A New Place to Stay Chapter 20 - Harry Potter

 Severus Snape prepares Harry for a new Defence professor from the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge, and warns him to keep his head down. A tense departure from Prince Manor leads to Grimmauld Place through the Fidelius Charm, where Harry meets the Weasleys and finally confronts Ron and Hermione about a summer of silence. What follows is a raw, shouting match about secrecy, trust, and Dumbledore’s choices, with Snape’s practical guidance echoing in the background. This is close, character-driven guardianship that sets the stakes for Order of the Phoenix. 

Transcript

Chapter 20: Defence Teachers, Grimmauld Place, and Harry's Fury Reaches the Boiling Point

"What about him?" Harry asked, a note of wariness in his voice. He had grown accustomed to Defence teachers who seemed intent on his demise.

It was a sad reality, but one he had learned to accept. All he wanted was for one year of his life to be smooth sailing.

"Her," Severus corrected smoothly. "She works at the Ministry of Magic, serving as Fudge's undersecretary.

Essentially, she’s coming to Hogwarts to keep an eye on you, no doubt."

Severus hesitated, knowing he didn’t want to be the one to break this news to Harry, but he realized that if he didn’t, no one else would. Not Black, not Lupin, and surprisingly, not even Dumbledore, who hadn’t inquired about Harry at all.

If Harry was prepared, perhaps he could avoid doing something foolish, like starting an argument with this woman. After all, she had the power to make his life quite unpleasant if she chose to.

"What’s an undersecretary?" Harry asked, genuinely puzzled. He had heard of secretaries, but an undersecretary?

He would never dare ask anyone else for clarification; he loathed the idea of people knowing he didn’t have all the answers. It made him feel like a failure.

He was supposed to be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the defeater of Voldemort—someone who had the answers to everything, or so everyone thought. They clearly didn’t see him in class!

No, that title belonged to Hermione; she was the one who seemed to know everything. "An undersecretary is an executive government official in many countries, often a career public servant.

They typically act as a senior administrator or second-in-command to a politically appointed cabinet minister or another government official. The title varies across different political systems.

I can’t blame you for not knowing; honestly, I’d prefer to know as little as possible about the Ministry of Magic," Severus said, scowling darkly at the thought. "So she’s someone important then… his… successor?" Harry asked, still cautious.

"No, she won’t become Minister; she is just…

"Listen, Harry," Severus said cautiously, "Fudge is giving her the power to do whatever she wants at Hogwarts. Do not argue with her.

Just do as you're told and keep your head down. She can and will make your life very unpleasant.

The world doesn't want to acknowledge that the Dark Lord is back, and they will do anything to silence you."

"Anything?" Harry asked, skepticism creeping into his voice. Surely a Ministry official wouldn't resort to… anything, would she?

"Do you remember what I told you about the state of the Wizarding world before you received that lightning bolt?" Severus continued, carefully avoiding the words "when your parents died." He was in deep trouble; he didn't want to say anything that might upset Harry. How was he going to survive?

He had no doubt he'd be summoned after his first potions class and could face dire consequences. He had never gone easy on Harry Potter before, and with the Dark Lord back, it was more vital than ever that he played his part perfectly.

Getting to know the real Harry couldn't have come at a more difficult time, but he didn't regret it. He would find a way to ensure he played his role without hurting Harry.

He just wasn't sure how he would manage that. "I remember our conversation," Harry said.

"Perhaps you have a point. You understand why they're doing this, don't you?"

"They just don't want to admit he's back," Harry muttered dryly.

"Exactly. The last war was truly terrible.

People were going missing, being killed; the Ministry was being taken over. The world was filled with fear, and everyone was hoping for a miracle.

Hogwarts was on the verge of being invaded by Voldemort's troops, and then, all of a sudden, on Halloween night, it all stopped, as if the world had been put on hold," Severus explained, his voice haunted as if he were reliving that horror. "People stopped using his name out of fear that he might find them.

