A School Run By Voldemort by thegoldenfirebolt
Summary: Voldemort comes back into his power well before Harry starts at Hogwarts, and brings with him quite significant changes.
Join Harry as he starts Hogwarts and navigates a new world. Snape is just trying to do his job.
Categories: Teacher Snape > Professor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Voldemort
Snape Flavour: Snape Disciplines , Snape is Angry, Snape is Controlling, Snape is Mean, Snape is Stern
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, General
Media Type: Story
Tags: Alternate Universe, Hufflepuff!Harry, Kidnapped
Takes Place: 1st summer before Hogwarts, 1st Year
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Physical Punishment Non-Spanking, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 2 Completed: No Word count: 7098 Read: 1108 Published: 03 Sep 2023 Updated: 18 May 2024
Story Notes:
I've had the first book of this plotted out for some time. A couple of chapters are written and edited, so I thought I would see if there was much interest in another story like this. Snape and Harry feature quite heavily, but there is quite a lot of Voldemort too as it goes on.

Please do let me know what you think about the setup, if it's too complicated or confusing. Or if there is anything you think needs explored a bit more.

1. Retrieval by thegoldenfirebolt

2. Explanations by thegoldenfirebolt

Retrieval by thegoldenfirebolt
Author's Notes:
Not quite a Hero's Call.
Harry Potter sat quietly on his bed in the darkness and hoped that his cousin Dudley was going to want something complicated for breakfast. It might have been a strange hope for a young boy, but it had been almost a full day since Harry’s uncle had pushed him into the cupboard under the stairs where he slept, without any food. Uncle Vernon had gone out for the morning, and Harry’s best hope of being allowed out was that his Aunt Petunia would be distracted enough from her daily cleaning ritual that she would need Harry to help her with one task or another. Harry had heard Aunt Petunia walking up the stairs and Dudley being woken up for the second time about half an hour ago, had listened enviously as his cousin had complained about being woken up on a Sunday in the summer holidays, before getting up to have a shower for twenty whole minutes. If Harry spent longer than five minutes in the shower, Uncle Vernon would be banging on the door and turning the hot water off. Harry had gotten hopefully changed while his cousin was in the shower, out of his ratty pyjama trousers which he always slept in, into his usual amalgamation of random cast-offs from Dudley. However, when Dudley finally came down the stairs, it was only to turn on the television to some cartoons, put the volume up fully, and start clattering the spoon in his cereal. Harry’s stomach growled, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. His uncle was still furious with him for that trip to the zoo, and that was over a week ago now.

Dudley was heading through to the kitchen, to get himself a third bowl of cereal, when Harry heard him stop complaining (about how there hadn’t been any sugar on top), midsentence.

“How come the freak didn’t have to get up?” Dudley kicked the door so that it rattled.

Harry’s ears perked up, he was starting to think that even cleaning would be better than sitting in his cupboard doing nothing all day. He was disappointed then by the sound of the front door opening, signalling the return of Vernon Dursley from his weekend trip to the bakery. Dudley was instantly distracted by his father, and more so by the cakes, and went back to his cartoons without a spare thought for Harry.

Harry leaned back against the wall and pulled Dudley’s old, broken toy soldiers from where they were hidden on the cupboard shelf. He started playing with them absent-mindedly, he wasn’t playing a baby’s game or anything, but this was better than nothing. It looked like he was here for a couple more hours, at least.


The doorbell rang and Harry looked up, surprised. Mr Dursley was downright unfriendly to almost all of those who came to his door, and Aunt Petunia was little better. Most of the local door-to-door salesmen and charity collectors had blacklisted the house.

Heavy footsteps passed down the hallway and the front door opened again. Harry heard snatches of voices.
“What in blazes do you want at this time of day?” Vernon demanded.

“… Potter… today.” A male voice said from outside. “I suggest… in.”

Harry frowned, he was almost sure he had just heard his own name.

“There is nobody by that name here.” Vernon snapped, “You cannot come in.”

“…insist……” The voice continued, “at once…term…”

Was this a teacher, Harry wondered? Surely not. He was supposed to start at Stonewall High in a couple of weeks’ time. He was sure all of his old teachers would have forgotten him by now, and none of his new teachers would know who he was yet.
The front door slammed shut, and Harry was disappointed that he hadn’t got to hear more. The doorbell rang again, but Vernon Dursley’s footsteps echoed back down towards the kitchen.

