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The silence was suffocating, it carried the feeling of grief, regret, pain. The memories of that day at the ministry, the running, the fight, Sirius’ death and agonizing, burning pain.
It had been three weeks since that night, the day forever ingrained in Harry’s mind like the worst failure in his life, Ron was recovering, as was a number of the DA members that followed him that night, Sirius was dead, and he himself was bedridden still, he remembers Dolohov’s curse flying towards Hermione and how he by sheer will, he was able to put himself between the both, the curse hitting him straight in the chest.
From there, he stopped thinking in words, his world was painted in a swirl of sensations, the stretching of his skin, the flaying of the air against his skin, the ringing of his ears and the agonizing pain. He lost consciousness. He was later told by the headmaster how Voldemort had appeared, how they had dueled and how Voldemort had used Harry’s body as a puppet to tease the Headmaster.
But none of that mattered if Harry wouldn’t wake up.
He was told he slept for two weeks, and he remembered waking on and off for a long time, a shadow of a man dressed in black applying salves to his wound and forcing a series of remedies down his throat. Snape.
Snape had been tasked to take care of Harry until recovery, by both masters. Harry thought it made sense, a toy was useless broken, and both masters wanted to play with the toy their way. So on went the toy to be mended by the person who hated him the most, probably even more than Voldemort.
Harry wished Snape would engage in any of his hurtful games now, he would never take for granted the sound of another’s voice, even in hate. Even a hurtful reply would be received. But all he got was pain and silence. Snape had decided that if he was tasked to mend the toy, he would do it in silence.
Snape didn’t spend his whole day by his side, however the treatment to his skin could take several hours, in which between cries of pain and grunts of effort, he tried to bait the potions’ Master into speaking. And today, today Harry had decided that if all he would get was silence, then he would use it for letting all the rot out, all the poisonous thoughts that had pestered him for years, he would spill his guts, knowing that even if the Professor decided to judge him for it, he would do it from his silence.
“The first time I died, I must’ve been 2 years old.” Harry opened with levity.
“Petunia had left me in the tub, and she took Dudley for a change, and she must’ve forgotten about me. I remember playing with Dudley’s toys for a while. This was before she hated me, before my magic manifested in front of her, so she left me there, simply because she forgot. I remember I started to get sleepy and called for her, but she must’ve closed the door, because she never came, then I tried to climb my way out, but I slipped and hit my head. I went under the water level and drowned.”
Harry related the story with aplomb to the silence.
“I know I died because next thing I know, Vernon was beside me, he was trying to revive me. After he succeeded, I was sent to my cupboard without dinner for causing a scene. Back then they didn’t hate me, but I wasn’t wanted either.”
His confession was met with silence, the Professor’s movements and grafts continued methodically, the only acknowledgement was a small pause that Harry didn’t detect. But the silence remained.
“That wasn’t the only time, when my magic started to manifest, and hate started to paint every interaction between my family and myself, their actions started to become ruthless, I never understood what I had done wrong, I had done my chores, I had stayed quiet during the family time and the visits, and they often forgot to feed me, they forgot me in the park, they forgot to wait for me at school, they forgot me outside during a snow storm in December. I remember that time too, everything hurt, I was so cold, and my breaths escaped in puffs of white. My hands were turning blue and my feet were cold and wet as I didn’t have wellies, only Dudley’s old sneakers, already worn and broken in places.
“I remember again screaming and calling their names, again, it was met with silence and darkness. I started to get very sleepy, it was so cold and I wanted to find a dry patch to close my eyes a little. I climbed the apple tree in the backyard, it was better than the ground.
“And I was falling asleep, it was getting warmer, or at least I couldn’t feel the cold anymore, and a force pulled from my gut, it had a black aura, it started to swirl around me, melting the snow around me until I stopped shivering. I know it was my magic, it saved me until the next morning Aunt Petunia opened the door to let me in, she needed me to have breakfast done. They always knew they’d left me outside, they were fine with letting a 5 year old die.”
Silence.
