The familiar navel-jerk of a Portkey tore him away from the Ministry and Jules closed his eyes.
His feet hit the floor. For a long second he doesn’t open his eyes again but the familiar smell tells him where he is right away, citrus and old books and something else he can never quite name. Dumbledore’s office.
The dozens of spindly silver instruments clicked and whirred on their tables. Jules looked out the window. Approaching dawn painted a light greenish-blue line on the horizon.
But then he spotted something… peculiar. It was Dumbledore’s stone Pensieve, which was odd as Jules didn’t think Dumbledore had been in his office since being removed as headmaster. Besides, hadn’t Snape had it? And yet there was a memory in it, the Pensieve wasn’t empty.
Jules walked towards it, meaning to look closer before a voice from a portrait stopped him.
“Ah, Jules Potter. You really do spend too much time here. Now tell me, why do you seem to be walking towards the memories of my family heir’s abuse?” drawled Phineas Nigellus Black, former Headmaster of Hogwarts.
“You can tell your entire family to fuck off. And why would Professor Dumbledore have access to Harry’s memories?” Jules spat. He walked closer.
“Now boy, I would warn against going into those memor-”
Jules ignored him and entered. He saw a younger version of his brother, in a kitchen making breakfast and frying bacon. How old even was he? Six? Seven? He knew the Dursleys were harsh on his brother but to make him cook at such a young age unattended? They were just asking for Harry to get hurt.
“MUM! Make him hurry up! I’m hungry!” a fat boy in a chair demanded, banging his fat pudgy fists on a table. Jules guessed that this was his cousin Dudley.
“Hurry up brat!” Aunt Petunia snapped, cuffing Harry on the shoulder. He flinched, and a piece of bacon fell onto the floor. His brother took a glance in Jules’ direction and paled. Jules, glancing behind him saw a fat man glaring menacingly at his brother, contempt clear in his eyes. This must be Vernon Dursley… but that meant…
“Pick it up boy! Pick it up! Throw that in the bin and clean it up! No food for you today!”
“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry whispered quietly. This timid boy seemed nothing like the confident and cold person his brother was today, that is until Jules saw the cold, calculative fury in his eyes.
“You waste of space! We should’ve sent you to the orphanage where you belong,” shrieked his Aunt. Harry just cleaned up the mess he made and continued frying the bacon, bearing the onslaught of insults.
Jules went through countless more memories, each more horrifying than the last.
“Just like my drunk no-good bitch of a sister and her drug-addicted husband.” Insulting his parents and more specifically his dead mother?
“HARRY HUNTING!” rang a gleeful voice, accompanied by the malevolent face of their cousin. Running for hours on end, fearful hiding, away from their cousin and his gang.
“IN THE CUPBOARD FOR A WEEK!” their Uncle roared, after a burst of accidental magic.
The time when Harry had burnt the bacon, and Aunt Petunia had taken a frying pan to his head. Then another time where Dudley had acted as if Harry had hurt him when he had done nothing, and his Uncle had beaten and whipped him into unconsciousness. Harry hadn’t cried out once.
The days without food, or when Jules had seen entire feasts that Harry had cooked himself, with minimal help from Petunia, only to get a piece of bread and a glass of water.
From what Jules could tell, that wasn’t even the entirety of it, as he was soon pulled out by Professor Dumbledore.
He was shaking with rage by the time he had gotten out.
“Why did no one mention how bad the abuse was?”
“My dear boy, none of us knew such a thing was happening to him. We cannot change the past. And you know that it was to keep you safe.”
Jules glared at him. “And look where that led us.”
“I am sorry Jules, but what happened to Mr. Black is something, while I do not regret it as your safety always comes first, undoubtedly unfortunate. I see that Severus did not empty the Pensieve from when he last used it and your curiosity got the best of you?”
“Why did Snape have these memories?”
“Professor Snape, Jules," Dumbledore chided. "And I’m sure someone gave him these. He does have the connections, after all.”
Jules could only stew in his thoughts. What had been done to Harry was something he wouldn’t wish on even his worst enemy. Not even Nott or Malfroy. No one deserved such torture as a child and the fact that it was to protect him, well it was a wonder Harry hadn’t hated him before.
The only people Jules could blame were his Dad and Dumbledore and his Dad… well it’s not like he could blame him when he was-
Dumbledore put a hand on Jules’ shoulder. “I’m telling you, Jules, you know there’s nothing we can do now for Harry. All we can do is ensure we take down Voldemort…”