You see, he cast a spell on his name: anyone brave or foolish enough to say it would find themselves surrounded by Death Eaters and silenced for good."

Harry gulped silently; the thought was horrific. Suddenly, it struck him why people refused to utter that name.

He couldn’t help but recall what Tom Riddle had told him in the Chamber of Secrets: "A name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!" Ironically, even at just fifteen or sixteen, Voldemort had been right. If that was what awaited the wizarding world once again, then ignoring him wouldn’t make him disappear.

They needed to prepare to defend themselves against him. "Oh," Harry said softly, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over him.

He wasn’t used to receiving such blunt truths. In his own way, he had been protected—unlike Ronald Weasley—kept in the dark about Voldemort’s true capabilities while being forced to play the hero.

"The man you faced is but a shadow of who he once was, a mere specter," Severus explained. "You have to realize, Potter, that up until now, you’ve been lucky.

Very lucky indeed—though also quite foolish for the things you’ve done."

Harry sighed, fully aware that this was Severus’ way of telling him that they would go to great lengths to keep him quiet. He knew he would end up doing what they wanted—he always had.

Yet sometimes, his anger got the better of him, leaving him with no choice but to try. "Keep your head down.

If you need anything, earn yourself a detention with me, even if it's just to talk, all right?" Severus asked grimly. "Yes, sir," Harry promised solemnly.

Inside, he didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Harry felt torn between laughter and tears.

Should he laugh at the absurdity of growing close to his Potions teacher, or cry because he was leaving Prince Manor? He had become attached to everything—the ingredients he had nurtured, his little pond, his room… oh, how he loved that room and everything about the place.

It never took him long to get attached to something; just a week at Hogwarts, and that place felt like home. But now, he felt numb—maybe even exasperated.

Dumbledore always seemed to be complicating his life. “Good, now pack up.

Dinner will be served in half an hour. You have a few more hours before I must take you to Grimmauld Place,” Severus said softly.

“Wait!” Harry exclaimed suddenly. “You said you only remembered more of the prophecy later… did you explain it all already?”

“Ah, that,” Severus replied, settling back down.

“I had nightmares about it for many years, so I put it in my Pensieve. It didn’t completely stop the nightmares, but it helped somewhat.

I must have forgotten that particular memory was in there, and I ended up viewing it the next time I entered my Pensieve. When I did, I realized I had heard more than I consciously remembered.

It was both a good thing and a bad thing; perhaps if I had remembered and told him that part, he would never have gone after you. 'He will mark him his equal,' it said.”

Severus’s finger trailed down Harry’s scar.

“I doubt that would have deterred him,” Harry said thoughtfully. “I mean, he knows he’s immortal—why would he be scared of those words?

He’d think they were untrue or irrelevant since he was killing me or something.”

Severus nodded, and Harry continued to ponder. Dumbledore knew why Voldemort had attacked, why his parents had died.

He had asked, but Dumbledore had refused to tell him. Dumbledore had done so much, caused so much hurt in Harry’s life, that he wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

Before this summer, he had wanted Dumbledore's approval; he... Harry understood that his love for Dumbledore was flawed and manipulated.

Yet, in his desperation for approval, he had been willing to overlook those flaws. Or at least, he had been willing to until recently.

It was remarkable how life could change in just a few weeks; he no longer cared whether Dumbledore loved him. He finally had a safe haven and perhaps even someone who cared enough to spend time with him.

"Perhaps," was all Severus said thoughtfully as he left the room. "What about the gardens?

They need to be watered, or they’ll die…" Harry protested, unwilling to let the hard work he had put into the garden go to waste. The ingredients would soon be ready for harvest, if they weren't already.

"That's what the house-elves are for," Severus replied bluntly, raising his fork to take a bite of the steak pie. Their meal included carrots, sweet corn, peas, potatoes, mashed potatoes, fried chips, and steak pie smothered in gravy.

