Secrets

It was a normal summer night. The clear sky was littered with bright, glittering stars, the full moon casting a pale glow over the empty streets of Privet Drive. The painfully normal street consisted of identical two story homes in a uniform row, interspaced with garages which housed the owners perfectly clean cars, with each home set back from the road, separated by manicured lawns and paved driveways. Everything so perfectly normal, or so it appeared on the outside.

The inhabitants of 4 Privet Drive were hiding many secrets, among them the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley's nephew not only lived with them, but that he was a freak of the worst kind, the kind that waved about sticks of wood and hollered mumble-jumbo and killed each other off like maniacs. Among their secrets was also that fact that Vernon Dursley was a drunk, and a mean one to boot, who encouraged his only son to partake of the bottle and aid him in his treatment of their unwelcome housemate.

In the years since their nephew, Harry Potter, had started attending that blasted school for freaks, Vernon had grown more and more resentful of his wife, insisting it was her fault his life was ruined. If she hadn't been related to those freaks in the first place, he would be having to up with one living under his roof. As it was, he had no choice but to keep the little bugger there, for he refused to divorce his wife, fearing the scandal would ruin his perfectly formed and maintained appearance of normalcy. However, just because he was stuck with the freak and his wife, didn't mean he couldn't still try and attain normalcy. After all, how would they ever be cured if he didn't do everything in his power to fix what was wrong with them?

Harry had always been abused by his aunt and uncle, but before he turned eleven, it was limited to the slaps and hair pulling, with an occasional whack with a frying pan or kick to the rear as he fled a room. Once he had returned from Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the first time though, it had stopped completely, for the Dursley's feared him using his wand on them. That ended though the moment that notice came from the Ministry in the summer before his second year. Once Vernon realized that the boy couldn't fight back, he took out his anger freely and often, even going after his wife a few times, accusing her of having a soft spot for the boy. She grew up with that freak sister of hers, she should have known and told him that underage wizards were forbidden to use magic outside of the school. The fact that she had said nothing proved she was a freak too, as far as he was concerned.

The abuse had gotten progressively worse as the years went on. When Harry was away, Petunia received the brunt of her husbands ire, but it was never so bad as it was with the boy. Vernon was careful not to leave marks anywhere on her person that the neighbors might see, as that would be counterproductive to his attempts at appearing like the normal, happy family man. But when Harry was home, the monster within Vernon was released, and pain and suffering were a constant.

The rape began at the end of Harry's fourth year. Still reeling from the events of the Tri-wizard tournament and Cedric Diggory's death, Harry was a mess, and at night, relieved every horrifying second of that night. His screams of Cedric's name brought his uncle flying into the room, his round face purple with rage. Accusing his nephew of being a flaming queer on top of a freak, he decided to teach the boy a lesson and began raping him regularly. Petunia heard his scream the first time Vernon had raped her nephew. This scream was so different from the rest, she knew instinctively what was happening. Her nephew rarely cried out during the abuse, having learned that it only prolonged it. But this scream was the sound of Harry's soul breaking, and she flew up the stairs. This was too much. She ran up the stairs and into the room, yelling at him to stop as she threw herself at her husband. But she had been unable to stop him. That night was the first time Vernon had struck her face, the force of his fist throwing her into the wall, knocking her unconscious.

After that night, it was her and Harry against Vernon and Dudley, who was swiftly turning into his father, despite Petunia's best efforts. This way of life continued for the next few years, until this night. It was only the first week of the summer holidays before Harry's seventh and final year at the renowned school of magic, and already Petunia was in fear for Harry's life. She had been the one to pick Harry up from the train station at the beginning of the week. Vernon had had to work, and so they had a few hours of peace to fill each other in on their lives before the man was to return home.

Harry smiled at his aunt and reach out, enfolding her in his arms in a gentle hug. He immediately released her though, when he heard her soft gasp. Frowning he looked down at her, for he had finally had a growth spurt and now stood taller than her. His eyes filled with sorrow, then anger. "He's been hurting you again, hasn't he?"

Petunia ducked her head and avoided his gaze. There was no point denying it. They both knew how Vernon was without Harry around to beat on. With a sigh, Harry carefully pulled her close again, being sure not to hurt her.

"Aunty… I'll be officially a grown wizard on my birthday. The blood wards will be negated, and I can use magic and go wherever I want. I want you to leave with me. I can get you a house in Hogsmeade, help you get settled into a new life. Please. Neither of us have to stay here for much longer." He looked imploringly into her eyes and she gave a soft gasp, seeing her sister looking out at her from her nephews face.

