A New Place to Stay Chapter 9 - Harry Potter

 Harry finally talks. In a stark, late night exchange at Prince Manor, he admits why he never told anyone about the cupboard, why he begged Dumbledore to let him stay at Hogwarts, and how close he came to being sorted Slytherin. Snape puts the pieces together, promises new clothes and a trip to Gringotts to sort Harry’s inheritance, and then takes matters into his own hands with the Dursleys in a way only a furious Potions Master would. A tense, character first guardianship chapter about truth, protection, and the cost of looking away. 

Transcript

**Chapter 9: Admitting The Truth**

Severus watched as Harry paced back and forth, sensing the turmoil within the boy. It was clear he was conflicted about whether to reveal the truth.

Severus's onyx eyes followed the teenager, his mind reeling from everything he had just learned. A cupboard—a bloody cupboard!

The hero of the wizarding world confined to such a place, discarded like the house-elves. It infuriated him that Harry hadn’t confided in anyone.

Ten minutes passed, and Severus noted the time idly as he continued to observe Harry. He realized he would have to press the boy for answers.

“An answer, if you please,” he said, his voice low and demanding. “It doesn’t matter,” Harry growled back.

He felt there was no point in revealing anything further to Snape. Next year, he would likely find himself back at the Dursleys or in another equally dismal situation.

Dumbledore, it seemed, didn’t want him to have a moment of happiness. Harry couldn’t help but wonder why.

What could possibly motivate Dumbledore to keep him so unhappy? The thought left him baffled, drawing a complete blank.

He silently pondered whether Tom Riddle had been truthful when he claimed to have begged Dumbledore not to send Harry back to the orphanage. Harry believed him, knowing all too well what it felt like to be trapped in a miserable situation.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Potter? Where is that blasted Gryffindor bravery of yours?” Severus sneered, hoping to provoke a response.

Harry’s nostrils flared with anger. “I was supposed to be in Slytherin!” he shot back, hoping to catch Snape off guard and perhaps divert the questioning.

Severus recognized the truth in Harry’s words, and he was justifiably shocked. Yet, he understood that the boy was trying to distract him from the original question.

So, he decided to play along, letting Harry think he had gained the upper hand. Still, his curiosity remained piqued.

"How is it that you aren't?" Severus asked, his curiosity piqued. "Because I told it not to," Harry replied, feeling a surge of triumph at having redirected Snape's attention.

"I had met people who said Slytherin was an evil house, that only dark wizards went there. Plus, I had just met Malfoy; he reminded me too much of my cousin—a spoiled...

um, boy."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Slytherin or Gryffindor, why didn't you tell anyone?

I'm sure McGonagall would have pitched a fit if you had confided in her."

Harry sensed the indifference in Severus's tone. If he had been sorted into Slytherin, perhaps Severus would have noticed the signs.

It would have been better if the boy had come to him for guidance. His Slytherins understood that he wasn't as evil as he appeared to the outside world—Slytherin house came first, even before Voldemort.

That would surprise Harry, he thought. Most people valued house loyalty above all else, unless they had been conditioned like his godson to serve Voldemort.

Harry grimaced, realizing he hadn’t successfully shifted Snape's focus. Time for the lies, he thought.

"I didn't tell anyone because what was the point? Who would believe me?

After all, I defeated Voldemort when I was just a year old! Who would believe a Muggle could hurt me?"

Severus's gaze sharpened.

"That's a lie if I ever heard one," he said, watching Harry intently. Harry's shoulders slumped.

Snape always seemed to know when he was lying; he couldn't figure out how the man did it, but it was infuriating. It felt like Snape could see right through him.

The day the stone was stolen, the lie about the Chamber... The door had reopened, which might explain the stunned look on Snape’s face when Harry spoke in Parseltongue.

Surely, the man couldn’t possibly think he had anything to do with it, Harry thought indignantly. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, he wondered if that was how Snape would feel if he ever admitted to believing it was him.

Snape had always had an uncanny ability to see right through his lies, and that disturbed Harry to no end. Nobody else seemed to know when he was being dishonest.

He wasn't being proud or stuck-up; he simply understood how good he was at projecting confidence or any other emotion when it suited him. He excelled at hiding his pain, his hurt, and his weaknesses.

“How do you do that?” Harry asked, struggling to keep the whine out of his voice. Severus smirked wickedly, unable to help himself.

“It's a talent, Potter. So, who have you told that sent you back?” he mused, the very words sending chills down Harry’s spine.

There were only two teachers Potter trusted: his Head of House and the Headmaster. The thought of them sending their precious Potter back into abusive situations was unbearable.

