Chapter Text
The Summer after the first school year at Hogwarts. He already wanted to be back at school.
He hated being ‘home’ if that’s what you could call it. He’s currently under the stairs, trapped like a mouse in a cage that’s begging for food. Quite literally he might add, he accidentally had a spur of accidental magic, breaking plates when he hadn’t meant to. He’s been without food for a week, only let it for maybe a bathroom break once a day before being shut in again.
Hedwig, currently was safe at the Weasley’s. He felt this year was going to be bad after all he found out. His emotions were high and his magic kept acting up here. He broke the lock his uncle fastened to her cage, telling her to be cared for by his friend’s family. The Dursley’s would eat that bird if they wanted to, why wouldn’t they fancy eating one of Harry’s first friends?
Harry laid against the wooden floor, trying to stretch or move in the room as to not gain bed sores or lose anymore of the mass he had finally gained from proper eating at Hogwarts. He kept getting splinters, and every once in a while he could hear one of his large family members going up and down the stairs. Petunia was lucky enough to skip that but god her child didn’t get those genes. Harry hated as the dust rattled from the top of the ceiling with each step his cousin took on the steps.
He curled up and stayed quiet, he knew it would only get worse if Dudley could here him groan from the cupboard. This was fixing to be an already cruel summer. He had begged Dumbledore for help. It never came. Dumbledore only spoke in riddles it seemed and he had often denied that they could not have been worse than he-who-should-not-be-named himself. Harry would disagree.
He got rid of him as a baby, how could he have been all powerful and lose to an infant? He hated whatever the hell ‘blood wards’ were that kept him here. Though he knew it was only meant for protection, it meant that he had to stay in this awful house.
The summer went on the same. Dudley pushing him around, hitting him. Vernon doing the same old and beating him anytime he felt he was out of line. Or that the boy didn’t complete his army load of chores that not even 6 people could finish in a day. Petunia hadn’t physically touched him, she never did. However the frying pan, rakes, and shovels got awfully close to his head. Thank god he knew how to duck, he might of been potter jelly by now if he hadn’t.
————
Finally the summer was over, he could stop counting the minutes and finally go to school. He had gotten maybe a few hours in pitch black to do any of his assignments but they were done. And he would be free of this god forsaken house from September to the end of June. Free. He thrived at that feeling. He yearned this would be a normal school year, that’s all he needed.
Harry had imagined that arriving for his second year at Hogwarts would feel like coming home. Instead, it began with a disaster. Once at the station with his light trunk and now his owl Ron had ran at the wall first. Fuck. Harry only felt tension in his head as his orange haired friend fell with a thump, panicking.
“How will we get to Hogwarts now?” Harry had said with a quiet irritation building up, not at his friend but at the horrid idea of having to go back to the Dursley’s.
“We could…take my dad’s car?”
Within maybe 5 minutes of something not even close to consideration of the consequences the boys had stolen the car and started driving from London to Scotland. They had only realized neither of them knew how to drive when trying to land and promptly smashed themselves into the Whomping Willow.
All in one piece besides the car and wand of Weasley’s. They ran into the main hall, perfect, they had made it to Hogwarts. Then just as good as it was going a voice rang through the their ears before they actually stepped into the building from the damp grass they were standing in.
“Potter and Weasley.” Snape said with that disappointed tone in his voice, that slight anger building underneath it. “Headmasters office. NOW.” He said with his unbridled anger raising over the top. By the end of the night they had multiple day detentions and a lecture from McGonagall and the risk of expulsion from Snape.
The next morning, Harry woke before dawn. He had panicked slightly, thinking he’d have to do chores or be prepared for a punishment. For a moment, he forgot where he was. Then the familiar red curtains around his four-poster bed, the crackling fire, and the soft snores from the other boys should have been comforting. He wasn’t in that awful house but instead, his stomach twisted.
He could still hear Snape’s voice.
