Chapter Text
“Merlin, I hate not knowing,” Ron grumbled, walking alongside Hermione down a hallway.
Draco had insisted on having one-on-one time with Harry to prepare him for the upcoming trials against the Dursleys. As a result, Ron, Hermione, the twins, and Neville are left behind to worry anxiously.
“I don’t see why it has to be down there.” Ron rubbed his face.
“I understand Malfoy’s reasoning,” Hermione murmured. “But I worry too. What if they get caught?”
Ron frowned. “I mean, they’re hardly breaking any rules. They’re not actually going into the dorms.”
As they were about to turn a corner, Ron spotted the tell-tale end of a black, billowing cape and immediately backtracked. He pulled on Hermione’s forearm and they pressed against the wall. Ron peered over the corner just in time to see a furious Snape entering Professor McGonagall’s office. Ron shared a look with Hermione.
Wordlessly, they quickly walked over to the door and quietly pressed their ears against it.
“Severus, how may I help you?”
“I can tolerate your brat being friends with my student, but I will not tolerate his presence in my dungeons!”
Ron and Hermione grimaced. Snape was furious .
“What’re they up to now?”
“Draco somehow believes — and only Merlin knows why — that bringing Potter to the dungeons will help ‘train’ him.” Snape scoffed. “The reason eludes me.”
“Are they breaking any rules?”
Ron and Hermione have to press their ears against the door with effort as Snape’s and McGonagall’s voices go a bit quiet.
“...cannot… understand… Malfoys… refuse to speak to me… keeping secrets.”
“...not my secrets to tell.”
“I do not… in the dark.”
“It will do you some good to flounder every once in a while,” said McGonagall in a voice more audible through the door. “You are not all-knowing and you are not invincible.”
Hermione quickly covered Ron’s mouth before he could let out a snicker.
“I do not pretend to be!”
“And yet you act as if you are. Do not think I have forgiven you about your treatment of the boy—”
“... argue about this again—”
There was a loud slamming noise that made Ron and Hermione flinch.
“Then cease your childish behavior!” McGonagall snapped. “You are a thirty-year-old man, yet you act as if you are thirteen.”
There was a tense silence. Ron’s eyes were wide in awe and disbelief while Hermione held her breath.
“The boy is arrogant—”
“He has been hurt,” McGonagall cut Snape off. “And you certainly do not help things when you of all people should understand.”
“ Understand? ” Hermione mouthed confusedly to Ron who shrugged and shook his head.
“Forgive me for being unable to empathize with a child who has lived his life like a celebrity,” Snape spat viciously. “He is every bit the son of James Potter—“
“Get out.”
Ron’s mouth formed an o.
Snape said something too low for them to catch.
“Until you get it through your thick skull that Harry is not James, any further conversations between us will be unproductive. Out , Severus.”
Hermione latched onto Ron’s arm and they waited. When they heard the screech of a chair, they dashed off as quietly as they could. They reach around the corner just as the sound of a door opening and slamming shut echoes through the hallway. They continue running until they’ve reached a different floor entirely.
“That was…” Hermione started, still catching her breath as they slowed down to a walk. “Interesting.”
“Sure. That’s one way of saying it,” Ron said wryly.
“Ron, Hermione!”
The two turned their heads and saw a smiling Neville walking up to them. Neville’s smile fell when he saw the breathless state they were in.
“What happened?” Neville asked in concern.
“We’re alright, Neville,” Hermione assured.
“We… overheard something though,” Ron said slowly.
After repeating everything they heard, Ron and Hermione watched as Neville frowned in thought. He rubbed his cheek with his finger, making a humming noise.
“Is Professor McGonagall implying that Snape was bullied too?” He wondered out loud.
Ron gave him a dubious look. “What? I can’t imagine Snape being bullied.”
A beat of silence.
“No, actually–” Ron raised a hand and looked off into the distance. “Oh, yeah, I see it.”
“ You of all people should understand ,” Hermione recalled, also deep in thought. “But is it really the bullying? Nobody really bullies Harry consistently other than Malfoy and Snape himself.”
“Why does Professor Snape hate Harry’s father so much?” Neville asked. “Do you know?”
“No,” Ron replied. “Maybe he had unfinished business with the bloke and wanted to take it out on Harry?”
Almost instantaneously, realization dawned on the three of them, their jaws dropping.
“Do you think he…?”
“Bullied Snape?”
“Yeah?”
“... I mean, it certainly explains a lot of things, doesn’t it?”
“Bloody hell.”
They stood there, stewing in this new revelation and context to their professor’s behavior.
“He really is an arse,” Neville whispered.
Hermione’s lips twitched. “Language.”
“Hold on, what does he have against me then?” Neville asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t think my parents were even in the same year as him!”
Ron wiped his mouth to keep himself from grinning and placed a comforting hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Maybe he had an unrequited crush on your mum?”
Hermione smacked Ron who laughed uproariously at Neville’s scandalized and disgusted face. Still, she couldn’t shake the thought that they were missing some key clues.
