The Article

Term had barely started when it happened. It was a simple Wednesday morning and an easy, regular breakfast before the day began. Until it wasn't either of those things.

Harry was busy buttering his toast, trying to avoid noticing the disgusted looks Hermione was shooting Ron – who was busy stuffing three hash browns into his mouth.

"Honestly," she muttered under her breath, returning her nose to the book she held in her left hand, pointedly facing the opposite direction to the content redhead beside her. Harry bit into his toast and looked over at Neville, unable to find the energy to strike up conversation between the three of them that wouldn't involve Ron speaking with his mouth full and stoking Hermione's ire. Neville seemed to be struggling with righting his robes, the sleeves of which seemed at least five inches too short; making it clear that the other boy was wearing someone else's clothes. Hiding a grin, Harry's eyes flickered to his empty goblet and he helped himself to fresh pumpkin juice, taking a sip of the cool liquid just as a number of owls flocked into the hall to deliver the daily post. Glancing up, he tried to spot Hedwig's brilliant white feathers, catching sight of her just as she swooped in to land. Oddly, she had no letter attached, only a rolled Daily Prophet – a newspaper Harry did not subscribe to – especially considering what had happened last year.

Gently removing it from her leg and allowing her an affectionate nibble on his thumb and a piece of toast, Harry let her fly off before throwing open the offending paper – not noticing that there seemed to be an unusual amount of subscriptions delivered that morning. Hermione received her own copy from one of the school owls, but left it rolled on the table, absorbed in her book.

It didn't occur to Harry that anything he saw in the news could bother him anymore, what with the amount of rubbish published about him the year before. But when he was met with the front page, his blood ran cold, trickling to a halt in his veins despite the treacherous increase of his hammering heart.

'HARRY POTTER ABUSED BY MUGGLE FAMILY?'

'The boy-who-lived despised and mistreated by his only living relatives, according to repentant report from cousin Dudley Dursley.'

It was either a bad joke, or he was still asleep, and this was one vivid nightmare. There was no way that Dudley would speak to wizards about anything. He wouldn't. Couldn't. There wasn't even an accompanying picture, so perhaps it was all a big mistake?

Harry's pulse thumped loudly in his ears, and it was only when he tore his eyes away from the title that he began to notice the looks and the whispers, as well as the multitude of heads around him buried in black and white print, greedily devouring every word of the article.

Whether it was the noise in the hall or Harry's bloodless face, Hermione was suddenly looking at him in concern, unaware of the events unfolding around her. Ron even lost focus on his plate.

"You alright, mate?" he asked, eyes crinkled in confusion, gesturing with a sausage in his hand. He noticed the paper, but not the headline. He nodded a head toward it. "What tosh are they printing now?"

Hermione was quicker to note the seriousness of the situation, catching sight of the students around her beginning to turn, whisper and nudge one another. She snatched up her own paper and revealed the front page, her hand flying to her mouth in shock at what she saw.

Not sure where to look, Harry's eyes dropped back to the article with dread, pushing himself to read the first few lines, to confirm to himself that it was just 'tosh'. But what he found was not so dishonest as the myriad of lies printed in the past. In fact, they were right on the money.

'Details of Harry Potter's home life have naturally remained a secret for much of the boy-who-lived's life, not only to allow him a normal (as normal as muggle upbringings can be, in any case) childhood,' writes Miranda Cheshire, Senior Journalist for the Prophet, 'but also to enhance his protection and safety.' However, a chance meeting with the young Potter's cousin has proved that things were anything but normal in the private life of this enigmatic boy, as details of neglect, verbal abuse and a cacophony of feelings that round out into hatred have surfaced in the misdeeds of the family small Harry was entrusted to sixteen years ago. The youngest Dursley opened up to us about the regret he feels regarding his behaviour over the years toward his cousin, as well as permitting his father – an obscenely large man – free reign in his hard-handed approach to his skinny nephew. 'Dad said he and my mum tried to stamp the magic out of Harry,' Dudley admits. 'I don't know if he ever beat him, but he threw him 'round a bit more than a few times, screamed at him for the smallest things and even starved him for days in punishment – that one was a pretty regular thing. Mum even tried to hit him with a frying pan one time…'

Harry felt the bile rising in his throat at the hideous, private truths revealed in the words in front of him, unable to read anymore. He registered that the hall had gone deathly quiet, most of the pupils having read enough of the piece to gain an understanding of what exactly was detailed there. It took one look at Ernie Macmillan's gaping expression to shock Harry out of his stupor and into the shitstorm that was unfolding. Mortified, angry beyond belief and feeling a number of things he couldn't quite come to terms with in that moment (betrayal, by Dudley no less), Harry found his eyes moving up to the staff table, noting Dumbledore's empty chair and recognising this as a momentary blessing, as he couldn't bear to see the elderly wizard's reaction.

