Chapter Text
"What the hell do you think you're doing out of your cupboard, boy?"
Harry Potter was five years old, and he liked to consider himself a big boy since he had just started at St Gregory's Primary School two months ago. He walked to school himself since his Aunt Petunia wouldn't allow freakish boys like him in her new car, and he even knew when to cross the roads and how to look out for cars. His teacher Mrs. Smith said he was good at maths and had an eye for geography already, and little Harry was so hungry for praise he repeated it in his head over and over. Mr. Lamor said he looked like a dashing young lad in his first day of school photo, and Harry had beamed with pride on the way home.
"I - I just got home from school s-sir." Harry stuttered - he hated the way his voice sounded not quite like the Dursleys, but instead had a tint of what Uncle Vernon ranted was 'from those northern people the brat spawned from'. "I'm s-sorry I'm late. There w-was a lot of traffic - "
"I don't care, boy! I wouldn't care if you got hit by that car - it would rid you of us, that's the good thing. Hurry up and clean up the kitchen, your aunt's been cooking all damn day - "
"Y-yes s-sir - "
"Did I give you permission to speak?" Uncle Vernon roared, as he stood up and stamped into the hallway, towering over his tiny nephew who could only stand defenseless staring at him with tears in wide, emerald green eyes. "DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK IN MY HOUSE, BOY?"
Harry shook his head. "N- no - "
And then Harry felt the painful slap of his uncle's hand across his face, and flew into the wall before he could plead his case.
"Harry - Harry, please wake up, it's only a bad dream, c'mon mate it's not real - "
"Harry? Harry - what's wrong? Ron, where's Sirius - "
"I don't know, 'Mione! Harry, it's gonna be okay - HARRY!"
"Dad!" Dudley shouted as he ran down the stairs. Uncle Vernon paused in his beating of his nephew, and Harry raised his hands to cover his face so he wouldn't get any marks on his face - Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't like it when they saw bruises on Harry's face because that meant people would ask questions, and they didn't like when questions were asked. "Dad! It's Halloween today - are we going to go trick or treating with Piers and Gordon?"
"Oh of course, Dudders, don't worry - we'll set out soon enough, Mummy's just coming now with your costume for you to try it on. BOY - get in your cupboard! NOW!"
"B-but am I not coming trick or treating?" Harry stuttered, his tiny hands in his pocket clutching the few sweets Mrs. Smith had given him, hoping they wouldn't be discovered so that they wouldn't be taken from him. "A-am I not a-allowed?"
"NO!" Aunt Petunia shrieked as she walked down the stairs with Dudley's costume in her hands. "You most certainly are not! Why would we take you out in public with a face like yours?"
"I - I could w-wear a costume? I could hide my face so you wouldn't h-have to s-see me?" Harry said hopefully as he stood up - maybe he'd even make a friend! But before he could plead his case, Uncle Vernon kicked him in the ribs so hard Harry flew into the wall again and got the wind knocked out of him for good measure.
"When your aunt says no, she means NO!" Uncle Vernon screamed, as he picked Harry up by the collar of his raggy school uniform as he cried, dragging him down the hall to his cupboard. "We're not bringing you, end of story!"
He threw Harry into his cupboard, and Harry felt his nose start to bleed as Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut without a care in the world. Harry took his schoolbag off and his sweets were taken out of his pocket and hidden where nobody but him could reach them. He waved hello to the spider that was making its home in the corner - his only friend, he hadn't made a single friend in school yet - and began to tend to his bloody nose all alone in the dark, while the Dursleys got ready for trick or treating around him.
"Harry, Harry please wake up, we're here, nobody is here to hurt you - "
"Where is Sirius - SIRIUS - Harry, it's alright mate, we're getting Sirius for you now - "
"What's going on - HARRY!?"
"Ginny - fuck off - go and get Sirius - "
"HARRY!" Hermione screamed. "Wake up, Harry, please!"
Blood - and then there was pain - the feeling of being slammed into the floor and wall over and over again -
"I told you to SHUT UP CRYING!"
Harry only cried and screamed more, which only made his uncle more furious.
"I'll give you something to cry about, you little brat - "
Harry felt his nose break as Uncle Vernon punched him straight in the face. He'd have to take some old makeup out of Aunt Petunia's vanity table to cover up the marks and the bruises - if people asked questions, Harry would only be in more and more trouble, and recieve worse punishments.
"Your parents - those pathetic, unemployable, scummy losers were druggies and alcoholics!" Aunt Petunia screamed at an eight year old Harry when he dared to ask about his parents and when and how they had died all those years ago. "They got high and drunk with you in the car, and didn't your father crash into a wall head-on and killed the two of them, and here we are - left with you!"
"Did - did t-they love me?" Harry sniffled, wiping his nose off his sleeve.
She gave him a cold glare. "Do I love you?"
"N-no Aunt Petunia."
"Then they sure as hell wouldn't have loved you either."
Sirius ran into the room, still half asleep, to see Ron and Hermione - Hermione in her pink nightgown and slippers, Ron in his boxers and Chudley Cannons t-shirt - and Harry in his pyjamas, screaming at the top of his lungs while thrashing and tossing around in bed. Hermione was nearly in tears trying to wake him up.
"Sirius - he won't up - Ron said he started screaming in his sleep and he tried to wake him, then he couldn't, so he came and got me but neither of us can wake him up - " Hermione sobbed as she tried fruitlessly to wake up the screaming Harry, who was red in the face and sweating so hard he'd soaked through his pyjamas. "He keeps screaming for his mum to come get him, and his uncle to s-stop."
"I've got it from here - hey Prongslet, it's alright, we're all here for you, you just need to wake up now, please wake up for me - "
The night was wet, windy and cold, but it did not matter to Lord Voldemort. He could spot children and parents dressed in pumpkins and bedsheets waddling across the street. The little village was decroated for the Muggle holiday of Halloween - shop windows covered in trashy black paper spiders, fake cobwebs hanging from the flickering lampposts. Stupid Muggles, he inwardly scoffed - he'd take the whole of Godric's Hollow in one night, all at the hand of his masterful magic - but, Lord Voldemort was merciful tonight. After all, he was only here for the Potters. He would defeat and erase what was left of the supposed pureblood Potter line. He would be triumphant tonight, and with the death of the boy meant that he would live forever.
"Nice costume, Mister!" A Muggle boy shouted cheerfully, and he ran closer to him, but once he came close enough to see the face beneath the hood his expression changed to one of delight to one of fear, and he ran wailing to his mother. His wand twitched beneath his robes - two words and one wand movement and the snot nosed brat would never reach his mother and father - but he must remember, he was here for the Potter boy and his parents.
And longer a new, longer, darker street he moved, and his target was in sight - their friend had betrayed them, betrayed the smoldering remeants of the Order of the Phoenix, the Fidelius Charm broken - and of course they hadn't noticed yet, so trusting in their friend. He drew level with the bush, and stared over it into the sitting room.
James Potter looked just like his father and uncle before him, messy black hair, a strong jaw, the nose, and was tall and lanky like his grandfather had been. Lord Voldemort smiled sickly as he remembered the screams of the traitor Black aunt to spare her husband and son, and the look on the cousin's face when he realized it was time to die. He was conjuring puffs of coloured smoke out of his wand for the amusement of the small black haired boy in his blue striped pyjamas. The child was laughing, laughing at his father's silly expressions, and trying to catch the smoke in his chubby fist..
The door opened, and Lily Potter entered the room, tall like her husband, with long red hair tied up in a messy bun and with emerald green eyes like the boy. He would spare her as a reward to Snape for telling him the prophecy, and he'd kill the husband and son, because after all Snape hadn't wanted to spare them - he'd pratically begged to keep Lily alive and given him the two others.
James stood with the child in his arms, and the two began to shower him with kisses and hugs. He threw the child in the air over and over again, the two delighting in the child's laughter. The child spewed on James, and the couple laughed together for what might be the very last time. James yawned and tucked his wand into his pocket, and together began to walk to their deaths..
