Chapter Text
Harry walked swiftly to the chair in the center of the room, dropping heavily into it. His eyes involuntarily swept over the hoards of people in attendance; not only the whole Wizengamot, but crowds of the public, and the jittering press, their magic thrumming in excitement. He noted Malfoy’s parents sitting leisurely together at his right. It unnerved him. ‘Of course they’re here witnessing my humiliation,’ Harry thought frustratedly. Opposite them, sat Mr. & Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Remus, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and, proving to him there was truly no mercy in the world, Snape.
Harry found it ironic that his friends were strictly forbidden to attend the hearing due to their age, but the rules regarding the public and press attending a family court hearing had been blatantly thrown out. “The Wizarding World is your family Harry,” Fudge had said mockingly cheerful, “We all care for you so much.” In retrospect, he supposed he didn’t really want his friends there to hear first hand what may come to light.
The room suddenly seemed to grow stiflingly quite, and yet clamor on louder than before. Harry felt a none too gentle pulse of magic enter behind him. He turned to see a pair of Aurors leading the Dursleys, surrounded by a magic barrier, to stand on a slight platform ten feet behind him.
Acidic bile rose as his heart was thrown into his throat. He stopped breathing. He couldn’t breathe. His eyes burned staring at them. Them standing amongst the throngs of magic was so wrong it hurt. He tore his eyes away to give a panicked glance to Dumbledore. One the old man conveniently seemed to miss. They weren’t supposed to be here. Why hadn’t anyone told him they would be here?
They were huddled tightly together. Dudley and Aunt Petunia’s faces buried in each other's’ necks. Dudley was shaking violently, both his arms hung desperately around his mother. Petunia sobbed, one hand trembling over Dudley’s back and the other white knuckling Vernon’s forearm. His uncle was red faced, weak kneed, and shuddering, as his eyes darted frantically around. He seemed to be maintaining his rage, despite his overwhelming terror.
Before they could make eye contact Harry whipped around, sinking hopelessly low in his chair. He wiped his trembling, clammy hands on his robes trying in vain to dispel the sweat. In the back of his mind he noted that he almost felt bad for them. Almost.
Minister Fudge briskly stepped to the podium, folding the papers in front of him neatly together. His wand pressed to his neck, his throat clearing echoed through the hall, hushing the crowds successfully. He gave a quick nod to the Court Reporter, making sure their quick quotes quill was poised. “Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, Public, and Press I welcome you.” There were a few flash-less clicks issued here, as the press greedily took in Fudges wide spread arms, and gushing grin. “Today we gather to assess the guardians appointed to Harry Potter, and whether their care is sufficient. The hearing was called in response to the reported concerns of Lucius Malfoy.”
Harry flushed in both rage and frustration, wiping his head round to gawk stupidly at the Malfoys. The Malfoys were responsible for this?! The ones dragging his in front of the crowds? How was it fair that a practical stranger could ‘show concern’ and suddenly his whole life was out on display? Lucius met his eyes before bowing his head forward. A gesture unabashedly saying ‘you’re welcome.’ As if he had just single handedly saved him from a pack of frenzied wolves. It was almost funny how sincere he made it look, when in reality he was feeding him to the wolves. Lady Malfoy smiled in what appeared to be a kind manner. He could just imagine Draco smirking.
Harry turned forward. He went numb. His mind gently muffling the sounds, softening the edges as his vision blurred. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Not the Malfoys, not the clicks of the press, not the whimpering Dursleys, not the thousands of eyes bearing down on him.
'What were the Malfoys playing at anyway? What could they possibly gain out of this?’ Dumbledore had seemed so adamant that he remain with the Dursleys. It was something more than the blood bond. He knew the old man wasn’t telling him everything and it peeved him to no end. ‘Manipulative bastard.’ The plan was to express dislike towards his family, but no major issues. ‘Shouldn’t be too hard. Wish the Dursleys weren’t here to hear me defend them though. Arses deserve everything they have coming.’
His senses slammed back into focus as Fudge announce that the Wizengamot had felt it necessary to conduct their interview --ha, interrogation more like-- via veritaserum.
Harry keeled over slightly in his seat as if he had been physically struck. He turned his look of horror towards Dumbledore, silently pleading him for an out, an answer, anything. His display making it painfully obvious that he had lied when telling the Order he had nothing to hide but a number of rows and a night or two without dinner. “We just don’t get on.” His words rang tauntingly in his head.
Panic and frustration flickered across Dumbledore’s face before he sat back a little defeated.
No one was going to help him.
“I- W-why? Why do I have to take that? I-I’ll tell the truth,” Harry stammered, leaning away from the Auror attempting to administer the potion.
Fudge did not look impressed. “It is important that the whole truth is shared here to assure your safety.”
“And you don’t think I’ll tell the truth to assure my safety?” A few chuckles were heard, but it seemed to be mostly at his tongue.
“Often children in bad homes lie to protect their families-”
“I won’t-”
“Or,” Fudge continued loudly, frowning at Harry’s outburst, “their own pride.”
