A New Place to Stay Chapter 18 - Harry Potter

 A late–night truth session at Prince Manor peels back Harry’s third–year secrets. He relives Dementor memories of his parents’ last moments, admits how the Marauder’s Map and Time–Turner freed Sirius, and hears Snape’s clear reasons to master Occlumency before learning the rest about the prophecy. A hard realization about Sirius’s lies follows, and the fragile, steady trust between guardian and ward tightens another notch. This is close, character-driven Snape-and-Harry mentorship with canon-deep lore made for headphones.

Transcript

Chapter 18: Confessions, Hurts, The Light Dawns, and Sirius' Strand Bites The Dust

"As much as I might confess to doing the same thing at your age, when someone mentioned Lily… you cannot let your anger get the better of you," Severus said, after listening to what a typical— or rather, what Harry's summer before his third year had been like. Harry had shared his fears of being expelled, his encounter with Fudge at the Leaky Cauldron, and how Dumbledore never showed up, despite being someone who was supposed to care.

"I know," Harry sighed sadly. "When did things start going bad at Hogwarts?" Severus asked next, genuinely curious to see if Harry would reveal what he had heard when the Dementors got close.

Little did Harry know that Remus had already spilled his guts at the Order meeting. Severus didn’t want to be the one to tell him; Harry already felt betrayed by his best friends and his godfather.

That revelation might just push him over the edge, unleashing his magic in ways he couldn't control. Harry was a powerful and highly emotional young wizard, and those two traits didn’t mix well.

In fact, it was an extremely volatile combination—Marge Dursley was proof of that. Severus was somewhat surprised that Harry's magic hadn't defended him during his uncle's abuse.

"Things were already bad," Harry admitted. "My friends were arguing all the time over their stupid pets.

Then, on the way to Hogwarts, the Dementors boarded the train. I passed out… I remember hearing a woman screaming, but Ron and Hermione both said no one had screamed."

Severus swallowed sharply, his pale face turning a pasty white.

He suddenly wished Harry would stop talking. Knowing and hearing were two very different things—he knew that the scream had belonged to Lily.

Seeing her after she was gone had been hard enough. He had been the one to close Lily's lifeless eyes, the first to mourn her—well, the second, actually, since Harry had been the first.

After Hagrid arrived, he had... Harry fled to Dumbledore to explain what had happened.

All things considered, it was a fortunate decision; otherwise, he might have ended up in Azkaban for life. If he had seen Sirius Black, he would have killed him on the spot, and there was no way he would have listened to the bastard's excuses.

Harry still blamed Black for everything that had happened. If Black hadn’t treated the situation like a game of cat and mouse, Lily would still be alive.

"I was under the impression Lupin was on the train. Wasn't that explained?" Severus asked.

"He was actually in the compartment with us; he chased the Dementor away. I never understood why they kept after me.

It might have been the first time, but it certainly wasn't the last. Anyway, he went away to 'speak to the driver,'" Harry said, skepticism evident in his voice.

"He never came back; no doubt he went to tell all the teachers what happened."

Severus could tell that Harry didn't like that at all. "He did indeed," he confirmed.

He wasn't going to lie to the boy—he had promised not to. He certainly wasn’t going to defend any of the Marauders.

He might be a grown man, but he had no intention of sticking up for them. "Up until the Quidditch match, everyone was talking about me passing out behind my back.

They thought I couldn't hear them, but when you live with the Dursleys, you learn to keep quiet and listen. Not that they could sneak up on me; only Petunia ever could because she was so skinny and quieter than a mouse when she wanted to be," Harry groaned.

"I guess after getting a taste of what Dementors are like at that match, being so close and all, they realized what it was like for me."

Severus remained silent, though he had to bite his lip. He wanted to point out that the Dementors hadn’t affected anyone else the way they had affected Harry; they only made everyone feel freezing cold—cold enough to make all the students tremble in fear, never mind reliving their worst memories.

But he refrained, not wanting to add to Harry's burden. Harry couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and respect for Severus.

"I guess you really knew I had been in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, fully aware that his teacher wasn’t easily fooled. Even back then, Snape always seemed to know what was going on, and that had always irked Harry.

