Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

— Chapter Two. The Missing Glass. - Severus read

“It looks like something very interesting is in store for us,” Remus smiled, glancing at Harry. 

 The teenager smiled back and nodded to his former professor.

Almost ten years had passed since that morning when the Dursleys found their nephew on their doorstep, having appeared out of nowhere, but in that time, Y Street had hardly changed. The sun rose over the same well-tended gardens and illuminated the same bronze door knocker on the Dursleys’ front door; its rays streamed into the living room, which had remained almost unchanged since that evening when Mr. Dursley had watched the program with the prophetic news on television.

“Damn… it’s so boring here,” Fred muttered, rolling his eyes. “But at ‘The Mink,’ something changes every day.” 

 George nodded. 

 “Honestly, is that even possible?” asked Mrs. Weasley, staring thoughtfully at the floor. “Ten years, and nothing has changed?” 

 “I think she means major changes, Mrs. Weasley,” replied Hermione, giving the woman a warm smile.

Only the framed photographs sitting on the mantelpiece suggested that quite some time had passed since then. Ten years ago, these photographs had captured something that looked like a large pink ball wearing multicolored bonnets,

Harry’s loud laughter interrupted Professor Snape’s reading. 

 Severus frowned. He wanted to finish this chapter as soon as possible, not listen to Weasley’s nonsense or Potter’s giggling. 

 “I knew, of course, that Muggles were pretty… Um…” Charlie trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Strange… But are they really so strange that they take pictures of a ball?” 

 “Actually, it’s a pink ball with multicolored hats, little brother!” — George remarked with feigned seriousness, and the twins burst out laughing. 

 Harry finally calmed down and, noticing the questioning glances directed at him, smiled. 

 — Keep listening, — he waved his hand.

But since then, Dudley Dursley has grown up,

Laughter filled the room. The twins—Ron and Ginny—were laughing the loudest. Bill and Charlie could be heard giggling softly. Arthur, Hermione, Remus, Sirius, and Minerva were smiling slightly, and a broad smile spread across Dumbledore’s face. 

 Harry giggled a couple of times, but since he had already laughed earlier, he quickly fell silent, continuing to listen to his friends’ laughter. 

When everyone had calmed down, the disgruntled Potions teacher decided to continue. 

And now the photos showed a tall, blond-haired boy sitting on his first bicycle, spinning on a carnival carousel, playing video games with his father, and a boy in his mother’s arms as she kissed him. However, nothing in these photos suggested that there was another child living in the house.

“Why?” Ginny asked, looking at the boy. “Hasn’t anyone ever taken a picture of you?” 

Harry’s cheerfulness vanished in an instant. He frowned, trying to come up with an answer. Fortunately, Ron saved him from having to explain. 

“Harry doesn’t really like having his picture taken,” said the red-haired boy, turning to his friend. “Right, buddy?” 

The teenager nodded, silently thanking his friend for the help. Ron and Hermione didn’t know all the details of Harry’s family life, but seeing how the Dursleys behaved, they could guess for themselves how they treated their nephew.

Nevertheless, Harry Potter still lived here, and at that moment he was fast asleep, though his sleep would not last much longer. Aunt Petunia had already woken up and was heading toward his door, and a moment later her shrill, sharp voice pierced the morning silence:

 “Wake up! Get up! Get out of bed!”

Severus grimaced. He remembered just how unpleasant Petunia's voice could be. For a moment, he even felt sorry for Potter.

Harry woke up with a start. His aunt was still pounding on the door.

“Hurry up!” she shrieked.

“Is this really the way to wake a child?” Sirius muttered with a sigh. He knew full well that it was foolish to hope Petunia would treat Harry normally, especially considering that he’d first met his godson when the boy had run away from home. However, up until that moment, he had still desperately wanted to believe that he was wrong and that Harry had had a happy childhood with the Dursleys. It seemed his hopes had been in vain. 

“Not the best way to wake someone up,” Arthur shook his head.

Harry heard her footsteps receding, and then he heard a sound as if a frying pan had clattered onto the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember what his dream had been about. It had been a pleasant dream. In it, he was flying through the air on a motorcycle. He had a strange feeling that he’d had this dream before.

“At least now I know it’s not a dream,” the teenager smiled. 

“That’s amazing, Mr. Potter,” Kingsley said, turning to Harry. “How did you remember that?” 

Harry shrugged.

His aunt returned to his door.

“Well, are you up yet?” she asked insistently.

“Stop bothering him already!” Ginny snapped, glaring at the book.

“Almost,” Harry replied evasively.

“Hurry up—I want you to keep an eye on the bacon. And make sure it doesn’t burn—it’s Dudley’s birthday today, and everything has to be perfect.”

“Keep an eye on the bacon?” Mrs. Weasley sighed in surprise. “But… wasn’t she standing right there to help if anything happened?” 

Harry shook his head. 

“What?!” the woman exclaimed. “But you could have burned yourself!” 

“It was fine, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. “It was just a routine job for me. I started helping Aunt Petunia in the kitchen when I was very young, so there’s hardly anything I could have done wrong.” 

Dumbledore felt the angry stares of several people fixed on him.

Harry groaned in response.

  “What are you saying in there?” his aunt barked from behind the door.

 “No, nothing. Nothing…” 

Dudley’s birthday—how could he have forgotten? Harry slowly climbed out of bed and started looking for his socks. He found them under the bed and, as he put them on, brushed away a spider crawling on them.

“Seriously, Harry, a spider?” Ron shuddered. 

 “Where could it have come from?” Hermione asked, puzzled, furrowing her brow. She didn’t remember Harry ever being messy. 

