I am Something. I have been Something.
The professors gathered in the staff room late into the night. The aftermath of the troll incident had left a lingering tension that none of them could shake. As they reflected on the peculiarities surrounding Harry Potter, they couldn't help but circle back to the boy's mysterious past.
McGonagall sat stiffly in her chair, her lips pursed. “I cannot fathom how an eleven-year-old could face a fully grown mountain troll—without a wand—and emerge victorious.”
Snape, leaning against the wall, regarded her with a calculating gaze. “Potter’s behavior defies explanation. He acted without fear, as if such a confrontation was second nature to him.”
“Fearlessness or conditioning?” Flitwick interjected softly, his small frame tense. “The question remains: what happened to him during those missing years?”
Dumbledore’s calm voice broke the uneasy silence. “We know only what little the Muggle authorities reported: that Petunia Dursley claimed Harry had run away. The front door was open, as was the door to his... cupboard.”
McGonagall’s head snapped up. “Cupboard?” she repeated, her tone sharp and incredulous. “Surely you don’t mean—”
“I’m afraid I do,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Harry’s living conditions at the Dursleys’ were far from acceptable.”
“Living conditions?” Madam Hooch echoed, her golden eyes narrowing. “He was locked in a cupboard, Albus! That’s not a home—it’s a prison!”
“And yet,” Snape drawled, though his voice lacked its usual sneer, “Petunia reported him missing not as an abducted child, but as a runaway. Convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
McGonagall’s hands clenched into fists. “That vile woman... To think she could treat Lily’s child so cruelly! And then to dismiss his disappearance as though it were his own fault—”
“It’s worse than that,” Hooch said, her voice trembling with anger. “She let him stay in a cupboard and didn’t even report him missing properly. Who knows how long it took before anyone even noticed he was gone?”
Dumbledore sighed, his expression heavy with regret. “It is clear that Harry endured neglect at the hands of his relatives. What remains unclear is what happened after he disappeared. Petunia claimed the door to the cupboard was open, as was the front door. The authorities found no signs of a break-in.”
Flitwick frowned. “And yet, Harry reappears five years later, seemingly unharmed and none the worse for wear. He’s even retained his magical abilities, despite what we know about the effects of extreme trauma on young wizards.”
McGonagall shook her head. “He hasn’t just retained his abilities, Filius. He’s thriving. His talent in Transfiguration is remarkable, as is his control in Charms. And let us not forget the troll.”
Snape raised a brow. “Indeed. Most eleven-year-olds would flee in terror at the sight of such a creature. Potter not only stood his ground but subdued it. With no wand.”
Madam Pomfrey entered the room then, her face pale. “I’ve finished my examination of Mr. Potter,” she said, her voice tight.
“And?” Dumbledore asked gently.
Pomfrey hesitated, glancing around the room. “He’s in perfect physical health—almost too perfect. There’s no evidence of malnutrition, despite his years with the Dursleys. No scars, no injuries, nothing to suggest he’s ever been harmed. Yet...”
“Yet?” McGonagall prompted, her voice soft.
Pomfrey sighed. “There’s something unsettling about him. His reactions are... muted. Detached. It’s as if he’s conditioned himself to feel nothing.”
Flitwick’s expression darkened. “Conditioned? You mean—”
“I don’t know what I mean,” Pomfrey admitted. “But it’s clear Harry’s childhood was far from ordinary.”
“What concerns me most,” McGonagall said after a long pause, “is that we don’t know what we’re dealing with. Harry’s behavior—his calmness, his strength, his lack of fear—it all points to experiences no child should have.”
“And yet he speaks of none of it,” Snape added, his tone measured. “He acts as though it’s irrelevant, as though it’s not worth mentioning.”
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to age him. “Harry has endured much, that much is clear. What we must determine now is how to help him—without pushing him away.”
The professors sat in uneasy silence, the fire in the hearth crackling softly. Dumbledore’s words hung heavy in the air, each of them wrestling with the growing unease about Harry Potter.
“We need to tread carefully,” McGonagall said at last, breaking the silence. “Harry is just a child. Whatever he’s endured, pushing him for answers could do more harm than good.”
“But how do we help him?” Flitwick asked, his voice gentle yet firm. “If he won’t share his experiences, how can we guide him?”
Snape, who had remained quiet for some time, spoke up. “We can’t protect Potter if we don’t understand the threat. The boy’s behavior—his calmness, his unnatural strength, his composure in the face of danger—none of it is normal. That troll should have killed him, yet he subdued it without a wand. He acts as if such things are routine.”
“Are you suggesting he’s dangerous?” Hooch asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I’m suggesting he’s been exposed to danger,” Snape countered. “And whatever—or whoever—was responsible for his disappearance is likely far more dangerous than we’re prepared to admit.”
Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, her expression grave. “If I may... there’s another concern. When I examined Harry after the troll incident, I noticed something strange. His magic—it’s... different.”
“Different?” McGonagall repeated, frowning. “How so?”
“It feels... darker,” Pomfrey said hesitantly. “Not dark in the sense of evil, but... raw. Untamed. As if it’s been stretched and tested in ways most wizards never experience.”
Dumbledore’s brows furrowed, his piercing gaze fixed on Pomfrey. “You believe this is tied to his upbringing?”
“I don’t know,” Pomfrey admitted. “But whatever he’s been through, it’s left its mark.”
McGonagall’s hands trembled as she clasped them together. “And to think... he began his life in a cupboard. Locked away like an animal.” Her voice cracked with anger.
Hooch nodded, her expression fierce. “The Dursleys should be held accountable for their neglect. To treat a child—Lily’s child—like that... it’s unforgivable.”
“But it’s not the Dursleys who concern me now,” Snape said, his dark eyes glittering. “It’s whoever—or whatever—took him from their care.”
“They claimed Harry ran away,” Dumbledore reminded them.
“Convenient,” Snape said coldly. “A runaway child leaves no trail, no evidence. And yet Harry’s behavior—his strength, his resilience—speaks of survival in conditions far harsher than anything the Dursleys could have provided. He didn’t just survive; he adapted. The question is... to what?”
Dumbledore’s expression grew somber as he leaned forward, his fingers steepled. “We must proceed with caution. Harry’s trust is fragile, and if we overstep, we risk alienating him entirely.”
“But we can’t sit idly by,” McGonagall argued. “We have a duty to protect him.”
“Agreed,” Dumbledore said. “But protection does not mean prying. We will watch, we will guide, and we will wait for Harry to come to us. In the meantime, I will reach out to certain contacts to learn more about his disappearance.”
“What of the Dursleys?” Flitwick asked.
“They are of no use to us,” Snape said dismissively. “They’ve already proven their incompetence.”
McGonagall’s eyes flashed. “Incompetence is one thing, Severus. Neglect is another. They locked him in a cupboard, for Merlin’s sake! The very least we can do is ensure they face consequences for their actions.”
Dumbledore sighed heavily. “That may come in time. For now, our focus must remain on Harry.”
As the meeting drew to a close, the professors filed out of the staff room, their thoughts heavy with concern. Dumbledore remained behind, staring into the fire, his mind racing.
He had always believed Harry’s return to the wizarding world would mark a new chapter for the boy—a chance to find joy and friendship after years of hardship. But now, as the pieces of Harry’s past began to emerge, Dumbledore realized the truth was far more complicated.
What kind of life has he led? Dumbledore wondered. And what price has he paid for his survival?