Well, not hate—at least not anymore. It was more like exasperation, knowing he couldn't lie to him.

He respected Snape too much to entertain any thoughts of hatred. The day Snape had shown Fudge the Dark Mark had confirmed for Harry that he was a spy.

The vision he'd seen only deepened that understanding. It was strange for Harry; he had despised Snape for years, even while acknowledging that the black-clad man had saved him.

Yet, in a matter of weeks, his feelings had shifted. He respected Snape immensely now and found it impossible to hate him.

How could he? Snape had treated him better than anyone ever had—fed him, clothed him, provided a roof over his head, and trained him without abuse.

Harry felt he was in the presence of someone who truly understood him, and that was completely unfathomable. He hadn’t expected it, but now that he had it, he couldn’t imagine living without it.

"Indeed I did," Severus acknowledged, a dark look settling on his face. Keeping Harry Potter safe had proven to be a significant challenge that year, especially with Black managing to infiltrate the castle.

Back then, Severus had genuinely believed Black posed a danger to Harry. "I had received a map from Fred and George… a map of the school.

It showed everyone, everywhere… well, nearly everywhere, what they were doing every minute of every day," Harry explained hesitantly, unsure if he was revealing too much. Moody had taken it, but he had snatched it back before anyone else could confiscate it.

He doubted Crouch would have mentioned it anyway, so it was safely tucked away in his trunk. "I see," Severus replied, his dark eyes glinting with emotions Harry couldn’t quite decipher.

"I later found out the map had belonged to my father."

"…and his three friends." The last word dripped with bitterness. "Padfoot, Prongs, Wormtail, and Moony: Sirius, my dad, Pettigrew, and Lupin.

That night you caught me, I had found someone on the map—someone I thought was dead. I followed it, and I thought the map had malfunctioned.

It was only later that I realized it showed people even in their Animagus forms or under Polyjuice Potion." 

Harry sighed in agitation, wishing he had known then. "I assume Lupin gave it back to you?" Severus asked, shaking his head in dismay.

That wasn't something a thirteen-year-old boy should have. No wonder he was able to get around the castle so well—with a map like that, and an invisibility cloak to boot.

"He took me to his classroom that night after you caught me," Harry whispered, his heart clenching painfully. "He told me that wandering around the castle at night was a pretty poor way to repay my parents for their sacrifice." 

After that, he hadn’t been as fond of Lupin as before, despite the continued Patronus lessons.

He hated the way Lupin had implied that his parents had sacrificed their lives for him, as if it were his fault. Tortured green eyes met black ones, and Severus felt his frozen heart clench painfully for the teenager.

Lupin had hurt Harry with his words; even to this day, it still hurt. He wondered if Lupin even had any idea—judging by the Order meeting and his proud proclamation, it seemed he had no clue.

"Potter… Harry, I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded," Severus said, his voice heavy with conviction. "Yes, your parents did sacrifice themselves for you.

But they didn't do anything that any other parents wouldn't have done. Molly and Arthur Weasley would have done it; even Lucius and Narcissa would have done it for their son.

The only difference is, you survived when you shouldn't have. Somehow, between you and your mother, you banished the Dark Lord from his body."

Oh, how Harry wished he could confront Remus Lupin about his hurtful words.

The impact they had on him was evident, and it infuriated him. After all, Harry Potter wasn’t the first person to wander around Hogwarts after hours.

He and Lily had done it often enough. They used to sneak up to the astronomy tower at night after curfew just to escape everyone else.

He might get furious with his students for doing the same, but that was part of being a teacher. Slughorn had caught him and Lily more times than he could count; it was just the nature of the job.

"No, it’s not… There’s something I’m not being told. There had to be a reason they were in hiding, a reason he wanted them dead so badly.

Why he wanted me dead so badly. He didn’t care about my parents; it was me he was after.

There has to be a reason he used my blood to return, despite my mother’s blood protection," Harry scoffed, glaring slightly at his teacher as if daring him to lie. Severus stiffened, his heart racing.