 Harry suddenly slumped, guessing what they were about to say. He hoped to avoid a conversation about the closet. Waiting for the Potions professor to continue reading, Harry closed his eyes. However, the Potions master remained silent, and the boy had no doubt that he had reached the part where the closet was mentioned. 

 “Severus?” Dumbledore looked at the man with concern. “Why don’t you continue reading?” 

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Snape. Their eyes met, and the teenager was surprised. He had expected to see mockery in the professor’s eyes, but instead he noticed disbelief and… Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. Had he really seen a fleeting shadow of fear flash across the Potions professor’s face?

Severus lowered his gaze back to the book.

Harry was used to spiders—the cupboard under the stairs was teeming with them, and that was exactly where he belonged.- He read it, and his voice faltered slightly on the last word. 

Silence fell in the room. Everyone tried to process this information in silence. Harry lowered his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. McGonagall was the first to speak.

“I... I warned you...” she said, glaring angrily at the headmaster. Her lip was trembling with rage. “I told you they were dreadful Muggles!”

“The cupboard...” Kingsley repeated, his eyes wide. “Harry Potter lived in a cupboard...”

Charlie and Bill looked furious. They weren’t as close to Harry as, say, the twins or Ron, but they knew enough about him to consider him family as well.

Bill frowned. He couldn’t help but wonder if the headmaster might have known about this. Could Dumbledore have left Harry Potter in that place, knowing the conditions he’d be living in?

Charlie clenched his fists, biting his lip. He thought about how they’d never noticed that Harry was far too quiet and independent for his age. Or perhaps they hadn’t wanted to notice?

The brothers’ thoughts were interrupted by their mother’s quiet sobs. They both turned to her and saw that their father was already comforting her.

“Albus Dumbledore, how could you leave Harry in such a place?!” Remus shouted, barely restraining a growl.

Harry raised his head, looking at his former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had never seen him so angry.

“I am very sorry, Remus...” the headmaster said sadly, the twinkle gone from his eyes. “I knew the Dursleys didn’t much like Harry, but he was safe in Petunia’s house. So I hoped they would treat him decently.

Hearing Albus’s words, Mad-Eye snorted angrily. He was always amazed at how his friend kept trying to find something good in the very worst scoundrels of this world.

Harry shifted his gaze to Ron and Hermione. They were looking at him as if to ask: “Why didn’t you tell us?”

The twins sitting next to them just exchanged grim glances.

“Did you ever, even once, check how Harry was living?” Remus asked, frowning even more.

The headmaster’s silence spoke for him.

“You mean to say you left a child with a family who might not love him…” Sirius began quietly, clenching his fists. There was more disappointment than anger in his voice. “And you never checked on him?”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but Harry beat him to it.

“Let’s just keep reading!” the teenager shouted irritably, frowning. He really didn’t understand why everyone was so angry about the cupboard. “I haven’t slept there for ages!”

All the adults turned to Harry, looking at him with surprise and pity. Even Snape looked stunned as he stared at the boy.

Sirius wanted to protest, to say it was abnormal for his godson to have slept in a cupboard, but at the last moment a thought occurred to him.

"I once already put my interests above his, when I left to pursue Peter.. That night I let anger get the better of you.." - He thought, frowning. — "I can't do this again. If he doesn't want to talk about it – that's his right. I can talk to him later in private.."

Sirius placed his hand on his godson’s shoulder, pulling him close.

“All right, Harry,” he replied calmly, sighing. “Let’s continue reading.”

Remus looked at the teenager worriedly, nodding. Guilt was eating the werewolf up inside. In twelve years, he had never once visited Harry. He thought he was protecting him from himself, when in fact he was simply afraid to meet him.

Severus cleared his throat awkwardly. He lowered his gaze to the book to continue reading, but Dumbledore stopped him.

“I’m afraid, however great people may think I am, I am still only human,” he said calmly, shaking his head. “And people are prone to making mistakes. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me one day, Harry.”

Harry nodded automatically. He was still trying to understand such a strange reaction to the fact that he had slept in a cupboard.

Having got dressed, he went to the kitchen. The whole table was piled high with presents prepared for Dudley. It looked as though Dudley had been given the new computer he’d wanted so much, another television and a racing bicycle — not to mention everything else. Harry couldn’t understand why Dudley wanted a racing bicycle, since his cousin was very fat and hated physical exercise — although he was always quite happy to beat someone up.

“Please don’t say that ‘someone’ is Harry…” Ron pleaded, closing his eyes.

Dudley’s favourite “punching bag” was Harry, but Dudley didn’t always manage to catch his cousin.

Sirius hugged Harry even tighter.

Ron groaned as his fears were confirmed.

“This… this family…” Ginny, barely containing her anger, tried to find the right word. “Argh! There aren’t any words to describe these Dursleys!”

“This child…” Molly shook her head. Her voice was still hoarse from recently shed tears.

Although it was rather hard to believe that Harry could run fast.

Perhaps it was living in the dark cupboard that made Harry look smaller and weaker than his peers. Besides, he seemed even smaller and thinner than he actually was, because he had to wear Dudley’s old clothes, and Dudley was much bigger than him, so the clothes hung off Harry like a sack. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses, held together with tape and only staying in one piece because of it — Dudley had broken them by punching Harry on the nose.

Sirius frowned upon hearing the last suggestion. Many here would have liked to say something about it, but decided they didn’t have the strength, after they had argued with the Dursleys about the cupboard, to react just as fiercely to this. Besides, everyone in the room understood that Harry didn’t want to discuss it at all.

