Dumbledore's Letter
Despite being a warm hazy summer, the highlands of Hogwarts had a chill to it that was almost tangible. The castle itself was no exception. Perhaps it was the lack of the imbecilic students who swarmed the halls throughout the year, their ruckus generating some form of warmth that the staff had grown accustomed to. It never felt quite the same without their presence, the lack of however; being something reveled by Severus Snape.
As he strode through the stony corridors of the dungeons, robes billowing behind him, he couldn’t help but resentfully wish that it was summer all year round. He hated the insufferable pustules and really you would think after years of being a teacher he would have gotten used to his disposition. But no, he genuinely despised working with the brats and tried his best to make those who were not in his house as miserable as he was, much to the disdain of the other professors. Not that he cared at all really. They were idiotic and biased in their own ways, some more so than the others. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore chose to summon him today. He was almost positive that he’d go on and on about the importance of being kind and goodness and whatever else the daft wizard could think of to torture him with.
Speaking of daft, it struck him that he and Minerva were still at odds since they had conflicting opinions on the headmaster’s stunt at the end of the last term. Giving his Slytherins a small taste of victory before snatching it away for his precious Gryffindors was an act that even Severus had to admit was cruel. He still had not forgiven him, despite his futile attempts at conversation and even Minerva had remained in a suitably frosty mood towards him. Granted, he was the one who began giving her the cold shoulder, but really, he didn’t care since the validation of foolhardy Gryffindors meant nothing to him.
He paused his musings coming to a stop in front of the stone gargoyle that led to the headmaster’s office, the grey, grotesque face looking down on him in an almost smug way with its animalistic features. It reminded him a little too much of one of the old demons in his past, the thought sending a chill to his heart. He sneered in disgust at the thought and cleared his mind before uttering the candy related password to be granted entry. When the gargoyle sprang to life and a curved stairway appeared leading up to the headmaster’s tower, he took a few steps upward before hesitating. Dumbledore’s letter didn’t specify the reason for summoning him, but as he slowly continued his ascent to the tower, he resolved to deal with it head on no matter what.
In Privet Drive, Little Whinging, the sun rose, casting its rays over the picturesque suburban homes, illuminating the white picket fences, well-manicured hedges and smooth green lawns. The birds chirped and flitted from the trees, ready to start their day. This was a perfectly normal neighbourhood, with perfectly normal residents who adored their perfectly normal lives.
What they didn’t know however, was that in one of these seemingly normal homes lived a young girl who was too short for her age and who wore clothes that were too big for her body. She was too quiet and acted quite differently as expected from a budding teenager. In a space of such perfection, she seemed to be a bit out of place.
Soon enough, glassy green eyes jolted awake, slowly focusing in the dark room at the sound of locks clicking and something being flung into the room, bouncing off the wall, before the door slammed shut once more. Harriet Potter groaned inwardly, as it all came back to her.
The Dursleys had grown increasingly cruel towards her since her return from Hogwarts, but it only escalated after that strange elf Dobby had gotten her in trouble. Since then, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken to locking her up in Dudley’s old bedroom, away from their family. Her situation had further cemented the fact that she was unwanted in their home. To them, she was an anomaly, a flaw in the otherwise pristine environment so carefully cultivated.
She sat up and reached over to the ledge at the side of the bed for her old wired glasses. Once her eyesight was restored, she glanced down at the dusty wooden floor to see a piece of bread, the broken crumbs staring at her almost tauntingly. She scrambled off the bed and reached down for the morsel, grimacing when she realized it was hard and stale. She sighed and turned towards her snowy owl Hedwig who was perched on the bookshelf in the corner of the room ruffling her feathers indignantly.
“Here girl,” she said humbly offering the owl a piece of the stale bread. Hedwig hooted in a disgruntled sort of way but picked at it nonetheless. Harriet sighed again and got working on her share. Even though the bread was hard and dry, it was the only thing she’d have to eat besides some cold tin soup and saltine crackers a few days ago and she wasn’t sure when her next meal would be. Since Dobby’s little episode, Aunt Petunia took it upon herself to feed her even less than before, making the days seem even longer and unbearable. The bread was by no means appetizing but right now her stomach felt as though someone had taken a shovel and scooped her insides out, leaving her hollow and bare, empty and cold.
