A New Place to Stay Chapter 6 - Harry Potter

 While Snape reports to the Order, Voldemort demands Harry’s location and Sirius explodes. Back at Prince Manor, Draco confesses to casting a near Unforgivable, and Snape races to the dungeons to find Harry unconscious, hypothermic, and shaking. What follows is triage, quiet fury, and the discovery of rags, scars, and a history of abuse Snape can no longer deny. He heals what he can, vows to protect Lily’s son, and decides Dumbledore must hear the truth. Intense, character driven guardianship perfect for headphone listening. 

Transcript

**Chapter 6: The Truth Comes Out - Will the Shit Hit the Fan?**

Severus descended the stairs after his shower, feeling significantly better. He settled into a chair, allowing himself a moment to relax.

A pang of guilt washed over him as he reflected on how he had treated Potter. He knew he had been harsh, but his pain and fury had misdirected his anger toward the teenager.

Unfortunately, his pride prevented him from going down to check on the boy. He decided to let Potter continue with his cleaning; it would keep him and his godson out of each other’s way.

He planned to intervene just in time for lunch, which was less than an hour away. Suddenly, the wards alerted him to a Floo call.

He sighed in exhaustion, longing for bedtime; he just wanted to sleep. With two teenagers roaming his manor, that possibility felt distant.

He hadn’t slept well with anyone around, and the first few nights with Potter in his home had been particularly difficult. “Can I help you, Albus?” Severus asked as he walked into his sitting room and shut the door behind him.

“We are having an Order meeting. Sirius has promised to be on his best behavior; can you come through?” Dumbledore requested.

“Fine,” Severus growled. So much for relaxing; it seemed he wouldn’t even get to enjoy lunch now.

Instead, he was going to sit and listen to the Order drone on about trivial matters. Without further ado, he Floo’d to Grimmauld Place and took his seat.

“Has he called?” Dumbledore asked almost immediately. Severus silently wondered if Dumbledore was merely hopeful or if he possessed some sixth sense.

He detested discussing Death Eater meetings, especially in front of this group. It only took one moment of danger for their lives to unravel, and they would spill everything they knew if they thought their lives might be spared.

“Yes,” Severus eventually admitted, his reluctance palpable. He couldn’t wait for school to start again; that way, he would only have to provide his reports.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his attention solely on Severus. "What happened?" he demanded eagerly.

"He knows or suspects that Potter isn't at Privet Drive and has demanded that I find out where he is," Severus replied, his tone harsh. "Anything else?" Dumbledore asked, looking a bit put out.

"The whole meeting revolved around Potter. Get used to it.

He won't stop until the boy is dead," Severus snarled, his frustration boiling over at Dumbledore's apparent disappointment in the lack of information. What did the old fool expect?

Plans for raids? Insights about Voldemort that he didn’t already know?

Severus was risking his life, and the least he deserved was a thank you, though he knew that was probably too much to ask. Ironically, the meetings of the Order always circled back to Potter and Voldemort.

"So he hasn't made any plans for recruiting more people?" Dumbledore asked, his posture relaxing a little. At least his team might have a chance to change minds.

"That's good; we have the upper hand there," Shacklebolt added after Severus nodded curtly, confirming that Voldemort had no intentions of recruiting. "Albus has sent Hagrid to speak to the Giants; Remus has gone to speak to the Wolves," Shacklebolt informed Severus, who had missed the previous meeting.

"Those aren't the ones you need to worry about. It's the Dementors and other truly dark creatures," Severus said bluntly.

"True, but he didn't gain their allegiance during the first war, so we might not have anything to worry about on that front," Dumbledore argued hopefully. "You forget he nearly managed to get them to change their allegiance," Severus pointed out, scowling darkly.

If it hadn’t been for the Potter boy and Lily, Voldemort would have had them on his side. If that had happened, the world would have truly been in peril.

"It’s a dark place to live," Tonks said with a sigh, her agitation evident. "True enough, but without the Ministry’s support, there isn’t much we can do," Severus replied, nodding curtly in agreement.

“How is Hagrid doing?” Moody inquired. “No luck so far.

It’s all very strange; even though he hasn’t managed to win their alliance, he seems quite excited and exuberant in his letters,” Dumbledore remarked, a hint of irritation crossing his face. “Remus hasn’t had any luck either,” Sirius added, his voice tinged with boredom and worry.

He was fed up with being cooped up in the house he had grown up in, where his mother constantly screamed and snarled at him. There were only so many times he could endure being told he was a disgrace to the Black family.

“It’s early days,” Dumbledore said soothingly. Sirius nodded, but he felt petulant about Dumbledore’s earlier warning.

