By LastCrazyHorn

Word Count:

Rating: PG-13 for brief language, violence, and depictions of abuse

Summary: A disabled Harry comes to Hogwarts story. Everyone expects him to be like his dad, but how can he be with such a different past? A Slytherin Harry takes on Hogwarts in an unusual way.

At breakfast one morning, he and Teddy sat down next their classmates, all of whom seemed to be deeply engrossed in a conversation about something.

“What are they talking about?” Harry carefully asked after checking that no one was looking at them.

“Double Potions with the Gryffindors,” Teddy growled with a shake of his head. “I hate having classes with those dorks. At least Snape’s our head of house. I heard that he really gives them what for. I hope he does rub their noses in it. I’d like to bring that smarmy Weasley down a couple of notches.”

Harry snorted in amusement at Teddy’s enthusiasm. He didn’t really have a problem with the Gryffindors, with the exception of Weasley. There was something about seeing that smirk and red hair that just rubbed him the wrong way. It didn’t help that Weasley seemed to be going out of his way to make their lives miserable.

“Well, if Snape does go off on them, it’s not as though they won’t have deserved it.” He answered logically.

They got to the corridor outside the Potions classroom first, and were joined by the other Slytherins shortly after. As always, they watched to see whom the others talked to. It wasn’t a surprise to see that Draco had latched onto Crabbe and Goyle as bodyguards, but it was notable to see him talking to Zabini. Harry hadn’t made up his mind about the dark skinned boy quite yet, as he didn’t ever seem to talk. He wasn’t sure if that was due to shyness or something else, like him.

As was becoming the norm, Parkinson was with Greengrass, while Millicent stood by herself farther off from them all.

“Know much about her?” Harry asked, glancing quickly at the lone girl and then looking back at Teddy.

“Neutral family, so no, I don’t know too much,” Teddy answered with a slight grin.

“Maybe we should talk to her later,” he replied, keeping his head down to muffle the sound. He really needed to learn some silencing spells. He hated not being able to tell how loud he was. It hadn’t bothered him much over the last few years, but then again, he hadn’t been in school . . . much.

He grinned at the memory of the things he had learned instead; pick pocketing, for instance.

“Couldn’t hurt—,” Teddy began, diverting his eyes mid-answer. He was looking at something behind Harry.

“Dorks?” Harry asked.

“Mr. Dork,” Teddy clarified with a roll of his eyes.

Now that he thought about it, Harry realized that he could feel a slight vibration under his feet. He liked the new shoes he had gotten in Diagon Alley, but it was times like this that he missed his old, threadbare ones.

Maybe there’s a spell I can use on my feet to increase their sensitivity, shoes or not, he thought, turning around to look at the scowling red head coming up behind him.

“You’re still here?” Weasley spat, jabbing a long finger into the space between them.

“Clearly,” Harry coolly responded, keeping his face neutral.

Weasley abruptly grinned and then laughed, presumably at something said by one of his housemates from behind him.

“Surprised one of your housemates hasn’t accidentally thrown you down the stairs. If it were me, you’d already be laid out on a mattress in the infirmary.”

The left side of Harry’s mouth came up in response to the cold threat, but otherwise he kept his composure. An idea had occurred to him while Weasley’s lips had been flapping, and he fully intended on using it.

“What are you smiling about?” Weasley accused, stepping forwards and roughly grabbing him by the front of his robes.

“Oh hi Professor Snape!” Harry yelled out, looking at a spot just over the other boy’s left ear.
Abruptly, Weasley dropped him and spun around open mouthed, only to discover that the corridor behind him was missing the fabled Potions professor.

Harry wasted no time. He retracted his crutch as he found his feet, and then when the gangly boy turned back around to face him, he was ready. He didn’t wait for Weasley to grab him again, but threw himself forwards, swinging his arm out in front of his body and flicking his wrist. The crutch lengthened from its collapsed state, thrusting forwards faster than a punch, directly into his classmate’s nose.

Harry didn’t hear it break, but he did feel the impact as the vibrations travelled up his arm, and he saw the blood spray as Weasley’s head was thrown backwards.

He scuttled backwards away from the bleeding boy, knowing better than to be caught nearby. It was a good thing too, because less than a minute passed before Professor Snape was suddenly there in the hallway with them.

“Mr. Weasley, why must you drop your bodily fluids all over my nice clean hallway?” Snape said, dropping to a knee beside the downed boy, his back to the class, preventing Harry from “hearing” anything else.

He turned to look at Teddy and tapped his ear, glancing at Snape pointedly. The other boy merely shook his head, and Harry was relieved that he wasn’t missing anything else.

“Who is responsible for this?” The man finally asked, turning around and glaring at them.
Silence was their only response, and Harry could tell that Snape also hadn’t gotten an answer from anyone else by the way he suddenly pursed his lips.

“I see,” Snape finally said, his dark eyes glinting with something Harry didn’t want to look too closely at.

He resisted the urge to look around at each of his classmates, or peer closer to see what Snape was doing to Weasley. The only ones doing that seemed to be the Gryffindors, gawking like a large gathering of monkeys.

Finally Snape stood and helped Weasley up as well. The blood was now staunched and the nose looked to be healed, but there was an ugly bruise spreading across the boy’s face, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

“You there, Granger!” Snape suddenly barked at the girl McGonagall had smiled at. “Take him to the Infirmary, and then return.”

Harry watched in awe as his head of house’s robes flared around him as he moved, and then Teddy was poking him in the back to get him to go into the classroom. They went to a table at the far side of the room, near the front of the classroom and slid into their seats just as Snape began to berate the Gryffindors for being so slow.