In hindsight she should have expected this kind of treatment from the Dursleys. They always despised her and made her life hell. She grew up neglected and treated more like a servant than a beloved niece. A year ago she finally understood why her life was so different and why her aunt and uncle would punish her at the slightest abnormality that happened around them. Harriet was a witch, and her parents were magical too. 12 years ago they were murdered by an evil wizard, Voldemort and she was left on the steps of the Dursleys home, destined to be a burden that plagued their perfect lives.
She rubbed between her eyes and sighed. She really should have just told the ruddy elf that she’d stay away from Hogwarts she thought resentfully. Deep down she knew it was a lie though. She would never be able to stay away from Hogwarts. Ever since she found out that she was a witch, something in her changed, magic gave her life new meaning. Magic made her somebody different and gave her a reason to keep going.
But Harriet always knew she was different. Strange things always happened around her whenever she found herself angry or sad. Even as a lonely child, she befriended the neighbourhood snakes after being locked out in the garden one evening as a punishment for getting into an altercation with Dudley. At the time it didn’t occur to her that talking to snakes was an abnormal thing to do, she was only a child after all. It was really only after she turned 11 and Hagrid showed up, did things in her life finally begin to make sense. She was different, but being a witch wasn’t a bad thing like the Dursleys made it seem once the secret came out. Being a witch meant that she wasn’t a devil or cursed, or ugly or a freak or any of the horrid things they said to her all her life, it simply meant that she was not in a space where she was meant to be.
After her simple meal, she curled back up in bed, willing herself to fall back asleep, tossing and turning for what seemed to be hours, before she gave up. By now the sun’s rays had begun filtering through the musty lace curtains, their streaks illuminating the soft, tiny dust particles floating around in the air.
It was a stifling summer at Privet Drive and she spent her time awake counting down the days until she returned to Hogwarts. Once the sun rose high enough, the heat was unbearable to handle and with her windows barred up and bathroom time limited, she had no means of cooling herself down to get rest to pass the time.
Harriet sat up on the bed, and hunched over a muggle fairytale book she pulled out from under her pillow, given to her by Hermione. She attempted to focus on the words and pictures, trying her best to block out the hunger pangs she felt as she inhaled the smell of lunch that drifted up the stairs. The sounds of Dudley laughing at some show on the telly almost mocked her as she sat in her hot, stuffy room.
Uncle Vernon spent a good portion of her first week welding bars across her window and install locks on her bedroom door so that she wouldn’t escape. “If you think we are letting go back to that ruddy school with those freaks, you’re wrong,” he huffed, slamming the door shut, locking it in place.
Hedwig cooed in the corner, ruffling her feathers unhappily, at their situation.
“I know girl- I’m sorry, you know I can’t let you out,” Harriet said apologetically, reaching out to play with her, wishing she could somehow escape her stuffy suburban prison. The most she could do was let her out of her cage which was already covered in droppings, but she knew the room itself was too small for Hedwig to comfortably fly around and feel free.
As if reading her mind, Hedwig snapped at her fingers angrily, fluffing her wings.
“Hey it’s not my fault we’re in this situation,” said Harriet, feelings hurt, “I wonder what everyone would say if I died here,” she said, thinking about Ron and Hermione.
For a good portion of the summer, she was disheartened at the fact that they hadn’t sent her any letters and she spent some resentful days thinking they must’ve been having a great time with their families, not thinking about her at all. Those thoughts vanished instantly of course, when Dobby confessed that he had been intercepting her mail in his attempt to keep her away from Hogwarts. Really though, she pitied the abused elf, but he should’ve still given her the letters since she spent countless days after their interaction, cooped up in the room doing absolutely nothing but suffering. She would’ve gladly spent the days pouring over Hermione’s long, detailed letters, admiring her perfect handwriting, or even enjoying Ron’s loopy scrawl which would no doubt be filled with the latest quidditch news. She sighed wistfully, flopping back on the bed. She really missed her friends.
“It’s funny to think that everyone was worried about me being killed by Voldemort, when the Dursleys could do it without magic,” she snorted up at the ceiling, finding the irony of her situation suddenly hilarious.
Hedwig hooted indignantly, as if to say, stop being dramatic.
“You’re right,” said Harriet, “If I could handle an insane child killer, I could handle this,” she said, mainly trying to reassure herself.
