Traitor?
Harry was quite confused as to where he could be. Well, more like what time he could be in. The last thing he remembered was wanting to be with his Mother and Father. He wanted them still, even if he lived his sixteen years of life without them, he still yearned for their comfort. He wanted the love they could give him so desperately, so much so that he swore he was delusional when he saw a familiar boy running down the hallway, journal in hand, quietly holding back choked tears.
Though Harry had tears swelling in his own eyes, he couldn’t ignore the boy who called to his mysterious chasers to stop, to leave him be.
Of course with Harry being the boy he was, he ran after this raven-haired teen. Slytherin capes covering the supposed stranger in a tight embrace while Harry looked over his shoulder to see two Gryffindors chasing this supposed stranger. Confused, and determined, Harry was sure to make himself a wall between both parties so no spells could be cast without good reason.
Now, this didn’t mean he liked Slytherins, but he would never willingly let an innocent be hurt no matter how hard he tried. So when Harry looked in front of him and saw the boy had tripped, fallen, then was scooting back up in horror as the two predatory chasers came to a halt, he felt pity. It reminded him of himself, being hunted down by his Uncle Vernon. Looking between Harry and the strange boy, the two Gryffindors glared at him, trying to intimidate Harry however he was not so easily affected. With his wand at a close ready, his hand just barely hovering over it, he wouldn’t draw it out just yet, not yet. Only when these two red-cloaked bullies attacked first would he take them on.
“Who are you, and why can’t you just leave him alone?!” Harry quickly argued, ignoring the fact he had invisible tears running down his face. Thankfully, when he was only lightly crying, his tears weren’t visible, so unless the candles caught him in the wrong way, no one would know. Which was likely best for such an unstable situation.
The darker, scruffier-looking boy laughed uncontrollably, holding his stomach in joy. The reaction made Harry’s gut churn in heartache. How could someone be so cruel, and laugh at others just trying to get by?
“James, James oh he has to be kidding, right?” Finding it challenging to catch his breath, the boy barked with laughter. His best friend had an amused smirk himself.
“Oh, Sirius I think he’s very…serious.” Proud of his play on words, James Potter held his wand tight to his side.
The realization hit him like a ton of Hagrid’s biscuits. That was no other than James Potter and Sirius Black. His God-Father, and…Dad. It took him back, his face must’ve shown his true feelings, only none of them knew the context.
“And who are you? I haven’t seen you around before. Even if I haven’t, everyone knows to leave little Snake Boy here to me, Sirius, and Remus.” James mocked, he didn’t like people who got between him and his green-housed victims. Slytherins did not deserve mercy in his eyes, particularly Severus. He believed them too callous, too upsetting for the otherwise peaceful surroundings.
“What’s it to you? As far as you need to know, I’m nobody.” Harry hissed in defense, disgusted by the fact his father, and father figure could be so cruel to someone he knew…well, he didn’t know Snape, not personally, but he saw him every day. He talked to Professor Snape for potions, constantly mocked, and taunted by the slimy excuse of a man. Surely, well surely this couldn’t be the reason for all that, could it?
“Alright, Nobody, I don’t like you, Nobody. A Gryffindor,” Saying it with as much disapproval as he could muster up, James scanned Harry up and down. “Should never stand up for a Slytherin. So either get out of the way or be hexed, Snake-Loving Cub. Choose.” Behind the boy was Sirius with his wand up, and a plastered smirk. Like a loyal little minion, he’d do anything for his Master.
Harry though, shuffled his feet, standing tall. Seeing the Transfiguration Professor walking nearer from the corner of his eye. Behind him though, he could hear the sounds of shuffling as the young Snape stood up behind him.
“You better not tell anyone about this, Red.” The familiar, rough, vicious, slow voice of Snape trickled into his ears, though he could hear the true feeling of relief from the youth weaseled between the lines. He gave a slight nod, not knowing if Severus would see it or not, but as soon as the sound of running footsteps started he put up his arm to stop James from running after.
