A New Place to Stay Chapter 40 - Harry Potter

The school year ends under a shadow. At the Leaving Feast, Draco Malfoy panics over a letter saying the Dark Lord has taken over Malfoy Manor, while Ron stews in regret as he realises Neville has quietly taken the best-friend place he threw away. On the train, Harry, Neville, and Luna share a calm ride home, but at King’s Cross Harry’s old fear comes roaring back when every family vanishes and no one comes for him. Two hours later, shivering and hungry, he is finally collected by a Cruciatus-battered Severus Snape, who explains Dumbledore left him there and takes him “home” to Prince Manor. Over hot food, coffee and cocoa, Harry faces the fallout of the Department of Mysteries, hears why his stunt was so dangerous, and learns that Dumbledore never intended to train him. Severus, calling him “his” child at last, promises to find a way to remove the Horcrux and starts laying out a real Horcrux hunt: the orphanage, Riddle House, the Gaunt shack, and maybe even Hogwarts itself. Harry goes to bed sore, scolded, but safe – and finally certain he is not facing this war alone.

Transcript

**Chapter 40: Leaving Feast and Back to Prince Manor - Back “Home”**

The leaving feast was surprisingly subdued, especially in the Gryffindor section. Their Head of House sat at the teachers' table with her lips pursed, mirroring the mood around her.

The Ravenclaws were pleased to have won, but the news of Voldemort's return cast a shadow over their celebration. Among the students, Draco Malfoy seemed the most affected.

His blond hair stood out like a beacon, a trademark of the Malfoy family, just as recognizable as a Weasley with his red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down clothes. At least that was true for the younger Weasleys; the older ones had jobs and new clothes of their own.

Most purebloods bore a striking resemblance to their parents. Draco had received a troubling letter from home that very morning.

The Dark Lord had taken up residence there, and nowhere felt safe. Caught between his father’s expectations and his own fears, he felt completely trapped.

To make matters worse, he was unaware that his father had been identified as a Death Eater and would likely be in Azkaban by the time he returned home. This year had been the worst of his life.

He'd faced detention twice a week, and he knew he deserved it. He silently thanked Merlin for whatever his godfather had done to keep Potter quiet.

The mere thought of Azkaban made him tremble with fear. At the Gryffindor table, Ronald Weasley sat in his usual spot next to Hermione, but this time, he wasn’t eating.

That alone was unusual. He stared at Harry and Neville throughout breakfast, jealousy and hurt etched on his face.

He couldn’t believe he had missed out on an adventure. It had always been Ron, Harry's right-hand man, who got to brag about the dangerous trials they faced together.

This time, it was Fred and George who were bragging about their exploits, claiming they had bat-bogey-hexed You-Know-Who. Despite all the adventures he’d experienced, Harry had never come face-to-face with the dark wizard.

That day could have been his chance to shine, to outdo his brothers, to prove himself to everyone. It would have guaranteed him a spot on the Auror training list.

Normally, this would have driven Ron to the edge of fury, but instead, he just felt sick. He couldn't understand why Harry wasn’t forgiving them.

After all, Harry had forgiven him for his jealousy during their fourth year. All Fred and George had done was follow orders for Harry's safety, so why was he being so stubborn?

Ron had expected Harry to forgive them a few weeks into the year, but he hadn’t expected to feel replaced. And by Neville Longbottom, of all people!

The realization of what he had lost was finally sinking in, and it was clear to Ron that he wasn’t going to be forgiven, no matter what he did. For a while, he had followed Harry, knowing it was nearly time for his yearly adventure.

Until, of course, Harry had caught him and made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate it. “Have you packed, Harry?” Neville asked.

“I always am,” Harry replied, his voice tinged with worry. Neville couldn’t quite grasp why Harry was feeling this way.

Lately, Harry had seemed subdued, and Neville suspected it wasn’t just about losing house points. That sort of thing happened all the time, yet he had never seen Harry like this before.

It was obvious that Harry wasn’t in a sharing mood. Neville understood the desire to keep certain things to oneself.

He had been hurt by his two long-time best friends, and he knew it would take time before he could fully trust anyone again. But Neville was determined to be that person for Harry—someone who would never betray his trust, but would always be there when he was needed.

“Me too,” Neville said. “Luna is coming to mine for half the holiday.

