It Starts Inside a Cupboard

The conversation was going better than Harry could have thought. He was sure at this point Snape would already be yelling at him or calling a liar like all his past teachers did. So, with a few steady breaths, Harry continued. “When my teacher heard Dudley admit it, she waited till school was over to telephone 999-” Harry paused, trying to figure out how to explain a telephone or the bobbies to the Professor. 

To Harry’s surprise, Snape answered the question for him. “I am aware of the use of a  telephone and of the fact that 999 is used as the method of contacting police, or the Bobby if you are more familiar with that term, in the muggle United Kingdom.” 

Harry stared at the professor. Snape was extremely specific about the way he had spoken, and yet the fact was that he unhesitatingly used the words ‘Bobby’ and ‘Police’ and not ‘muggle aurors’ like many other wixen used when referring to the authorities. Police he could understand the professor knowing, it’s pretty common knowledge. But calling police officers ‘the bobbies’ was a slang term in the UK used mostly by kids. Harry had never even heard an adult refer to the police as such (most likely because the only adults he was constantly around were his aunt and uncle who hated and slang and anyone who used slang) And seeing as he doubted Snape had worked with many muggle born (were mudbloods even able to be sorted into slytherin?) or muggle raised slytherins, that meant that most likely the professor was familiar with the term because he used it as a child. 

After a few more seconds of hesitation, Harry decided to test Snape's boundaries. “You're a half blood, professor?” Harry waited to see if Snape would yell, or curse him, or something. But the professor just nodded, seemingly surprised. 

“As I said before Potter, you are quite observant. To answer your question, yes, I am a half blood.” 

Harry acknowledged the praise silently and tried to remember the last thing he said before he could go on speaking. “Er, my teacher ended up phoning and reporting everything to the authorities. After that a person came to the house to investigate, and my aunt and uncle told the lady that I was just wild and Dudley was only five and didn’t know what he was talking about. The lady believed them, and left. That night was the first time I had gotten a real beating with a belt and everything. When I came back to school I wasn’t allowed to go to the nurses office at all even for a bandage. Me and my cousin were switched to St. Gregory’s were almost everyone picked on me since I wore all my fat cousins old ruined clothes that didn’t fit me.” Harry said.

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment then looked like he was about to ask something. 

Harry could already hear the question before it was asked. He looked down and fidgeted with his fingers before speaking up. “I started teaching myself how to use my magic to heal bruises and cuts after that. My relatives never questioned the fact that the bruises disappeared so quickly and I would have been beaten if I had told them. I hated them. I really did. I spent every day counting down the day till they.. well you can probably guess.” Harry paused, now feeling uncomfortable. 

Snape simply responded with a grim nod.

“My relatives told all the teachers at the new school that I was a troublemaker. A pathological liar who would do anything for attention. They encouraged any and all punishments the staff used for misbehaving to be physical because according to them ‘it’s the only way to make the boy listen’. They also told the school I was a bully who beat up my cousin and I should be kept away from other children. Of course the teachers believed them. When I came to class bruised and battered they never so much as batted an eye, because I must’ve been causing trouble. If I got grades higher than my cousin, Uncle Vernon beat me, and he would always know because the teacher would call to inform them I must have been cheating when I got more than a few points over a fail anyway. Dudley wasn’t even able to get much above a failing grade if he tried his hardest.” Harry’s words felt bitter, but more at himself than anything for putting up with it. It was his fault.

“Anyway, one day when I was about nine I guess, I purposely made uncle Vernon mad. I don’t remember how, but I know that day I walked into school with a broken nose and a face so swollen I could barely see. I had one teacher who didn’t hate me on-sight named

Mr. Lezor, and so after class I approached him and asked if he knew what I could do to make my relationship with my relatives better. When he asked what I meant, I asked him how to make them stop hitting me and start treating me with the same love they showed to my cousin.”

Harry took another deep breath. “He called my relatives directly to ask about whether I was being truthful. They went on and on- about how I was a juvenile delinquent and a pathological liar. A horrible little troublemaker who hurt himself doing dangerous stunts and then blamed his own family, the family who tried so hard to love him. Mr Lezor believed them. I got suspended and at home I was given the worst beating I’d ever experienced. Most of my memories after that are fuzzy. All I know is when I woke up I realized that I shouldn’t hate my relatives, I should hate myself for being a freak in the first place. Before that I used my magic all the time. To steal food, make pretty lights when I was alone, to talk to snakes, I could even make myself invisible. But after the beating I started feeling so afraid, the idea of using magic at all even to just get food made me freeze. It was kind of like a switch flipped in my brain. I never understood what caused it, but since then I stopped blaming anyone else for my life.” Harry contemplated whether or not to admit the fact that since coming to Hogwarts, odd memories from that time seemed to appear.