Once they were all seated and paying attention, Snape began speaking. “I don’t want to ever see something like that outside my classroom again.”

Although their professor was looking at the entire class with that statement, Harry had a feeling that the man already had his suspicions as to who was behind the attack.

More than suspicions, he thought with a small shiver, before silent berating himself. After all, what’s the worst he can do to me? Beat me to unconsciousness? Doubtful!

Feeling somewhat better, he refocused his attention on Snape who was pacing back and forth in front of them, his dark robes rippling behind him in an invisible wind.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. There is very little silly wand waving to be done here. This is not a classroom to play in, and I am not a professor to cross. Do you understand me?” Snape glared at them, and Harry was thankful that no one was stupid enough to talk back.

*”I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses,” Snape stopped mid-pace and a collective feeling of unease went through the class as a whole. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Harry felt a sudden urge to show him that he was anything but a dunderhead, but the moment was broken when a knock came at the door. It was Granger, and Snape looked at her as though she had stepped in something, and dared to walk back into his classroom without first cleaning her shoe off. She quickly scuttled to an empty seat, just as Snape began firing questions at Harry’s hapless classmates.

“Mr. Longbottom,” Snape said, starting with a round faced boy sitting at the far back on the Gryffindor side.

“Sir?” The boy shook, but managed to keep his tears at bay.

There were snickers throughout the classroom that Harry didn’t hear, although he did see the degrading looks both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors shot the boy. His eyes narrowed as he carefully watched the exchange occur between teacher and student.

“Tell me Mr. Longbottom, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry could see the other boy’s mouth working, could see his lips trying to form words, but what caught his attention the most was the pleading way that Longbottom’s eyes stared out at everyone in a desperate plea for help.

“No answer? Couldn’t bother to crack the textbook before coming to class? I do hope you will correct that mistake by the next class.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape whirled on his foot towards the sour looking blond boy sitting a few feet away from where Harry and Teddy were. “What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“There isn’t a difference, sir. They’re the same thing,” Malfoy answered, receiving a gleam of approval from their otherwise dour faced head of house.

“Correct,” Snape answered with a brief, nearly feral looking smile. “Five points to Slytherin.”

“Now, who can tell me where I might find a bezoar?”

Granger’s wildly waving arm caught Harry’s attention, but Snape ignored her as he sought out his own victim.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Snape looked down at him calculating eyes and Harry forced himself to remain still, regardless of whatever came next.

“Yes sir,” he answered in what he hoped was a clear voice. “A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, sir.”

“Correct,” Snape said, pausing and then straightening back up with an almost audible snap of his spine. “Why are you staring at me like mindless sheep? You should be writing this down!”

The rest of the class was spent taking copious notes, and more than a few times, Harry found himself thankful to Teddy for letting him share notes whenever their professor moved out of his range of vision.

Just as they were packing up to leave, Snape looked up and stared straight at him. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Nott. A word after class, if you please.”

Harry didn’t bother to think on what would happen if they didn’t do as requested. He only nodded, and hoped that Teddy was doing the same.

. . .

Severus waited until the class had cleared out before turning to his two little troublemakers.

“Mr. Nott, it occurred to me that you never had your physical. At the end of this meeting, I shall escort you there myself, and I will stay until you are done. Is that understood?”

“Uh, yes sir,” the boy answered, glancing at Potter quickly with an almost unreadable message in his eyes.

“Very good, Mr. Nott. Go wait in the hallway while I have a word with your . . . compatriot.”

“Yes sir,” Nott answered smartly, shrugging at Harry as he left, making it clear he had no choice.

Potter, for his part didn’t flinch as Snape levelled ebon eyes on his face, and unbidden, Moody’s warning rose in his mind. He scowled at the unwanted sound of the Auror’s voice and then firmly pushed it from his head.

“Why must you go making trouble your very first week at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter? You are extremely lucky that Weasley’s parents do not have the monetary assets to sue you, but that will not always be the case.”

Potter opened his mouth as though to respond, but then seemed to think better of it and closed it with an audible click.

“Have you nothing to say in your defence?” Severus hissed, leaning down over his desk to look his young snake in the eye.

“It doesn’t seem as though it will make a difference, sir,” was the boy’s carefully spoken answer.

“And why do you suppose that? Please do enlighten us.”

“I would think that my being in your house would enable you to support me, sir.”

Severus grimaced and then retorted, “I am supporting you, you little idiot.”

Colour came to Potter’s cheeks, and he shot back, “Then why is it automatically my fault?”

“You think I couldn’t tell? I’ve seen the way you two have looked at one another in the hallway! I know he’s been taunting you, at least to a degree in his own moronic Gryffindor way.”

“Not proof though sir.”

Severus sneered disdainfully at his young snake. “Proof? The proof is in the blood on your crutch. Go ahead and look, if you so desire. The imprint from its foot was on his face. Very sloppy, Mr. Potter. That was a move a muggle would make; not the kind of thing I expect from one of my snakes.”

The boy’s jaw clenched and then abruptly his composure smoothed. “Is that all sir? Or do I have detention as well?”

“Oh detention, Mr. Potter, most assuredly.”

“Yes sir,” Potter answered, pursing his lips and then turning on his heel and stalking out of the classroom, his limp only barely noticeable.

However, Severus listened and noticed that as soon as the boy reached the hallway, his gait slowed and the space between his steps changed. Unbidden, a short lived smile rose to the man’s lips at the act the child was putting on, and then just as quickly it was gone.

. . .

*J.K. Rowling’s words, specifically. It’s just such a great quote . . .

<-Previous  Next->