A sigh escaped Harry's lips; he had enjoyed watering the garden nearly every day, a chore that had brought him satisfaction. He knew significantly more about potions now than he had just a month ago.

Thanks to the books he had been reading, he had advanced not only in Potions but also in Defense. Unfortunately, he felt stuck, being forced to go to Grimmauld Place.

Yes, he truly hated Dumbledore. "Do not worry about the garden; it will remain intact.

All your hard work won't be for nothing," Severus assured him. Aside from his voice, the only sound was the clattering of their cutlery.

"I hope Dobby hasn't gotten into trouble for taking the diary," Harry murmured quietly after a few moments of silence. He tended to speak aloud when he was nervous, often about inconsequential things.

"I doubt Dumbledore even thinks about house-elves, except when he needs something cleaned. He'll probably just think he's misplaced it; Dobby has put it back, just not where it was found.

He's an—"

"Old man now, and no doubt will put it down to age," Severus said smoothly. Harry merely nodded in response.

Dessert was served promptly, featuring an array of fruits, meringue, cream, custard, yogurt, strawberry tart, and a sponge cake. Harry took a piece of everything; his appetite had never been this strong before.

What he consumed in one sitting now would have been enough to sustain him for a week in the past. Severus ate a lot as well, and Harry was surprised at how thin he was, considering they seemed to eat more than the Dursleys—well, almost.

Then again, both Severus and Harry exercised every morning and were young and active, while the Dursleys were not. The Dursleys practically ate all day and, under no circumstances, did they ever exercise.

If only Harry could see them now—the weight they had lost was astonishing, to say the least. They continued to live off what Severus fed them, which was just once a day, and he kept feeding them hamster food—barely enough to keep a rat alive.

Severus didn't care if they lived or died. His conscience was clear regarding the Dursleys; they shouldn't have abused a wizard.

He was merely fulfilling his vow to Dumbledore and, of course, to Lily. He knew Lily was probably looking down, just as vindictive as he was.

Oh, he was certain that if she had the chance, Lily would have killed Petunia years ago. Nothing had been more important to her than those she loved, especially Harry—her beloved son.

Harry was only beginning to acknowledge that over the past month—or rather, nearly a month. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be staying at Prince Manor for his birthday; no, he would be at Grimmauld Place.

"How about we go and have a leisurely read in the library?" Severus suggested smoothly as they finished dessert. "Okay!" Harry replied immediately, clearly pleased with the idea.

Unfortunately, all the books he had read would have to stay here, including the... the Order, he would be devastated.

"Are you ready to go?" Severus asked smoothly, standing in the hall of Prince Manor and watching as Harry magically moved his trunk from his room. "Yeah," Harry replied, nodding reluctantly.

"Remember, do not use magic in the townhouse, at least not in front of others. It's protected, but I don't want Dumbledore realizing you've been using magic here.

He is the Secret Keeper of Grimmauld Place and will know immediately if any magic is used," Severus warned. "Yes, sir!" Harry said, nodding in agreement.

This was what he appreciated most about Severus Snape; he was straightforward. He was honest—sometimes too honest—but he never held back just to let Harry be a child, nor did he assume Harry was too immature to handle the truth.

This summer had taught him a lot, and he was genuinely grateful for it. He thought about how, if he had been back at Privet Drive, he would have been glued to the news, searching for any sign of something happening.

His friends had neglected him; they hadn't written once, regardless of where they were staying. He had expected that from Ron, but not from Hermione.

"Good. Now I'll shrink it for you; you can have one of the others un-shrink it later.

You understand why I have to pretend that nothing has changed, don't you?" Severus asked, concern etched on his face. He worried that this situation might push Harry to the edge.

"Yeah," Harry quickly nodded, fully aware. He understood more than Severus realized.