The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was the thin scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt. He’d had the scar since childhood, and the first meaningful question he’d asked Aunt Petunia was precisely about where he’d got it from.

“I thought you didn’t like that scar,” Ron mumbled, looking at his friend.

“I didn’t know where it came from then,” Harry answered coldly. “Besides, at that time I wasn’t tormented by pain in the scar and nightmares about Voldemort.”

“You got it in a car accident in which your parents died,” his aunt snapped. “And don’t bother me with your questions.”

“In a car accident?” Sirius repeated, frowning. “Didn’t she know what really happened?”

“She knew,” Dumbledore replied, looking disappointed. “I wrote about it in the letter.”

“Don’t bother me with your questions”—that was the first rule he had to follow in order to live in peace with the Dursleys.

Hermione snorted. It was clear she was not at all pleased with this “rule”.

When Harry was turning over the browned slices of bacon, Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.

"Comb your hair!" he barked instead of a morning greeting.

"It won’t help," Remus smirked. He raised his hand above the teenager’s head, and for a moment Harry thought the werewolf was about to ruffle his hair. But the instant the boy thought of it, uncertainty appeared on his former professor’s face, and the hand dropped abruptly.

About once a week Uncle Vernon would look at Harry over the top of his newspaper and shout that his nephew needed a haircut. Harry was probably given haircuts more often than all his classmates put together, but it made no difference, because his hair still stuck out in all directions, and it grew back very quickly.

By the time Dudley and his mother appeared in the kitchen, Harry had already poured the eggs into the frying pan and was making scrambled eggs with bacon. Dudley was the spitting image of his father. He had a large pink face, almost no neck, small watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair neatly arranged on his big fat head. Aunt Petunia often insisted that Dudley looked like a little angel, while Harry told himself that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

There was laughter from the twins.

"Harry, Harry..." Fred said with mock offence.

"You know, we’re really hurt..." George continued, shaking his head.

"That you don’t joke with us like that!" both brothers exclaimed, making the teenagers laugh.

Some of the adults smiled a little, pleased that laughter could be heard in the room again after the recent revelations.

Harry struggled to set the plates of eggs and bacon on the table—there was hardly any space left. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. And when he finished, his face fell.

“Thirty-six,” he said in a mournful voice, looking reproachfully at his father and mother. “That’s two fewer than last year.”

“I didn’t mishear, did I?..” Charlie asked, looking at Harry in surprise. “He’s got thirty-six birthday presents?”

“And the number only grows every year…” Harry muttered, sighing heavily.

“Darling, you’ve forgotten Aunt Marge’s present, it’s here, under the big one from Mummy and Daddy!” Aunt Petunia babbled hastily.

“All right, but that only makes thirty-seven.” Dudley’s face turned red.

Harry, noticing at once that Dudley was on the verge of another tantrum, began hurriedly eating his bacon, worried that his cousin might overturn the table.

“Has he really done that before?” Ginny asked, looking at the book with disgust.

“Always, when he didn’t get what he wanted,” Harry replied, pressing his lips together.

“He’s not only badly behaved, but also spoilt!” Mrs Weasley pressed her lips into a thin line. “Don’t his parents realise what sort of child he’ll grow up to be with that kind of upbringing?”

Aunt Petunia, evidently, sensed the danger too.

— We’ll buy you two more presents, today in town. How about that, little one? Two more presents. Are you happy?

— Well, of course! — Hermione exclaimed, frowning. — She’s even encouraging his tantrums!

Dudley thought for a moment. It seemed as though some very serious and complicated work was going on in his head. At last, he opened his mouth.

— So… — he said slowly. — So, I’ll have thirty… thirty…

— Thirty-nine, my sweet, — Aunt Petunia put in quickly.

— Ahhh! — Dudley, who had half-risen, flopped heavily back onto his chair. — Well, that’s all right then…

— He really couldn’t count that? — Bill asked, looking stunned.

— How old was he? — Hermione said in surprise, her eyes wide.

— Eleven. — Harry replied, finally breaking free from his godfather’s embrace.

Hermione opened her mouth several more times to say something, but, unable to find the right words, closed it each time.

— I suppose I’ll just keep quiet… — she managed after a couple of seconds.

Uncle Vernon gave a forced chuckle.

— That little one won’t miss out — just like his father. That’s my boy! — He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

— As if there’s anything to be proud of here. — Sirius rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.

At that moment the telephone rang, and Aunt Petunia darted to the receiver. Meanwhile, Harry and Uncle Vernon watched as Dudley unwrapped a carefully packed racing bicycle, a video camera, a remote-controlled aeroplane, boxes containing sixteen new computer games, and a video recorder.

Dudley was tearing the wrapping off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia returned to the table, looking both angry and worried.

“What?!” Hermione squealed, her mouth falling open in surprise.

“What’s up with you?” Ron edged away from his friend.

“Nothing... It’s just...” The girl sighed to calm herself. “Those are rather expensive presents...”

“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs Figg has broken her leg. She won’t be able to take him.”

Aunt Petunia waved a hand in Harry’s direction.

Remus clenched his fists. With every minute, it was becoming harder for him to keep Moony in check. The wolf inside him howled at how terribly the Dursleys treated Harry.

“He does have a name, you know!” Ginny shot a furious look at the book, folding her arms across her chest.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror, and Harry felt his heart leap with joy in his chest. Every year on Dudley Dursley’s birthday, his parents took him and his friend to London for the whole day, where they went on rides, to cafés and to the cinema. Harry, however, was left with Mrs Figg, a batty old lady who lived two streets away from the Dursleys. Harry hated that day. Mrs Figg’s whole house smelled of cabbage, and she made Harry look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned.