The old Victorian styled gate creaked as it opened, but James and Lily Potter didn't hear a thing. His long, white fingers gripped his wand and pulled it out of his cloak, and blasted the front door off a hinges. Lily let out a blood curdling scream, and ran up the cream carpeted stairs with the child of the prophecy in her arms - stupid girl, he smirked, hadn't even picked up her wand. How could they think safety lay in the hands of their friends, how could they think they could put their wands down even for a moment when he was hunting them all across the country..
James stood at the bottom of the stairs as he crossed the threshold, wand in his hand, ready to a duel in which he would not win. It was easy, too easy - they were taken by surprise -
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him - it's him! Go - RUN - I'll hold him off - "
And James began to fire a spell, and purely for his own amusement, he began to duel. He could see the confidence in the man's face, that he had a hope of winning this fight. He would not - he'd make sure they died no matter what it took to do it.
"Stand down, and I might think of sparing you!" He shouted, laughing cruelly. He wouldn't spare him, of course.
"Never!" James shouted, still duelling, still fighting. "I will not - I will die like my uncle did - I'll die like a man defending his family - "
"Your uncle was a coward - "
"DON'T YOU DARE!" James pratically shrieked back, and only fought back more. He'd admit it - he was a good fighter. If only he had joined the Death Eaters when he had asked, then he might have had a chance of living. "I'll defend my wife and son until I die - "
"I killed your grandmother too, and your parents were too weak to fight me off! Peter Pettigrew betrayed you!" He shrieked, and he saw the hazel eyes go wide with horror - deep down inside, he'd have to have known this but only just realized. "Severus Snape told me the prophecy, and begged me to save your Mudblood wife's life but left you and your son to die - "
"Those bastards!" James screamed. "Grandpa - Nana - Mama, Papa! Those bastards - Snape and Pettigrew, those fucking bastards - LILY! RUN! Take our Harry and RUN! Run until you can't run, and keep running - "
"CRUCIO!" And James Potter dropped to the floor and screamed like an animal, thrashing and screaming. He leaned over the young man, smiling sickly, enjoying his pain - he was going to kill him and his son, erasing the sullen Potter line.
"Mum - Mama, Mama - przyjdź i ratuj nas proszę, pomóż nam - MAMA! Papa, Papa - viens sauver mon fils - ratuj moją żonę i syna - "
He recognised that James was babbling in his mother tongue, begging for his parents to save him but dragon pox had put an end to them both. He'd killed most of James Potter's family - his uncle, his aunt, his cousin, his grandparents, his parent-in-laws. What a treat it was to see Arabella Potter try to run for her life!
"Lily - please, run, tell Harry I love him - RUN GO NOW, LEAVE ME BEHIND, SAVE YOURSELF AND HARRY - Mama, Papa, please - LILY, HARRY - "
James tried to stand up and grab his wand which he had dropped, but he was too slow, and Lord Voldemort was too quick.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
"HARRY - "
The green light filled the small, cramped hallway - it lit the pram against the wall, the bainsters and pictures glared like lightening rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut.
He could hear the Mudblood wife screaming from the upper floor, trapped in the child's nursery but as long as she told what she was told she had ntohing to fear - she only had to hand over the child. He climbed the stairs, laughing as he heard her pathetic and fruitless attempts to barricade herself in the child's room - no wand upon her either - how stupid could they be, thinking that trust could be left in the hands of their friends? Her own former friend had given up her husband and son to him, and her husband's best friend had given him their lives -
"He's screaming in French - HARRY! Harry doesn't speak French, does he Hermione?"
"No - no, no no, he doesn't! Harry - what's that? I don't know that either - "
"It's Polish - Prongslet, please wake up baby, we're here, no one will hurt you here - "
But Harry didn't wake up despite the pleads of his godfather and his best friends.
"Ron, where's your mum - run and get Molly, Hermione, ask if she has a Dreamless Sleep somewhere - "
He forced the door open with a lazy flick of his wand, and with another cast aside the rocking chair, the toy box, the dresser she had piled against the door. They burst open and baby clothes, socks, little booties, toys that flashed bright colours spilled across the floor. There the Mudbloood stood - Lily Potter, with the child in her arms. As soon as she caught sight of him she dropped the child into the cot behind her and threw her arms wide, as if shileding him from his sight would make him be mercilful - she was lucky Severus had asked for her to be spared -
"Not Harry, please not Harry - " She began to scream and cry, and he was already bored of her pleading and wanted to get on with killing the boy and seeing the light leave his eyes. "Please not him, not Harry, he's only a baby - "
"Stand aside, you stupid girl, stand aside now - "
"NO! Take me instead, kill me instead, please no, not my Harry - "
"Stand aside, stand aside now, girl - "
"NO! James - JAMES!" She screamed and he laughed because James Potter was dead downstairs on the hallway floor surrounded by his son's toys and his wife's shoes. "James - please, kill me instead, I'll do anything, just not my boy, my baby - not my Harry, he's only a baby - "
"Will you stand aside - he asked me to spare you - "
"James asked you to spare me - "
"No." He said, and he was taking delight in telling her this. He knew it would destroy her, destroy whatever she had thought about her and Severus' friendship. "Severus Snape did. He heard the prophecy the same night that Albus Dumbledore did in the Hog's Head, and he came to me and gave me your lives on a silver platter, and did not care what happened to your husband and child as long as you were spared. He told me to spare you but laughed when I asked should I spare your husband and baby. Peter Pettigrew came to me with a smile on his face and gave me your location."
She cried harder now, knowing she had been betrayed twice by people who she had trusted long ago and he wondered should he tortune her like he had her parents and husband. "Now - step aside, give me your child - "
"I will never - NEVER - give you my son! Kill me instead, please have mercy, have mercy, please, Harry's only a baby - He's my baby - "
"Will you step aside, you stupid Mudblood - "
"Kill me instead - Harry - please no, I'll do anything for you, please, I'll spy on the Order for you, just please spare my son, please spare my Harry - "
He could have forced her aside from the cot, tied her up and made her watch as he murdered her only child, or he could have Stunned her, but it was more convenient to kill them all, to leave no witnesses behind except the ruins of the house.
"This is your last warning." He said, pointing his wand in her face. She did not back down, however, instead she only pressed herself further against her son's crib.
"Please, please, I'm pregnant - it'll be a boy, let me live long enough to give birth and Harry will have a brother and we're calling him Monty - please, spare us all, spare Harry, please, I'll do anything, please leave my Harry alone, not my Harry - "
Her crying grew louder and pathetic and - "AVADA KEDAVRA!" - the green light filled the room, the windows shining eerily, and Lily Potter dropped like her husband. He had not noticed the child had begun to scream and cry in the cot, and he was quite annoyed by it - he'd never been able to stomach the children's crying at the orphanage. Green eyes like his mother and black curls like his father. He stood, clutching the bars of his cot as he wailed, knowing it was not James beneath the cloak and that his mother was not playing a joke on him.
"Harry Potter." Lord Voldemort muttered, scoffing as he stepped over Lily's body. The child only screamed louder, his face red with crying, fat little tears rolling down chubby cheeks.
"Mama!" The child wailed. "Mama! Pa'foo, Dada, Mama! Pa'foo, Dada, Mama - "
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Harry's eyes snapped open, his scream dying halfway in his throat as he scrambled upwards and felt his back hit the wooden headboard behind him. For a moment he could not see anything, but he could hear people talking around, someone wiping the sweat from his forehead, but somebody handed him his glasses. Harry put them on, and was finally able to see clearly. He could Ron and Hermione crying near the end of his bed, Mrs. Weasley with two potion vials in her hands, and Mr. Weasley by the door with his wand in his hand, Ginny standing behind him.