He paused outside the cupboard door, and Harry wondered if his uncle was going to speak to him, or let him out, but the moment passed, and Vernon passed into the kitchen, speaking in a hushed voice to his wife, who was asking what all the fuss was about.

Vernon had barely made it that far when there was a sudden, loud bang. Harry felt the cupboard shake, as (he guessed) the front door was propelled open and slammed into the wall beside it.

The Dursleys shouted in alarm, and Harry pressed himself further into his cupboard. Now, Harry just wanted the visitor to disappear.
Vernon Dursley barrelled down the hall, but his voice cut out abruptly, mid bellow. There was a flash of light, which lit up the outline of the cupboard door suddenly in a bright red. Harry blinked, and the colour had vanished, but he was irked by a memory he could not quite remember. There were more footsteps, and more, quieter thuds, and some strange fizzing noises. The T.V. cut out. Then there was silence. Harry’s breath caught in his throat.


A single set of footsteps approached across the ground floor. And somehow, Harry knew they were coming to his cupboard. When the steps reached the smooth floor of the hallway, Harry knew from the noise of the hard shoes that they did not belong to any of his family. They stopped.

Someone fiddled with the bolt on the cupboard, obviously unfamiliar with the mechanism. Harry bit his lip and retreated further. The door swung open, and light flooded the cupboard for the first time in hours.

“Get out.” A voice said. Harry peered out between his knees, which were pulled up protectively to his chest. A tall man was standing there. Dressed all in black, and wrapped in some strange cloak, like he was dressed up for Halloween, or something. The man was blocking most of the doorway, but past the man, Harry could see his aunt’s foot on the floor, at an angle which could only mean she was lying on the floor of the sitting room. Had this man killed his family? Was Harry next?

Harry felt anxiety rising in his chest, and something else too, something unfamiliar.

“Oh no you don’t.” The man said, frowning. He pulled something out of a pocket, and his hand seemed to be holding a stone. Harry flinched, but there was nowhere to go. Instead of hitting Harry with the stone however, the man simply tapped him on the ankle. “Come out and I will explain.”

Harry’s anxiety was still there, but he felt whatever the something else was dissipate into nothing. The man reached into the cupboard, and grasped Harry by the closest shoulder, pulling insistently.

Harry thrashed to the side, kicking out, his foot connecting poorly with the man. The man let go of his shoulder, but grabbed his leg instead, managing to extract the boy onto the cold, linoleum floor of the hall. Harry jarred his elbow badly as he fell. He looked up at the man towering above him.

He was tall, Harry thought. The man was also really pale, like he hadn’t been out in the sun for about a year. He had long black hair, longer than Harry had ever seen on a man- no wonder Uncle Vernon hadn’t liked him. His eyes were black too, and fierce as they glared down at the 10 year old.

“Come.” The man turned and walked into the sitting room. Harry stared after him, open mouthed. He got slowly to his feet, and took a few steps towards the front door. He put his hand out to grasp the door handle, but snatched it back with a gasp as he was caught by a static shock.

“Potter!” The voice called. “Now.”


Harry sighed, and walked to the sitting room, bracing himself for what he might see.

He stopped dead in the doorway. Dudley was sprawled out across the couch, probably as he had been to watch his cartoons. He was lying strangely still, apart from his eyes, which darted fiercely between the other people in the room. He had dropped his cake, and it was slowly slipping towards the edge of the couch.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were both sprawled on the floor, their backs reclined slightly against the front of the couch that Dudley was on. Their heads were moving, but they seemed unable to move anything below their necks. And they couldn’t speak either. Uncle Vernon’s lips refused to open, and Aunt Petunia couldn’t seem to open her jaw. She made a strange hissing noise at the man, who ignored her.

The strange man was sitting, in a chair he had dragged into the middle of the room.
“Sit, Mr Potter.”

Harry came into the room cautiously, cursing himself for an idiot for doing so, and sat in the last chair, Uncle Vernon’s armchair, which was directly opposite the strange man.