Dumbledore had threatened that if he acted out, he wouldn’t get to see his own godson. Who did Dumbledore think he was, threatening him like that?

No matter how much Dumbledore trusted Snape, Sirius never would, especially not with his godson's life at stake. The boy still hadn’t gotten back in touch.

For the next three hours, they continued discussing everything that had happened. It was now four o'clock, and Severus still hadn’t managed to break away.

“Where’s my godson, Snape?” Sirius demanded as soon as Dumbledore had left via the fire. He held his wand tightly, looking utterly furious.

The rest of the Order had their wands drawn as well, prepared for anything. “Where do you think he is, Black?” Severus spat back, though he felt a flicker of guilt in his stomach.

Potter had been working for nearly five hours, and he hadn’t intended for it to take that long. No doubt he was either finished or had taken a break; perhaps he was already in his room.

Sirius clenched his jaw, determined not to let guilt get to him. The boy had probably only cleaned the floor, as there was nothing else to tidy up.

"Why hasn't he replied to my letter?" Sirius hissed, his fury boiling over, barely paying attention to Snape. Severus was taken aback.

Black had written to Potter? And Potter hadn’t responded?

The surprise was evident on his face, and the rest of the Order noticed. It became clear they had no idea about the correspondence between Potter and Black.

"Black, I'm going to explain this to you just once: I don’t follow Potter around all day. I see him at meals; the rest of the time, he does as he pleases, aside from the chores I give him," Severus sneered, barely containing his anger.

That wasn’t entirely true, and the fact that he was reluctant to clarify that to an Order member was telling. In that moment, Snape realized he had been wrong.

The boy shouldn’t have been working so hard or doing so many chores. Guilt concerning a Potter was a new and unwelcome feeling.

"Chores? During the summer—are you mad?" Sirius shrieked, looking for a fight.

"Excuse me?" Molly Weasley interjected, rising to her feet with her hands on her hips, glaring at Sirius. "What?" Sirius snapped, irritated that the woman who was supposed to care for his godson was defending Snape.

"My children all have chores! A few chores each day doesn’t harm anyone!" Molly hissed indignantly.

Severus didn’t bother to point out that Black had a valid point. He had no doubt that Molly's idea of chores involved folding laundry, de-gnoming the garden, or similar tasks.

Confusion washed over him; he knew Weasley would have run to her parents after just one afternoon with him. Something was very wrong with Potter, and he needed to find out what it was—his pride and cold demeanor be damned.

He had to know. The tension had started a week ago and had only grown stronger since.

Now, it was all-consuming. Something was wrong with the boy, and Severus was determined to find out what it was.

"Why isn't he replying?" Sirius whined, his frustration palpable. "How am I supposed to know?" Severus sneered, feeling little satisfaction in taunting Black about Potter.

This was just the icing on the cake—if Potter wasn't replying to his beloved godfather, things were even worse than he had thought. "If I find out you hurt him, Snape, I swear I'll—" Sirius began, his voice rising with anger.

"You'll do what, Black? Tell me to go after a werewolf?

Curse me from behind, or with three people backing you up?" Severus shot back, his expression twisted with fury as memories of everything those four had done to him during their school years flooded back. Sirius flushed darkly, his anger intensifying, with no one there to rein it in.

Severus merely sneered at him and then apparated away. By the time Severus arrived home, it was dinner time.

He walked straight to the dining room and found Draco sitting there, but no sign of Potter. Too hungry and irritable to deal with the boy, he resolved to calm down.

Black always brought out the worst in him, and after how he had treated Potter earlier, he didn't want to risk it again. "Did Potter come down for lunch?" Severus asked bluntly, eating his dinner faster than usual.

He planned to send Potter to his room to eat; he didn’t like the idea, but it was the least he could do for the boy. "No," Draco replied, looking extremely nervous.

Severus frowned. Why was Draco acting like a rabbit caught in the headlights?

He knew the boys hadn’t seen each other all day. Had his godson been down in the dungeons, taunting Harry?

He hoped not. The mere thought of Potter being mocked during detention made him shudder in disgust.

"Very well," Severus said, trying to keep his composure. Severus sighed.

So, the boy had stayed down in the dungeons all day after all. The wards had informed him of everyone's location, and indeed, Potter was still down there.

Why did Potter have to start following orders again? It made him feel guilty, especially considering how he had acted that morning.

His temper was the one thing he struggled to control, a trait inherited from his despicable father. It was his greatest shame; his temper was a weakness—one that led him to do things he regretted in moments of anger.