"Snape - he did it - that bastard - " Harry was aware he was babbling complete nonsense from the looks of terror on everyone's face. Mrs. Weasley handed one of the vials to Sirius, who opened Harry's mouth in the midst of his rambling and poured the potion down his throat - Harry recognised the not so pleasent taste of a Calming Draught. He kept on talking - why couldn't he stop? "She was pregnant - she was, she begged him - brother, I had a brother - "
Somewhere, Hermione and Ginny screamed, and Mr. Weasley looked like he was going to be sick. Sirius' hands were shaking as he pushed Harry's sweaty hair away from his face.
"Take deep breaths, Prongslet, c'mon, Molly just gave you the Calming Draught, you just need to breath." Sirius pratically begged him. Harry leaned over the bed to be sick in the rubbish bin, but sat up and wiped his mouth, shrieking -
"Snape told Voldemort - about the prophecy, whatever the hell that is - told him all about - told him to keep my mum alive but to leave me and Dad for dead, said he could have us, didn't care what happened - he FUCKING LAUGHED!" Harry screamed, and leaned over the bed to be sick again. "I was in his head - I saw that night - Dad fought and Mum cried, their last words were my name - "
"Lily was pregnant?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, horrified. Harry nodded, still not done with his rambling. "A boy?"
"Monty." Harry sobbed, pulling at his hair. "I would have had a brother. They were going to call him Monty, she begged him to let her live long enough to give birth. Mama begged him to let me live - she offered to spy on the Order - Dad said he wanted to die like a man, but he was twenty one so he barely was a man at all - "
"Snape gave them up, and Dumbledore lets him in the Order?" Ron said furiously, clenching his fists.
"How do we know if Dumbledore knows?" Hermione asked, though she sounded like she didn't know what to think of what was going on - her eyes were only on Harry hysterically crying in bed, covered in sweat, vomit and snot. She had never seen him this bad before, and she hoped not to again.
"Prongslet, you need to calm down please, c'mon." Sirius wrapped Harry in a cocoon of blankets and pulled him into his arms. "It's alright - I know you're upset, my love, I know, I know but we can talk about all of that in the morning, but you're screaming now, and you're very, very tired and you need to sleep now, hmm?"
"NO! I didn't do anything wrong and I didn't want him to hurt me, but he - he did it anyways." Harry sobbed as Sirius took the vial from Mrs. Weasley and uncorked it. "No - no no no, please, Sirius I didn't do anything wrong, please, I'll be good now, no no no - "
"It's alright, Prongslet, you're all good now - " And before Harry could cry out again, Sirius had given him the foul tasting potion and made him swallow it. Harry didn't want to sleep, Harry Potter could sleep no more, there were so many bad dreams and no mother or father to comfort him after he woke up screaming.
But at least he had Sirius now. He would have Sirius for the rest of his life.
Harry, for the first time in years, felt safe. Sirius was holding him in his arms like you would a small child even though Harry was fifteen. He was swaddled in blankets - including his baby blue blanket he now knew his dying grandmother and pregnant mother had knitted for him - and blankets he knew Mrs. Weasley had piled onto his bed especially for him. He could see nothing but Sirius' face smiling down at him, feel nothing but sleepiness and Sirius' hands running through his hair. He could hear nothing but Sirius and Mrs. Weasley talking to him, telling he was okay, he was safe, nobody was going to hurt him while they were here. The worst thing was, Harry believed them.
And so, he slept.
"Is Harry still asleep?" Mrs. Weasley asked when Sirius walked downstairs the next morning. To Sirius' displeasure, Snape was there (Sirius debated whether it was worth committing his 'thirteenth' murder, but for Harry's sake he decided to hold off for now) talking to Dumbledore and McGonagall. If Harry was telling the truth, and Sirius knew he was, he'd be back in Azkaban by Monday. When Sirius nodded, she handed him a plate of breakfast and nodded. "Good, the poor wee lad."
"Oh goodness, what could have happened to saintly Potter now?" Snape drawled from the corner with a smirk on his face. Even Dumbledore looked tired of his snarky comments.
"And if you keep talking like that, Snape, Sirius was talking about you being his supposed thirteenth murder last night. You might be my first." Mrs. Weasley said in a sickly sweet tone. Sirius was debating whether to buy her a diamond necklace or a designer hat for her birthday. "I have kitchen knives, a wand and a Ministry husband to cover for me."
Sirius and the others sitting at the table barked with laughter. Mr. Weasley looked very pleased with her.
"He's not your son." Snape scowled.
"Oh yes he is. May be a Potter but he might as well be a Weasley he's at our house so much." Mr. Weasley said, raising an eyebrow over his cup of tea. "He might have black hair, but no matter, we'll just dye it ginger."
"So what happened to Harry last night?" Dumbledore asked, butting in before Mrs. Weasley could actually commit murder. "I understand he had a difficult - Severus, don't."
"He can look into Voldemort's mind, we know that." Sirius said, and he almost didn't want to talk about it because all he could see was the look of fear in Harry's eyes, and the way he kept crying and screaming, and wouldn't stop until he had to be given a potion to help him sleep. "So last night, we think he saw Voldemort going to Godric's Hollow and - yeah, well, you know."
"And he may have relived some of the abuse his uncle inflicted on him." Mr. Weasley spoke up, staring into his mug. "He was crying out for his uncle to stop, and for Lily and James to come and get him."
"The poor boy." Dumbledore muttered, accepting the floating cup of tea Mrs. Weasley sent his way. "How can he live this way?"
"I don't know, and he'll live with this for the rest of his life." Sirius said, as he pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate. "He'll be like Monty - riddled with PTSD until he's dead."
"Sirius?" A sleepy little voice mumbled from the doorway. Sirius looked up, and there he was - Harry still in his pyjamas, with Ron, Hermione and the Weasley twins flanking him like armed guards. Fred and George had particularly thunderous expressions on their faces; if Sirius had to guess Ron and Hermione had filled them in about last night, and Harry might have explained everything fully. Still, Harry looked adorable in his pyjamas, his baby blanket still wrapped around his shoulders and jet black hair sticking up in every direction. "Oh, thought you left."
"I would never." Sirius assured him - he felt like he was going to have to reassure Harry a lot over the next while, which he'd gladly do for him. He'd do anything for this little boy in blue pyjamas. "Here, have some breakfast - thanks, Molly. Sit down everyone."
"I was hoping we could all talk to Harry. Alone." Dumbledore said firmly, as if it was not to be discussed. Sirius knew his godson would have a problem with that - these children were his family, his brothers and sister.
"No." Harry said, as he swallowed a mouthful of porridge. "If you want to talk to me, everyone stays. If you insist on them leaving, I go too."
"Harry, my boy - "
"You're the headmaster of my school, not my dad because he's dead and not my godfather because he's sitting beside me." Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Sirius? What do you think?"
Sirius nodded. "They stay, Dumbledore, it's my house."
Dumbledore sighed as he placed his teacup down on the saucer. "Harry, my boy, we know you can see into Lord Voldemort's mind - "
"Really? Couldn't tell."
" - and I think it may be best you take up Occulmency lessons with Professor Snape at the start of term."
Harry felt something cold and slimy slide down his throat and settle in his stomach when he saw the smirk on Snape's face at the thought of getting to make Harry's life more miserable. Dumbledore expected him to spend hours alone with the man who had bullied him for four years, bullied Neville and his friends, threatened to kill Neville's toad Trevor, tormented many students for his own pleasure, and Dumbledore expected him to throw that away?
Not to mention, he'd literally given Harry and James to Voldemort without a care in the world; didn't care if a toddler was killed as long as Lily was kept alive. He'd laughed when Voldemort asked did he want to spare James; he wanted the two of them dead so he could get what he wanted.