“That really doesn’t sound like the most pleasant way to spend your time.” Bill nodded, picturing it in his mind.

“So what now?” Aunt Petunia asked nastily, glaring at Harry as though it was all his doing.

“Well, knowing our Harrykins…” Fred drawled mockingly, glancing at his twin.

“He could very well have done it…” George smirked.

“What?” Harry looked at his brothers in surprise. “I wouldn’t do that!”

Harry knew he ought to feel sorry for Mrs Figg and her broken leg, but it was difficult, because now he was a whole year away from the next time he’d have to look at pictures of Snowflake, Mr Paws and Tufty.

“We could ring Marge,” Uncle suggested.

Harry grimaced at the mention of his aunt.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Vernon. Marge hates the boy.”

“Oh, the feeling’s mutual!” the teenager snapped, looking away angrily.

“Isn’t she the one you…” Ron began, looking up thoughtfully.

— Yeah. - Harry replied shortly. Remembering the incident that happened in the summer before third year, the teenager softened a little. Noticing the curious looks from the twins, he smirked. — You’ll find out later.

The Dursleys often talked about Harry as if he wasn’t there, or as if he was so stupid that he couldn’t understand they were talking about him.

— When are you finally going to get your letter and go off to Hogwarts? - Ron sighed wearily. — I’m going mad here, listening to stories about your unbearable relatives.

— And what about your friend? I’ve forgotten her name… Oh, yes, Yvonne.

— She’s on holiday in Majorca, — Aunt Petunia snapped.

— You can leave me alone, — Harry put in, hoping everyone would like his suggestion and he’d finally get to watch the TV programmes he was interested in, or maybe even get a go on Dudley’s new computer.

— You’re actually very cunning, Harry. - Fred smirked.

The teenager rolled his eyes. 

Aunt Petunia looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon.

— And so we come back and find the house in ruins? — she growled.
— But I’m not planning to blow up the house, — Harry protested, but no one was listening anymore.

— Harry, don’t take it the wrong way… - Ron looked away awkwardly.

— Don’t you even start suggesting I’m capable of that! - The teenager interrupted, glaring angrily at his friend.

— Maybe… — Aunt Petunia began slowly. — Maybe we could take him with us… and leave him in the car by the zoo…

— Is she joking?! — Hermione got up from the sofa. — You can’t leave a child alone in a car! That could end very badly!

— I won’t have him sitting alone in my new car! — Uncle Vernon said indignantly.

— Does he really care more about the car than the child? — Mr Weasley said angrily.

Dudley burst into loud sobs. Actually, he wasn't really crying; the last time real tears had come from him was many years ago, but he knew that as soon as he pulled a pitiful face and started howling, his mother would do anything he wanted.

— I simply haven't the strength to talk about that boy's spoilt and ill-mannered ways any more. — Mrs Weasley sighed

— Dudley, my little one, my darling, please don't cry, Mummy won't let him ruin your birthday! — Mrs Dursley exclaimed, hugging her son tightly.

— I… I don't want… I d-d-don't want him to come with us! — Dudley managed between loud sobs, which, by the way, were completely fake. — He… He always ruins everything!

Mrs Dursley hugged Dudley, and he peered out from behind his mother and, turning to Harry, pulled a horrible face.

— He really is awful! — Ginny grimaced, picturing Dudley in her mind.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

— Goodness, it's them! — There was despair in Aunt Petunia's voice.

A minute later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, came into the kitchen with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy, very rat-like in appearance. He was usually the one who held Dudley’s victims while Dudley beat them up.

“One holds while the other hits? That’s just pathetic.” Ron clenched his jaw.

Seeing his friend, Dudley immediately stopped his fake crying.

Half an hour later, Harry, hardly daring to believe his luck, was sitting in the back seat of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley, and for the first time in his life, was on his way to the zoo. His aunt and uncle hadn’t managed to think of anyone to leave him with. But before Harry got into the car, Uncle Vernon took him aside.

The adults frowned.

“I’m warning you!” he said threateningly, bending down to Harry, his face turning purple. “I’m warning you, boy, if you do anything—anything at all—you’ll be locked in your cupboard until Christmas!”

“What did he say?!” A growl escaped Sirius’s throat.

“Sirius, it’s all right.” Harry looked at his godfather. “It was just a threat, to make sure I didn’t cause any trouble. I wasn’t locked in the cupboard until Christmas.”

Harry gave the man a nervous smile. Well, maybe he had spent a bit of time in the cupboard... But not until Christmas, right? So it wasn’t exactly a lie, was it?

Knowing they shouldn’t discuss this in front of Harry, Remus, Sirius, McGonagall, Arthur, and Kingsley all gave Dumbledore a stern look. They would definitely talk to the Headmaster about it later.

— I’ll behave myself! — promised Harry. — Honestly…

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one here ever believed him.

The twins, Ron, Ginny and Hermione looked at Harry with pity. And he knew what they were thinking.

"Nothing has changed." - Harry mused, recalling how he was treated now in the wizarding world. He shuddered, going over in his mind the words used to describe him in the Daily Prophet — "Attention-seeker, liar and fraud."

He brushed these thoughts aside, trying to focus on his book. 

The problem was, strange things often happened to Harry, and it was pointless to explain to the Dursleys that he had nothing to do with it.

Once, Aunt Petunia declared she was fed up with Harry coming back from the barber’s looking as though he hadn’t been at all. Taking the kitchen scissors, she cut his hair almost to the scalp, leaving only a small tuft on his forehead to, as she put it, “hide that dreadful scar.”