“What does it matter?” Harry sighed, standing with his back to Snape, gazing out the window. It felt like a strange dream, as if he might wake up at any moment.

There was no way he was standing in his borrowed room with Snape, discussing this. It seemed too surreal—and that was saying something, considering all the bizarre experiences he had encountered during his four years at Hogwarts.

Well, surreal to him, but perhaps not to others who had been immersed in the wizarding world their entire lives. “It matters to me, Potter,” Severus replied sharply.

He couldn’t help but notice how thin the teenager was; he could count each vertebra in his spine, and Harry’s ribs nearly poked through his stretched skin. His heart clenched at the sight of Harry looking so small and defeated as he stared out at the grounds of Prince Manor.

He was becoming all too familiar with that feeling of concern. Harry felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over him, but those feelings lingered in his mind like an unwanted shadow.

“At the end of my first year, I… um, asked Dumbledore if I could stay. I even offered to live with Hagrid and clean Hogwarts instead of going back to the Dursleys,” he said, a wistful note in his voice.

“Asked?” he thought to himself. No, he had begged.

The memory stung; to say he had been shocked when Dumbledore insisted he return was like saying he had been happy to see Voldemort in a tutu. “He told me I had to go back because the protection of my mother’s blood was more important.

He even brought up Quirrell, too, so I had no choice. He’s made the decisions that have governed my entire life, and I don’t understand why.

I know he expects me to fight him; I just don’t understand why. I have no idea how I defeated him as a baby.

I don’t believe I had much to do with it, especially if needing my mother’s blood protection is anything to go by.”

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape found himself speechless. He wanted to call the boy a liar, but he couldn’t.

Deep down, he knew Harry was telling the truth. He also understood the prophecy that had shaped Harry’s life since before he was born.

Snape had been there when it had been spoken, and he remembered Lucius and Avery reporting back to Voldemort about it. He had no choice but to back them up, telling Voldemort he hadn’t heard anything more than they had.

Voldemort had been furious but strangely pleased; he was obsessed with divination and the idea that he would conquer the wizarding world. As Snape began to piece things together, he realized Harry had said Dumbledore wanted him to go after the stone.

That much he now believed. Dumbledore was testing Harry, trying to get him to fulfill some prophecy.

Snape wished more than ever that he knew the full contents of that prophecy, but no one other than Dumbledore had the answers. Trelawney couldn’t help either.

"Unfortunately, that’s the way it goes with all predictions from seers. The only way to retrieve the prophecy would be to go to the Hall of Prophecies, and only Harry would be able to do that.

What Dumbledore was doing went against Severus's oath to protect Harry, an oath he had sworn for Lily and later for Dumbledore. Harry looked at his teacher's stunned face.

Usually, that would have filled him with fear, or perhaps even the strange urge to laugh at the thought of getting a reaction from Snape. Most people accused him of being a bat or a vampire, an unfeeling man all around.

Harry had fallen into those thoughts many times; no one could blame him. He had been on the receiving end of Snape's cutting remarks more than anyone else.

The hatred that spewed from Snape's diatribes was intense. Yet, this summer had been different; Snape hadn't been nasty outside the public eye, which was rather odd.

But Harry wasn’t about to bring it up and risk Snape's wrath. He was sure that whatever he was telling Snape couldn't be affecting the man that much.

"I see," Severus said calmly, though inside, he was anything but serene. "Sir?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Tomorrow, we shall go and get you new clothes," Severus announced abruptly as he stood up. He had a lot to think about, and he didn’t want to do it in front of his student.

"But I can't!" Harry protested before he could stop himself. Maybe if he explained it to his teacher, he would understand, though he needed to figure out how to prevent Vernon from taking any more of his money.

"And why not?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow curiously. He wasn't truly interested in the answer but indulged the boy all the same.

"I don't have enough money! I've only got enough in my vault for my school things for the next three years—if Vernon doesn’t get any more of my money," Harry said quietly.

He hadn’t seen his vaults since first year. In second year, Molly had made the withdrawal; in third year, the Ministry had done it for him."

Fourth year had been a whirlwind for Harry.

He had no idea what was left in his vault, if there was anything at all. The reason behind Snape's laughter puzzled him, even though it sent chills down his spine.

Snape's laugh was anything but pleasant; it was eerie and dripped with sarcasm, leaving Harry stunned, his mouth agape. Severus couldn't contain himself any longer.

He let out a hearty laugh, finding the situation unexpectedly amusing. There was a reason, beyond his belief that Harry was spoiled, for calling him a spoiled brat.

He was torn between amusement and disbelief that Harry had no knowledge of his own vaults. The goblins should have informed him of his holdings the first time he set foot in their bank at the age of eleven.