He hadn’t realized how observant Harry was. He wondered if he had been that sharp at fourteen.

He didn’t think so; back then, he had only had eyes for Lily. If Harry was this perceptive, it was no surprise he excelled at solving riddles.

"You’re right; there was another reason for it," Severus conceded. Harry’s eyes widened with shock and indignation.

"I’ll tell you what I know, but only if and when you can finally block your mind," Severus promised. Perhaps that would encourage Harry to want to close his mind.

He understood the temptation of leaving it open, especially if Harry thought the pain of the “echo Crucios,” as he had called it, was worth the information he could gain. Severus would do everything in his power to ensure that wasn’t the path Harry chose.

"Why?" Harry asked, his tone softening slightly. Harry was willing to listen to what Severus had to say.

Hearing it confirmed was like a punch to the gut; thinking about it and having it stated as fact were two entirely different experiences. The quiet way Severus revealed this truth was nothing short of shocking.

“Because the Dark Lord isn’t stupid… he could just extract it from your mind. He doesn’t care that it’s illegal.

Dumbledore, no doubt, reads surface thoughts but doesn’t delve deep enough for his prying to be considered unlawful. Both men would realize you know, and I cannot risk that, Potter,” Severus said fiercely.

Taking a deep breath, Harry contemplated how he would feel if their roles were reversed. It must be something truly terrible if Dumbledore didn’t want him to know.

It must be even worse if Snape was worried about Voldemort discovering it. Harry had no idea how deep this issue ran; by the time he found out, he would be too stunned for words.

Finally, he would get the answers to the questions that had haunted him for four years. “Alright, I’ll do my best,” Harry promised.

When he made a promise, he always tried to keep it. He had promised Cedric to bring his body back, and he had done that.

“Good; now tell me the rest about your third year,” Severus said, relieved to steer the conversation away from that sensitive topic for now. He just hoped to avoid it forever, but he knew that wouldn’t be possible.

At some point, his past would resurface to haunt him again. Severus wanted to be the one to share it; he would much rather be the one delivering the news than have someone else, like Dumbledore, do it.

The thought horrified him, especially knowing how much Harry disliked Dumbledore. “I soon realized what it was I was hearing when Dementors got close.

Normally, I only heard my mum, but my dad appeared a few times too. I heard the sound of a door being blown off its hinges, and Dad told Mum to take me and run.

A few seconds later, my dad’s body hit the floor, and my mum was screaming for him. She couldn’t get out; there was—”

The sound of a door slamming shut was followed by another explosion.

"He kept telling my mum to move aside, calling her a filthy little 'Mudblood.' She just kept telling him to take her and let me live," Harry choked out, his voice thick with emotion. He had never shared the details of that night with anyone, not even his closest friends.

They only knew he heard his mother’s voice, nothing more. "In the end, he got angry and killed her, then he turned his wand on me.

That’s as much as I remember when Dementors get close… I don’t understand what draws them to me so much!" he cried out, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You are very powerful and very emotional," Severus explained calmly.

"Dementors feed on that. They thrive on your powers and your emotions.

Since you possess a lot of both, you must seem like a feast to them."

"But Dumbledore is more powerful than I am… so why do they go after me?" Harry asked, disbelief evident in his voice. "Dumbledore is indeed powerful," Severus replied, "but the older a wizard gets, the less potent they become.

Plus, Dumbledore is skilled at blocking his thoughts and emotions, so Dementors cannot sense them." He held back the truth about his own strength, the fact that he had been more powerful than Dumbledore at just one year and three months old, and that he had matched the Dark Lord at that age. He didn’t want to frighten Harry; he would only reveal that when absolutely necessary.

Harry grudgingly nodded, accepting this explanation. "Why did you believe Black when he told you he hadn't killed your parents?" Severus inquired, a question that had lingered in his mind for a long time, even a year later.

"At first, I thought he had… after dragging Ron into the Shrieking Shack. Then Professor Lupin showed up.

Now, Sirius might have been insane, but it was hard to believe both of them were. Even when Hermione blurted out that he was a werewolf, it..."

"It didn't bother me.