“Expulsion…”
He knew Professor Dumbledore hadn’t expelled them. He knew he was still here, though it still rattled through his head. But after ten years with the Dursleys, Harry had learned one thing very well. Good things could disappear overnight. He laid awake until Neville’s alarm clock exploded off the bedside table.
Breakfast wasn’t much better. Everywhere Harry looked, people were staring. Some were amused. Some were impressed. Others shook their heads as if he were completely mad. The first-years especially couldn’t stop looking at him.
“That’s him,” Harry overheard one whisper.
“The one who flew the car.”
“I heard they nearly died.”
“I heard they attacked the tree.”
Harry stabbed absentmindedly at his eggs. “I wish everyone would stop talking about it,” he muttered. He already had a food problem and with everyone staring? He felt like he was putting on a show. He hated this already.
Ron only groaned. “You think you’ve got it bad? Mum’s Howler practically melted my ears this morning.”
Fred and George walked by. “Worth it,” Fred said cheerfully. “Absolutely legendary entrance,” George agreed.
Classes were exhausting. Professor McGonagall had forgiven them…mostly. Professor Sprout simply looked relieved they hadn’t been killed. Professor Flitwick only sighed dramatically. Snape, however… Snape seemed personally delighted every time Harry answered a question incorrectly.
The dungeon classroom smelled of damp stone, potion fumes, and crushed herbs. Harry barely had time to sit before the familiar sweep of black robes announced Professor Snape’s arrival. That billowing he hated, not because it was dramatic but because it was a man who hated him arriving.
The room fell silent. Snape’s dark eyes swept over the class before settling, inevitably, on Harry. “Well.” His voice was quiet, almost conversational. “It appears Mr. Potter has survived his attempt to become an aviator.”
A few Slytherins snorted. Harry kept his eyes on his cauldron. He just wanted to curl in on himself and disappear or to just punch Snape in his mouth to stop his insistent talking.
“I confess,” Snape continued, “I was under the impression that students arrived at Hogwarts by train. It seems Mr. Potter believes the rules are optional.” He said with that dramatic drawl he had to the end of his sentences, Harry felt the irritation bubbling up and it hadn’t even been five minutes.
Draco Malfoy raised his hand with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Perhaps he thought he deserved a grand entrance, sir.”
More laughter.
Snape’s lip curled.
“Quite.”
Harry felt his face grow hot. He knew better than to answer back but god it was like taunting an already hungry animal with a piece of meat.
“Open your books to page thirty-two,” Snape ordered. “Today we shall be brewing the Swelling Solution.” As parchment rustled, Snape stalked between the rows like a hunting bird.
“Mr. Potter.” Harry looked up.
“What is the purpose of dried nettles in today’s potion?” Harry knew this one.
“They stabilize the swelling so it doesn’t spread uncontrollably.”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “A miracle.” The Slytherins laughed again.
“Five points from Gryffindor.” Harry blinked.
“For…answering?”
“For speaking without being invited to elaborate.” Hermione made an outraged noise beside him.
“But you asked him!”
“I do not recall requesting commentary from Miss Granger.”
Hermione snapped her mouth shut. Harry reached under the table and gently nudged her foot a silent message. Don’t. She glared anyway.
“Begin brewing.” The room filled with the sounds of chopping, stirring, and bubbling cauldrons. Harry focused on the recipe. One measured scoop. Clockwise twice. Counterclockwise once. Don’t mess up. Don’t give him another reason. He was carefully slicing the shrivelfigs when a shadow fell across his workstation. Snape. Without a word, he picked up one of Harry’s slices between two fingers.
“Too thick.” Harry looked down. They looked exactly like the illustration.
“I’m sorry, Professor.”
“So am I.” Snape dropped the piece back onto the table. “I had hoped that after surviving a collision with the Whomping Willow, your precision might have improved.”