He had seen the visions; he knew just how vicious Voldemort could be. If he even suspected for a moment that Severus was a spy for the Order, it would shatter him.

"Dumbledore would be tortured and killed," Harry thought, shuddering at the idea of losing Severus now. He had finally found a mentor and didn’t want to lose him.

If anyone saw their relationship, they would think they were dreaming. "Right, then, let's go.

Occlumency shields up?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, I have them up," Harry assured him.

"Good. Then let's go," Severus sighed, masking his agitation behind his own occlumency barriers.

He didn’t want Harry to sense his unease; things had indeed changed. Harry glanced around, feeling a bit lost.

He knew he was supposed to be heading to a townhouse—the very one where Sirius Black had grown up. He had expected something more like the Burrow, with fields stretching out in every direction.

But this was the Blacks’ home, and from what he understood, they were pureblood fanatics—exactly why Sirius had run away in the first place. Without a second thought, Severus roughly handed him a piece of paper and curtly instructed him to memorize it.

Confused, Harry looked down at the paper, only to watch in shock as it burst into flames. Yet, he could remember precisely what it had said—he would have to be foolish not to; after all, he had just read it.

Dudley Dursley might have struggled to remember it, though. He was spectacularly dimwitted; even at eleven, he had trouble counting, and his parents had to do the counting for him—Harry recalled the birthday present debacle that year.

"The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London."

"What is this?" Harry gasped as the building materialized out of thin air. "Inside, now!" Severus said quietly, his tone grave.

He couldn’t afford to be caught with Harry Potter... not with the possibility of wizards and witches watching the place.

Harry felt the weight of the situation as he entered the townhouse, fully aware of the Death Eaters potentially watching them. Many of Voldemort's followers surely knew about this place.

As Severus trailed his wand down the door, Harry heard the clanging of the locks as they opened, until the final lock shuddered and the door creaked open. Severus led him inside, his grip firm yet surprisingly gentle.

Once the door was locked, Severus leaned in close and whispered, "Secret Keeper, the townhouse is under the Fidelius Charm." A shiver ran down Harry's spine, his thoughts racing back to Voldemort's attack on his parents, how they had been caught off guard. He swallowed hard, feeling a hand on his shoulder for a moment before it squeezed gently and then retreated.

Severus wore an expression Harry hadn’t seen in quite a while. If he hadn’t already learned about the Order from Severus, he would have been utterly confused.

With a sigh, Harry moved deeper into the decrepit house. He grimaced at the sight; he had never encountered such filth before.

He refused to touch anything and stayed close to his Potions Master, doing his best not to make it too obvious. Severus still had his wand drawn, ready for any potential danger lurking in the shadows.

Harry imagined how his Aunt Petunia would have reacted—she would have had a heart attack at the state of the place and insisted he clean it all up. For someone so fit, skinny, and a complete neat-freak, Petunia was surprisingly lazy.

"Oh, Harry! It's lovely to see you!" Mrs.

Weasley exclaimed, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Despite her warmth, Harry felt too angry to fully appreciate the gesture.

She quickly pulled back, examining him with a critical eye. Her gaze lasted only a moment before her eyes widened, almost popping out of her head.

"My, you have—"

"Changed, Harry! Go on then, off you trot; no doubt you can wait for dinner!" Mrs.

Weasley turned to Severus and said, "He's just arrived; the meeting's started."

"Very well," Severus replied coolly. Harry glanced between them, then backed away and headed up the stairs almost reluctantly.

He really didn’t want to see his so-called best friends; he could already feel anger bubbling inside him. He tried to calm down—really, he did—but he was just so furious with them.

He wasn't even sure where he was supposed to go, where he would be sleeping, or what he was doing there. All he wanted was to be back at Prince Manor.

"Wait a moment, Harry, please!" Mrs. Weasley whispered, her voice low as she crept up to him.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. Why was she whispering?

He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could say anything, she continued softly, "Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear; I've really got to dash."