The incident when Lily had saved him was proof of that. Instead of feeling grateful, he had lashed out, calling her a name that would hurt her as deeply as he was hurting.

Nothing had been the same between them since, and he had only himself and his temper to blame. "Where is Potter, anyway?" Draco asked, his voice trembling with fear.

Severus felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Draco was never scared; he had never seen his fourteen-year-old godson look so frightened.

"I do not know," Severus replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow in amusement as Draco's panic deepened. "Um… Uncle Sev," Draco whispered weakly, his ice-blue eyes wide with fear.

"What is it, Draco?" Severus asked, concern creeping into his voice. What on earth was happening with the teenagers around him?

"My father… showed me a new spell… I had no idea what it was," Draco confessed, still trembling. He couldn't eat and had been too worried all day even to think about lunch.

Severus felt a flashback to Potter lying on the ground, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He inwardly pleaded that he was wrong, that Potter had merely been lazing about; it would be so much better that way.

"What spell would that be?" Severus asked, trying to mask his rising panic and worry. "I tried it on Potter… I had no idea what it would do," Draco admitted.

His panic surged, and he trembled with fear. He hadn't meant to hurt Potter—not like that!

He couldn't fathom how his father would teach him such a horrific spell. The thought of expulsion loomed over him, and he was terrified about what he had done to Potter.

"What spell, Draco?" Severus demanded fiercely, gripping his godson's upper arms in an attempt to steady him and extract some sense from the chaos. "Carnificina," Draco yelped, his voice shaking, and tears began to stream down his face.

Seeing his godfather's pale features only heightened his hysteria; Severus looked as if he might be sick. This couldn't bode well for him.

"You know what that spell does, Draco. Your Latin is very good.

Why did you use it?" Severus rasped, his world spiraling out of control. This was his godson—a boy he loved, despite his distaste for children.

"He was ignoring me," Draco explained, sounding and knowing he sounded like a spoiled brat. "You do realize you just performed the equivalent of an Unforgivable, don’t you, Draco?" Severus whispered, disbelief lacing his voice.

How could Lucius teach his son such a spell without explaining its consequences? What if he had used it at Hogwarts?

Or worse, in front of someone else? Severus felt a surge of dread at the thought that he might not be able to protect Draco from the fallout of his actions.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, swallowing hard. "Go home, Draco.

Go home. I have to deal with Potter," Severus said, already guiding the teenager toward the fire.

"What will happen to me?" Draco asked, his complexion turning sickly pale. "I don’t know.

I wouldn’t suggest you tell anyone, especially your parents. I’ll see you again when school begins—if I can convince Potter that you didn’t mean what you did.

Harry Potter is Dumbledore’s favorite, and if he decides to tell…"

"You're going to find yourself in Azkaban," Severus warned, feeling utterly wretched. Why couldn’t Dumbledore have let Potter go to Grimmauld Place?

This situation could have been avoided. He couldn’t blame Potter for getting under his godson’s skin; after all, as Draco had mentioned, Potter had been ignoring him.

As soon as Draco had flooed home, Snape began practically running toward the dungeons. The earlier journey had felt swift, but now the dungeons seemed to close in on him as he rushed to reach the child.

Potter or not, this was a child who had been grievously hurt, and he hadn’t noticed. Worse yet, he had taken his anger out on a child.

He had sworn never to become his father, but at that moment, he felt as if he had. That realization struck him harder than anything else he could have imagined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the door to the unused room, only to find it closed. As he opened it, he belatedly noticed how clean it was—very clean.

His heart stopped when he saw Harry lying on the floor, unconscious, with cold, dirty water soaking into his clothes. Rushing over, he banished the cleaning supplies and spilled water as he turned the teenager onto his back.

His heart raced; he couldn’t believe he had missed the fact that the child had been subjected to, for all intents and purposes, a torture curse. He could see it now: despite Potter's unconscious state, the boy was shaking and jerking every few seconds.

Severus quickly picked up the teenager and made his way to the boy's room. He fumbled awkwardly for a moment before deciding he needed to change Harry out of his clothes.

The boy had been in a freezing cold room for who knew how many hours, and he needed to get him into his nightclothes. As he approached the dresser, he felt confused; there was nothing in the drawers except for boxers that looked ten times too big.

Severus inspected the cupboard, finding only the boy's school uniforms. A low growl escaped his throat as he opened the child's trunk and finally discovered some clothes.

But his satisfaction quickly turned into incredulity and shock. The garments looked like rags—full of holes and carrying a foul odor.

The sight struck a chord deep within him, reminding Severus all too much of his own childhood. He dropped the clothes in disbelief.