Are you sure you can’t come over for a while?”

“I’d love to, Neville, but you know I can’t, or…”

"I would," Harry replied. "But Dumbledore wouldn't allow it."

Neville grimaced.

He had noticed for years how much attention Dumbledore paid to Harry, but it was only this year that he realized just how deeply it ran. The Headmaster seemed to control every aspect of Harry's life—where he went, with whom, when, and how.

It didn't seem right; it didn't matter that Harry was a hero. Unfortunately, there was nothing either of them could do about it, at least until the war was over or until Harry came of age.

After that, Dumbledore wouldn't be able to dictate what Harry should do. "Come on, let's go.

The carriages will be here in a few minutes. I want to get a decent seat.

If we leave now, we can," Harry said, getting up. He was, as usual, taking the train; Severus would pick him up when he reached Kings Cross.

He grabbed his trunk and began trailing it behind him as Neville hurried to catch up. The train ride had been rather quiet.

The most noticeable change was that Draco Malfoy and his goons weren’t barging into the compartment trying to stir up trouble, since he wouldn't be able to for a few months. Both boys and Luna sat quietly, reading their books or asking a few questions.

Harry hadn’t spoken to Severus, so he had no idea what was happening with Zar. At least Zar couldn't be put into the Chamber yet; he was still too young.

"That's the train slowing down," Neville remarked, lowering his book to look out the window. "It's pitch black out there; there's nothing to see," Harry teased wryly, watching as Neville pressed his face against the glass.

"Worth a try," Neville laughed, glad to see Harry's spirits lifting slightly. Luna giggled at her boyfriend's antics.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into Kings Cross Station. The lights illuminated the platform and the parents waiting for their children.

Harry's heart constricted with pain. What would it be like to have someone wave you off?

Or to be there when you returned? He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away.

Harry shook off his maudlin thoughts. He was used to feeling this way, so why was it bothering him so much today?

“Harry?” Neville asked, shaking his head. Something was clearly weighing on him.

“Come on then,” Harry replied, grabbing his trunk and owl before he and Neville left the compartment. “There’s my Gran.

Are you going to be all right?” Neville inquired. “I’ll be fine; both of you go on.

I’ll talk to you later,” Harry smiled as they hugged, promising to stay in touch. Luna and Neville headed over to his grandmother, and an amusing image of Severus dressed in her clothes flashed in Harry’s mind.

Neville’s fears had likely changed since third year. Shaking off his idle thoughts, Harry set his trunk on the floor and sat down, watching as everyone Apparated, used Portkeys, or passed through the barrier on their way home.

The longer he waited, the more his heart sank. Severus had been there for him before, last year.

Was he really angry enough to leave him here, just as Vernon had done, appearing hours after the train had arrived to remind him of how insignificant he was, how much of a burden he was? Heaven forbid he actually had to drive to the train station to pick him up.

Harry wrapped his cloak around himself, shivering from the cold seeping into his bones. He regretted not getting something from the trolley; his stomach was grumbling loudly.

Two hours later, feelings of betrayal and hurt thrummed through him. His eyes stung with the tears he refused to let fall.

He couldn’t believe he’d angered Severus enough for him to do this. He had only acted on what he thought was right; this had been his one chance to prove he wasn’t a liar.

He had even considered asking Severus to come, but he knew his duties as a spy were far too important to risk. At least the guilt he had been feeling wasn’t present right now.

Severus sighed in relief when he Apparated back to his home. He frowned when he realized just how...

The silence was oppressive. Grimacing in pain, Severus wobbled his way to the potions lab, determined not to show any weakness, even in solitude.

He opened his cabinet, cursing himself for not wearing the right cloak. He always donned a particular cloak for Death Eater meetings, one with a secret pocket stitched into it.

That pocket held a bag containing an emergency supply of potions and a spare wand he had acquired in Knockturn Alley years ago. As a spy, he wasn’t naïve enough to think he wouldn’t be caught.

He had never taken chances—until today. Today had been the worst he had ever seen Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was not only furious but also strangely drained of magical energy. Severus quickly took the potions he needed, drinking them down and remaining still until they kicked in.

The pain vanished almost instantly, allowing him to relax and think clearly. “Rose?” he called, straightening his spine as most of the shaking subsided.