Minerva had caught up just fast enough to stop Sirius from sending his curse. She was younger here, a deep-set frown lacing her structure. She was almost beautiful with her hair done up, and a respectable amount of make-up done for the formal environment.
“James, Sirius, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” She asked, her cutting voice on the edge of venomous. Before they could open their mouth, Harry caught her eye. “Young boy…who may you be?”
Having stuffed his hands into his pockets, that’s when it hit him, the Time-Turner…it was gone. Where was it?! Panic stretched across him, unable to answer any questions thrown his way. He could feel three very curious eyes on him.
“Professor McGonagall, Ma’am, I was hoping to find you. Though Headmaster Dumbledore would’ve been better for this conversation…” What was he doing? Was he telling the truth? Really? He couldn’t go home though, not after…not after what Ron and Hermione did, what they said. The betrayal they showed him was beyond possible in his eyes. Perhaps a few days here wouldn’t hurt. Away from the stress of Voldemort would be nice.
“And what conversation would that be?” Having been upset by the idea Dumbledore would’ve been a better conversationalist, the professor was not up to a good start with this new teen.
“I…well I made a potion where everyone would forget me, that I was, well, erased from existence, but uhm…well uhm…people I liked forgot who I was, and now I regret it very much.” He stated, not sure of what exact story he just made up. He needed to memorize it though if this quickly made-up plan was going to work. Hermione was always best with plans like these, Harry just helped execute them.
“Well, that is…troublesome…” How was this possible? Of course, there were potions of the sort, but all of which were powerful, and dangerous to reverse. However she had been proven wrong, this was definitely a talk for Dumbledore. “Let us go to the Headmasters Office, shall we.” Opening her arms to guide Harry down the way, she didn’t even spare a glance at the two troublesome boys. “And Potter, Black, I will be seeing you in detention for the next week, thirty points from Gryffindor.”
Yes, she may have been the head of the house, however, she took bullying very seriously. She couldn’t take points every time these boys harmed poor Snape (per Dumbledore’s suggestion, who had been put down by how low Gryffindor’s house was), but if they bothered anyone else, it was free game for her. It was surprising though they’d turn on their own house, even if they didn’t remember the student.
Minerva guided the boy to the standing griffin gargoyle.
“So, Harry…” Realizing she wanted his last name, Harry knew he couldn’t use Potter…he couldn’t use Black, or Wesley, but Granger was a muggle name. Surely he could use Granger.
“Granger, ma’am.”
“Granger, Harry Granger you decided to make, and use, such a powerful, irreversible potion on yourself. May I ask why you’d do such a thing?” Harry was caught off guard, he needed a reason, right, people had those…
“Well, Ma’am, I uh, well I, I’d prefer to keep that to myself actually.” That should work for now, he thought, but he would still need to come up with a reason eventually. Especially if this was to be his life for the next few days. She huffed a disapproval, respecting his boundary and instead speaking clearly the password to Dumbledors office.
“Popping Cookies.” She spoke, her noble voice commanding the stairs to rise for them, leading them to the office door. “Come along now, Harry.”
***
The meeting had gone surprisingly well, no one seemed to suspect a thing, and, well Harry couldn’t really understand what he was doing. Not yet, anyways. Harry was introduced to a smaller dorm than what he was used to, where apparently the extra students who didn’t make up a full dorm went. There was only two other boys there who seemed rather keen on ignoring him.
When he sat on the bed, a house elf popped out of thin air. A pile of folded clothes in his arms, clothes which he set on the bed. That’s when the world decided to hit him, he had no money! More importantly, no one could give him money. He wasn’t the boy-who-lived here, he wouldn’t be pitied. He’d just be the boy who lived under the stairs again.
That wasn’t all that bad, was it? At least when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia (and especially Dudley) weren’t involved.
He changed into the PJ’s he had been given, and used the proper hygiene products he had been gifted as well. He didn’t have to guess who it was all from. Professor McGonogal was always caring and thoughtful with her students.
Tucking himself into bed, the other students were relatively quiet sleepers, which, actually, gave him some of the most peaceful sleep he had ever had.