I had seen Pettigrew on the map, and I just believed it, especially after Remus gave us our wands back. I'm sorry I knocked you out.

I didn’t expect the others to disarm you too," Harry said, his voice laced with regret. Now, he had to admit that at the time, he hadn’t cared much.

"I just wish you had been awake to see Pettigrew. Maybe then we might have been believed.

I've always wondered why Dumbledore believed us so quickly. I guess I have my answer now: he could read our minds."

"Just how did you manage to get Black away from Hogwarts?" Severus asked, his curiosity piqued.

That question had nagged at him for the past year. He knew they had done it, just as he suspected the other things they had accomplished.

He didn’t outright read their memories—just their surface thoughts. "Dumbledore sent us—me and Hermione—back in time three hours to save Buckbeak and Sirius," Harry confessed, feeling a weight lift from his heart, back, and shoulders.

It was as if he had been carrying an invisible burden for years and was just now realizing it. If Severus had been holding anything, it would have shattered into a million pieces.

He was furious, but not because he had been tricked or because Black had escaped. No, he was furious with Dumbledore for recklessly endangering the lives of two students.

Dumbledore could become invisible; he could have gotten Black to safety without a hitch. Better yet, he could have done it himself instead of sending two thirteen-year-olds to handle it.

"Where on earth did you get a time-turner?" Severus asked, grasping at straws. "Hermione had one.

She had too many classes—she had taken all the electives," Harry explained. "She was attending two classes at a time, which confused us as to how she kept appearing out of nowhere and insisting she had been there the entire time when we knew she hadn’t."

Severus shook his head in dismay.

McGonagall and Dumbledore had allowed a thirteen-year-old to meddle with time for the trivial reason of attending more classes. He thought they had trusted him, but it was clear that wasn’t the case.

How could they risk a young girl’s sanity like that? In Severus's opinion, it was diabolical.

"So what happened then?" he asked, redirecting the conversation. This was Harry’s moment to speak, not Severus’s to dwell on his thoughts.

He would save that for later, once he was in bed. Harry began, "We went back, headed down to Hagrid's hut.

I have to admit, I wanted to go in and grab Pettigrew before everything went wrong. But Hermione explained why I couldn’t, and I eventually gave in.

I did what was expected of Dumbledore's Golden Boy. I rescued Buckbeak and saved myself and Sirius from getting the Dementor's kiss.

It was the first time I used my Patronus against so many, and I succeeded. I drove away hundreds of Dementors that night, hopped on Buckbeak, and waited for the show to unfold.

I rescued Sirius and rushed back to the hospital wing with Hermione just in time for time to restore itself."

"How did it make you feel?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow. "What do you mean, how did it make me feel?" Harry replied, tilting his head slightly.

"Rescuing your godfather," Severus clarified. "All I felt was irony.

He was supposed to save me, not the other way around. He is my godfather, after all.

Isn’t that his job? He’s supposed to protect me, right?" Harry's voice sounded young and vulnerable.

"Indeed he was," Severus agreed smoothly. "When he was gone, what did you think then?" He realized he was sounding more like a therapist than he intended.

"Sadness, not for Sirius but… well… for my godfather… my chance of getting away from the Dursleys," Harry confessed. Agitation crossed Harry's face as he struggled to explain how he felt.

"Perfectly understandable. Did you keep in touch often?" Severus asked, his voice steady and impassive.

Nothing in his demeanor revealed his disdain for the current topic; he was simply after information about Harry’s relationship with Sirius Black. "Er, sometimes I received a few letters...

but I might as well have just sent mine to Dumbledore," Harry replied with a shrug, feigning indifference. Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Whatever he had anticipated, it hadn’t included that. "What makes you think he told Dumbledore?" he asked, working to regain his composure.

"He started a few letters with 'Dumbledore thinks,'" Harry said, his lip curling in disgust. He despised that his godfather seemed incapable of independent thought.

It was always “Dumbledore this” or “Dumbledore that.” Suddenly, a chilling realization washed over him. The connection he had with Sirius Black felt like it had sizzled and died; only seven strands of their bond remained.