═══════════════════
In the hallway leading to the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories, Harry was standing ramrod straight. Draco stood beside him in a more relaxed manner, casually leaning on the wall behind them. Around them was a Muffliato so that passing Slytherin students wouldn’t hear them. They stared and glared but refrained from interacting with Harry in front of Draco.
“What chores did your aunt and uncle assign you?” Draco drawled.
“Cooking, cleaning, and gardening,” Harry answered through gritted teeth.
“Specify.”
Harry clenched his fists. “Cooking three meals a day, tending to Aunt Petunia’s garden on the daily… Sweeping the floors, wiping the windows, throwing the garbage—”
“You’re too tense,” Draco noted flippantly.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Harry sniped. “The dungeons aren’t very bloody welcoming.”
“I purposefully brought you here to mimic how uncomfortable the environment of a trial will be,” Draco explained in a bored tone. “You’re lucky the passing Slytherins can’t even hear you. In reality, everybody’s full attention will be on you.”
Harry withheld the urge to groan, rubbing his face and pinching his cheeks to keep it together.
“You need to keep a level head.” Draco eyed him disapprovingly. “Did you do these chores at your own will?”
“Well—“
“It’s a yes or no question,” Draco cut him off. “You do not elaborate unless told to.”
Harry was sure that his teeth would be ground to dust by the time they were done. “No.”
“Did you enjoy these chores?”
“What do you think?” Harry asked sarcastically.
Draco sighed. “Potter.”
“This is ridiculous!” Harry exclaimed, frustrated. “Why would they even ask about things like this?”
“Because they need to validate the claims of the case made against your relatives.” Draco briefly touches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “Now answer.”
Harry glared at him for a few tense moments. “No. I did not enjoy those chores.”
Draco nods. “Were you ever permitted to dine on the same table as them?”
“No.”
“Did they provide you with food?”
“... yes?”
“Unconditionally?”
“... no.”
“Were you given your own bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“At what age?”
“For as long as I remember.”
“Was it an actual bedroom or someplace else?”
Harry slowly breathed out through his nose. Draco turned his head to look at him and slowly raised an eyebrow.
“The court will think you are either formulating a lie or stalling,” Draco said.
“Why are you asking me that question?” Harry asked, quiet and suspicious. “What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything, I am merely making educated guesses.” Draco stared at him for another beat. “If you are hesitating then that means it is a detail that would help the case.”
Harry looked away and leaned back on the wall. The silence stretched, the only sound being the conversation of passing students.
“Potter,” Draco prompted.
“We’re done for the day,” Harry murmured.
He pushed himself off the wall and was about to pull the invisibility cloak on when the blonde spoke up.
“They treated you like a house-elf,” Draco said tonelessly. “Did that ever occur to you?”
Harry’s hand stayed suspended in the air, mouth closing and opening. “It’s different–”
“Is it?” Draco challenged. “Seems to me, you just did whatever they told you to do.”
“I’m not a house-elf,” Harry spat. “I have a mind of my own, I could have said no.”
“And did you?”
Harry swiftly pulled at the cloak until he was completely covered. He stormed off but faltered when Snape marched right past him, missing him by just a few inches. Harry quickly looked back and stared as the professor approached an eerily calm Draco.
Despite his annoyance at the ponce, Harry and Draco had built some weird camaraderie over the weeks. There was this unspoken but shared understanding of living lives they hadn’t chosen and forced to conform to survive. Such camaraderie and Harry’s own bleeding heart made him pop his head out of the invisibility cloak to give Draco an urgent and questioning look.
Ask for help. Damn it, ask me for help.
But, as always, Draco only glared back at him and moved his head an inch to the left.
No.
Harry scowled and turned away, knowing that he risked getting caught if he stayed any longer. He climbed up the steps, the low voices of an interrogating Snape and an aloof Draco echoing behind him.
═══════════════════
Harry ended up sitting by the Black Lake. The sun was setting and he had his phone a few inches away from him, face up. He was hugging his knees, staring out into the lake, pretending he wasn’t paying attention to his phone’s screen.
It wasn’t like he was waiting for something. Psh, he didn’t care. He was just here for the wind that was increasingly getting colder – it was the first of December, after all. Definitely here for the calm waters of the lake and the quiet of the surroundings.
… What was taking Sirius so long? Did the trial take the entire day? Was the evidence not enough? Did something happen? Did someone meddle? Was there serious doubt about Sirius’ innocence?
“No, no, no.” Harry shook his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it.”
Think positive . Harry’s face scrunched up. Okay, never mind. Think practical.
Trials can take a long time. After all, his hearing took way too long for that Dementor incident. This is a criminal trial we’re talking about, of course, it’s gonna take long. They’re probably checking records and getting witness testimonies or whatever–
Ring .
Harry’s arm quickly shot out to grab his phone, discreetly looking around as if someone saw him being embarrassing. His lips twitched but he took a deep breath to calm himself. Don’t get your hopes up, don’t expect a lot, better to be safe than sorry.
What if Sirius didn’t–
“No.” Harry raised his finger to scold himself. “Stop that.”
He schooled his features to be calm and neutral, then answered the call.
