Harry Potter and the Slytherin Conundrum by SiriSnape394

Harry stared in the mirror at his Uncle’s parting gift- a well wish and reminder for the school year to keep his mouth shut about his relatives. Now just to cover it up, he thought, as he riffled through the concealer Aunt Petunia had been oh so generous to supply. As Harry gently dabbed the concealer to his black eye he thought back to how well the summer had been going, comparatively at least, up until the World Cup.

When Sirius’s name had been cleared thanks to Snape’s testimony of his innocence, Harry still couldn’t believe the greasy git didn’t just lie to the Aurors, he’d hoped he would be able to live with Sirius. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had other plans.

“I’m sorry my dear boy,” he said gazing down his half-moon spectacles at Harry as he sat in his office next to his godfather and Professor Lupin. “There are protections at your Aunt’s house that Sirius cannot provide you.”

Harry scowled, not replying to Dumbledore’s cryptic answer. It was this way every year he asked to stay at Hogwarts. You’d think by now Dumbledore, in all of his infinite wisdom, would have picked up that there were reasons Harry didn’t want to return to Privet Drive and no it wasn’t because he was an ungrateful spoiled brat as Snape thought. That description applied only to his cousin Dudley.

“I would love more than anything to have you stay with me Harry, but, Moony bought up a good point,” Sirius turned in his chair facing Harry pleading with him to understand, as Harry avoided his gaze and rubbed his trainer back and forth on the floor trying to wear a hole into it to escape this conversation. “Azkaban takes a toll,” Sirius said with a sigh, “And as much as I hate to admit it Remy is right, I’m not in a good place to take care of you. So, I’m going to St. Mungo’s and I’m going to get some help so hopefully you can stay with me next summer.” At his final sentence, Dumbledore started to interrupt, but sharp glares from Remus and Sirius deadly enough to petrify a basilisk silenced him.

Harry finally lifted his eyes from the floor to look at his Godfather. As he took in Sirius’s sunken cheekbones, matted hair, and the dark circles under his eyes from years of torment by Dementors he understood. Averting his gaze back to his trainers, he slowly nodded. Remus met Sirius’s eyes over Harry’s head, both of them knowing that was all the acceptance they’d get.

And that was how Harry found himself back at Privet Drive for the summer, despite the few days of blissful daydreams where he was off adventuring with Sirius and Professor Lupin. Those daydreams comforted him in the long hours his Uncle kept him locked in the cupboard under the stairs. At first, the summer wasn’t so bad. Sirius and Remus were waiting for him when the Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross and escorted him to his dreaded relatives. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia greeted him with their ever so charming courtesy, a sharp “come boy, we’ve wasted good time picking you up from that freakish school” when they were stopped by an immobulus charm Professor Lupin muttered under his breath to avoid muggle detection.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Uncle Vernon began to shout, his face turning purple and attracting curious glances from nosy travelers waiting for their train. Sirius stepped up to him, nose to nose, arms crossed, the tattoos he acquired in Azkaban blatantly on display. “Listen here you wanker. I spent twelve years in prison for murdering thirteen people before I managed to escape. If you mistreat my godson in any way, I won’t hesitate to make it fourteen, but not before I have some fun first,” he growled with a menacing smile.

Turning towards Harry, he placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and leaned down so they were at eye level. “Send me an owl the minute that bastard does something and I will be over before you can say Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans to get you out, okay?” Harry nodded, all the while knowing he would never actually be able to say anything. Not when he knew Dumbledore would make him go back every summer until he turned seventeen. Telling Sirius would only make things worse next summer. He gave Sirius and Professor Lupin tight hugs goodbye before dutifully following the Dursleys back to Number 4 Privet Drive.

Luckily for Harry, the threat of Sirius kept the Dursleys off his back for most of the summer. Yes, he still had chores while Dudley lazed about and bullied the rest of the neighborhood while pinning everything on Harry. No, he wasn’t fed nearly as much as he should’ve been given he was a growing teenage boy. But, he did get his Aunt’s leftovers from either lunch or dinner every day, so he couldn’t complain-it was more food than he’d ever received growing up. The beatings from his Uncle were far less frequent too, only a few shoves and kicks here and there, but nothing compared to previous summers. Yes, this summer was all sunshine and daisies until the world cup that is.

Harry couldn’t really blame Fred and George for it. They knew his relatives didn’t like him, but they didn’t know the full extent, no one did except for Dumbledore. It was the perfect agglutination of circumstances: Fred and George’s new practical joke items, Aunt Petunia’s diet, and Dudley’s predictable behavior that led to Dudley eating that stupid toffee. None of it would have mattered anyway, if not for the World Cup fiasco. When Dumbledore got word that Death Eaters made an appearance, it sealed Harry’s fate. Of course, the burrow was no longer safe from Voldemort’s followers who may wish to kill him, so Harry dutifully returned to Number 4 Privet Drive. If only this mythical protection also protected him from the forces within the house that wanted to kill him, or at the very least seriously maim him.

From the moment Dumbledore dropped Harry off at his relatives he knew he was in trouble. His Uncle’s beefy fist met his eye and he remembered nothing else, only waking up in a pile of his own blood laying on the floor of his cramped cupboard. The sharp pain with deep inhalation told him that several ribs were broken and from the fire shooting down his back he knew his Uncle used his favorite punishment-the belt. What made everything worse though, was the fact that the summer had been going so well. It had been his best one yet, all thanks to Sirius and Remus, as Professor Lupin insisted he called him since he was technically no longer a professor. For one brief moment, he thought of sending Hedwig to Sirius telling him of what actually happened behind the perfectly manicured hedges of Privet Drive, then he remembered Dumbledore’s expression every time Harry begged to stay at Hogwarts. It was that memory that reminded Harry that sending Hedwig to Sirius would be fruitless and would only get Sirius in trouble because if he knew, he would undoubtedly kill Uncle Vernon.

This was how Harry found himself staring at the mottled bruises on his arms and torso in the early hours of September first. He threw on his baggy long-sleeved sweater that was his cousin's to cover the aged bruises so Ron and Hermione wouldn’t ask questions on the train. He skillfully applied concealer to cover the dark blue-purple bruise on his left eye and tried to muster up some energy to greet his best friends. They knew he wasn’t fed enough by his relatives, so they always expected him to be tired on the ride to school and gracefully allowed him to nap on the train. What they didn’t know is that the only food he’d eaten for the past three weeks was one piece of stale bread a day, that his Uncle beat him every day for not finishing his chores on time, and he had to run from his cousin as he and his friends played Harry Hunting. Ron and Hermione didn’t need to know any of that, because it would undoubtedly make them worry and there was nothing they could do anyways, not when Dumbledore had the final say. So, Harry took one last glance at his reflection, ensuring that the concealer thoroughly covered the truth of Privet Drive, mustered a fake smile, and stepped out the door to return to Hogwarts.