Tears filled her eyes as the familiar feeling of guilt crept into her stomach. After all she had done to him in the past, he had forgiven her completely, and was even willing to take care of her, to save her from the mess her life had become. He was so much like Lily. Always forgiving, and willing to give people second chances. She knew she didn't deserve his forgiveness or the chance he was offering her, but she promised herself, as she had many times over the last few years, that she would make up for her sins against him somehow. She nodded. "Alright, Harry. We'll leave on your birthday."

That night, Vernon returned home from work completely pissed. He could barely stand without swaying, and they knew it was going to be a bad night. Harry refused to cry out that night, and all the nights after, as his uncle resumed his favorite activities of raping and torturing him. Vernon would come home from work drunk, grab Harry by his hair, and drag him up the stairs to his room while mumbling threats and insults at the young man. Harry's eyes burned with unshed tears, but glowed with the promise that soon, soon it would be over, and Vernon would regret the day he ever laid a finger on either of them.

Neither Harry or Petunia knew though, that Vernon was planning to get rid of Harry once and for all. Vernon may be a brute, but he wasn't completely stupid. He knew the boy would be coming of age soon. He knew once that happened, there would be nothing stopping the freak from seeking revenge against him, and he had no intention of letting the little whore live that long. He would not let him ruin his life any more.

He would have to get rid of Petunia as well, the little traitorous bitch. After all he'd done for her, she had turned her back on him and took up with her freak nephew. He knew that she wouldn't keep quiet if he killed the boy, so he would kill her too. He's make it look like an automobile accident, so as to not arouse the suspicion of the neighbors or law enforcement.

Harry's silence ended on the his seventh day back. After slaving over the impossible amount of chores he'd been assigned, which even with his aunts help he'd been unable to complete, his uncle had returned home from work drunk as usual. He slammed his fist into the side of Harry's head , causing his vision to swim as he fell to his knees. Vernon roughly grabbed him by the back of his shirt and started for the stairs, dragging him up to his room. Petunia watched, her eyes filled with tears. She didn't try to stop him. It would only be worse on them both is she did. Instead, she went for her first aid kit, knowing she would need it. She put some water on to warm and waited at the table, her head buried in her arms.

Harry had remained silent during the beating his uncle had given before he threw him on the bed and tore his clothes off. Harry squeezed his eyes closed and couldn't help the grunt of pain as his uncle began to violate him. It went on for what seemed like forever before Vernon stilled and whispered into Harry's ear, his breath hot and humid against Harry's skin.

"You're dead, you worthless whore."

Harry frowned in confusion as his uncle started thrusting again, and then, a sudden sharp pain in his back. Harry couldn't help the scream that tore from his throat as pain exploded throughout his body, a knife buried in his back by his uncle. He flailed, trying to move away as but was unable, pinned down by Vernon, who raised the blade over his head to stab him again. His vision swam as he grew dizzy, his uncle stabbing him again and again

He never noticed the door slam open, but he heard his aunts strangled cry of fear and shock, heard the loud thunk as something heavy and metal connected with something solid, and felt his uncles weight disappear. The last thing he remembered before passing out was his aunts tear streaked face swim into view, a bloody skillet clanging to the ground as she dropped to her knees next to him.

Petunia lifted her head at the sound of Harry's muffled scream, and her eyes landed on the counter, where her kitchen knifes usually sat. Jumping to her feet, she realized in horror that her butchers knife was missing. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach like a 100 pound weight. Without thinking, she grabbed her heavy cast iron skillet off the counter and ran up the stairs, Harry's screams growing louder as she approached the door.

Throwing it open, she gave a strangled cry as she saw Vernon plunge the knife into her bleeding nephew. Vernon glanced towards her and smiled smugly as he raised the blade again. Knowing she had to stop him, she leapt forward and brought the skillet up and swung it into the side of her husbands head with all her might, a sickening crunch filling the air as his skull cracked under the force of the blow, his face showing his surprise. Falling unconscious, Vernon fell forward onto his nephew, his weight trapping the young wizard.

Rushing forward, she pushed her husband with all her might, rolling him off of her sisters son. She fell to her knees beside Harry, stroking his face and begging him to stay awake. He was losing so much blood, and she had no idea how to help him. "Harry, please, stay awake you dear boy. This is not how you're meant to go out, do you hear..." he voice drowned out by the sound of two loud cracks filling the air. Spinning around, she gasped in shock. Standing there , wands drawn, were two wizards, one she recognized as being the Headmaster of Harry's school. The other man, looking much like an overgrown bat, was unfamiliar to her, but she had a feeling this was the man Harry had described as his potions professor.