" - it will help you block off your mind from Lord Voldemort - "
"No!" Harry semi-shouted, and Dumbledore looked shocked. "No, I won't! I'm not spending a single moment with that man. In fact, when the Order meetings are held at Potter Manor, he's not stepping foot on the grounds. I'll have Mad Eye and Tonks throw him off the grounds if he goes near the grounds."
"With pleasure, Harry." Mad Eye growled from the corner with a toasted sandwich in hand. Tonks nodded with a wide grin on her face at the thought of getting to throw her former professor off the grounds of Potter Manor. Harry had a feeling neither of them liked Snape very much.
"Harry, my boy, please, Occulmency is essential for you especially now, and Professor Snape is an essential part of the Order - "
"Don't you dare!" Harry shouted, standing up and slamming his fists on the table. Sirius did not stop him; nobody did. "I don't care what he does for the Order; he's not stepping foot on my property! Not when he gave my parents to Voldemort - "
"Harry, these accusations - "
"THEY ARE NOT FALSE!" Harry shouted, slamming his fist on the table again, and pointing his wand at Snape. "You want to hear what Voldemort said to my mother, the night he killed her? Do you? This is what he said - 'Severus Snape did. He heard the prophecy the same night that Albus Dumbledore did in the Hog's Head, and he came to me and gave me your lives on a silver platter, and did not care what happened to your husband and child as long as you were spared. He told me to spare you but laughed when I asked should I spare your husband and baby'. He LAUGHED, Dumbledore, laughed when even Voldemort asked should he spare the life of me, a baby, and my twenty one year old father. HE DIDN'T CARE WHAT HAPPENED TO US AS LONG AS HE GOT WHAT HE WANTED!"
"My boy - " Dumbledore tried to say, but Harry snapped again. Dumbledore's teacup shattered on its saucer.
"I AM NOT YOUR BOY! I am James and Lily Potter's boy, I am Sirius Black's boy, I am Molly and Arthur Weasley's boy!" Mrs. Weasley let out a sob at that, and Mr. Weasley wiped his eyes with his hankerchief. "I am their son, I am not yours!"
"I have always tried to be a grandfatherly figure to you, Harry, please - "
"But you aren't, are you?" Harry shrieked. "Fleamont Potter and Aliaster Evans are dead and gone, they're buried who knows where because nobody ever took me to see their graves or told when they're buried; Merlin knows Aunt Petunia never told me. Four years in a row, four years I asked you, begged you not to send me home to the Dursleys and you did it anyways knowing how much I hated it there."
"It's your fault for leaving him on that doorstep." McGonagall spoke for the first time, looking like she was completely on Harry's side. "I told you they were the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. You wouldn't listen to me, and here we are with the results."
"Minerva!" Dumbledore pleaded, but McGonagall looked like she didn't regret a thing.
Harry went deathly quiet. "You left me there." He said in a flat tone, his wand clattering to the table. "You left me beside the milk bottles in the middle of winter."
"Harry, please, you must understand. Your mother sacrifised herself for you and the blood protection extended to her closest living relatives, your aunt - "
"Are you trying to excuse my abusive childhood into the fact my mother died for me, so oh now, the mum died for the baby, let's send the baby off to be beaten and bullied for the next fourteen years!"
"Harry - "
"Excuse this, Dumbledore!" Harry shouted, and he took his pyjama top then his t-shirt off, and Sirius felt his whole heart stop. Harry - oh, his Harry, his boy! - was covered in healing bruises of varying colours - purple, blue, yellow, a sickly green colour - burns, including a large one on his stomach that was mostly healed by now, cuts on his wrists he'd given himself because of his mental agony, scars everywhere that had mostly faded to pink or white by now. "Yeah - this was you. You thought you knew better then anyone else, did you? Did you even read my parents' will, if they had one? Did you pay attention to their wishes for if something happened to them? Now look at me - look at my body. This was you because your ego was so big - my blood is on your hands, remember that."
"I will." Dumbledore whispered, looking defeated. "I am deeply sorry, Harry."
"Not good enough." Harry snapped. "You royally fucked up my childhood. I slept in a cupboard because of you. Fourteen years - FOURTEEN YEARS - and not once did I see you until I started Hogwarts. Not once did you check on me, not one letter, not one visit. There was only Mrs. Figg, and she told you how miserable I was there, remember that. McGonagall told you fourteen years ago I'd be miserable but you didn't listen to her either."
"Harry - "
"And what's this about a prophecy? Yeah, Snape overheard that too - gave him that too, didn't he, with me and my father! What's it got to do with me?"
"Harry." Dumbledore tried to sound firm, but his voice was cracking. "You are far too young to know, I want you to enjoy the remaining years of your childhood."
"Well I didn't get a childhood, thanks to you, Pettigrew and Snape. TELL ME! What could it possibly be? You took everything from me and gave me nothing in return. You've given me more questions then answers." Harry shouted. "TELL ME! It's my life, Dumbledore!"
"Should I tell him Sirius?" Dumbledore asked weakly. Sirius almost said no for a fraction of a second, but this was Harry's life and destiny, even if he hoped so desperately for it not to be. He deserved to be a child for a few more years - but he'd find out eventually whether it was from Dumbledore or his own means.
"Yeah." Sirius said hoarsely. "Tell him. I was going to anyways."
"Harry, my boy." Dumbledore said, Harry's eyes narrowing on 'my boy'. "Shortly before you and Neville Longbottom were born, I went to interview Professor Trelawny for the position of the Divination professor. While I was interviewing her, she went into a catatonic state and - and gave me the prophecy - 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
There was nothing but silence in the kitchen. Sirius was wiping his eyes, and Hermione and Ron were staring at Harry with horrified, terrified looks on their faces. Even Mad Eye was looking down at the floor, and Tonks put her head in her hands. One of them had to die - one of them, the most powerful dark lord in centuries and the other one was a near fifteen year old schoolboy who couldn't even use magic outside of school.
"So." Harry said slowly, with no emotion but the flickering rage towards Snape and Dumbledore in his voice. "One of us has to die."
"Yes." Dumbledore said quietly. "One of you must die."
"Well I suppose I better find and kill him before he does." Harry said, and sat down at last. "Do I have to kill him by magic? D'you reckon, Hermione, that I could just get a shotgun and - BAM! Bob's your uncle, Voldy's dead and we can all have a party."
"You've just been told you're destined to die or kill a man, Harry, yet you remain humourous." Dumbledore said, with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, humour is my coping mechanism." Harry said, glaring at him. "Got to stay positive when my relatives beat the shit out of me, y'know. Besides, always suspected something was up anyways, not that you ever told me anything. He was way too obsessed with me for way too long. And he took my blood in the graveyard, nobody else's he took. Out of all his enemies in the country, he chose a fourteen year old boy."
"This is why Occulmency lessons are vital for you Harry as the war continues." Was Dumbledore seriously still trying to push the lessons with Snape, of all people? When he'd first brought it up a few weeks ago, Sirius and the Weasleys had flat out refused for Snape to teach Harry. If he kept insisting Sirius thought Harry might blow a fuse. "Professor Snape will act accordingly, and he will treat you kindly - "
"Did he treat Hermione kindly when Malfoy hexed her last year while she was defending me while I had a broken arm from the first task?" Harry snapped. "Did he treat her kindly when her teeth were overgrown to the point of hitting the floor, and did he treat her kindly when he said 'I see no difference'? Well? Was that kind? Was it kind when he fed Neville's toad a supposedly dodgy potion, and if Hermione hadn't helped Neville fix it Trevor would've died? Was any of that kind?"
"SEVERUS!" McGonagall shrieked as she whipped out her wand, and Snape backed away from her with his hands up. "Those are my Gryffindors - they are children! They are fourteen years old, and you are a fully grown man for the love of Merlin - "
"Neville was thirteen when he tried to kill Trevor." Ron butted in, with the biggest grin ever on his face at Snape being threatened by McGonagall, who's voice was growing even more furious, her Scottish accent thickening by the second. "And he fails Harry on Potions exams on purpose, and vanishes his potion too, and when Harry had his broken arm last year he made Harry chop ingredients for a full double class; Harry was nearly in tears afterwards."