Severus stifled his laughter when he noticed the bewildered expression on Harry's face. "What happened the first time you entered Gringotts, Potter?" he asked dryly.

Harry blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. "Hagrid took me in; he had my key.

We went down to the vault, and I took out the coins I needed for school. Then he went to another vault and got the Philosopher's Stone, insisting it was top secret for Dumbledore.

After that, we went back up, and I got my things," he replied, still confused. "You truly do not know?" Severus asked, now the one feeling stunned.

Harry stared at him, as if he were something strange he had never encountered before. Severus pushed back his long black hair in exasperation.

Living with Harry Potter was anything but straightforward. He hadn’t anticipated it would be so daunting or, to put it bluntly, shocking.

He sat back down on the bed, gazing at Harry with his onyx eyes, as if he were trying to unravel the mystery that was Harry Potter. In truth, he realized he had never truly seen him before; he had only seen what he wanted to see.

Severus looked at Harry, trying to convey the truth he wished the young wizard could grasp. "Potter," he sighed, "you are the last heir to a very long line of wizards, even if your mother was Muggle-born.

You are entitled to a vast inheritance from your family. They were much like the Malfoys; the wealth you possess is extensive."

Harry shook his head, a frown creasing his forehead.

"It must all be gone. I saw my vault four years ago, and I know it's nearly empty.

It has to be."

Severus replied, albeit grudgingly, "That money was put into the vault by your parents for you to spend during your seven years at Hogwarts. It was meant for everything you needed, from books to sweets.

No doubt, if they had lived, they would have bought your school supplies for you."

Harry could only blink in disbelief, as Severus continued to reflect on his own feelings. Talking about James Potter was never easy for him, especially considering he had never had Lily to himself.

If he hadn’t become a Death Eater, he might have asked her to marry him. He hadn’t realized that taking that cursed Mark would lead to the end of his hopes for a better life.

His quest for revenge had cost him dearly. All he could do now was ensure his Slytherins had support and that Harry managed to defeat Voldemort.

If that happened, perhaps it would be enough to earn Lily's forgiveness, even if he hadn’t been the one to reveal the prophecy to Voldemort first. When he pondered that, he considered the wording of the vow; even then, Dumbledore had known Harry would have to confront Voldemort again.

It meant he must have known Voldemort wasn't truly dead. Snape himself had sensed that; the Mark hadn’t faded completely.

“Oh,” Harry finally managed to say, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he suspected it was a joke. If it were true, all his worries about money had been for nothing.

He wouldn’t have to scramble for a summer job after all. Harry considered his options.

He could wait until he finished Hogwarts to decide what he wanted to do, that is, if he managed to survive Voldemort's relentless attacks. So far, he hadn't experienced a single normal year at Hogwarts, and now that Voldemort was back in full force, Harry doubted anything would change.

“Sleep, Potter. Tomorrow we will go to Gringotts and sort it all out,” Severus said, noticing how much this issue had been bothering the teenager.

He realized he had been too resistant about it. After all, compared to the threat of the Dark Lord, this wasn't the most pressing matter at the moment.

If he wasn't careful, he could end up dead at Voldemort's hands. It was a grim thought, but the truth nonetheless.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied automatically. Severus stood up from the bed and headed to his own room, his mind racing with everything he had just learned.

If Dumbledore was already aware of the situation, there was no point in seeking his help. He would have to deal with the Dursleys himself, ensuring they couldn't harm Harry again.

Dumbledore would need to find somewhere else for Potter to stay, or he might end up bringing the boy back here. The thought of that unsettled him; he didn't want to bring Harry back to this place.

However, he refused to stand by and allow the boy, who was destined to save the world, to be mistreated. Harry was no good to anyone if he were dead.

Severus wouldn’t allow the boy he had been protecting to perish at the hands of the Muggles he lived with. People often wondered why witches and wizards joined the Dark Lord, especially with Muggles like the Dursleys abusing their own kind.

If his Slytherins found out, it would only fuel their hatred for all things Muggle. They thought Harry was spoiled, and if there was no hope for him, then who was there hope for?

That was the question his Slytherins would ask. An idea on how to deal with the Dursleys began to form in his mind.

It wasn't long before he started writing a letter to them. After casting protective spells around it, he folded it neatly and called for his hawk.

Once his bird arrived, he prepared to send his message. Severus was determined.

He cast a spell on the hawk, knowing it was well-known among the Death Eaters. If they were still watching the house, his efforts would be in vain.