 Of times where instead of just being unconscious in his cupboard, he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing being treated by madam Pomfrey. 

Of speaking to the headmaster, whose presence made the boy feel oddly uncomfortable. Or being fussed over by professor Mcgonaggal while being treated for injuries. Even some vaguely of professor snape. 

Harry knew that wasn’t possible, he couldn’t have been in Hogwarts or spoken to Dumbledoor when he was nine. He couldn’t have known about magic at that age!

But yet, somehow he didn’t think the memories were fake. He had never been to the hospital wing in his time at Hogwarts, so how in Merlin’s name- (He was still getting used to replacing the word ‘god’ in most expressions with Merlin or Morgana or Hecate like all the other wizard raised kids) -did he know what it looked like? 

Harry had even gone as far as to illegally use mind arts to check other students' memories of the place, (If you asked Harry, he would say it shouldn't be illegal if he isn’t looking at anything private) and low and behold it was nearly exactly as it was in his weird memories.

Harry had found the mind arts fascinating, even if they were mostly illegal and immoral. But honestly, since when did Harry ever care about legalities. He was in the process of becoming an animegi for gods Merlin’s sake! 

Harry obviously didn’t say the thoughts about his illegal use of the mind arts and animegi stuff aloud of course. 

The boy momentarily paused. Had he been saying everything he thought up until that point aloud without realizing it??

———————————

Severus had to resist the urge to facepalm.

A healthy witch or wizard under the effects of a calming draughts would only be put into a calmer, less agitated or anxious state. 

For wixen who lacked proper rest and nutrition, it could cause the part of the brain that filtered their thoughts from coming out of their mouth to become temporarily disabled.

Of course Potter was in the latter category. Not that the child seemed to be aware of it until about a moment ago. 

Severus had learned many important things from this experience. The first being that Potter must be carefully monitored if ever under the influence of a calming draught. The second being that Harry Potter’s distrust in authority figures ran much deeper than Severus had anticipated. The third was that every single one of Harry Potter's relatives deserved to die a painful death. And the fourth. The fourth was that the child in front of him had clearly had his mind altered by someone. 

Someone who most likely was a part of the Hogwarts staff. 

Severus mentally crossed off name after name. The last three most likely suspects were Filius, Minerva, and Albus. It most certainly wasn’t Minerva, and Flitwick didn’t have any more information on Potter prior to his arrival at Hogwarts than anyone else did. 

That left the most likely suspect: Albus. Albus Dumbledoor, who repeatedly assured the professors that he had placed Harry Potter with a kind, loving family. That he had informed the child of magic and prepared him properly for Hogwarts. 

The man so clearly lied, and it made Severus sick how easily he had fallen for it. 

Not only that, but he may very well be responsible for the child’s clear self loathing.

A few other things Severus made note of was the fact that Potter was apparently a parseltongue. This was quite surprising, seeing as the potters had no known relation to slytherin and so the man had to wonder where the ability had come from.

Severus took another minute or two to process this information. He also took the time to carefully consider his next words. “I appreciate you sharing this information with me Potter. I have many concerns, but I feel it is prudent to express my concern regarding your final statements. One's mind does not naturally ‘flip a switch’ in such a way. The fact that you have memories that you shouldn’t nor can logically have is even more concerning.”

At those words Potter's eyes momentarily widened and then his face seemed to harden. While Severus couldn’t be sure, it appeared that he had come to the same conclusion that Severus himself had. But there was something else in his expression that stood out. Severus couldn’t quite figure it out.

“You- you really believe me? Just like that?” Potter stuttered out after a moment, his eyes shrewd.

Severus inclined his head. Of course the blasted child didn’t expect him to believe his story. The potions master then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I lived close to your mother as a child, and I am aware of the kind of things Petunia is capable of. It’s hardly difficult to imagine the horrors a magical child must go through while living under her roof.”  The boy’s eyes seemed to widen and his voice was quite yet filled with desperation. “You-… you knew my mother, sir?” 