Horror was reflected on the faces of those present. Even Snape, it seemed, was shocked by Petunia’s actions.

Sirius was lost for words. He looked worriedly at his godson and, to the silent question: "Are you all right?" received only a sad smile from the boy.

— How can anyone treat a child like that? — Mrs Weasley gasped.

McGonagall shook her head. How could she not have noticed that the boy was treated like that at home? Surely there must have been some signs in his behaviour.

Dudley spent the whole evening tormenting Harry with silly taunts, and Harry didn’t sleep all night, imagining what a laughing stock he would become at school, where he was already mocked for his baggy clothes and glasses taped together.

However, the next morning he discovered that his hair had grown back again and he looked exactly as he had before Aunt Petunia decided to cut it. For this, he was forbidden to leave the cupboard for a whole week, although he tried to assure the Dursleys that he had no idea why his hair had grown back so quickly.

“Petunia grew up with Lily!” Remus exclaimed, gripping the armrest of the sofa with one hand. “She knew it was a random magical outburst!”

“You spent a week in the cupboard?” Hermione asked indignantly, her eyes wide open.

Harry shrugged vaguely.

Another time, Aunt Petunia tried to make him wear Dudley’s old jumper – a horrible, simply revolting jumper, brown with orange circles. The more effort she put into pulling the jumper onto Harry, the smaller it became, and eventually it shrank so much that it would barely fit a doll, let alone Harry. Fortunately, Aunt Petunia decided the jumper had shrunk in the wash, and Harry avoided punishment.

Ginny shuddered, imagining that dreadful jumper.

Sirius, Remus and Molly breathed a sigh of relief when they heard that Harry hadn’t been punished.

There was another incident when Harry got into trouble because he was spotted on the roof of the school canteen. On that day Dudley and his gang, as usual, were chasing Harry, who was trying to escape from them, and at some point he, to his own surprise — and to the surprise of everyone else — ended up on the pipe. Harry’s class teacher sent the Dursleys an angry letter, in which she wrote that he was climbing on the school roof.

‘Did you Apparate?’ Ron gasped, looking shocked.

Harry thought about the fact that, in order to Apparate, one needs to have a clear idea of the place one wants to go, a firm determination to move, and calmness. At that moment, he had none of those.

He wanted to reply to his friend that he couldn’t have Apparated, but Bill beat him to it.

‘Most likely not, Ron,’ said Bill, turning his gaze to his brother. ‘I’m not exactly sure what it could have been. But it was unlikely to be Apparition.’

Harry tried to explain to Uncle Vernon that he only wanted to jump over the rubbish bins behind the canteen, and didn’t understand himself how he ended up on the roof, but Vernon silently locked him in the cupboard and left. Harry explained to himself that, when he jumped over the bins, a gust of wind picked him up — that’s why it all happened.

‘Did they lock you in there for every little thing?!’ Ginny squealed, pouting.

Sirius silently hugged Harry to calm himself down. It was only the second chapter, and he was already so angry. Angry at Dumbledore for leaving him there, angry at the Dursleys for the way they treated his godson, angry at Remus, who, out of fear and self-pity, never once visited Harry, and most of all, angry at himself. He was the most to blame for all of it. He would never forgive himself for leaving Harry that night, when he should have stayed with him no matter what. 

But today, everything was supposed to go just perfectly. Harry didn’t even mind being in the company of Dudley and Piers—for he was lucky enough to spend the day not at school, not in the cupboard, and not in Mrs Figg’s cabbage-smelling sitting room. And for such an opportunity, Harry was willing to pay dearly.

“Paid for it?..” asked Ron, looking sadly at his friend.

“Paid for it..” Harry nodded.

All the way, Uncle Vernon was complaining to Aunt Petunia about the world around him. He was very fond of complaining: about the people he worked with, about Harry, about the bank’s board of directors, with whom his firm was involved, and again about Harry. The bank and Harry were his favourite—or rather, least favourite—subjects. However, today, Uncle Vernon’s main target was motorbikes.

“I think all he does in life is complain,” Kingsley leaned back on the sofa. “Does it really give him that much pleasure?”

“They tear about like lunatics, filthy hooligans!” he grumbled, as a motorbike overtook them.

“I dreamt about a motorbike the other night,” Harry said, unexpectedly for everyone, including himself, suddenly remembering his dream. — He was flying through the sky.

— Oh, Harry, Harry... - Fred shook his head.

— You shouldn't have said that... - George sighed heavily.

— I've already realised that... - Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. Luckily, he managed to brake in time, then turned sharply to Harry — his face looked like a giant beetroot with a moustache.

— Why did I imagine that... - Ron grimaced.

— MOTORBIKES DON'T FLY! — he yelled. Dudley and Piers sniggered in unison.

At these words, Sirius snorted.

— Yes, I know, — Harry said quickly. — It was just a dream.

He already regretted opening his mouth. The Dursleys couldn't stand it when he asked questions, but they hated it even more when he talked about anything strange, and it didn't matter whether it was a dream or something he'd seen in a cartoon. The Dursleys would immediately start going mad, as if they thought these were his own ideas. Completely unnecessary and very dangerous ideas.

— Paranoids. - Charlie stated, nodding to himself.

Sunday turned out sunny, and the zoo was packed with people. At the entrance, the Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers each a large chocolate ice cream, and Harry got a fruit lolly with a lemon flavour — and only because they didn't manage to drag him away from the counter before the smiling ice cream lady, having served Dudley and Piers, asked what the third boy would like.

— Of course, you can't just buy him an ice cream! - Hermione glared at her book angrily.