“I won’t lie. I-”
“This is not a debate!” he snapped. “You will take the potion Potter!”
Harry pushed the Auror’s arm away from his face frantically. “I- Their care is not sufficient.” It was his last attempt to avoid the truth potion hovering ever nearer towards his face.
Fudge’s face split into a malicious grin. “Well, Mr. Potter, I think we’ll be the judge of that.”
A second Auror cast a binding spell on him from behind, hold his mouth open for the other to apply three drops- a very liberal dose -to Harry’s tongue.
Harry was ready to scream in rage as the binding spell was released. He also felt ready to burst into tears of frustration. He tried desperately to suppress the latter, pressing his lips together tightly all the while.
“And so we begin.” His eyes gleaming triumphantly between Harry and Dumbledore.
“What is your name?”
“Harry James Potter.” Harry had wanted to argue. To fight it. To taunt him with a, ‘You don’t know my name Minister,’ but the potion would not have it. It forced the truth to roll quickly off his tongue. It made him sick to his stomach. He had never felt so helpless.
“What is your birthday?”
“31 July 1980,” he spat. This time he did continue,”Though I don’t see how that has anything to do with the Dursleys’ guardianship over me.”
“These are baseline questions, Potter.” Again, not impressed.”To insure the potion is in full effect; that you’re not resisting. What’s your favorite color?”
“Green.”
“What is your favorite class?”
“Defense.”
“Your least favorite class?”
“Divinations.”
“What is the name of your girlfriend?”
“I have never had a girlfriend. I have many female friends.”
“How many have you slept with?” The Wizengamot shuffled unapprovingly.
Harry’s eyes bulged at the insensitive, insulting question. “None of them,” he gritted out.
“So you are a virgin?”
“Yes,” he answered quickly and angrily.
The Minister smirked, “The girls at Hogwarts not interesting enough for you?”
“I’m not interested in girls period,” he spat out, not even realizing the admission. “I go to Hogwarts to learn not to shag, Minister.”
The hall erupted with shock, frenzy, laughs, gasps, clicks. Harry was pretty sure he saw one reporter pass out, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of looking their way.
“You like men then?”
“Yes.” He blushed. He had never told anyone, now the whole world knew.
The Minister paused looking at his papers.
“Who do you live with in your home?”
“Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan,” he answered easily, thankful they were getting to the real questions.
There was a murmur of confusion.
“Explain yourself Potter.”
“Hogwarts is my home. My house mates are who I live with.”
Fudge looked disgusted. That answer in itself was very telling. “Who do you live with away from Hogwarts?”
“My Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and my cousin Dudley mostly. I’ve also stayed with the Weasleys, my godfather, Hermione Granger-” he trailed off, thankfully, as Fudge asked a new question.
“Who is your godfather?”
Harry cursed himself silently. He tried to fight answering, “O-one of my dad’s old friends.” ‘That’s not a lie!’ he reassured the insistent pull on his tongue to keep going. “Remus Lupin, is like family to me.” ‘Also not a lie.’ Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn Snape looked impressed.
“Remus Lupin is your godfather?” Fudge asked incredulously.
“No. Si- I mean, not legally.” Harry would have to get used to the strong taste of copper. “I think we’re getting a bit off topic,” he added quickly.
Fudge’s eyes narrowed.
“Would you call your muggle family… caring people?”
“No.” He answered easily.
“Did they not provide for you over the last fourteen years?”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Nourishment. Did they give you shelter, food, clothes?”
“I had shelter, food usually, my cousin’s old clothes.”
“Food usually? Where you not fed regularly?”
Harry spoke to his suddenly very interesting hands, “Not regularly.” Why had he been thankful to get into these questions again?
“How many meals were you served a day?”
“Sometimes two.” He urgently tried to stop there. He had answered the question dammit! “Though usually one,” he held his breath. It was pulling on him. Pulling for more words, “on days that I ate,” he blurted, cursing under his breath.
Hissing whispers filled the hall.
“Potter please stop resisting the potions effects. It can be very harmful.”
Surprising himself, he threw a side glance to Snape here, as if looking for an affirmation. Snape raised an eyebrow equally shocked it would seem, before giving a slight nod.
“How often did you not eat meals?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Give a guess. Once a month? Less frequently?”
“More frequently.”
“Twice a month?”
“A- a couple days a week. Unless I was in trouble, then not at all.”
People gasped sharply at that. Harry ducked his head even lower.
“They would refuse you food as a punishment?” Fudge asked shocked.
Silence. “I-” he struggled. “Often,” he blurted. ‘You’re so weak!’ he chastised.
Fudge hesitated, looking startled. “You would often go a week without meals?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Depends.”
“Elaborate.”
“If I got in trouble, more often. Maybe only once a month if I wasn’t.”
“Every month you went a week without eating?”
“Maybe not every month. I can’t be sure. Most months.”
“On a normal week, how many days did you eat? If you weren’t in trouble?”
Shrugging nervously, “Maybe three- four.”
“What is the longest they withheld food from you?”