"Well, excuse me if they require discipline you won't give to them Minerva." Snape sneered. "Just because you failed to have children of your own - "
"DON'T YOU DARE!" McGonagall shrieked, and she hexed him for good measure, boils popping up on his face and neck; nobody stopped her, not even Dumbledore, who was watching with a furious twinkle in his eyes. "They are just children, and you make their lives stone cold miserable all because you didn't get the girl you want - Lily Potter is dead, she has been since 1981 and she hadn't even talked to you since you were fifteen - it's been twenty years! It's honestly so creepy - she married somebody else and had a child with him! James Potter is dead too, and just because he was a little arsehole when he was in school doesn't mean you weren't either - "
"That bastard made my life - "
"And you gave it back in turn, even worse! You made fun of him when half his family was killed, Severus, said they deserved it - and you wonder why half the school thought you were going to join the Death Eaters when you worshipped their ideals so much?"
"He said that?" Harry said quietly, his voice flat and angry.
"Yes he did!" McGonagall spat. "James had lost half his family, and Sirius was their family too so he lost them too - you'd think he'd be mature about it, but no - "
"Potter was crying in the corridor, Minerva, making such a scene - "
"He was seventeen years old, and he'd just learned his fourteen year old cousin was killed by Voldemort! He had full right to cry his eyes out, wondering whether he would be next, or his grandparents, or his parents - and he was killed, four years later."
"Because you told Voldemort about the prophecy." Harry said.
"Will you ever give that up, Potter?" Snape snapped. "That was fourteen years - "
"Fourteen years ago, my father died screaming for his m-mother to save him, and he died screaming for my mother to run for our lives. He died screaming my name - 'Harry' was his last word." Harry said, and he was starting to sob. "Fourteen y-years ago, my mother was pregnant with my b-brother, and she cried when he told her t-two of her friends betrayed h-her. She died screaming my n-name - "
And then he launched himself into Sirius' arms, who was crying too - in another world, he might have had two godsons. Remus might have been a godfather - oh, Remus would have had a godson? What would have little Monty looked like? Would he have had James' eyes and Lily's hair? And James - oh, James! Sirius cried with Harry. James, his brother, dying while screaming for his mother, screaming for his mother and father to save him, Lily dying knowing two of her friends had betrayed her, one of them her childhood friend and the other who had held her son and promised to protect him.
McGonagall stormed out in tears, and the room blew up in chaos. People were shouting - Hestia Jones was swearing loudly in what sounded vaguely like Gaelic, and Sirius was shouting at Dumbledore to clear Snape out of the house. But nobody noticed Harry slip out of the kitchen and go after McGonagall, who was standing near the living room door wiping her tears away. Harry felt very self conscious - he had not put on his t-shirt, and he now felt very aware of how skinny he was - he knew his bones stuck out of his arms and legs, his ribs painfully visibly, far too pale except for his sunburns. His bruises, his cuts, his scars, everything on display.
"Professor?" Harry asked softly, and McGonagall jolted - she hadn't noticed him walking up to her. She stared at him for a minute - all the misery etched onto his body. Then she looked at his face and his eyes, and her face crumbled all over again. "Are you alright? Do you need a tissue?"
"Oh, Harry!" She sobbed, and then she hugged him. Harry winced, and McGonagall let go of him immediately. "Oh - I'm so sorry, I should have asked before - "
"It's fine, Professor." Harry said, though his ribs were screaming in pain. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, I'm fine, Snape just overstepped a very personal border for me." McGonagall sniffled, as she put one arm around Harry. "Oh, that man - he was so horrible to you all! Every prank Fred and George pull on him this year I'll give them a Galleon each for their joke shop."
"They'll like the sound of that." Harry tried to lighten the mood, but McGonagall only sobbed further.
"I need to tell you - I tried to tell him, fourteen years ago I tried to tell him not to leave you there, James and Lily wouldn't have wanted that, but he insisted for that stupid blood protection!" McGonagall sobbed, and when Harry looked at her she only sobbed further. "I promised your grandfather I'd protect you and look at you - oh, oh, look at you, I failed, didn't I?"
"You didn't. You give me shortbread all the time." Harry mumbled, then a question popped up in his head. "My grandfather? You knew him?"
McGonagall nodded. "Y-yes, we did. We were friends."
"Alastair?" Harry asked, and McGonagall shook her head. "Oh, then Fleamont? How did you know him?"
"We - we went to Hogwarts together." McGonagall said, walking into the living room and gesturing for Harry to follow her. They sat on the same couch in front of the roaring fire, the portrait of some long dead Black relative hanging above it. "He was quite a bit older then me though; I was in first year when he was in his sixth. We were both Gryffindors."
Gryffindor. Harry let that thought run around his head for a couple of seconds - Fleamont Potter had been from Yorkshire and a Gryffindor just like him, he'd wore the same robes as his grandfather and may be sleeping in the same dormitory his grandfather had once lain in, and dreamt of his future life. Had he dreamed about having a grandchild? Had he loved Harry? Had he even met Harry? Would he have been proud of Harry? "Was he a Prefect? Head Boy?"
"Yes, he was both. I dare say he was Gryffindor's golden boy - teachers, the headmaster and older students constantly used him as an example for us to look up to." McGonagall said, and the look in her eyes - Harry could tell she missed her friend. He wished he'd known his grandfather. "Head Boy, Prefect, Head of the Potions Society, Captain of the Quidditch team - "
Harry gasped, then slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, Professor. He played Quidditch? And he was good at Potions?"
"Absolute genius at potions. He invented a number of potions and tripled the Potter fortune, including Sleekeasys - "
"He did what?" Harry gasped. Nobody had told him anything - how could he possibly not have known? His grandfather tripled his family's wealth and he hadn't known a thing. His grandfather had been famous for a whole other reason then his grandson was. "He invented that? Hermione used that on her hair for the Yule Ball!"
"I could tell - he tested it out on me a number of times." McGonagall laughed. "He invented it for your grandmother Euphemia, and your great grandmother Arabella. Both of them had wild, uncontrollable hair that took ages to tame, and your grandmother was in tears one night trying to brush her tangled hair. From there he invented Sleekeasys to make her life easier."
Harry couldn't believe it - his family had been so loving. His parents had loved him so much they had died for them, and his grandfather had loved his wife and mother so much he had invented a whole potion for them. How else had the Potters shown love for each other? How would they have shown their love for Harry if only they had lived a little bit longer?
"Did she go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Euphemia?" He knew it was unlikely, seeing she was from Poland - he still couldn't believe that. James had been half Polish and Harry himself was a quarter Polish. But if she did, what Hogwarts house would she have been in? Would she have played Quidditch too, or would she have joined the Chess Club?
"No, she didn't." McGonagall answered, and took a photo out of her pocket and handed it to Harry. He looked at it - and his whole world stopped in that very moment. There they were, his grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, on their wedding day - his grandfather in his suit and robes, hair slicked back, glasses neatly polished until they shone, the smile on his face looking like he had the whole world in his hands. His grandmother, standing with a smile on her face that was just like Harry's, her hair styled beautifully with little strands falling around her face, an enormous diamond ring on her finger, a pearl necklace draped around her neck, her veil so long it fell to the floor. They both looked so in love. Were the Potters all love and no hate? "She attended the Russian wizarding school, Koldovstoretz, seeing she was from Poland."
"Is it true they play Quidditch on trees there?" Harry asked. "Ron told me they did that, but it seems like a bit of a joke to me."
"Well, yes, but Euphemia told me it was mostly extraggeted." McGonagall said, looking at the versions of her friends she wished she still had. "If she had attended Hogwarts, it's hard to tell what Hogwarts house she would have been in."
"Why?"