But Harry was happy even about that; he was contentedly licking a lemon lolly, watching a gorilla scratching its head — the gorilla was the spitting image of Dudley, only with dark hair.

The twins smirked.

“Your comparisons are something else, Harry,” George giggled.

Harry hadn’t had such a wonderful morning in a long time. True, he was on his guard and tried to keep a little distance from the Dursleys, because by midday he noticed that Dudley and Piers were already bored of looking at the animals, which meant they might decide to indulge in their favourite pastime — trying to beat him up. But so far, everything was fine.

The fun in the room vanished. Everyone’s faces became gloomy again.

They had lunch in a little restaurant on the zoo grounds. And when Dudley threw a tantrum about his piece of dessert being too small, Uncle Vernon ordered him a bigger piece, and the remains of the small one went to Harry.

“How generous,” Fred muttered sarcastically.

Afterwards, Harry told himself that the start of the day had been far too good for the end to be just as nice.

“And here’s our pessimist Harry!” Ron declared solemnly, smirking.

After lunch, they went to the terrarium. It was cool and dark inside, and reptiles were hiding behind the closed viewing windows. There, behind the glass, a wide variety of lizards and snakes crawled and slithered over rocks and pieces of driftwood. Harry was interested in absolutely everything, but Dudley and Piers insisted on going as quickly as possible to the place where the poisonous cobras and the huge pythons lived, the ones capable of squeezing a person to death in their coils.

Dudley quickly found the biggest snake. It was so long it could have wrapped itself round Uncle Vernon’s car twice, and so strong it could have crushed it flat, but at that moment it was clearly not in the mood to show off its strength. To be precise, it was simply asleep, coiled up in rings.

Dudley pressed his nose against the glass and stared at the shiny brown coils.

“Make it wake up,” he said in a whining tone, addressing his father.

Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake continued to sleep.

“Do it again!” commanded Dudley.

Uncle Vernon drummed on the glass with his knuckles, but the snake didn’t move.

“I never thought I’d feel sorry for a snake,” Ginny frowned, biting her lip. After the incident with the Chamber of Secrets, she wasn’t particularly fond of snakes.

“I’m bored!” wailed Dudley, and shuffled off, dragging his feet loudly.

Harry took the place in front of the window and stared at the snake. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had turned out the snake had died of boredom, for it was absolutely alone, surrounded only by stupid people who spent all day tapping on the glass to make it move. It was even worse than living in the cupboard, whose only visitor was Aunt Petunia, drumming on the door to wake you up. At least Harry could come out of the cupboard and wander around the whole house.

“Oh, Harry, please don’t compare your life to that of a snake…” Ginny said sadly, sighing.

“Why?” Harry asked, surprise in his voice.

“Because it’s not right!” the red-haired girl exclaimed, hugging her shoulders.

Harry still didn’t understand what was so wrong about it.

Suddenly the snake slightly opened its beady eyes. Then, very, very slowly, it raised its head so that it was level with Harry’s.

The snake winked at him.

“It couldn’t have winked at you, Harry,” said Hermione with a knowing look.

“Really?” Harry said sceptically, looking at his friend.

“Snakes can’t wink. As far as I know, they don’t have eyelids. And also they…” The girl lifted her head proudly, apparently preparing to tell them everything she knew about snakes.

“Miss Granger, we are very glad that you know so much about this. But shall we continue reading?” Dumbledore said gently, seeing that Snape and Alastor looked very irritated by the way the girl was delaying the reading.

“Oh… Yes, of course,” Hermione said, lowering her head in embarrassment.

“That snake definitely winked at me, I saw it,” Harry muttered irritably, which made Remus, sitting next to him, smile.

Harry stared at her, eyes wide. Then he quickly looked around to make sure no one was noticing what was happening — fortunately, there was no one around. He turned back to the snake and winked at her too.

— Well of course you did. You are Harry, after all. — Ron rolled his eyes, grinning. — By the way, was it this incident you talked about in second year?

Harry smiled at his friend’s remark and nodded in confirmation. However, he immediately frowned, realising he didn’t know how Sirius, Remus, Mr and Mrs Weasley might react to the fact that he was a Parselmouth.

The snake pointed its head towards Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then looked up at the ceiling. Then it glanced at Harry, as if to say, “It’s like this every day.”

“I understand,” Harry muttered, though he wasn’t sure the snake could hear him through the thick glass. “It must be terribly annoying.”

“You said that in Parseltongue?” Sirius asked in surprise, looking at Harry. “So that woman wasn’t lying in her article?”

 — Article? - The teenager repeated, looking stunned.

— I think he’s talking about Rita Skeeter’s article, Harry. - Remus explained, smiling gently at the boy.

Harry found this explanation insufficient. He looked from the former professor to his godfather in confusion, trying to recall all the articles that woman had written.

— The article that the "Daily Prophet" released right on the day of the third task... - Hermione whispered. — Don’t you remember, Harry? In it, Skeeter revealed that you speak Parseltongue. Well, it wasn’t exactly a big secret after second year, when all of Hogwarts knew about it. But still, after that article, almost all magical Britain knew that the Boy Who Lived was a Parselmouth. Not everyone believed it, of course, but...

— Oh... - Fragments of that article appeared in Harry’s mind. The boy looked around the room. No one looked shocked, some adults were a bit surprised and that was all. The teenager’s gaze settled on Mr and Mrs Weasley. They, like all their children, didn’t look surprised.

— Ron told us all about it in the summer after second year, dear. - Molly replied, noticing the boy’s look.

Mad-Eye muttered something under his breath and snorted loudly, looking oddly at Dumbledore.