He clenched his fists, knowing that the tremors in his hands would take the longest to fade. The thought of permanent damage from the Cruciatus curse loomed over him.

He feared not for his mind, but for his hands. If the curse left him unable to brew, it would be worse than any torture he could endure.

Potions were his life, and that fear was one of his greatest. “Yes, sir?” Rose replied, appearing before him with a curious expression.

“Where’s Harry?” Severus asked, his tone sharp. “Harry?… Master Severus?” Rose stammered, confusion evident in her voice.

“He is not here.”

“What?” Severus barked, worry rising within him. He had told Dumbledore that Harry should be here, and he cursed under his breath as he dismissed the house-elf.

He made his way to the only Apparition spot in his house, anxiety gnawing at him. Since he was a Prince, he had the power to alter the wards as he pleased.

He had even created a spell that allowed him to Apparate in and out at a specific location. If anyone else tried, they would be repelled by the wards, and if the same magical core was detected three times, the wards would take more drastic measures.

He Apparated directly onto the platform and shook his head in silent fury. Dumbledore's recklessness knew no bounds.

There had been Death Eaters around, collecting their children; any one of them could have taken Harry. Immediately, he noticed Harry was shivering, and even his own body felt cold.

No doubt, Harry would think this was punishment. As much as it turned his stomach, Severus realized he would have to be honest.

"Harry," he said, stepping out of the shadows and scanning the area to ensure no one was nearby. He grabbed the owl while Harry took hold of his trunk, holding onto the cold teenager as he Apparated them to his home.

"You shouldn't have been left waiting. I told Dumbledore I had a meeting to attend," Severus growled, anger seeping into his voice.

He was momentarily taken aback by the relief evident on Harry's face. His instincts had been correct— they usually were.

"Go have a bath and warm up; dinner will be ready by the time you come down," he instructed. "Yes, sir," Harry replied, feeling a wave of relief that Severus hadn't abandoned him out of anger.

He didn't mind the cold, nor did he care that Dumbledore had left him there. What mattered most was that it wasn't Severus who had done so; otherwise, the hurt he felt would have been ten times worse.

"You have the same room as before. Head up; Rose will have your things brought up," Severus directed.

Tonight hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted it to at all. He had intended to express to Harry just how upset he was with his actions and to make it clear that he would not tolerate Harry putting himself in danger.

That was what any responsible adult would do if their child did something incredibly foolish. And Harry was his.

thought of him as a father figure, and he intended to treat him that way. Since Harry had come into his life, nothing had gone as planned.

Some of it wasn’t Harry’s fault, to be fair, but a considerable amount was. Still, he was determined to have a long talk with him; that much was certain.

Harry made his way up the stairs, the chill of the air already dissipating. He glanced around as if he expected the place to look different.

Despite knowing that Severus was still upset with him, he felt a sense of relaxation wash over him. He didn’t need to hide away; he didn’t have to be a hero or always act strong.

He was simply Harry, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He peeked out the window, his eyes widening in awe.

His little Potions garden had grown into something much larger. Opening the door to his room, he found it just as he had left it.

A sigh of happiness escaped him as he opened his trunk and pulled out his nightwear and toiletries. On a whim, he released Hedwig from her cage, opening the window for her before heading off to take a bath.

He stripped off his clothes, along with both of his wands, and slid into the steaming water. He relished the feeling, thinking to himself that he had truly missed this.

He was finally home; for once, Dumbledore’s punishment had turned out to be a blessing. Forty-five minutes later, Harry rejoined Severus in the dining room.

Both of them were ravenous, as it was well past dinner time. The table was set with asparagus and beef served with steamed rice, along with a side of chips if they chose.

Dobby was there, having left Hogwarts to serve them once again. Dessert was a delightful selection of soft summer fruits.

“Coffee and hot chocolate in the living room in five minutes, Dobby,” Severus instructed firmly. “Yes, sir,” Dobby replied, practically beaming with excitement at the order.

The living room was typically reserved for those serious conversations when Severus wanted to discuss Harry's past. Given that they had covered everything else, Harry knew exactly what Severus wanted to talk about.

This was what he appreciated about having an adult in his life—having Severus there. "Let him talk," Harry thought.

He wasn't used to this. Nobody had ever asked him about his day, let alone his entire year.