"Because she had such a wild and extensive personality, it really is that hard. She was so brave and daring and always stood up for the little guy, so she could have been Gryffindor, she valued and had such a thrist for knowledge and learning so she could have been a Ravenclaw, she was so loyal and patient and valued fairness so much so she could have been Hufflepuff, but she was ambitious, resourceful and determinated so she could have so easily been a Slytherin." McGonagall looked at Harry, then back at Euphemia in her wedding dress.
"But if you have to pick just one house, what house would she have been in?"
McGonagall looked back up at Harry again, and she smiled sadly. "Monty always believed she would be a Ravenclaw, but everyone else - including Effie - thought she would have made an excellent Slytherin. So I suppose my answer would be Slytherin."
"Did she play Quidditch at Koldovstoretz?"
"She did; she played from fourth year until she left." McGonagall said. "I have a photo of her from that time, but it's at Hogwarts at the moment. I will give it to you on your birthday. She played Beater in her fourth and fifth years, then Keeper from sixth to seventh year. She much preferred playing Beater though, she said there was more excitement in it."
"What position did my grandfather play?"
McGonagall smiled, and handed another photo over to Harry. Harry looked down at it, and was met with a carbon copy of himself. Fleamont Potter looked identical to his son and grandson - same nose, same messy hair, same glasses, same ears even. He was wearing his Quidditch robes and his Captain's badge over his heart. In one hand, he had his broomstick, in his other hand he held the Golden Snitch high and proud with a grin on his face.
"He played Seeker?" Harry whispered in awe. "It's really in my blood."
"It really is." McGonagall said. "He would have loved coming to see you play in your matches; if only he hadn't joined the war he might have played for England."
"He joined the war? Grindelwald's war?"
"You didn't know?" McGonagall looked furious, more angry then Harry had ever seen her before. "Of course you didn't; worst sort of Muggles possible, I tried to tell him. Anyways, yes Harry, he joined the British Wizarding Expeditory Forces or BWEF for short, in 1942 and was first deployed to Russia. Then towards the end of the war in April 1945 he was catastrophically injured and presumed dead; everyone in England including myself thought he was dead. Your great grandparents and Charlus were informed he was dead. For nine long, terrible days we thought we lost him. But then a Polish general named Ratajczak came to the Ministry of Magic and informed your great grandparents that Monty was still alive, and that he ended up up in a military hospital near Kraków."
"That's where he met my grandmother?"
"That's where he met her; love at first sight he told me at their wedding. He was Corporal Medical Specialist Fleamont Potter of the 11th Arcane Infantry Regiment and she was Senior Healer's Assitant Euphemia Klimek. Very much a forbidden romance; she was older and meant to be looking after him, and he was younger then her and a soldier."
"She was older then him?" Harry asked. "By how much?"
"Three years; she was born in 1916 and Monty in 1919." McGonagall said. "Merlin, you'd never meet two people so in love with each other. She frequently called his name stupid though; Monty never minded. They married very quickly, mind you, in March 1946. Only eleven months into their relationship. People called it a mistake, but I assure you it wasn't."
"Would they have loved me, Professor?"
McGonagall hugged him, and Harry knew she had started crying again. He started crying too - she was his favourite professor. She had bought him his Nimbus Two Thousand, made sure he was okay all of these years, stood up for him when everyone turned against him after his name came out of the Goblet, visited him in the hospital wing after Cedric died. She'd been there for him in a way Harry knew he'd spend the rest of her life thanking her for. She'd been the grandmother he'd always dream of in the cupboard under the stairs.
"Oh Harry, they would have loved you." She said into his hair as she rubbed her hand along his back. "I'm just so sorry I couldn't protect you. I promised every one of them I would protect you and I failed at that - "
"No you didn't." Harry sobbed, his fingers digging into her green robes. "Y-you tried your b-best for me, you t-tried your best for all of us. Y-you b-bought me my f-first broom. You al-always t-tried your best for m-me after C-Cedric - "
"THAT POTTER BRAT CAN'T STOP CRYING -
"SIRIUS!" Remus could be heard shouting. "I'M GOING TO BLAST THAT WOMAN'S PORTRAIT OFF THE WALL - "
" - NOT IF I DO IT FIRST - "
" - THAT BLASTED, SULLEN, SPOILED POTTER LINE, SON OF A MUDBLOOD AND A HALF FOREIGN WIZARD - "
"Why can't she just leave me alone?" Harry sobbed, as he pulled away from McGonagall, pulling his knees to his chest and closing his eyes, hoping that stupid woman would just shut up. "I didn't do anything wrong to her, I swear I didn't - "
"Oh Harry, she was just as evil and prejuidced in life as she is in her portrait." Remus said gently as he walked into the room, and sat on the ottoman opposite Harry. "She hates everyone that steps foot in this house - you should hear the things she says to me and Hermione."
"I don't think I want to." Harry mumbled. He looked up at Remus, who in a different lifetime could have raised him. "Did you know my grandfather was a Seeker, and that he was born in 1919?"
"I did." Remus confirmed, a small smile on his face - the sound of Sirius battling with his mother's portrait faded into the background. "He was - he was amazing at it, so to speak. I'd say that's where you get your Seeker skills from; James was a Chaser. Monty could still fly around on a broomstick even with his leg being amputated, it really shows his talent - "
"What?!" Harry shouted - McGonagall had not mentioned that particular fact. "The fuck you mean amputated? So what, Voldemort took my parents and for shits and giggles decided to take my grandfather's leg?"
McGonagall could barely contain her laughter. "Langauge." She choked out. "Anyways, yes, Monty had most of his left leg amputated shortly before returning to Britain - an infection had set in and the Healers tried their best but the leg couldn't be saved."
"I remember before James brought Lily home to meet the Potters for the first time." Remus laughed. "James told her his father had served in Grindelwald's war and had seen the worst of things and was of course an extremely decroated veteran, and a very wealthy man, and Lily freaked herself out for days thinking she was about to meet the pureblood of all purebloods - snobby, discriminated against Muggle-borns, flaunting his wealth. Paced the common room for days about what to say."
"I'm guessing Mum was wrong, and he was the complete opposite of what she'd thought he was?" Harry asked, looking enchanted with these stories that he should have grown up with. McGonagall's heart broke all over again - she knew it probably would break again for this boy.
"Oh, she was completely wrong. Lily walked into Potter Manor and saw the opposite of what she expected - she saw a gentle, shy, kind man who never once raised his voice and spent his days with his books, his poems, his drafts, his puzzles and his chessboard, and not once asking her about her blood status. After the war, Monty just wanted a normal, boring life - and that's what he got."
"Drafts?" Harry asked. "Did he write books?"
"He did." Remus confirmed. "I have them in my Gringotts vault; mind you, I don't know what they're about because I've never read them before. According to what James told me, they're mostly fictional novels and a couple of historical novels as well."
"Were they ever published?" Harry asked.
"No, they never were. I believe a couple of his poems were in the early fifties." Remus looked to McGonagall for confirmation, and she nodded.
"Yes; I remember now. Between 1952 to 1957 he published around forty seven poems and short stories." McGonagall said, watching Harry's mouth drop open in shock. "I have copies of them all; would you like them, Harry?"
Fleamont Potter had been an author, a Seeker, a veteran of the worst war the wizarding world had ever seen and a Gryffindor. He'd been from Yorkshire, he'd been a shy, gentle man. This was more information then Harry had ever known - and now he could get to read what thought had gone through his grandfather's head thirty eight years ago.
"I'll take anything you've got."
"Do I look like a social worker?" Tonks asked Remus as they walked down Privet Drive for the first time since they had rescued Harry from this horrible place. Every house was indentical - the same flowers and plants in the front gardens, the same cars parked in the streets, the same coloured letterboxes even. It was just as unsettling as the night they had rescued Harry. "Harry said I did."