"Please! You have to help him! He's dying.." She broke into sobs, falling to the side as both men rushed forward, knocking her out of the way as they moved to help Harry. She moved to a side where she would not be in the way, but could still watch as they tended to him, waving their wand this way and that, murmuring words under their breath. She watched as the bleeding stopped, and the knife was removed. The man in black began pulling small vials from his robes and pouring them into Harry's mouth, rubbing his throat to make him swallow. Neither man said anything to her for several long moments, but soon Dumbledore turned to her, his eyes hard.

"What has happened here tonight, Mrs. Dursley?"

"V-Vernon was raping him again, and he...he tried to kill him. I hear-heard Harry scream. I think...I think I killed my husband." She whispered, tears slowly trailing down her cheeks as the stress of the night, of the last several years finally caught up to her. Glancing down at her husband, she saw that blood had pooled around his head in an area too large to suggest that he lived. With a gasped, pained sob, she fainted.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat behind the desk of his circular office, drumming his fingertips on the edge of said desk. The walls were lined with the portraits of all the Headmasters before him, most of them dozing in their gold frames , with a few visiting other portraits in the castle. Odd knick-knacks and magical objects sat here and there, some glowing occasionally or shooting off sparks of color. Just to the side of his desk was a perch, upon which dozed a beautiful crimson and gold phoenix. Dumbledores lips were drawn down in a frown as he contemplated what to do about two of his students.

Harry Potter would of course, have to be moved to the school upon his seventeenth birthday, but that was still more than six weeks away. It was common knowledge that after his coming of age, the blood wards would no longer protect him from Voldemort and his forces of dark wizards. It would be the end of the war if they left him there, for surely Voldemort would attack as quickly as possible. When the time came, Albus would set Harry up in a private dorm for the remainder of the summer.

His thoughts turned to Pansy Parkinson. He had agreed to let her stay at Hogwarts after the girl had come to him after the winter holiday last year, telling him of her fathers plans to make her take the mark this summer. She had begged him not to make her go back, and he had agreed. He couldn't send her home with a clear conscious, knowing what would happen to her if he did, and she provided enough information to be helpful.

However, it was only a matter of time before her father came for her. Albus had no legal standing to keep the girl from her family, and unless she agreed to go to the courts, they would order her to return home. She knew half the Ministry was in Voldemorts pocket, and she wasn't convinced that a trial would end in her favor. Albus was determined to make her see reason. He knew she would be marked if she was forced to return, or worse, even possibly killed for her betrayal. Not to mention that the children of the death eaters attending Hogwarts would be sent after her once school started back up. He would have to remove her from the Slytherin dorms.

He was torn from his musings as an alarm sounded through out the room, startling Fawkes awake and Albus out of his chair. Immediately he strode to the fireplace, throwing in some powder and thrusting his face into the flames.

"Severus! The alarms at Harry's house have sounded!"

Severus Snape dropped his vial of mandrake essence and cursed, spinning around, away from his cauldron to face the fireplace behind him. He barely caught sight of the Headmasters head disappearing from the flames. Muttering, he stepped through the fire and into Albus' office.

"The Dark Lord isn't planning anything tonight for Potter, Albus. He's in Transylvania trying to recruit vampires. I'm sure the brat just tripped down the stairs or something." He said, irritated at having his night interrupted by the spoiled brat of his old school enemy. Even when the brats not in school, he was still finding ways to disrupt his life.

Albus looked at him sharply as he grabbed the Potion Maters arm. "The alarms sound when he is in grave danger. It doesn't have to mean that Tom is attacking." Albus grabbed a hold of Fawkes feathers, and with an explosion of flames, the three of them disappeared, appearing in the upstairs hall of 4 Privet Drive. With a wave of his wand, Albus threw open the door before them and they both rushed in, wands drawn. They were both stunned into temporary stillness though, at the sight before them.

A hysterical woman, presumably Potter's aunt, was bent over what looked like a pile of bloody sheets on a rickety old cot, while a outrageously large man lay naked on the ground, crumpled up in a pool of blood, a large kitchen knife lying a few inches from his hand.

The woman looked up in surprise upon hearing them enter and almost immediately began begging them to help.

"Please! You have to help him! He's dying…" She cried, her green eyes red and wet from her tears. Suddenly moving into action, both wizards rushed forward, pushing her out of the way. What had at first seemed just a pile of bloody sheets, was actually the beaten and bloody unconscious form of Harry Potter.

Severus immediately began pulling vials from his robes as Dumbledore cast several diagnostic spells and spells to clot his bleeding. Both men were in complete and utter shock, but forced themselves to set it aside in order to help the young man lying before them. Ignoring the woman's soft sobbing from behind them, Severus began administering the potions, a few blood restoratives, something to stop internal bleeding, and another to keep him from slipping into a coma.