“Who are you? Are they okay?” Harry blurted.

The man frowned, “I am Professor Snape, I teach at Hogwarts. Your family are … fine.”

“Hogwarts? Is that a school?” Harry blinked. “Sorry, Professor, I haven’t heard of it. I’m going to Stonewall-“

“No.” The man interrupted firmly. “You are going to Hogwarts.”

Aunt Petunia hissed again, and both of them glanced at her.

“Um… why?” Harry asked, looking back at the man.

“Because you are a wizard, and Hogwarts is a school of magic.” Snape said simply.

Harry gave a tight laugh. He stopped after a couple of seconds, as he realised his relatives were staring in silent horror, and this Snape man looked like he had never laughed at anything in his life.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t be a wizard. I can’t do magic.”

“Of course you can do magic.” Snape produced a large folder from somewhere – maybe it had been inside that cloak, but the man hadn’t moved that much… Harry saw a photograph of himself in the Dursley’s garden stuck to the front of the folder. That was strange, Harry could only remember ever having one photo taken before- when Aunt Petunia had forgotten to keep him off school on photo day, and nobody had bought it, of course. He still had the small one his teacher had handed out – with ‘sample’ stamped across his face. Even stranger, Harry could have sworn the him in the photograph blinked. Snape opened the folder, scanning down a list on one page. “Growing your hair, shrinking clothes, apparating.”

“Everyone’s hair grows.” Harry pointed out, “And I’ve never shrunk any clothes. Aunt Petunia has a couple of times though, with the washing.”

“Making glass temporarily permeable?”

“… They said there was a hole in the tank.”

Snape growled a little. “For Merlin’s sake, Potter. You are a wizard, and you are coming to Hogwarts today.”

Harry blinked, perplexed. “Today? But..” He glanced at his aunt and uncle who looked equal parts furious and terrified. “I won’t be allowed.”

“Do they look like they are going to stop us?” Snape asked archly.

“Will they be okay?” Harry asked instead, “You haven’t hurt them, have you? Why can’t they move?”

“They won’t remember a thing.”

Harry wondered if that was supposed to sound as sinister as it did.

“Why are you… taking me away?”

“Wizards must be taught to use their magic, so they may become productive members of society. They cannot be allowed to become untaught, uncontrolled dangers to magical people and their way of life.”

“Oh, so it’s like a prison? For people who do… strange things.”

“It is ‘like’ a school, Mr Potter. There are lessons and exams and clubs for fun.”

“Are you a wizard, Professor?”

“Am I a…” Snape looked at Harry like he was the biggest idiot in the world. He gestured wildly at the Dursley’s who were mostly motionless. “What do you think?”

“You could have paralo- palyra-. Uh, frozen them. With medicines or something”

The man looked hugely unimpressed, but a stick appeared in his hand from no-where and he brought it to point at the fireplace. It suddenly started to snow down the chimney. Harry jumped from his seat and ran to look. It was real, cold snow. Melting as it landed on the cold metal of the electric fireplace. Harry glanced out the curtains, but it was still a sunny day in July.

“Uh.” He said, eloquently.

“I will take you to the school, and you will undergo orientation. After this, you will have your placement exam, and school begins properly in a fortnight.”

“Uh. But isn’t it the holidays at this school? And it’s a Sunday.”

“Hogwarts is a boarding school.” The man said impatiently. “Some students arrive earlier than others.”

Snape reached into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a wallet. He tapped it with the stick of his and it unfolded itself impossibly until it was an old-fashioned suitcase which came almost up to Harry’s waist.

“Pack up your things. Bring everything which you might want, we do not accept Muggle parcels, and nobody will collect anything for you. School uniform, etcetera, are provided by Hogwarts. You may not bring electronics to the school.”

“But Professor… what if I don’t want to come?”

Snape examined him for a moment. “Mr Potter, at Hogwarts you will learn to control the elements at your will. You will be able to brew potions which can alter anything from appearance, to creating luck, to saving a person’s life. You will be able to read the future and the past from the movement of the stars. You could change any object into almost anything you desire, and back again. You could duel with magic, or rear magical creatures. You could fly. Remaining here, you will be lucky to become the country’s scrawniest bricklayer in 5 years time.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked a few times. He hadn’t been expecting an impassioned speech from the man. Or such a blunt assessment of his future “What do you teach, Professor?”