Kingsley silently cast a glance at Harry and almost immediately turned away.

— So... So you knew I was a Parselmouth? - Harry asked, once again looking at his godfather.

— At first, I didn’t quite believe it... Well, you know... When I saw that article, I told Lunatic about it. — Sirius glanced at Remus. — And I asked him if he knew anything about it.

— I’d heard some rumours about you speaking Parseltongue when you were teaching at Hogwarts. — The former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor nodded. — But, since I wasn’t sure if they were true, I advised Sirius to speak to Dumbledore.

— Which, is what I did, really. — The Animagus frowned and turned to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. — But he just told me that you should tell me yourself whether it’s true or not.

Harry nodded, pressing his lips together.

— So... What do you think about it? — The teenager asked, a bit quieter now. — I mean... It’s a skill of dark wizards, isn’t it, or something like that?

— Oh, honestly, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest, Harry. — The corners of Sirius’s mouth lifted slightly. — Though, I am a bit concerned about where you got it from. As far as I know, there weren’t any Parselmouths in your family.

— Actually, I know where it came from. — Harry replied, tilting his head to the right. — Professor Dumbledore told me everything, but you’ll probably find it out from the books anyway.

Sirius looked appraisingly at his godson for a moment, then slowly nodded.

Noticing that Black and the boy had finally finished talking, Snape rolled his eyes and lowered his gaze back to the book in his hands, to find the place where he’d stopped.

The snake nodded its head energetically.

‘By the way, where are you from?’ Harry asked.

The snake pointed its tail at the sign hanging next to the glass, and Harry immediately glanced at it. ‘Boa constrictor, Brazil,’ he read.

‘It must have been much better there than here, I suppose?’ The boa constrictor again waved its tail towards the sign, and Harry read: ‘This snake was born and raised in the zoo.’

‘Oh, I see, so you’ve never been to Brazil?’

The snake shook its head. At that very moment, a shrill scream from Piers sounded behind Harry, and both Harry and the snake jumped in surprise.

‘DUDLEY! MR DURSLEY! COME QUICKLY, LOOK AT THE SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!’

A moment later, Dudley waddled over to the window, puffing and panting.

‘Get out of here, you,’ he muttered, shoving Harry in the chest.

At this point, many people in the room wanted to speak again about Harry’s family. However, the Potions Professor did not allow them to interrupt his reading, and without making any pauses, continued to read.

Harry, not expecting the blow, fell onto the concrete floor. The events that followed happened so quickly that no one understood how it occurred: in the first moment Dudley and Piers were standing pressed against the glass, and in the next second they recoiled from it with screams of terror.

Harry sat up and his mouth fell open in astonishment — the glass behind which the boa constrictor had been sitting had vanished. The huge snake was hurriedly uncoiling itself, slithering out of its prison, while people ran out of the terrarium with terrifying screams.

Astonished gasps were heard in the room.

“So that’s where the chapter title comes from!” Charlie suddenly realised. “The Vanishing Glass!”

“You surprise us more and more every time, Harrykins!” the twins exclaimed in chorus, grinning mischievously.

Harry could have sworn that, as the snake slithered rapidly past him, it hissed distinctly:

“Brazil — that’s where I’m going… Th-th-thank you, amigo…”

“What a polite snake,” Professor McGonagall smirked.

The owner of the terrarium was in shock.

“But there was glass here,” he kept repeating. “Where has the glass gone?”

The zoo director personally brought Aunt Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea and was tireless in his apologies. Piers and Dudley were so frightened that they were talking utter nonsense. Harry saw how the snake, slithering past them, simply pretended it wanted to grab their legs, but by the time they were sitting in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling everyone how it had nearly bitten his leg off, and Piers was swearing it had tried to strangle him. But the worst thing for Harry was that Piers finally calmed down and suddenly said:

‘And Harry was talking to it—wasn’t he, Harry?’

Irritated sighs came from all sides.

‘He just had to say that, didn’t he?’ Ron rolled his eyes.

‘Of course he did…’ George tutted, glancing at his equally annoyed twin.

‘Did you get punished, Harry?’ Ginny asked carefully, looking at the boy with hope in her eyes.

Harry shrugged vaguely, turning away from the girl.

Sirius and Remus tensed, noticing the boy’s strange reaction to the question.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers’ mother came to collect him, and only then did he turn to Harry, whom he had been trying to ignore up until that moment. He was so furious that he could barely speak.

“Go… to the cupboard… stay there… no food.” That was all he managed to say before he collapsed into an armchair and Aunt Petunia, who had rushed in, gave him a large helping of brandy.

Harry sighed, folding his arms across his chest.

“They starved you?!” Remus’s eyes widened as he looked at Harry. The werewolf, realising he had shouted this too loudly, took a deep breath to calm himself.

Harry lowered his head, deciding not to answer.

Kingsley winced, not daring to look at Dumbledore. He felt that if he did, he simply wouldn’t be able to stop himself from shouting at the Hogwarts headmaster.

Alastor glanced at Dumbledore, unable to understand how his old friend could have allowed such a thing.

“Oh… Of course… He’s so thin… How did I not notice?..” Mrs Weasley took a handkerchief from her dress pocket, wiping away tears.

McGonagall and Snape cast reproachful looks at the headmaster. Severus may not have liked Potter, but as a professor, he was obliged to protect the students of Hogwarts. And he, like Minerva, was deeply outraged that Dumbledore had never once checked what conditions this boy was living in.