The Dursleys couldn’t care less; they'd rather gouge out their own eyeballs than listen to him. But with Severus, there was an added comfort in knowing that he understood him, that he knew what Harry was going through.

Harry hoped Severus was okay; he had noticed the shaking hands and understood what it meant. Voldemort had used his favorite spell after being humiliated by Harry and his friends.

A wince crossed Harry's face as he realized it was his fault Severus had been hurt. No, it wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t control what others did.

It seemed that what Severus had been telling him had finally sunk in after all. Severus would have been proud.

“Why is it that your actions speak louder than your words?” Severus asked as soon as they sat down. He grabbed his mug of strong black coffee, letting Harry have his customary hot chocolate.

“You insist you hate the fame, that you’d rather be normal… yet the first chance you get, you break fifty school rules and confront the Dark Lord.” The disappointment was palpable in his voice and reflected in his dark onyx eyes. Harry stared at the floor, knowing this moment was coming but unprepared for the weight of that disappointment.

It felt like he had lost Severus's respect and understanding. Swallowing thickly, he knew he had to speak the truth, or it would only anger Severus further.

“I had a vision; it wasn’t normal… I had enough sleep, but during my History of Magic test, I felt exhausted. It wasn’t the usual kind of exhaustion… it was different, as if I was being influenced,” Harry finally confessed.

Severus sat up straight, his frown deepening, eyes now filled with alarm as he stared at Harry. “Go on,” he demanded, hanging on each word Harry spoke.

“I went straight into the vision; I didn’t dream first. One minute I was taking the exam, and the next, my scar was burning like hot coals were being pressed against it.

Then the vision began; I saw…”

"That Voldemort..." Harry stopped, recalling everything Severus had warned him about. Now that he was back, he had to be careful with his words.

Plus, there was the fact that the Dark Mark burned whenever someone mentioned his name. "He was there, torturing Sirius, demanding that he lift it.

The same place I saw during my other visions—the Ministry." 

He rushed on, noticing the incredulity etched on Severus' face; it was clear he had a sharp retort ready. "I knew it was a trap; I knew he’d send others to get it… I didn’t expect HIM to show up!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"I just wanted them to know he was back! To understand so they would have a fighting chance."

"So you think you’re capable of facing fully grown Death Eaters, do you?" Severus asked, his eyes flashing with an emotion Harry couldn’t quite decipher.

Whatever it was made his stomach tighten in dread. "Uh, no," Harry squeaked, his green eyes widening.

He didn't like the look on Severus' face; it didn’t bode well for him. He sensed he was about to learn something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

"No?" Severus echoed, his tone deceptively mild. "Then pray tell, how did you plan on fighting them?"

"I planned on trapping them.

That’s why I asked the Weasley twins," Harry hurried to explain. "With their swamps...

they would be stuck. The world knows he’s back; it’s a good thing, right?" He trailed off, almost uncertain.

Would Severus understand why he had done it? He hoped so.

Severus sighed. "It is a good thing, but unfortunately, it doesn’t excuse you from risking your life.

Tomorrow morning, I’m going to show you why it was a bad idea," he said, his voice growing more serious by the end. Harry gulped, his eyes wider than saucers.

What did Severus mean by that? He wouldn’t hurt him, would he?

No, Harry knew Severus wouldn’t intentionally harm him…

Suddenly, Harry wished he could turn back time, to relive the last two days at Hogwarts over and over again. "What do you mean?" he ventured, trying to suppress the Slytherin side of him that threatened to surface.

"You'll find out," Severus replied, his tone deliberately vague. He wanted Harry to dread the revelation, hoping it would make him think twice before doing something so incredibly foolish.

Harry felt the urge to pout but knew Severus well enough to understand that if he wasn't going to share, he simply wouldn't. The uncertainty gnawed at him, and he regretted eating so much earlier; it was now rolling uncomfortably in his stomach.

"He told me about the prophecy." 

"Really?" Severus asked wryly, musing quietly to himself. He hadn't expected Dumbledore to share that information with him.

It made sense, though. Dumbledore likely believed that since the Dark Lord was aware, it was his responsibility to convey it, rather than allowing Harry to discover it through other means.

"He isn't going to train me. He never had any intention of doing so," Harry admitted, his voice hoarse, revealing just how deeply Dumbledore's words had affected him.

