin Dudley will also need a safe place to stay. I was hoping I might be able to keep him here.”

Harry lifted his head from the arm of the couch he didn’t remember having it fall onto. “Dudley?”

He must have looked like something pathetic, because Dumbledore seemed to appear to soften towards him at last. “Yes, my boy,” he said, patting Harry’s arm lightly. “It would likely be for the best that your cousin be near you whilst the Order figures out what to do about his parents.”

Harry highly doubted that Dudley would feel comforted by being around Harry in any way, but he didn’t say anything like that. Instead, he simply nodded solemnly before lying his head back down on the arm of the couch, wondering if Snape might have overdosed him with the calming draught or if he was truly so drained as to not be able to hold a conversation.

“I’ll bid you three goodnight, then,” Dumbledore’s voice was like a lullaby as he said his farewells. “Might you accompany me, Severus?” Two pairs of footsteps exited the sitting room.

“Come on, kiddo,” Sirius murmured to him after they’d left. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

“Is he alright?” Remus asked in a low tone as Sirius hoisted the half asleep Harry up from the couch.

“Yeah, yeah, he’ll be good, just needs to get some sleep. I think ole Snivellus might have drugged him with that calming draught,” Sirius said, seemingly voicing Harry’s own thoughts out loud.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Sirius,” Remus chuckled. “He’s merely had a long day, physically and emotionally.”

Harry was leaning so heavily on Sirius that the man must have decided it would simply be easier to pick him up bridal style and carry him, because that’s exactly what he did. Harry would have been humiliated, had he been coherent enough to care. As it was, he found himself snuggling into the arms holding him. He couldn’t ever remember being carried to bed before and got a selfish sort of thrill at the idea of it.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, his facial hair scratching Harry’s neck as he bent his head down to examine the handprint-shaped bruises covering it. “I knew those Muggles were bad, but Merlin, I never imagined…”

Remus made a noise of agreement as they approached the stairs. Dumbledore and Snape were apparently still there, as Harry heard their voices murmuring about something near the door. As Sirius carried him up the stairs with Remus following close behind them, he felt a pair of eyes on him that definitely weren’t blue.

Harry was soon set on a bed and tucked under the covers, a warm hand running through his hair. “I still remember the last time I carried him and tucked him into bed,” Sirius said fondly. “He was so small back then…”

“He’s certainly grown up,” Remus agreed.

“Not enough,” Sirius muttered. “He’s skin and bones, Moony. It’s hard to believe that he turned fifteen just a couple days ago.”

“He always seemed to be the smallest one in the classroom,” Remus recalled. “I knew he didn’t get along with his relatives very well. I don’t know why I never put two and two together.”

“Yeah, me either,” Sirius sighed, the hand on Harry’s head lifting and body standing from the bed. “If only things had been different…”

“Don’t go down that road,” Remus warned. “It won’t lead you anywhere good.”

“I know,” Sirius’ voice had grown more distant as he went to the door. “I just wish that damn prophecy had never been given.”

The two men exited the room and the bedroom door closed behind them.

Harry’s eyes snapped open.