“Three weeks, when I was nine. I had to sneak food at night that time.”
“BOY! You were sneaking food in my house?!” The sudden outburst from Vernon made everyone jump in shock. An Auror, looking apologetic, threw up a silencing spell.
Harry sunk lower in the chair, his shoulders drawn up protectively. He’d forgotten the Dursleys were right behind him.
“Let’s move forward. How else would then punish you?”
“Lock me in my room, extra chores, sometimes more,” Harry held his breath. He hoped they didn’t notice.
“How long were you locked in your room?”
“Couple hours, couple days,” he shrugged.
“What was the something more you referred to?”
‘Fuck.’ He held his breath.
“Potter, stop this at once! Potter!”
An Auror nudged his arm, trying to shake him out of it. “Potter, stop it.”
He felt light headed and dizzy.
“Potter!” Fudge yelled.
“Fatuor!” an Auror cast quickly, before Potter could pass out.
“They hurt me,” Harry sputtered out quickly. The spell made him speak. And so he kept speaking. “They hit me.” He quickly lifted his hands up to try and hide his face. Horrified as word kept pouring out. ”Petunia would burn my hands on the stove. They ignore me. Threaten me. Push me into walls whenever they were near me. Trip me. Kick me. They let Marge’s dog bite me. They call me names, and belittle me. Vernon slammed my head against the wall once because he caught me talking to a snake. He threw her in the fire, I-I tried to stop him but he- and she died. He broke my hand in the door.”
Dumbledore cast a spell that was instantly blocked by the wards around Harry. Frustrated he barked at the Auror, “Cancel your spell!”
“Not yet!” the Minister yelled.
“They say horrible things about my parents. Dudley and his friends lit my clothes on fire once. It burned my back really bad. My magic heals me pretty quick, but that just makes them more angry. They throw things at me. They hid me when they have guests over. They lock my wand and books up over the summer so I can’t do my homework. They-”
“Minister!”
“Wait!”
“They-” Harry repeated back slower, his stomach seized with dread. “They-” he paused, forcibly trying to stop the words from coming. “Until I was about nine, they told me that my parents were still alive.” There were murmurs around him, people shifting uncomfortably. His eyes burned, as he continued “They said that they were alive but that they hated me because I was so unnatural ; that meaning because I was magic.” He could feel hot tears on his face. He was burning with shame, his hands fell trembling in his lap. He wished no one could see, but knew they could.
“They told me that if I was good enough they might come back for me someday. So every time I performed accidental magic, or something unusual happened around me, they would say they were writing to my parents, telling them that I was still a freak.”
Gasps. Minister Fudge cleared his throat awkwardly, but still held his hand up to halt the Auror’s actions. The Weasleys were going mad with rage, yelling at the Auror to stop the spell. Remus was almost frenzied.
“Then they told me they had lied. That my parents had died when I was a baby, in a car accident. That I had caused it with my ‘ freakishness ’.” Harry was shaking; both in humiliation and rage. “My freakishness,” he repeated harshly, lifting his eyes just long enough to glare darkly at Fudge. “My magic,” he clarified stiffly.
Even as he bit the insides of his cheeks the veritaserum and the spell forced him to continue. He gagged as the verbal sick made its way out. “But- But I didn’t believed them,” he clenched his hands tightly together to stop them shaking any more visibly than they already were. “I- And then when I got my Hogwarts letter and came to the wizarding world, only to find that my parents really had died- It was devastating. Like they had just died. I had always thought,” his lip trembled, silent tears still streaking his face, “ hoped , that someday I would have been good enough for them. That they would want me. That they would come back for me. And then, suddenly, I knew they never would.”
“Fudge!” Dumbledore roared.
“And every summer, I have to go back. Like everything’s normal. Knowing, even now, I can never escape them. Even with all the magic I’ve learned, I can’t protect myself from them. And you just keep sending me back to them.”
“Finite!”
Harry let out a shuddered breath as if that too had been suffocating him. His face burned brightly red. He could hear people sniffling, crying for him. He felt sick, and weak, and naked. His whole body trembled. He felt light headed, and nauseous. The hall was silent. His ragged breaths heard even in the far corners of the room.
“They made me hate myself. They made me fear my magic. They’re- That is unforgivable.”
Fudge broke out of his stupor, muttering, “I think it’s time for a short recess. We will continue our investigation, Mr. Potter, after our break.”
“No,” Harry said harshly. It was quiet but no one missed it. “I’m leaving. I’m not coming back here. Ever.” He stood.
“Potter! You can’t leave! You are not permitted to leave the-”
“I’ll pay the fine,” he gritted out. “Or better yet I’ll challenge the it due to misconduct.” He turned to leave. He stopped a few feet in front of the still whimpering, shaking, Dursleys, looking them up and down one last time. Harry was secretly pleased to note that Dudley had pissed himself. “Don’t expect any favors, Minister,” he spoke calmly, dangerously, not even turning around.
Fudge sputtered angrily, yelling after him, but he was already gone.