Harry shook his head in disbelief, recalling their conversation. Sirius had claimed that Severus was only friends with Death Eaters.

He had lied—blatantly, without hesitation. And Sirius had never mentioned anything about his mother.

It made sense now. He knew that Sirius, Severus, his dad, and his mum couldn't have all been friends.

It must have only been Severus and his mum for goodness knows how long. Sirius had knowingly deceived him, and that was unforgivable in Harry's eyes.

There was nothing he loathed more than liars. He had endured the Dursleys' lies for ten long years, the worst kind of lies a child could be made to believe, especially about his parents.

"…Harry… Harry!" Severus called, noticing the vacant look in his eyes. Concern grew when he saw raw hatred flash in those expressive green depths.

"Yes?" Harry replied, shaking his head as if to clear the fog. Severus brushed aside the cobwebs of his thoughts.

"What were you just thinking about?" he demanded. Harry's meditation was progressing; despite his earlier anger, Severus had been unable to read a single thought from the boy’s mind.

Nor had Harry's magic flared up. If he could understand what had triggered that anger, he could gauge how far along Harry truly was.

"It doesn't matter," Harry replied, his voice and eyes heavy with exhaustion. "It does, Harry.

You’ve been occluding despite your obvious anger. If I can determine just how tightly you have a grip on it, you might be ready for the next step—which usually takes quite a while.

You don't have to tell me everything," Severus conceded, realizing he might be asking too much from Harry, especially so soon, particularly after four years of taunting and sneering at the teenager. "I hate liars more than anything else in the world after what the Dursleys did to me.

I've just realized that Sirius lied to me too, that's all," Harry said flatly. "I see," Severus responded, swallowing hard as he processed that revelation.

"May I go to bed, Professor? I'm exhausted," Harry asked quietly, almost hesitantly.

He wasn't using it as an excuse to escape; he truly felt drained—magically, emotionally, and physically. "Very well; we shall practice the beginning of Occlumency another night," Severus allowed, studying the teenager.

"Would you like a dreamless sleeping potion?"

"No, I'm okay. Thank you, though…" Harry replied.

He thought to himself, Nobody's ever cared enough to ask before. As he walked to the door, he whispered a “Goodnight” to his professor before practically crawling up the stairs and slipping into his bed, barely staying awake long enough to put on his pajamas.

Severus remained in the room, processing everything he had learned. Dumbledore had once again surprised him, and he thought he had known all there was to know.

Severus couldn't believe he still felt surprised by Dumbledore's actions, especially after discovering that Dumbledore was aware of how Harry was treated at the Dursleys' house. He couldn't even call it a home.

Thanks to that lemon-drop-eating man, Harry had never known the freedom he deserved. His thoughts lingered there for only a moment before he made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a few shots of fire whiskey.

As he drank, his mind turned to Lily and everything Harry had shared. The Dark Lord had tried to keep his promise, and Severus couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if he had succeeded.

Would Harry have survived? Would he have grown up with a mother to care for him?

Could Severus have been a stepfather to him? He shook off those bitter thoughts.

He and Malfoy were responsible for what had happened. Lily would never have forgiven him for his part in it.

They had been the reason Voldemort had targeted Harry; they had shared the prophecy, or at least their version of it. Sometimes, he wished he could Obliviate both Malfoy and himself, but he couldn’t fully regret it.

That very event had brought him back to the light and fueled his desire for redemption. He liked to think that Lily would be proud of him for choosing to spy, for turning away from darkness.

He hoped that one day, he could speak to her and hear her thoughts on it. “I hope you can forgive me for what I’ve done,” he thought as he climbed into bed.

He wasn’t sure who he was addressing—whether it was Lily or her son. It could be both; either way, that moment of reckoning was fast approaching.

Severus would soon understand how Harry would react. He had faith that Harry could shut his mind off to intrusion, just as he had done every other time he channeled his magic and will.

With that determination, Harry could accomplish anything, just like that time he... He had conjured a Patronus after just a few lessons.

Despite the thoughts swirling in his mind, Severus drifted off to sleep with surprising ease.