"We look fine, Tonks." Remus assured her. He'd cover up his scars before they left Grimmauld Place; after he and Sirius had dealt with Walburga's portrait before she and Harry could get into another screaming match. He wouldn't be surprised when he returned to Grimmauld Place that he would see a sorch mark on that horrible woman's portrait. "Remember what we have to do? Know what we have to say?"
"Of course I do; I'm a social worker." She said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. She'd changed her face to look slightly older then she was, along with short brown hair that went to just below her shoulders. Along with her dull grey pantsuit, if Remus saw her in the street without knowing who she was he would have thought she was a boring Muggle who worked in an office. "I'm just plain, boring Dora Tonks and you're boring John Lupin to these lot. God, these houses have no character."
"I'd figured we start off here. I'd go into Number Two and you into Number One?" Remus suggested, and Tonks nodded. "Good, right. Let's be off then. We're just about here. Hestia is making the rounds in Magnolia Cresent."
"Good luck." She said with a grimace on her face, before walking up the pathway to Number One.
Remus walked up the pathway; not one thing out of place. The grass was the perfect shade of green, the flowers beautiful and watered perfectly, the pathway powerwashed to perfection. Did everyone on the street have a need to be identical? He shuddered as he knocked on the front door, and waited for an answer. He remembered now that they were doing this for Harry.
"Mrs. Polkiss?" Remus said, when a tall woman with long blond hair and a spotless outfit answered the front door. "Hello, my name is John Lupin and I'm a social worker with the Department of Health and Social Care. I was wondering may I speak with you about an urgent matter?"
Mrs. Polkiss - the mother of one of Harry's childhood bullies Piers, Remus, Tonks and Hestia had learned from Harry before they left - looked fearful. "Oh God, I've not done anything wrong, have I? Are you going to take my kids off me - "
"Oh no, Mrs. Polkiss." Remus said quickly, and lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "I'm ever so sorry, I should have been more specific, I didn't mean to frighten you. No, this matter concerns.. another family on Privet Drive. A child has already been removed from the home."
He could see the light behind her eyes, of this piece of gossip she could pass around to the neighbours at afternoon tea. "Of course - oh God, please come in, I'll rustle up some tea and biscuits and call my husband downstairs from his office - PAUL! We have a guest! Go have a seat in the sitting room, please."
"Thank you, Mrs. Polkiss." Remus said, and went to go sit in the sitting room. Again, like the Dursleys' home, spotless. Not a thing out of place, not a speck of dust to be found. The picture frames were so clean that they were shining in the sunlight, and even the remote controls were lined up on the coffee table.
A tall, balding man in a perfectly ironed shirt and trousers walked into the living room, and looked Remus up and down with disdain. "Who are you then?" He said, his nose wrinkled. "Yvonne, why did you let one of those door salesmen in? We don't need anything, dear - "
"I'm not a salesman, Mr. Polkiss." Remus said, and just then Mrs. Polkiss bustled back into the sitting room with a tray of tea, biscuits and little cakes hastily put together, though Remus was thankful nonetheless. "My name is John Lupin, and I'm from - "
"He's from social services, Paul!" Mrs. Polkiss said, panic on her face.
"What? For us? Who's only gone and reported us? We're not perfect parents, damnit, but we don't want our kids taken off us - "
"No!" Mrs. Polkiss said, as she gestured for the two of them to sit down. "No, Paul, he's here about another family on the street. Hasn't mentioned who, though?"
"Let's have some tea while we discuss that." Remus said, taking the teacup from Mrs. Polkiss and taking a sip. "Lovely tea, thank you. Mr. and Mrs. Polkiss, what do you know of Harry Potter and the Dursleys?"
Immediately, the two of them tensed up. Remus wondered if they knew something, and hadn't told anyone. How many people knew about the abuse of Harry Potter and told nobody? How could the abuse of an innocent child gone on for this long without nobody noticing the bruises or caring about an orphaned child?
"Well." Mr. Polkiss cleared his throat. "The boy - I mean, Harry - came to leave with Vernon and Petunia about - God, fourteen years ago now. Left on the doorstep with the milk bottles in the middle of the night. Parents had died the same night, and Petunia found him there the next morning. She screamed and woke up half the bloody street."
"The death of the Potters was a tragedy." Remus said, and Mrs. Polkiss scoffed.
"Wouldn't call it a tragedy myself. They were drunks, Petunia tells us, and - " She lowered her voice. "Drug addicts. Her sister and that Potter man. Took the baby in the car with them on a bender, killed themselves and left the poor boy with that nasty scar on his forehead."
Remus shook his head. "No, no, I'm afraid that's not true at all."
"Sorry?"
"James and Lily Potter - formerly Evans - were working for a specialised task force for the Metropolitcan Police in London." Remus said, beginning to tell the false story they'd come up with. The couple were shocked - Mr. Polkiss had dropped his Jammy Dodger onto his lap, and Mrs. Polkiss had spilled some tea onto her skirt. "They were investigating a highly dangerous terroist and mass murderer. This man found out when James and Lily were about to take him and his men down and - and he took them hostage, in their own home, tortured James until he couldn't fight back anymore and killed him, killed Lily even when she begged him to spare Harry, and attempted to kill Harry, but failed. We have no idea how or why Harry survived to this day."
Mrs. Polkiss had tears in her eyes. "Oh Paul - she lied to me! She lied to all of us - but why? Why would she lie about her sister and brother-in-law being heroes? They took down a mass murderer!"
"Bastards." Mr. Polkiss mumbled, and Remus, deep inside, felt satisfied that people were already beginning to turn against the Dursleys. "How could they? But why? They lied to all of us - for well over a decade, mind you!"
"James was half Polish." Remus began to explain. "His mother and father, who was a solider with the British army, met in Poland towards the end of the Second World War and Effie - Harry's paternal grandmother - came to Britain as a refugee. According to Harry, Petunia and Vernon are heavily discriminatory towards non-British nationals - " Which was true according to Harry - could these people get any worse? " - and they disliked James because of this, and Lily for marrying him, and then passed on their discrimination to Harry in turn."
"That's why they lied to us? So someone who's only half British didn't get any glory?" Mrs. Polkiss said furiously.
"They were also jealous of James and Lily." Remus said, and Mrs. Polkiss let out a huff of frustration. "Did they tell you where Harry attends school during the academic year?"
"St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys." Mr. Polkiss said, picking his Jammy Dodger up, doubt flickering in his eyes. "Petunia says the boy is violent - threatens them, steals from them, assualts Dudley. But - but - I don't know. He just doesn't seem that way."
"They say it's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases, the mentally subnormal and violent adolescent males." Mrs. Polkiss added, her hands shaking. "But - like Paul says, he just doesn't seem that way. We're all told he bullies the local children, but a few weeks ago I'd seen him go into the corner shop and buy Mark Evans a lollipop after the lad had tripped over and grazed his knee. A bully wouldn't do that."
"Harry is a shy boy at heart." Remus explained, for once this not being a lie. "He goes to an exclusive boarding school in Scotland for the most intelligent children in the United Kingdom, and his family have been attending the school for over a thousand years."
"A thousand bloody years?" Mr. Polkiss said, sounding very impressed. "Blimey. Good for him."
"Yes - Harry is extraordinary, according to his teachers. Very intelligent, kind, sweet and very shy at heart. Very talented with maths, geography and science." Remus said, Harry having mentioned he was good at those particular subjects in primary school. "Between you and me, the government have already begun expressing an interest in Harry working for them after graduation."
"He's barely fifteen!" Mrs. Polkiss gasped. "God, the boy must be intelligent. The talent he must have - and his parents as well! Were they recruited right out of school as well?"
"They were." Remus said. "James and Lily were amongst some of our country's most valuable law enforcers, and Petunia and Vernon were, to put it simply, just plain jealous that James and Lily attended one of the most exclusive schools in the country. There was also the fact that shortly after James and Lily graduated from school, they went out to dinner with Petunia and Vernon and James - very kindly, mind you, wasn't showing off - explained to them about how his family gained their wealth through cosmestics and investments. Vernon took offense to that and they stormed out of the restaurant leaving both James and Lily in tears."