Harry silently wondered why she had bothered coming with him just to say that. Shaking his head in agitation, he focused on what Severus had taught him: desperately clearing his mind and hoping it would be enough.

She pointed toward the door that he assumed would be his room from then on. He wished he could shout from the rooftops that he wanted to go back to Prince Manor; it was much better than this disgustingly abandoned Black townhouse.

When he opened his door, expecting to be alone, he was ambushed by Hermione. Her bushy hair obscured his vision as she leapt at him, and her screeching in his ear made him want to either laugh or push her away.

He settled for letting her do whatever she liked. Normally, she would nearly knock him over, but this year was different—he was much stronger and healthier now.

When he didn’t hug her back, she stepped back, a look of curiosity and confusion on her face. "HARRY!

Ron, he's—"

“Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you arrive!

Oh, how are you? Are you all right?

Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, not sending any letters.

We couldn’t send you anything! Dumbledore made us swear not to send you anything!

You have to tell us all about the Dementors! Are you okay?

How are you feeling? How was Professor Snape treating you?” Hermione asked in a rush, barely pausing for breath as she took in Harry’s presence.

The lighting wasn’t great, with only a few torches flickering on the walls—old-fashioned gas lamps, to be precise. “Let him breathe, Hermione,” Ron said, grinning as he closed the door behind Harry.

As usual, he didn’t seem to care that Harry might be upset with him, which only fueled Harry’s anger. Forget occlumency lessons or meditation; his emotions were boiling over.

Ron and Hermione watched as Harry’s expression hardened. “He seemed to think it was best,” Hermione continued, her voice a bit breathless.

“Professor Dumbledore, I mean.”

“Right,” Harry replied, breathing through his nose as he tried to regain his composure. He really didn’t want the entire group of Order members to hear him yelling at his friends.

“I think he thought you were safest with Snape...” Ron started to explain. “Yeah?” Harry shot back.

“Have either of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?” 

This wasn’t really about the Dementors, but it was the first thing he chose to confront. “Well, no...

but that’s why you were put with Snape in the first place,” Ron said. “I see.

So did Dumbledore tell you why he wants me kept in the dark?” Harry asked, his voice dripping with disdain. “We told Dumbledore we wanted to fill you in on what was going on,” Ron replied.

“We did, mate, but he’s really busy right now. We’ve only seen him twice since we got here, and he didn’t have much time.

He just made us swear not to owl you, just in case the messages got intercepted.”

"Me, you, or he doesn’t know how to send messages without owls?" Harry sneered, unable to contain himself. His two best friends exchanged stricken glances before Hermione reluctantly spoke up.

"I thought about that too, but he didn’t want you to know anything," she explained. "So you agreed with him?

You put Dumbledore before our friendship?" Harry asked, shaking his head in despair. Hermione's magical strand shifted through three colors—he wasn't pleased with her at the moment.

Ron’s strand, as usual, remained barely visible; he hadn’t done anything surprising enough for it to change. "Don't be thick!" Ron said, looking disconcerted.

"That's not right, Harry..."

Hermione protested, her brown eyes filled with concern for their friendship. "No?

It's all right for you, isn’t it? You’ve both been here together, getting to know what’s going on.

Meanwhile, I’ve been stuck with Snape all summer!" Harry snapped, channeling the frustrations that had been building up inside him. He knew Snape hadn’t intended for him to lash out like this, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.

"We're not!" Ron insisted. "Mum won’t let us near the meetings; she says we’re too young!"

Here it goes, Harry thought to himself.

"YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS—BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU?

YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME?

I’VE BEEN STUCK WITH SNAPE FOR A MONTH, AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO HAVE EVER MANAGED! Dumbledore knows it—WHO MADE ME SAVE THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE?

WHO HAD TO GET RID OF RIDDLE? NEED I MENTION THE DEMENTORS?" 