However, unconsciously, his eyes did shift to the left and straight into the dark pools of his ex-potion's professor. Snape looked paler than usual, but it was nothing compared to the unabashed fury of McGonagall who was next to him. Harry couldn't handle the sight, so when Hermione quietly said his name his head twisted back to her so fast that his neck cracked.

The tentative look on her face, paired with the uneasy line of Ron's mouth had Harry's entire being rejecting the situation and he scrambled up from his seat, picking up the paper with a vicious fist. When he turned around to leave, his eyes somehow found the white hair of Draco Malfoy, far off at an equally stunned Slytherin table, most of whom were openly staring at him. Malfoy included. His gauntly visage was twisted into a strange sort of curiosity, as if he had never seen Harry before. And that was the last thing Harry saw before he fled.

x

x

McGonagall had caught up with him only moments after he departed, forcing him to accompany her to his office and begin a series of embarrassing, but gentle, questions about the entire situation – including the necessity of a visit to the hospital wing to check for injuries. Harry recognised her good intentions, but he refused to talk, the overwhelming feeling preventing him from processing anything. He just wanted to get away, which is why, after an hour, he agreed to speak to his head of house in two days' time when Dumbledore was due to return to the castle. He was numb when he nodded his head to this, not quite registering the look of concern on the witch's face as he hurried from the room and was half-heartedly permitted to return to classes.

It was only when he stepped out that he realised the next class was Defence Against the Dark Arts. With the Slytherins. He was going to be crucified. Dawdling in the hallway and leaning against a wall, trying to calm himself down, Harry pressed his forehead against the cool stone. He considered skipping the class. But then surely that would have Snape, as well as McGonagall, after him.

Sighing, he pulled the crumpled newspaper out of his bag and dared another look down at it. There it was, clear as day, the state of his relationship with his relatives. It wasn't as if he cared at this point, but he couldn't bear the pity, concerned looks, laughter and whispers that were bound to follow him throughout the school and into the entire wizarding world. Why did he have to be him? Why did Voldemort not only mark him but curse him with the burden of being known to everyone? What he wouldn't give to be a nobody, someone who could pass by unnoticed in this situation. Instead of being splashed across the front page of a rag of a newspaper.

Gritting his teeth, he stashed it away once more and began the journey to his lesson, aware that he only had minutes to get there. He would have to face the music at some point. And there would only be more talking, more anticipation, if he disappeared for hours – as much as he was yearning to do exactly that.

x

x

Harry turned the corner just as Snape himself did, which immediately subdued the line of students waiting to pile into the classroom. Though unfortunately it didn't stop the whispering. Hermione and Ron looked like they wanted to talk there and then, but Harry murmured a quick 'later' to them as he passed, and they nodded their consent.

Snape shot the gossiping students a look, before jarring his head toward the door in a silent order to get inside.

Harry sat three rows from the back, with his best friends on either side. A subtle form of protection. Raising his green eyes just in time to catch Draco Malfoy passing, he noticed the uplifted eyebrow the blonde directed his way. Shooting him a glare, Harry turned away, which only made Malfoy smirk and sit directly in front of him – a clear move of antagonism.

Snape had barely begun his lecture on the subtleties of vampire bites when grey eyes dared turn around to Harry, ready to torment and tease in malicious delight.

"Hey Potter, what's it like to go from the boy-who-lived to the boy pushed around by his fat, muggle filth of an uncle?"

Harry tried to let it slide, ignoring the bite in those words. Malfoy's thin face was tired and worn – he had looked stressed since the beginning of term – but now his expression was morphing into the smugness of his younger years.

"Do they really treat you like a house elf?"

This was worse than having the Slytherin stomp on his face on the Hogwarts Express.

"Shove it, Malfoy!" Ron hissed from the side, earning a loss of five points from Snape in the process.

Harry managed to keep his cool for a full thirty minutes, with Malfoy forced to take breaks in his torment due to the notes their glowering professor demanded they take.

However, the dam broke when Malfoy mentioned the cupboard. Harry hadn't read that far into the article. Hadn't realised that it was mentioned full stop.

"Do they still lock you in the cupboard when you're being naughty, Potter?"

It struck the dark-haired boy that the blonde realised he had stepped too far when he noted the surprise in Malfoy's eyes as Harry got to his feet. Ignoring his wand and simply striking out, he reached forward and snatched a handful of Malfoy's robes, wrenching him out of his chair with a yelp and dragging him into the front of Harry's own desk, smashing his hip into the side of the hardwood.