“Moments like that were the building stones of my childhood, Professor. I did not grow up bathed in wealth and having my praises sung to me at every turn, I was a child that only knew how to survive.”
Snape’s movements stopped, but the man held to his silence, even when his attention was fully on the 15 year old boy in the cot by the window.
“Then Hagrid came and told me I was a wizard, and I didn’t want to be a wizard, that was what had caused my family to hate me, it was the reason my acting up was accompanied by black swirls of destructive energy that broke things and never failed to terrorize my family, but also me.
But I had to go to Hogwarts, Hagrid said. It was the place that saw my parents grow up and fall in love and fall in love with magic, so I did, I came here. I was met with a giant dog, flying keys that zoomed so fast they cut skin, a chessboard that made your only friends sacrifice themselves, a logic riddle with potions that isolated you and Voldemort at the end of the road.
I know, I know that Dumbledore said that my mum’s protection saved me from Quirrell, but it was not, I remember it was my swirly magic, the dark that lives inside me, it ate Professor’s Quirrell body, skin first, bone last, and the wail of Voldemort leaving his body just before the end.”
The Potion’s Master’s hands had started to shake slightly, forgetting their task of tending to the wounds. What this child was describing was a functional Obscurial, and he said it lives inside of him, did the Headmaster know? Was this the power the Dark Lord knows not?
“And then the Basilisk, and the dementors trying to take Sirius from me, and the Acromantula in the maze. My magic consumes everything in its wake, I am the cancer of this story.
And people applaud, and people cheer, and they don’t know.” Harry had started crying, sobs wracked his body.
“Harry.” Snape said his name with care, as if dreading that he could break if he applied any amount of pressure.
“NO. No, our game is that you stay silent and I talk. The game is that I try to get your attention and you act as if I wasn’t here. OUR GAME IS THAT YOU DON’T TALK!”
“Harry, I can’t. Child, I can’t remain silent after you share your soul with me.”
“I’m not a child, I’m the embodiment of a fraud, a broken toy.” His breathing was laboured, it was difficult to speak through his heart breaking.
“No Harry, no. You’re a child that has been put under an unfair amount of pressure all your life, it doesn’t matter how you survived, it matters that you did.” Snape’s hand hovered above his head, as if wondering if touching him was allowed.
“I think I liked you more when all you gave me was silence.” Harry tried to defuse.
“I don’t think that’s true” Snape finally patted his shoulder awkwardly trying to soothe him.
“I’m supposed to bring down the worst Dark Lord history has ever seen, and all I have is faulty magic, a bunch of deeds that half of the world would be horrified if they knew how I pulled them off–I’m no hero, I can never be the hero they want.
I only know that I always make things worse. I only know that my parents and Sirius and Cedric would be bloody alive if I wasn’t here. I wish they had survived instead of me!”
“Child, Harry, you can’t believe that, you can’t wish yourself dead instead of the adults that chose to protect you with their lives. It’s not how it works. Merlin, Lily would have my head for letting you think like this. It pains me to say this, but Potter, Black and Lily loved you beyond measure, they were glad to pay the price to let you live.”
“I know. But what good does it bring me if they have let me alone in a world where everyone I love is bound to die. What good is it to me if they have abandoned me in the end?”
Silence.
“You gave me secrets today, Harry. I will pay it back with one of my own.” Harry looked at Snape with desperate eyes, searching for the trick. “Ever since the day your mother died, I have pledged my life to keep you alive.” Harry’s mouth hung open in shock. “I have failed you, because I should’ve sworn to her to see you thrive. And if you’re willing to try, I would also like to try to be there for you. I have committed grave faults to you, and for that I am sorry. But I can vow to do better, to be there for you, to help you and walk with you, and I promise to try to survive.”
Harry started to cry again, silent sobs shook his weakened body.
“Yes, please try.” Harry said putting his own hand atop Snape’s that rested in Harry’s knee.
There were a lot of things that they would need to hash out, there were obstacles to overcome (Dumbledore), the direction of the war would need to change, because Severus Snape had vowed to have Harry Potter thrive, but that’s another story and this, Harry could feel, this was the beginning of a better future.