Severus sighed once more and tried not to look at the child in front of him. “Me and your mother were best friends until the end of fifth year. Me and her had an argument and I called her nasty things, and after that she stopped talking to me all together. It remains to be my biggest mistake.” Severus took a chance to glance at the boy, expecting the child to be offended on his mothers behalf. What the man found instead was that Potter's eyes shone with a painful eagerness. 

The boy thought for a moment before speaking again, voice meek and nervous. “Can you tell me about her…? I-I don't know anything about her, all I know is that we have the same eyes. When I asked I couldn’t find any pictures or articles that talked about her.” Potter was looking down at his knees as he anxiously awaited an answer. 

What the child would receive is a shocked Severus who was dangerously close to marching up to the headmasters office and strangling the bastard. He breathed in and out to make sure his frustration didn’t show in his words. “You mean to tell me that no one has bothered to even show you what your parents looked like..?”

Potter shook his head sadly, and then mumbled something under his breath. 

“Did you say something potter? You will need to speak clearly.”

The boy cleared his throat and looked down in slight shame. “The Dursleys told me my parents were druggies who killed themselves in an automobile accident while drunk.” He spat out eventually, voiced laced with bitterness. “They constantly insulted them, and I couldn’t do anything about it. A-and I..” Potter's voice seemed to choke on itself. Then, in a much softer, more vulnerable tone, he finished. “A-and I actually believed them.. I believed all those horrible things. I-if they were alive they would hate me, I know it. It’s not their fault they had to have me as their son. It’s my fault they’re dead...” The child was now breathing heavily, looking to be on the verge of a panic attack. He shook and tears streamed down his face.

Severus felt something in his gut. It wasn’t just pity, like he thought. Seeing a child, no, seeing lily’s child crying over his dead mother, blaming himself for something he took no part in, it very nearly killed Severus. 

Severus proceeded to do something that he absolutely never would have done in any other situation. Without another moment of hesitation, he gently sat down and placed an arms comfortingly around the boy, enveloping him.

Potter seemed to freeze for a moment, looking up into Severus' eyes for a moment before breaking down in loud, wracking sobs. 

Time seemed to stop as they say there, the child’s sobs eventually turning into hiccups. The hiccups faded into sniffles, and Severus glanced down to see the child had tired himself out from crying and was now unconscious. 

Severus quickly cast a scorgio on himself to remove any wetness remaining on his robes, and then turned back to the child lying asleep on his sofa. It was odd how peaceful Potter looked now, compared to his usual cold and numb persona. 

Severus took advantage of the fact that the boy was asleep and decided to call Poppy and alert her of the situation. 

After making her swear not to reveal anything she may discover, (To which she slapped him for even suggesting she would violate her healers oath-) the diagnostic charms began. Snape had asked her not to bring Potter to the hospital wing unless it was absolutely necessary, as he seemed extremely uncomfortable at the mere mention of the place.

Poppy eventually agreed and after healing the wounds from the stair incident, (multiple bruises, two broken ribs, multiple breaks in his left leg, a mild concussion and a small break in his skull) she preceded with much more thorough scans to get a clearer picture of Potters overall condition.

The results were nauseating. Dozens of improperly healed wounds, broken bones, concussions. And these were just from within the month. The full scan of his medical history was long enough to stretch across the great hall and was also possibly the most depressing thing either of the two wixen had ever read. 

Another issue that needed to be immediately addressed was the state of malnutrition Potter showed. Poppy gasped verbally after lifting the boys robes and immediately began casting charms and other healing magic Severus didn’t quite understand. After the woman was finished, she confessed to Severus that the boy shouldn’t be alive. 

According to her scans he hadn’t eaten or drank any liquid (other than a calming fraught which reacted terribly to his system) for several days, he weighed less than forty pounds, and his frail body was medically closer to that of a corpse rather than a living, breathing human.

It frankly should have been impossible that the boy was alive at all, and yet he survived tumbling down the stairs and was alive and functioning after the fact.

Potter’s condition meant that at best, he was living in constant pain. Pain that to any other person, regardless of their age, would have been agonizing.

The horrific revelations didn’t cease, and the most horrifying discovery was the evidence that the child had undergone multiple crucio curses within his time at Hogwarts. Severus made immediate arrangements to find the culprits. (Who would be facing the wrath of both professors once caught and punished to the full legal extent before being expelled) Poppy had takin a break to cry at the pain this child, this innocent child in front of her had undergone. 

The events playing out before them if anything did prove one thing: Harry Potter had truly earned his title of the boy who lived.