"Don't you dare talk about things you don't understand, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, immediately drawing all other sound from the room as the class stopped to watch the commotion.

"Potter! Let go of Mr Malfoy this instant!" Snape's tone brooked no argument, but Harry was beyond caring, his furious eyes on the boy in front of him. A boy who wasn't wise enough to shut up.

"Touched a nerve, did I? I always knew you were a bit of a charity case, Potter. But is it all really true? How sad."

Harry saw red at the mock pity in the other's face and he snarled, throwing Malfoy from him with a strength that stunned the entire room. The blonde crashed into his chair and fell over it, hitting the ground with a resounding thump.

Snape was livid, marching toward them, wand at the ready. "POTT-"

Harry's venom-laced words spoke over him, directed at his classmate on the floor, who for the first time looked scared of the teen wizard standing over him.

"Alright! Yes, it's all true you ignorant git. Shock horror, my relatives hate me and treat me like I'm nothing. But what does it matter, Malfoy? It doesn't give you some edge over me. My home life has been the same for the last sixteen years, the same since I first met you. It changes nothing! Don't you dare see this as some sort of victory. Bring it up again and I will end you." The danger in those last words surprised Harry himself and he managed to pull his gaze from Malfoy and up to Snape, who was only metres from him.

It stunned him to see that Snape's eyes were unusually wide, eyebrows raised in a way that didn't suit the cold man. He was so often expressionless or furious. This was neither of those things.

The quiet around them seemed to pull the still professor back to his usual self and he shot a disgusted look at Harry, looking like himself again immediately.

"See me after class Potter. And get up Mr Malfoy! Go to the hospital wing if you must."

Dread pooled in Harry's stomach and he slowly sat back down, ignoring Hermione's whispered questions, staring bitterly at Malfoy as he righted himself and his chair, wondering only moments later why Snape had not immediately taken points. The blonde didn't bother him again for the rest of the lesson.

x

x

The energy to fight had all but left Harry by the time he was standing in front of Snape's desk, the classroom emptying behind him. He mentally sighed, willing himself to imagine being anywhere but here.

As Ron and Hermione finally departed, sending worried looks in his direction, Harry turned to face the unpleasant visage of his professor.

"Let me make one thing clear. I will not tolerate physical altercations or threats in my classroom, Potter." Snape's voice was not its usual cold silk, instead his words were reflecting irritation and annoyance. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to be enjoying his reprimand as much as he usually would have.

"It is obvious that most of the school will be aware of what featured in the paper this morning, Potter."

Harry was taken aback at the direct address of such a subject.

"No doubt Mr Malfoy will not be the first to bring it up. You need to control your reactions. Dumbledore may allow you special treatment, but I refuse to-"

"Special treatment? I don't care if Malfoy has a go at me for being a Gryffindor, or calling me 'scarhead', or even the fact that Voldemort is going to finish me off one day. But I won't let him talk about my personal business in such a pig-headed-"

"Potter!" Snape snapped, fury written into his features.

Harry shut his mouth, recognising that anything further just wouldn't be worth it. It wasn't like he could reason with Snape. The man would only see him as he always had. It was no surprise that twenty points were deducted from him moments later, as well as a hissed warning to behave in future. What was surprising is that there were no detentions or other punishments. Instead, he was dismissed with a wave of a hand and an impatient jerk of the head.

Harry grabbed his bag and was almost out the door when Snape spoke rather quickly.

"Was the headmaster aware of… all of this?"

Harry stopped, stunned. He didn't turn around, but he did respond, knowing immediately what Snape was referring to. Clearly, he had read the article in full.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

Snape wasn't finished. "Your head of house?"

"No." Harry was sure of that one after speaking with the Transfiguration teacher the hour previous. She had known who the Dursleys were and that they were generally unpleasant people – that much she was clear on. But nothing about the ins and outs of Harry's home life.

There was a pause.

"Were you really so arrogant to refuse to mention these things to the appropriate people, Potter? Considering what you said to Mr Malfoy, at least some of the printed accusations hold some truth. Are you too good for such a discussion?"

This was a roundabout, Slytherin way of asking why he hadn't said anything. If Snape had been anyone else, Harry would have attributed it to reluctant concern.

Harry did turn around then, his unusually cold expression showing the seriousness and plain honesty in his next words.

"I didn't think it was worth mentioning, sir. I'd either be looking for attention or branded a liar. Again."

And with that, Harry turned on his heel and departed, determined to make it through the day somehow.

End