The twins, with gloomy expressions on their faces, exchanged glances with Bill and Charlie. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny felt guilty, but Ron felt the most guilt of all. Even before his second year, he had found out that Harry wasn’t being fed very well, but he hadn’t done anything about it. Well, that’s not quite true. He and the twins had told their mother, but she hadn’t believed them, and they hadn’t mentioned it again.

Sirius hid his face in his hands, trying to calm himself down. He wanted to leap off the sofa, shout at Dumbledore, destroy everything here. For a moment, he even had the urge to go to the Dursleys and justify his reputation as a murderer.

But as soon as he took his hands away from his face and looked at the boy again, only one thought remained in his mind: to be there for Harry.

Harry looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him up. As if he was ashamed that everyone knew about it. And Sirius saw himself in his godson.

When Sirius had first arrived at Hogwarts, he hadn’t wanted anyone to know how his own mother treated him. He hadn’t wanted anyone to point at him and say something about how weak he was. And yet he had trusted one person, a person named James Potter.

Sirius understood how his godson felt, and he wanted to be the person the boy could trust. He wanted to be for Harry what James had once been for him.

Sirius pulled Harry towards him, hugging him tightly.

— You will never go back there again. — He promised, giving a sad smile when the boy looked at him with a questioning gaze. — I promise.

Sirius did not know exactly how he would keep this promise, since he was still being sought by the Ministry, but he knew that he simply had to take his godson away from there.

In Harry’s eyes he saw surprise, hope, and most importantly, trust.

The teenager pressed closer to his godfather, relaxing a little in his embrace.

After a couple of minutes, the reading resumed.

Much later, lying in the dark cupboard, Harry wished he had a watch. He didn’t know what time it was, and wasn’t sure whether the Dursleys had already gone to bed. He was ready to take the risk and sneak out of the cupboard to the kitchen in search of some food, but only if they had already turned in.

Harry thought about how he had lived with the Dursleys for almost ten years, full of deprivation and hurt. He had lived with them almost all his life, from his earliest childhood, ever since his parents had died in a car crash. He didn’t remember the crash itself, nor the fact that he had also been in that car. Sometimes, lying for hours in the dark cupboard, he tried to recall anything at all, and a strange vision would come before his eyes: a dazzling flash of green light and a searing pain in his forehead. Apparently, this had happened during the accident, although he couldn’t explain where the green light had come from.

Ron and Hermione frowned, remembering that encounters with Dementors had made Harry recall even more about that night.

And he couldn’t remember his parents either. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never spoke about them, and of course, he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of his parents in the Dursleys’ house.

When Harry was younger, he often dreamed that some distant, unknown relative would turn up at the Dursleys’ house and take him away from there.

Sirius hugged Harry tighter. He felt guilty again for chasing after the rat that night. If he hadn’t done that, what would have happened then? The Animagus shook her head.

Remus felt a pang of guilt for abandoning Harry. Of course, the Ministry would never have allowed him to take the boy because of his furry little problem, but he hadn’t even tried to see him! Harry, the son of his two best friends, slept in a cupboard, cooked for the Dursleys like some sort of house-elf, and went hungry! Would anything have changed if he had met Harry earlier? Remus sighed. He had let Lily and James down. He had let Harry down.

But that never happened — his only relatives were the Dursleys — and Harry stopped dreaming about it. But sometimes it seemed to him — or perhaps he just wanted to believe it — that complete strangers behaved as though they knew him very well.

It must be admitted, these were very strange strangers. Once, when he went into a shop with Aunt Petunia and Dudley, a tiny man in a tall purple top hat bowed to him. Aunt Petunia immediately flew into a rage, angrily asked Harry if he knew that little man, and then grabbed him and Dudley and rushed out of the shop without buying anything. And once, on the bus, a mad-looking woman dressed all in green waved cheerfully at him. And recently, in the street, a bald man in a long purple cloak came up to him, shook his hand, and walked away without saying a word. And, most mysterious of all, these people disappeared the moment Harry tried to look at them more closely.

"I thought I was going mad," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

After this statement, the atmosphere in the room became less gloomy. Several people smiled, looking at Harry.

So, apart from these mysterious strangers, Harry had no one—and he had no friends either. At school, everyone knew that Dudley and his gang hated that strange Harry Potter, always dressed in baggy old clothes and wandering around in broken glasses, and people preferred not to quarrel with Dudley. -Snape lowered the book onto his lap. — That's the end of the chapter.

The smiles were once again replaced by gloomy expressions.

“Well, at least now you have us!” said Ron, looking at his friend.

“That’s right!” Hermione confirmed, pursing her lips.

“And us!” the Twins, Charlie, and Ginny shouted in unison. Bill nodded silently, looking at Harry.

Severus stared thoughtfully at the book. All his ideas about Potter had just turned out to be lies. Although, it was hardly surprising. When had he ever looked at the boy and seen Harry Potter, and not his father? Probably never.

“No,” - thought Snape, frowning. — “He’s not James Potter…”

The boy hadn’t grown up in wealth and love, like his father. And, having learned this, the Potions Master no longer saw his tormentor in him. He saw himself. Severus brushed this thought aside.

“He’s still a Potter,” - he told himself. — “Maybe he really isn’t like his father. But that’s no reason to compare him to myself and pity him.”

Severus’s thoughts were interrupted when the book lying on his lap rose and flew towards the older Weasley children. It landed on Charlie Weasley’s knees.

“Mr Weasley, would you be so kind as to read us the third chapter?” said the Headmaster, smiling at the young man.

“I… Yes, all right…” Charlie lowered his gaze to the pages.

“Chapter Three. A Letter from the Brides, from Whom.” — he read out.

---