While Severus was busy, Albus stood and turned to Mrs. Dursley, his eyes cold and hard like ice in his anger. There was not a trace of his trademark twinkle, and his expression instilled fear in the woman,

"What has happened here, Mrs. Dursley?" he asked, his voice as hard as his eyes.

"V-Vernon was raping him again, and he...he tried to kill him. I hear-heard Harry scream. I think...I think I killed my husband." She whispered, tears slowly trailing down her cheeks. Dumbledore's face paled, and he heard Severus sharp intake of breath. His gaze followed the woman's gaze to the man on the ground, and he had to agree with her. There was simply too much blood for him to have survived. In the next moment, the woman fainted and Dumbledore sighed. Just to be sure, he checked the mans vitals, finding that he was, indeed, dead.

With a nod from Severus indicating that Harry was stable, at least for the moment, Dumbledore lifted the woman into his arms with an ease that belied his frail age and countenance, while Severus did the same to Harry. Fawkes flew over and grabbed each of their shoulders with a talon before transporting them in a flurry of heat-less flames to the Hogwarts infirmary.

Several hours later, Severus Snape returned to his rooms, exhausted. If possible, he looked even more pale and furious than usual. Had there been any students in the school, they would have fallen over themselves in fear to stay out of his way. He threw his outer-robe over the back of his couch as he passed it on the way to his kitchen. He pulled a bottle of fire whiskey from a cupboard and pulled the lid off, not bothering with a shot glass as he drank straight from the bottle.

He fell into his chair before the fire, just staring into the flames and going over the nights events. When they'd arrived in the infirmary, Poppy had been ready for them, as if she had known they would be coming. She had immediately set to work healing the injured boy, while the wizards revived Petunia and brought her to the Headmasters office for questioning.

They had questioned her under veritaserum and learned about everything that had happened the last several years. Severus had been furious. He had wanted to throttle the woman for having done nothing all these years to stop her husband. He felt no sympathy for her at all, though a small voice whispered to him that she was a victim too. He quickly squashed it back.

His frown deepened as he faced the flames dance in the hearth. H knew she was a victim, but he needed someone to blame. His long held illusions of the Boy-Who-Lived's life had been shattered that night. He had always assumed that the boys fame extended into his home life, that his family loved and pampered him. The signs to the contrary had been there all along though, he'd just refused to see them. The clothes that never fit right, the thinness of his body at the beginning of every year, the fact that he never went home for the holidays, the fact that he resembled more a fifth year in stature than the seventh year he was about to be. All the signs that pointed towards abuse, and he had ignored them.

It's his job as a professor in this school to look out for the wellbeing of his students, no matter who they are, and he'd failed. If there was one thing Severus hated, it was failing. He'd always prided himself on being able to separate his personal and professional lives, but in this instance, he had failed completely. He allowed his bitterness about his school days and hatred of James Potter to cloud his judgment, and a student had suffered for it.

He drank more from his bottle, taking comfort in the pleasant burn that trailed down his throat as he brooded. After interrogating Mrs. Dursley, they had all returned to the infirmary to check on Harry. Poppy had not contacted them, so they knew he had to at least be in stable condition. An exhausted Poppy had met them at the boys bedside, her face pale and drawn. The extent of the damage had been horrible, and she wasn't sure how he had managed to survive long enough to make it to the school. He was in a healing coma at the moment, but would likely wake in a day or two, though Poppy would not allow him to leave the wing for a week at least.

After they gave Petunia a sleeping draught and set her up in a hospital bed, Poppy had led them to her office. Her eyes had flashed with fire when she turned to them. "That poor boy has been suffering for years! That…That thing almost killed him! What's going to be done about it?" She demanded. Severus had sneered, "Unfortunately, Mrs. Dursley already took care of him for us. Shame, really. I know all of us would have liked a go at him." Poppy's eyes widened in surprise at his inclusion of himself as one who would have liked revenge against the man. It was no secret that the Potions Master detested Harry.

Albus and Severus had returned to the Dursley's home to take care of Vernon's body. Since Dudley had been away with friends for vacation, they decided the best course of action was to set the house on fire. Clearly Harry and Petunia were never returning to this house, and they did not want to raise the questions that Vernon's death would raise. They had gathered Harry's things and collected anything of importance from the rest of the house before causing the stove to leak gas. With a flick of their wands, the house exploded and they apparated away.

Severus sighed a stood up. The bottle was half empty now and he was tired. He made his way to his bed chamber and fell into bed. It took only moments for the spy to fall asleep. It was going to be a long week.