"When I told him I couldn't do magic like he could, all he said was that I'd find a way." 

His green eyes, once filled with apprehension, now shimmered with betrayal and hurt. "Dumbledore probably believes your mother's protection will somehow defeat the Dark Lord," Severus remarked, curling his lip in contempt.

Only someone like Dumbledore could think something so naïve. No, Severus was certain the power the Dark Lord feared had more to do with the wands.

There was a connection between the brother wands, or perhaps with Harry's new wand. There had to be a reason why Slytherin's son kept appearing so frequently.

"If it did... what would he do to me?" Harry asked, a tremor in his voice.

"Do you think he actually has the guts to kill me for the ‘greater good’?"

"Or would he just drive me to kill myself?" Harry's voice was dry and bitter, filled with disgust. He loathed those words, “the greater good,” as they made him want to vomit.

"That won't matter, Harry; it won't happen. I will find a way to remove the Horcrux, I promise," Severus replied, his tone curt and brimming with confidence.

If anyone had a right to boast, it was him. He had been creating spells since he was fifteen and was the youngest Potions Master in the world.

No one had surpassed him yet, and he doubted anyone would, at least not in his lifetime. "If that's the case, why hasn't he tried?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

"He wouldn't risk it," Severus said after a moment, sighing at the turn of the conversation. He didn't like having to say things like that to his son anymore.

Unfortunately, he wasn't one to sugarcoat the truth; if anything, he was brutally honest. He knew Harry relied on that honesty, so he vowed never to stop, even if it upset him.

He had told Harry he wasn't going to mollycoddle him, and he meant it. "No, I don't suppose he would," Harry finally agreed, setting his now-empty cup on the table.

"Did you bring Zar?"

"Indeed," Severus smirked wryly. It was unfortunate he couldn't feed Pettigrew to Zar; then again, Zar hadn’t done anything to deserve the digestive distress that would follow ingesting the rat.

Speaking of Pettigrew, he was currently holed up in his old house in Spinner's End. It had taken all of Severus's willpower not to kill the bastard where he stood.

Pettigrew had taken Lily from him; if not for him, the woman he had loved would still be alive. "What are we doing this summer?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Are we brewing?" He was eager to brew a potion that wouldn’t explode. "I won't be here as often as I was last year," Severus warned.

"But yes, the quicker I get the potions done..."

"The sooner we get the hospital wing done, the better. Between training and searching, you’ll be extremely busy," Severus said.

"Searching?" Harry asked, hope blossoming in his chest. "You mean for the Horcruxes?"

"Yes.

I have a few ideas about areas we can check. If you think of any, let me know," Severus replied smoothly.

"Where do you plan on checking?" Harry leaned forward, eager to help in any way he could. This was exactly what he wanted—a plan of action.

He didn't want to sit around while Voldemort grew stronger, waiting for the inevitable confrontation. "The orphanage where he grew up, and then all the houses he could have had access to," Severus said.

"Houses?" Harry asked, suspecting that Severus wasn't referring to the school houses at Hogwarts. Then it struck him.

"He could have one at Hogwarts, right under our noses."

"It's possible. He had an unhealthy obsession with anything related to the founders," Severus said bluntly.

"He murdered his own father, so I'm going to start at that house. After that, I’ll check the Gaunt house."

"Gaunt?" Harry inquired.

"His mother's last name. She was a Gaunt.

Due to inbreeding, the line eventually died out," Severus explained, curling his lip in disgust. "Know your enemy, Harry; only then can you hope to succeed."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Harry murmured.

"Indeed, it's sound advice," Severus said sharply. "Now go to bed.

You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

Harry grimaced at the reminder, prompting Severus to smirk at him. "Night," Harry said, rising and making his way up the stairs.

Severus watched him go, shaking his head in exasperation. So much for the scolding he had planned.

Well, at least one thing was certain: things were never boring with Harry Potter around. Sighing tiredly, he headed to his potions lab to take another dose of the Anti-Cruciatus potion.

He climbed the stairs, lost in thought. In his usual manner, he checked on Harry and found that he had gone straight to bed.

Nodding in satisfaction, he headed to his own room, climbed into bed, and quickly fell asleep. They had an early start planned for tomorrow, and they needed every moment they could get—though, unfortunately, that didn't leave much time for sleep.