"But - but why was the boy taken out of the house?" Mr. Polkiss asked. "Are we allowed to know?"
Remus sighed deeply and ruffled a few of the papers. "I must warn you it's not nice things you're about to hear." He warned them, pretending to read a document. "I'm afraid Harry has been suffering physical, emotional and mental abuse dating to when he first arrived at the Dursleys fourteen years ago."
Mrs. Polkiss shrieked with horror and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Physical?! You mean - you mean to say they beat the child?"
"Yes. In the words of Harry himself, they wanted to beat him into submission. Beat the intelligence out of him." Remus said. "He didn't tell anyone because he was worried he would be seen as weak. Harry was afraid Vernon would beat him to death some nights, but still stood up for himself because in his own words, he wanted to die a man like James did."
"Oh God." Mrs. Polkiss sobbed. Her husband looked equally sick. "Oh God Paul - fourteen years we believed them, and we just let them beat an innocent boy because he goes to a school for smart kids? Oh Paul - "
"When was he removed?" Mr. Polkiss asked. "Is he safe now? Does he need things?"
"He's staying with his best friend Ron in London." Remus assured them, and they both breathed a sigh of relief. "He's understandably very upset, but he's safe now and having a relaxing summer with his friends. He's very much looking forward to his birthday in a few days - "
"His birthday!" Mrs. Polkiss shrieked. "Oh, I forgot it was near the end of July. How many days left - Paul, it's the 25th, right?"
"Harry will be turning fifteen on the 31st." Remus smiled - privately, he loved seeing Sirius and Harry getting excited about spending Harry's birthday together for the first time in fourteen years. "So yes, six more days. He'll be having a cake - are you alright, Mrs. Polkiss?"
Mrs. Polkiss had just jumped up off the couch and ran into the kitchen, shouting 'I'll be back in a moment - just one second, oh where's my bloody pen?' and her husband stared down at his lap for a moment before looking up at Remus.
"I - I can't believe it." Mr. Polkiss mumbled, looking deeply ashamed. "Fourteen years. Fuck. Are they going to be arrested? Charged?"
"When you tell them I don't want the Dursleys to be charged..."
"We know what to say Harry, don't worry. You don't want to go through a court case, that it would be too mentally draining for you - "
"No - well, it's something else as well."
"Oh? What is it?"
Harry looked down at his feet before mumbling softly. "I already lost my parents. Dudley - um, I don't want Dudley to lose his parents as well. He deserves to have his parents around for him, like I did. It's just a shame I wasn't their son either."
"He told me and my colleagues before we left London today it was because he didn't want to be dragged through the mentally draining process of an investigation and a court case." Remus could hear Mrs. Polkiss run up the stairs and into the room above the living room, he and Mr. Polkiss could hear her opening and slamming drawers. "And also he didn't want Dudley to lose his parents like Harry lost his."
Mr. Polkiss gasped, and his head dropped into his hands. His body shuddered, and Remus suspected he had begun to cry. "Fourteen years I've seen that boy - and we didn't know! How could we not have known? I was - " Mr. Polkiss wiped his eyes, not looking at Remus. "I got beaten too as a child - I left home when I was sixteen. Piers, June, Michael - they've never met my father. How could I not have seen the same signs in another child?"
"You know as well as Harry does that you were scared of anybody finding out." Remus said. "Harry is the last living relative of four war heroes from James' side of his family, and he feels like he has to live up to their legacy. Not to mention being the only survivor the night of James and Lily's horrific murders - he feels he has to be strong, or who will he be? He'll lose his sense of self otherwise."
"Is he alright?" Mr. Polkiss asked. "Injuries - has he got any? I can help if he needs medical treatment, I'm sure I could."
"He's already recieving medical treatment from a family friend." Remus assured him just as Mrs. Polkiss came back into the room, with an envelope in her hand and a rucksack in the other. She placed them in Remus' arms and sat down beside her husband again, breathing heavily.
"There's some things for him." Mrs. Polkiss said, wiping the beads of sweat off her forehead. "Some old things of Piers - Harry looks to be a bit smaller and skinnier then him. And there's a birthday card for him as well, with a little money inside for him to get something nice."
"Oh that's not nessacary." Remus tried to say, but Mrs. Polkiss waved a hand at him, clearing not taking no for an answer. "Oh, well thank you very much, I didn't expect this. I'm sure Harry will be very grateful. I'll make sure he passes on his thanks."
"Do you need anything from us?" Mr. Polkiss asked, and Remus felt very sorry for him. He wanted to help a child just like him. "We - we might not know much, but we can tell you things we might have noticed. And don't we have school pictures? Harry may be in some of those."
"That would be very helpful." Remus said as Mrs. Polkiss stood to rumage through the drawers for those class pictures. Remus, and he knew Sirius would be too, was very excited to see Harry as a little boy - oh, he would have been adorable! "Please, tell me everything you know. Spare no detail."
"Fuck!" Remus said when he eventually left the Polkiss' house half an hour later, just as Tonks was walking out of Number One. "Tonks - what the hell? What did you find out?"
"How is he still alive?" Tonks demanded as they closed the garden gates behind them and stood outside the next houses - Tonks at number three and Remus at number five. Thank Merlin the Dursleys weren't home! "That man in there said Harry has been mowing the lawn since he was seven - seven, Remus! When I was seven I was still fingerpainting!"
"They gave me old school pictures of him." Remus said, taking one of the photos out of his folder. There Harry was, small and tiny for four years old in his little blue uniform, black shoes and white shirt, grinning against a yellow backdrop. He was holding up a sign that said 'My name is Harry. J. Potter, I am 4 years old and today is my first day at St Gregory's Primary School'. "Look at him in that photo. He's so cute!"
"Lemme see - oh my God! Sirius is going to die when he says that! Look at his little smile, Remus." Tonks gushed. "We have to make copies - Molly and Arthur will want one as well."
"No doubt about it." Remus said, staring down at little Harry Potter. They raised him since he was one year old - nearly fourteen years they raised him since Dumbledore gave him to them. But from the moment they saw him, they have nothing but pure hatred for him. How could Petunia look into the eyes of her sister and beat her son? How could she beat an orphan boy who's parents had loved him so much they'd given up their short lives for him? "Oh, look at those little eyes. Just like Lily's eyes."
"That Potter boy was always so troublesome." The woman in Number Three said as she, Remus and her husband sat down in her sitting room. She scoffed loudly as she poured a cup of tea for the three of them. "Lying, stealing, assaulting poor Dudley, awful trouble to his teachers and classmates in school as well. Should have packed him straight off to an orphanage the second he was dumped like a parcel on Petunia's doorstep. Nothing but trouble to the Dursley family."
"I gather Harry was quite the opposite."
"What on Earth do you mean?" The woman says, wrinkling her nose in disgust, as if everyone who dared disagree with her was the gum on the bottom of her shoe. "They have no reason to lie to us, Petunia and Vernon. Good, proper, upstanding citizens - not like that scrawny, weak looking Potter boy."
"I'd gather the reason Harry is so weak and scrawny looking is because he has endured periods of stravation, and now is severely malnourished." Remus explained, and he could see doubt in their eyes building up. "Harry James Potter, formerly of Number Four Privet Drive, has been removed from the Dursleys' household on the account of severe physical, emotional and mental neglect, and the overwhelming evidence of physical, emotional and mental abuse."
"No.." The man says, shaking his head. "No, they wouldn't lie to us - surely not, not for fourteen years - "
"Yes, of course they wouldn't, dear, why would they - "
But they did, Remus thought to himself, for fourteen years they have been lying to you, and now we have to deal with the conseqeunces of abuse who knows how many people ignored?