He doubted the Dursleys would take kindly to the sight of the bird anyway. “Number Four, Privet Drive, Ares, fast as you can,” he instructed, running his long fingers along the hawk's wings before opening the window.

In no time, Ares disappeared from the house, and it would take the bird about forty-five minutes to reach Privet Drive. The hawk was aptly named after the god of war, a gift Severus had acquired many years ago during the first war.

---

“Aren't you glad that Potter brat isn't here this year?” Vernon asked, lounging back on the sofa, looking unusually relaxed and content. He had just finished dinner, while Dudley sat nearby, absorbed in the television and blissfully unaware of the world around him.

“Yes,” Petunia replied, though she didn’t truly mean it. She had spent the day gardening herself, frustrated that Harry wasn’t there to do it for her.

For years, she had relied on him to handle the chores around the house and garden, except when he was at school. Now, during the summer, she felt the weight of her laziness.

It irked her to do things when her useless nephew could have been doing them instead. Deep down, she knew that Vernon would miss Harry sooner or later, especially when things didn’t go his way.

She silently wondered if he would take out his frustrations on her or their son; she hoped not. This was the first summer without Harry, and she knew that eventually, Vernon’s anger would surface.

Just then, a creature that looked like an owl began pecking at their window. Frowning, Petunia hoped it wasn’t a sign that Potter was due back.

She opened the letter and read its contents, noticing that both Vernon and Dudley seemed inexplicably drawn to it. Only when all three of them were together, each touching the note, did they suddenly feel as if they were being yanked by their navels and transported.

---

Harry lay on the... Harry lay in bed, dressed only in a pair of his Potions Master's underwear.

He couldn’t quite grasp why he was sharing all these thoughts with Snape; he had gone his entire life without a confidant. Why did Snape have to be right?

Why was he suddenly opening up to him? There was nothing worse than a Snape who was always correct.

Yet, despite his frustration, he felt a strange relief from confiding in someone—not just about the abuse he had suffered, but also about the realization that he had enough money to get through Hogwarts. That knowledge lifted a weight from his shoulders.

He felt so excited he could have danced around the room. Everything that had happened was buzzing in his mind; life was… interesting, for lack of a better word.

He also didn’t understand why Snape had stopped his chores. He knew Snape had started them because he thought Harry was spoiled; he had made that clear.

The work had left him exhausted, but he was used to that—it kept him busy and occupied. Maybe if he asked, Snape would give him more work to do.

He hoped he could tend to the garden. He loved working in the garden, especially around the new pond he had created and the seeds he had planted.

He wanted to watch them grow, nurture them, and take joy in knowing he was helping nature thrive. He didn’t just want to take life away—his thoughts drifted to Quirrell, Lockhart, Cedric, his parents...

and because he hadn’t killed Pettigrew, his godfather had been forced into hiding. As he listened to the clock on the wall, the only sound was the soft, constant ticking.

Slowly, he began to nod off, unaware of everything happening around him or the fact that the three people he hated more than anyone else in the world were in the same manor as he. “Where are we?” spluttered Vernon, looking around the dungeon room—which, by the way, had recently been cleaned by Harry Potter.

"I don't know!" Petunia wailed, her anger boiling over. She was both worried and furious, knowing she was in the presence of someone magical, which filled her with dread.

"I want to go home! I'm missing my TV!" Dudley shrieked, his voice reaching a fever pitch.

"Hush, Dudley, my poor Diddydums," Petunia shushed, trying to wrap her arms around her very large son. In that moment, she wasn't sure who she was comforting more—herself or Dudley.

The thought that they might be with Voldemort terrified her. When she realized who it really was, she would wish for Voldemort instead.

"I want to go home," the spoiled boy repeated, his whining grating on her nerves. "Be quiet, Dudley!" Petunia snapped back, her own fear settling heavily on all three of them.

"Hello, Tuney," Severus said, his voice cold and hard as he stepped out from the shadows. To say he was shocked by Dudley Dursley’s whining would be an understatement.

He thought he had encountered his fair share of spoiled children, but now he realized just how wrong he had been. Dudley was the most spoiled child he had ever met, and he figured Dudley could even give Voldemort the worst headache of his life.

"YOU!" Petunia hissed, her nostrils flaring. "You know this freak?" Vernon asked, his jowls quivering, his eyes wide with fear.

"He used to live next door to us! He told my sister she was a freak just like him," Petunia spat, looking at Snape with disgust.

"My, my; you haven't changed a bit. I wonder what your parents would think of you now—abusing both of their grandchildren," Severus sneered.

Dudley might be spoiled, but the way they were raising him would send the boy to an early grave... not that he would live to see it happen.