“I’m free!” Sirius screamed joyfully.
“What?!” Harry leaped to his feet, neutral expression be damned. “You’re serious?!”
“Yes, my name is Sirius Black and I am free !” Sirius yelled back and cackled. “I’m free, Harry! I won!”
“ Yes !” Harry jumped around and punched his fists into the air, unbridled happiness and relief flowing through his body as peals of laughter fell out of his widely grinning mouth. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Sirius celebrated alongside him, whoops emanating from the phone’s speakers. After a while, they calmed down. Harry leaned against a tree to catch his breath, the phone held near his ear.
“So,” Harry said, still breathless. “What’s next?”
“I’ve already had a few choice words with Ms. Rita Skeeter,” Sirius said smugly. “You can expect a glowing article to land on your breakfast tomorrow morning and the horrid gossip ones she wrote about Lily and your uncles to be rid of as soon as possible.”
“You threatened to sue her,” a familiar voice piped up.
Harry blinked in surprise. “Professor Lupin?”
“Please, Harry, call me Remus,” Remus said amusedly as Sirius howled with laughter.
“I-it’s so good to hear from you again!” Harry’s smile grew once more. “How have you been? Have the – uh – evenings been okay?”
“I’ve been better and the ‘evenings’ are more tolerable with Sirius around. Have you been taking care of yourself?”
“I have!”
“You know, in another life, you would have called Remus ‘Uncle Moony’,” Sirius said playfully.
What followed was silence. Harry’s smile faltered, not that the two men would see anyway. But as the realization settled in, the what-ifs immediately followed. What would have that been like, staying with Remus instead of the Dursleys? Would he be a drastically different person? Would it have changed a lot of things? Would… would he have been happy?
“And you would have been ‘Uncle Padfoot’ which sounds dreadful,” Remus teased to lighten the atmosphere.
Stop overthinking . Harry pushed those thoughts away to ponder over some other time. Perhaps on a sleepless night.
Harry chuckled. “I dunno, it’s kind of a mouthful.”
“Oi, it’s two syllables!” Sirius said, mock-affronted as Remus laughed. “Moony’s is two syllables as well!”
“Moony just flows on the tongue a bit better,” Harry teased. “Padfoot is eh.”
“I’ll get you back for that,” Sirius warned half-heartedly.
After chatting a bit more about plans and exchanging goodbyes, the call finally ended and Harry relaxed against a tree trunk. The sun is completely gone now and the stars blink down at him, observing him. Harry turned on his phone again and scrolled through the notifications he had ignored. There were a lot of unread messages and missed calls. He sighed, fiddling with the thing and staring at the peacefulness of the lake.
Memories of his first outing with Tony and Bruce floated up to his mind. The private jet, the villa, the sea, the water fights, the food…
The wonderful conversations and the warm feelings that settled over his chest.
“Damn it,” Harry murmured, guilt pooling in his gut as he unlocked his phone again and looked for their group chat.
He had been ignoring them for how long? Harry didn’t want to think about it.
Ohana Means Family
Ongoing video call .
Harry’s eyebrows raised and his thumb hovered over the ‘join call’ button. He retracted his thumb with a groan, indecision warring inside him.
“Should I?” He murmured to himself. “I’ve been ignoring them though… kinda rude to just barge in…”
Harry scrolled up to check who was on the call and frowned. It was just Tony and Bruce. Where were his cousins? Well… if they weren’t around, maybe it’d be easier to talk to them in groups. Yeah. Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce first then.
Harry nodded to himself and joined the call.
There were two rectangles, each occupied by his… angry uncles?
“ – would be easier too, if big guy over there would stop being such a hoarding, prideful, holier-than-thou asshole!” Tony shot at the screen.
What the hell?
“What.” Bruce’s eyes sharpened.
“Thinking he can take care of Harry better just because he’s ‘traumatized’. You’re not the only one whose parents were murdered, Brucie boo, you’re not special.”
“Mr. Stark!” came Peter’s shocked voice.
“You were twenty-one, I was eight . Tell me, how was it again that you dealt with your loss? Booze and girls?” Bruce shot back with icy calm. “And don’t tell me it was because of pressures of the company and legacy, you’re not special.”
“Oh my god, B. Shut the fuck up, Harry joined the call!” Tim shouted off-screen.
That seemed to snap his uncles out of it and their eyes travelled all over their phone as if to find Harry’s screen.
But Harry – in shocking speed – pressed ‘end call’, powered off his phone, and tucked it into his pocket.
“Nope, nuh-uh,” Harry mumbled, walking back to the castle. “Not tonight then.”
═══════════════════
In Jason’s rundown safehouse, the movie on the television and the tacos on the table are quickly forgotten. Dick shrugged on a jacket and stood up, his phone still pinging with frantic messages from Damian and Cass.
"Where are you going?" Jason asked in bewilderment.
"I did say that if they were going to do it in front of Harry, I'd whoop them both," Dick said simply, already halfway out the door. "I'm headed to New York first. You're welcome to deal with Bruce."
Jason grinned. "Can I bring out the big guns?"
"No. Bring the crowbar."