The day rolled by awfully slow and by the time Harriet heard Uncle Vernon’s and Dudley’s heavy footsteps thumping up the stairs heading to bed, she found herself curled up, hot and feverish. The heat of the day, combined with the lack of food and water made her weary to the point of utter exhaustion. She closed her eyes, embracing the fitful sleep that she was sure to come her way.
Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap
Harriet opened her eyes and squinted into the darkness. What’s an owl doing here this late? She wondered, the tapping increasing in urgency. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes groggily, feeling a headache oncoming.
“All right, all right, I’m coming,” she grumbled, grabbing her glasses and throwing the curtains open with a huff. She instantly reeled back in shock when she came face to face with Ron Weasley’s face beaming down at her, freckles illuminated by the moonlight.
His head was sticking out of the window of a bulky blue car which was- wait it’s floating?
“Ron, what are you doing here?” She asked incredulously, this had to be a fever dream.
“Hiya Harry! Mione and I got really worried mate, we haven’t heard from you in ages,” her best friend exclaimed. “I can see why though,” he said with a frown forming on his face, as he gestured at the bars around the window.
“But don’t worry, I’ve got Fred and George with me, we’re getting you out of here,” he said confidently, gesturing at the twins behind him who were waving ecstatically from the front of the car.
“Wha- wait, How even?” Harriet questioned, astonished.
“Mind yourself Harry, lemme just get to these bars,” said Ron, pulling what looked like a rope with hooks out of the car.
“Grab your stuff, we’ll go as soon as I get these off,” he said.
She didn’t need to be told twice, scampering like a mouse, she began grabbing everything she could find, pulling on a pair of old jeans and a sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley. Reaching under her bed, in her haste, she grabbed her dusty trunk and hauled it out, knocking against the lifted planks on the floor which made a loud noise, much to her disdain.
She paused and listened to the silence with anxious breath, until she heard a door slam and loud steps coming her way. Dread filled her. Feeling like a frantic animal with her heart racing off, she swore and grabbed her last bit of belongings, threw it into the trunk and whistled to Hedwig who compliantly flew into her cage.
“Girl! Are you trying to wake up the entire neighbourhood? When I get my hands on you!” came Vernon’s angry voice muffled through her door. She heard keys jingling, and the sound of them unlocking the door. For a minute she was frozen from fear until a loud CLANG sounded, knocking her out of her frozen stupor. She spun around and faced the window, distantly amazed to see that there no longer was a window, just an open space where the window frame and bars once were.
She heard her Uncle roar with rage and at that moment Ron jumped in the room, grabbing her trunk and ran towards the gaping hole. She jumped into action and made a dash for the window with Hedwig’s cage when suddenly the door busted open and Vernon reached out and grabbed her by the hair halting her. It all happened so fast, with an unknown strength, she lashed out and kicked at him, causing him to let go and fall over in surprise. She tossed Hedwig’s cage to Ron before leaping out of the window, falling into the car and slamming the door shut, her uncle’s gawping face in the background. Without hesitation, the car took off and in a few moments, the lights of Privet Drive were small specks glittering in the distance. Once she was sure she was safe, she felt her body sag with relief, the familiar sound of the Weasleys voices being the last thing she heard before she passed out.
Even though it was summertime, Dumbledore’s office fires were lit, offering welcoming warmth in the otherwise chilled castle. His phoenix was perched across the brick ledge above the fireplace, no doubt enjoying the heat. Severus glared at the creature as if willing it to burn up, however it just looked at him with too intelligent amber eyes and let out a gentle shrill.
“Ah Severus my boy, I was wondering if you’d be joining me” the headmaster chirped, sounding as though he were the happiest man in the world. He had an insufferable ability of speaking in a grandiose way that could make even the most unwanted person feel welcome. Severus liked to think that he was immune to Dumbledore’s words and his never ending twinkles and smiles, but sometimes he let himself be swayed, much to his disgust.
Banishing the pathetic thought from his head, he grabbed the arm of the plush green velvet chair and sat down.
Today Dumbledore was dressed in deep blue robes that shimmered like the night sky, his silver beard almost completely blocking his body behind his desk.
“Would you have some tea Severus? I find myself drawn to this particular blend,” Dumbledore offered, gesturing to the cups and platters of sandwiches which were not there when he walked in.