"Leave them out of this, Snape," Petunia snarled, clearly rattled by his words. At that moment, Vernon made a very foolish decision and...

Petunia charged at Severus, ready to hit him and get her family out of there. But Snape was quicker.

With a flick of his wand, a spell shot out, leaving Vernon bewildered as he began to shrink. Confusion turned to panic when he tried to scream, and all that escaped his lips was a squeak.

In an instant, he found himself lifted into Petunia's bony hands. The realization hit him hard—he had been transformed into a mouse.

"Change him back, Snape!" Petunia hissed, her body trembling with fear. Dudley, trying to hide behind her thin frame, was awkwardly clutching his ample backside.

That sight caught Snape's interest, but he had no intention of probing further. "Don't worry, you'll be joining him," Severus said with a smirk, casting the same spell again.

Petunia ducked just in time, but it struck her son squarely in the chest. In an instant, he too transformed into a fat rat, joining his father.

Petunia's heart sank, and she began to cry, pleading with Snape to reverse the spells. "Please, Snape!

Please!" she begged, fully grasping the dire situation she was in. "I wonder if you ever listened to your nephew when he begged for your husband to stop beating him?" Severus sneered, fury boiling beneath his calm exterior.

Petunia went pale. How could Snape possibly know about that?

How could he know anything about Harry? She was too stunned to think of a lie, standing there with her mouth agape.

"Didn't Lily tell you about my joining the Death Eaters, Tuney?" Severus drawled, his face twisted in disgust. He had hated her as a child, but the depth of that loathing was nothing compared to what he felt now.

The thought of Harry spending years in a cupboard like a forgotten mop infuriated him. He might not have cared for the boy, but even he would never have treated him that way.

“Even Voldemort wouldn’t treat his captives like this. He would kill them and be done with it—after a few rounds of torture, of course.

But he wouldn’t torment them for years.” Petunia began to tremble even more at that thought, confusion washing over her. Why would Death Eaters care about her nephew?

She knew they wanted him dead—Dumbledore had made that clear. “I’m also a teacher at Hogwarts.

I’ve taught your nephew for the past four years. Dumbledore insisted the boy stay with me this summer to protect him.

I expected a spoiled brat, but instead, I found an abused boy,” Severus sneered. His onyx eyes flashed dangerously, revealing just how close he was to losing control of his magic, as he had all those years ago when a tree branch had nearly decapitated her.

He wished he had managed to inflict permanent damage. But then again, Lily might not have forgiven him for that; she had been furious enough when the branch had fallen.

“He’s a liar!” Petunia hissed furiously, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to return her husband and son to normal and get them home. “I saw the scars, Tuney,” Severus replied, his face inches from hers.

“I wonder what Lily would think of the coward you’ve become. Be grateful I’m here, or it would be the Dementors for you.” 

He knew exactly what to say.

Petunia crumbled, a blubbering mess, completely petrified. She cried and begged once more, but Severus had reached his limit with her shrill, piercing voice.

With a flick of his wand, he cast the spell to turn her into a rat, just like her husband and son. Stunning all three of them, he walked toward his storage cupboard and transfigured three small bands to place on them.

He soaked them in a potion that would make the spell permanent; they would never be able to turn back. They would spend the rest of their days as rats for what they had done to Harry.

Potter. Once the potion had been absorbed by the magical bands, Severus put them on the stunned, transfigured rats.

A smirk of supreme satisfaction crossed his face as he conjured a cage and placed them inside. After ensuring it was escape-proof, he un-stunned the three of them.

They would finally reap what they had sown all those years ago when they first locked Harry in that cupboard instead of caring for him as they should have. He grinned wickedly at the three protesting, squealing rats, scratching futilely against the bars of the cage as he walked away.

He hadn’t left any food or water for them and had no intention of doing so right away. They had obviously starved Potter; anyone could see that just by looking at him without his clothes on.

So, they would get a taste of that suffering. Perhaps in a few years, he would lift the spells and let them go, but for now, that was far from his mind.

They would come to regret ever harming a wizard, especially Harry Potter. That night, Severus slept peacefully, free from nightmares.

Ironically, the boy at the end of the hall was experiencing the same for the first time that summer—sleeping without the burden of terrible dreams. Perhaps it was the conversations they had shared, or maybe it was simply the fact that he felt better about himself.

Harry didn't know. Meanwhile, the three rats in the cold, dark dungeons of Prince Manor continued to squeak in outrage, unable to sleep as fear consumed them.

As they desperately tried to escape the cage, they were blissfully unaware that they would never see anything but that cold dungeon until the day they died. Considering that rats didn’t have long life expectancies, it might not be long at all.