He had worn second-hand clothes throughout his life, but at least they had been his size. Surely the Dursleys couldn't be that impoverished; he knew they received money for keeping Harry.

Dumbledore had mentioned it once when Harry was around three years old. For the first time, Severus was seeing everything with startling clarity.

The boy's reaction to returning home, the absence of decent clothes, and his subservient attitude began to piece together a troubling picture. Yet, confusion still clouded Severus's mind.

Why had Harry hidden this? He had people who cared for him; surely he would have been removed from that situation in an instant.

Dumbledore would never have allowed the boy to remain there if he had known. Despite the confusion, Severus instinctively understood why Harry had kept silent, and his heart sank with a mix of fear and anger.

He gripped the trunk, feeling as if he might explode with the conflicting emotions raging inside him. This was Lily's son.

Lily's son… he wasn't supposed to be abused. The thought had never even crossed Severus's mind.

Harry was loved by everyone; he was the last person anyone would expect to be in such a dire situation. Doubts crept into Severus's mind.

Had he overlooked the signs while clinging to the hatred he felt for a dead man? No.

He couldn't have, wouldn't have… Despite everything, Severus could not condone child abuse. Throughout his years at Hogwarts, he had helped many children from all four houses—children whose own Heads of House had failed to address their needs.

They hadn’t even tried to help, leaving it to Severus to step in and deal with the aftermath. Many people liked to claim that all who came from Slytherin did so because they learned self-preservation—a quintessential Slytherin trait—early in life.

But that wasn’t entirely true. Many abused children had emerged from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor, as well as Slytherin.

Abused children often struggled to trust others, but when they did, they trusted wholeheartedly until that trust was broken, which was a Hufflepuff quality. Many turned to books to escape the harsh realities of their lives, seeking solace in stories—a trait of Ravenclaws.

Some displayed remarkable bravery, enduring their hardships with their goodness intact, much like Gryffindors. Others became bitter and cold, surviving through self-preservation, choosing never to form friendships or families after the trauma of their childhoods.

Severus recognized this behavior, as it mirrored his own—a true Slytherin trait. Some children even embodied more than one of these traits, or perhaps all four.

Severus felt utterly exhausted; everything seemed to spiral in on itself. He quickly left the room, gathering all the potions he would need.

On his way back, he grabbed one of his black silk nightshirts and a pair of boxer shorts. A wave of sickness washed over him as he recalled how begrudgingly he had considered giving Harry some of his clothes just last week.

He was grateful for his training as a magical healer while pursuing his Potions Mastery, as it allowed him to help Harry when he couldn’t bring anyone else into the situation. There was no way he was calling Poppy; she would be duty-bound to report it.

As he removed Harry's top, he froze. His heart sank as he saw the belt and whip scars littering the boy's back.

Severus recognized those marks all too well; he had worked with abused children before and had seen similar scars on his own body until he developed a potion to remove them. That potion was not something he had ever made public; he knew it would only give abusers an easier way to conceal their crimes.

As beneficial as magic could be, some things were better left unaltered. The damage couldn't be completely healed, just covered up, glamour-charmed, and faded into lines.

But with his potion, the scars disappeared entirely. Severus touched them lightly, almost in disbelief that they were real.

When he felt their reality, he pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. Swallowing hard, he swore revenge on the Dursleys.

If he discovered that Dumbledore was aware of what was happening to Harry, the old man would face the wrath of a furious Severus Snape. One of the potions he had given Harry was Dreamless Sleep, which would keep him asleep until tomorrow.

As he removed the trousers, he glared in disgust at the offending pair of underwear. Sighing in resignation, he banished them; he couldn't let the child wear something that barely held up.

Once that was done, he dressed Harry in his own nightwear and underwear, shrinking them to fit. Although Harry was warming up, he still felt cold and clammy.

Lifting him gently, Severus spelled the covers back and placed him in the center of the bed. He grumbled about having to tuck him in but did it nonetheless.

Once he had done all he could, he stood there, arms crossed and face emotionless, lost in thought. Everything he had learned that day kept swirling in his mind, leaving him restless.

Eventually, he got up and went straight to the kitchen, where he poured himself three shots of whisky; he desperately needed it. He knew better than to drink too much, though.

His father had always done that, and look what had happened. Severus had often ended up on the receiving end of his father’s anger.

He would have preferred to take the blows himself; his mother hadn’t been strong enough to stand up to his father and had been weak for weeks after one of his beatings. He knew he would have to tell Dumbledore what he had discovered, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

He also realized he needed to talk to Harry. He scowled at himself when he realized what he had just done—he had thought of the boy as Harry for the first time in his life.