“I’d rather have coffee,” Severus said, but still grabbed a cup, the warmth welcome against his icy fingertips.
“I suppose you would, have you been sleeping well?” he asked with a knowing look in his eye.
Dumbledore the perceptive old nuance, of course he would notice, he was always too nosy for his own good. Severus had to wonder sometimes when you were the most powerful did you also become the most all-knowing too?
Severus spent years surviving on only a few hours rest, sometimes not sleeping at all. For an over active mind, sleep was a luxury that was hard to afford. For the past year at least, he found himself resting less and thinking more. It was irritating, if not agonizing as he spent the majority of his time lately feeling exhausted and worn down, not that he would ever admit to it.
It was the guilt really, the guilt of being reminded, even though he never forgot. Even though he never stopped thinking about it. Guilt had a way of eating you alive, consuming your thoughts and emotions. They say time heals all but sometimes maybe time makes you feel worse if you haven’t healed. And familiar faces definitely did stir those up those feelings once more.
“I wanted you to know that young Harriet Potter arrived at the Weasley’s sometime this morning,” said Dumbledore, stopping only to pour himself another cup.
Speaking of familiar faces.
The image of the girl’s face flashed in his mind, a nauseating blend of Potter and Lily, familiar enough to dig up old wounds but different enough to withhold his wrath. Despite being barely a teenager, she had the dark unruly hair and pureblooded features of her father but the curious emerald green eyes of her mother. The first time he got a good look of her, sitting in his classroom looking as nervous as her peers, he almost reeled, the disgust and guilt that mingled within him almost palpable. He thought he would’ve been ready to deal with it but knowing this child was all that was left of Potter and Lily caused something unknown to unfurl deep within him. He made it a point to ignore her for the rest of the year for both their sakes.
“Molly Weasley contacted me via floo first thing this morning. She says that Harriet could not wake up for a while which gave her and the children quite a scare,” he continued.
Severus stilled. “And what of her condition?” he asked, gripping the cup so tightly he was sure it would break.
“I sent Poppy over to check on her and her diagnosis has been a negative one, albeit treatable. The poor girl has been underfed and dehydrated for quite some time so I have decided that it would be best for her to spend the rest of the summer in Molly’s care,” he said, setting the cup down with a clink.
At that Snape’s cup did break.
“It would be best for her?” Severus hissed, “I told you, I told you what would happen twelve years ago when you decided to leave her there with those vilecreatures!”
The headmaster watched him with a sympathetic look on his face. “Had I known Harriet would be subjected to such treatment under their care I would have done my utmost best to find a loophole the wards,” he said sadly, looking every bit of his age.
“Keep her away from that bloody place, stick her with those insufferable red heads for the rest of her life for all I care! Anything would be better than to be under Petunia’s care,” he said with cold fury lacing his voice.
“Severus you know as well as me why Harriet needs to be there, at least long enough to re-knew the blood wards, Lily’s sacrifice-”
“Don’t!” Severus almost shouted, heart racing, a panicked feeling rearing up inside him.
Dumbledore if only for a moment then reached out to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder, “What would you have me do my boy?”
“Convince them, they are spineless, I am sure once they know you are aware of the situation they will stop,” he said, frantically racking his brain for ideas.
“Or have me do it,” he said through gritted teeth.
Dumbledore looked at him, his gaze calm and as piercing as a silver arrow. Severus felt cold.
“Yes, better you go, I’m sure you would be able to communicate our concerns to them” he said finally
Snape paused, not expecting Dumbledore to agree with him, unspoken words on his tongue. He quickly recovered himself and stood up, “You really trust me to do this Headmaster?” he said with a cold glint in his eyes.
“I think despite what you may think, you are the best candidate for this job Severus. I know you have young Harriet’s best interest at heart and I trust you,” he said with an affirmative nod.
Without another word, Snape turned on his heels and immediately headed for the castle entrance, any feeling of him being weary gone with the wind. He felt alert. He had a job to do at the Dursleys and he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy this little reunion.
You nasty freaks! You will burn in hell, the lot of you! The echoes of Petunia’s voice from his childhood resonated in his mind, the thought of her seeing him once more making him shiver with an almost perverse anticipation. He felt alive in that moment, he couldn’t wait.
Well,
They did say there was no rest for the wicked.