Another ripple of laughter. Harry swallowed. He started slicing them thinner. A few minutes later and the man’s voice echoed once more.
“Potter.” Harry looked up again.
“What are you doing?”
“Stirring.”
“I can see that.”
Snape leaned closer to inspect the potion. “You were instructed to stir twice clockwise.”
“I did.”
“Then explain why your potion resembles wallpaper paste.” Harry frowned at the ca uldron.It…didn’t. It looked almost exactly like Hermione’s, the best he’s ever done in potions at all. Before he could answer, Snape flicked his wand. A pinch of powder shot into Harry’s cauldron. The potion hissed violently before settling into a murky gray.
“There.” Snape stepped back.
“Now it resembles wallpaper paste.”
The class laughed outright. Harry stared. He knew Snape had changed it. Hermione knew too. She opened her mouth. Harry caught her sleeve. She looked at him. He gave the tiniest shake of his head. Not worth it, especially with the threat of expulsion. Snape had already moved on.
Near the end of class, Snape inspected the finished potions. He paused at Hermione’s.
“Acceptable.” He reached Harry’s. The gray potion still gave off unpleasant little bubbles. Snape looked almost pleased.
“As expected.” He scribbled something onto his clipboard. “Dreadful consistency.”
Harry couldn’t stop himself. “It wasn’t like that before.” The room went quiet. Snape slowly looked up.
“No?”
“No, sir.” For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. Then Snape smiled, not an actual smile but more of a brag on a face to say ‘i win’. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.
“Detention.” Harry’s shoulders slumped.
“For arguing with your professor.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Two detentions.”
Ron buried his face in his hands. Hermione looked furious.Neville looked as though he might faint from sympathy, Snape was his greatest fear and this was his greatest nightmare in person on Harry. Snape closed his notebook with a sharp snap.
“I suggest, Mr. Potter, that if you wish to avoid further punishment, you devote less energy to excuses and more to following instructions.”
Harry bit the inside of his cheek until it hurt. “Yes, Professor.” Snape swept away, robes billowing behind him.
Only when the classroom emptied did Ron mutter, “He changed your potion.”
“I know.”
“You should’ve said something.”
Harry packed away his ingredients with practiced motions.
“It wouldn’t have mattered.”
Hermione watched him quietly. The worst part, Harry thought as they left the dungeons, wasn’t losing house points or earning detention. It was realizing that, for the rest of the year, every Potions lesson would probably be exactly like this.
————
Then came Defense Against the Dark Arts on Wednesday. Professor Lockhart filled the room with dazzling white teeth and stories about himself. Harry tried very hard to pay attention. He really did.
But Lockhart talked…and talked…and talked. Not even about the creature they were to be learning or anything of sustinance, but himself. Not to mention the room covered in well…him. Everywhere. Everywhere was a picture of him, so he found to only escape. Harry’s eyes drifted toward the window. He hadn’t slept well since arriving with all this mess. All he wanted was just a moments peace. Every creak of the castle made him wonder if another teacher was coming to tell him he’d finally been expelled after all. When Lockhart suddenly called on him, Harry blinked.
“Sorry?” The classroom laughed. Lockhart beamed as though Harry had complimented him.
“No need to be shy, Harry!”
Harry wished he could disappear beneath his desk.
The evenings were quieter. The Gryffindor common room glowed with firelight, homework scattered across every table. Hermione tried to help Harry catch up on the assignments he’d nearly forgotten amid all the chaos.
“You skipped question four.”
“I did?”
“You skipped the whole page.” Harry rubbed tired eyes.
“Oh.”
Hermione frowned.
“You look awful.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve said that three times.”
Harry forced a smile. “Just tired.” He didn’t mention waking up every morning before sunrise. Or how every loud voice made him flinch, something he didn’t know if it was because of the awful summer or the problems he caused already. That every loud voice he has thought that he would be expecting someone to tell him Hogwarts wasn’t his home after all. Because that was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?