Harry's bitterness and resentment poured out, fueled by the frustration of being left in the dark while they shared their experiences.

What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them; he felt completely alone in his struggles. Harry felt a surge of frustration.

It seemed they knew more than he did, and the fact they hadn't written to him—just because Dumbledore had demanded it—only deepened his anger. It didn’t matter that Severus had turned out to be someone he could confide in; what mattered was that they had left him alone.

They hadn’t even bothered to send a letter, leaving him to wallow in misery… or so they thought. “Who had to get past dragons and sphinxes and every other foul thing last year?

Who saw him brought back? Who had to escape from him?

Who’s going to be expected to save them all again, just because my mum and I managed to defeat him when I was one year old? Me!

But no, heaven forbid I be trusted with anything!” Harry screeched, his face flushed with anger, yet feeling somewhat relieved to let it out. Ron stood there, mouth agape, clearly stunned and at a loss for words, while Hermione looked like she might burst into tears.

“But why should I know what’s going on? Why should anyone bother to tell me what’s happening?!” he continued to shout.

“Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did…” Hermione began, trying to explain. “Can’t have wanted it that much, can you?

Or you’d have sent me an owl. But Dumbledore made you swear…” Harry’s voice turned mocking.

What made it worse was that if the roles were reversed, he would have done something. He would have disregarded Dumbledore’s warning or promise and sent something, even if it had to be in code.

“Well, he did…” Ron protested, sounding foolish. “I guess you’ve had a right laugh, haven’t you?

Holed up together here while I’ve been stuck with Snape, not knowing anything of what’s been happening…” Harry said, his frustration still boiling over. Harry screamed in frustration.

He hoped he had made his feelings about Severus clear enough because he had no intention of bringing him up again. After all, he didn't want to say more than necessary about the man who had helped him more than anyone else.

"No... Honest!" Ron exclaimed.

"Harry, we're really sorry!" Hermione added desperately, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You’re absolutely right, Harry.

I’d be furious if it were me!" 

"Too damn bad you only think that now!" Harry shot back. "Where's my room?

Where am I staying?" he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. "Here, that’s your bed over there," Ron said, nervously pointing to one of the beds.

Harry placed his glasses and trunk on the bedside table before tucking his wand under the pillow. "It surely can't have been that bad," Hermione sniffed.

"You look great!" 

Ron glared at her, unnoticed by both of them. He had developed feelings for Hermione after realizing how beautifully she dressed for the ball last year.

Hearing her say something nice about anyone, even their best friend, made him feel jealous and angry. "Leave me alone," Harry said, shaking his head.

He just wanted to be by himself, away from his so-called best friends. He needed to decide whether it was worth continuing their friendship.

Should he forgive them? He just didn’t know.

Once upon a time, he had loved them both, but now he was filled with anger toward them. Maybe he had more in common with his mother than he realized, Harry thought next.

She hadn’t forgiven Severus for a mistake, and he couldn’t forgive Ron and Hermione, even though he felt that what had happened to him was worse than what Severus had said to his mother. Downstairs, the entire Order of the Phoenix sat in shocked silence.

Dumbledore frowned, a look of concern crossing his face when Harry mentioned that people would probably expect him to kill “HIM”—the Dark Lord. Severus had observed the change in mood.

Sirius looked worried and crestfallen for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, while Remus stared grimly at the ceiling as if he anticipated something ominous. As it all began to unravel, Dung, as usual—the useless, smelly, and disgusting man he was—slept through Harry's entire rant.

Severus had anticipated this outburst; Harry had been too furious with them when Severus had informed him of their presence. What he hadn’t realized was that his friends hadn’t written at all.

Dumbledore was truly pushing Harry away from himself; if he wasn't careful, Harry might never listen to him again. It had been a very Slytherin move to suggest that he loathed Prince Manor.

Given what he now knew of Dumbledore, he wouldn’t be surprised if the headmaster planned to send Harry back there.