“Duelling and Defence, Potter.”

“Oh. That sounds cool.” Snape stared at him. Harry shook his head to clear it and then swallowed nervously. “What about during the holidays?”

“There are Holidays over New Year and Summer.” Snape replied, his mask like face betraying nothing.

“And I come back here for that?” Harry pressed.

Snape blinked, “Would you want to?”

“I don’t know.” Harry said, honestly, feeling somewhat guilty, and ungrateful to the Dursleys, even if they had always made it clear that he was an inconvenience to them. Snape didn’t reply anyway.

“Right, well I’ll just collect my stuff then. I guess.”


Harry grabbed the handle of the case, and noticed a bronze plaque on the front with his initials on. Snape must have been really confident that Harry would say yes. Although Harry had the distinct feeling that, had he been any more reluctant, the professor would have simply forced him anyway.

Harry dragged the case to his still open cupboard door. He reached under the bed, and pulled out his pile of clothes, putting them straight in. He grabbed the toy soldiers from his shelf, and his school rucksack, with pencils and old jotters from last year that he could still get some use out of. Harry emerged, noticing that Snape hadn’t moved, except to watch Harry.
Harry went through to the kitchen and grabbed a few slices of bread from the packet on the counter (who knew how long it would take to get to this school), and stuffed them into a large sandwich bag and into his pocket. He scrambled up the stairs to the bathroom and took his toothbrush, nicking the open bottles of Dudley’s shampoo and shower gel, and the Dursley’s toothpaste.

Harry took a moment to consider whether there was anything else he might have forgotten. He sneaked into his Aunt and Uncle’s room, and took a niceish clean towel from their linen cupboard. Going back down the stairs, Harry reflected that it was a good thing that Dudley didn’t have to pack in a hurry for his school. He wouldn’t want to leave anything behind at all.

Harry was surprised to see Professor Snape already waiting in the hallway, staring blankly at the photographs of the Dursley family which cluttered the walls. Snape’s focus shifted to Harry as he came down off the final step. Harry felt Snape watch him as he stuffed the final things into his case.

“You may say farewell to your relatives.”

With that ominous finality, Harry stuck his head into the sitting room. The three Dursleys were now standing upright, unnaturally so. Petunia and Vernon straight-backed and proper, each with a hand on Dudley’s shoulder. All wide-eyed and unblinking. Uncannily like some of the poses they were in in their photos on the walls.

Harry’s heart pounded as he stared at them. Uncle Vernon’s jaw started working, as if he was chewing toffee, and strange humming noises came from his nose. Aunt Petunia was hissing again, and Harry realised that she couldn’t open her jaw at all, but her lips were moving. Dudley’s mouth was open, and his chest heaving with panicked breaths. Harry thought his cousin was simply silent out of fear.

Harry swallowed nervously. He turned on the spot to look at the professor who had done this to them. Snape was watching him coldly, leaning back against the banister, arms crossed and his magic stick – a wand? – in one hand.

“Please, would you let them go?” Harry said. “They haven’t done anything.”

“Haven’t they?” Snape raised an eyebrow. “They will be fine. I simply do not have the patience for idle muggle chatter. The spell will wear off in two minutes time, by which time, I would like us to be gone. Say goodbye.”

Harry searched the man’s eyes for any sign of relenting, but found none, only impatience. He bit his lip and went back into the sitting room.

“Goodbye.” Harry said simply, looking at his aunt and cousin, and sparing the briefest of glances for his uncle, who was turning an alarming bright red. “I’m sorry. I do believe he’ll let you free soon though. And he would take me away no matter what I say.”

Aunt Petunias mouth settled in a disapproving straight line. She blinked twice, deliberately. Harry decided to interpret that as the only goodbye he was going to get, rather than as a ‘get out’.

“Yeah, bye. Er, have a good time at Smelting’s, Dudley.”


Harry walked back to Snape, who had shrunk down Harry’s trunk to the size of a backpack, and handed it back to him. Snape led the way out of the front door, and to the edge of the kerb, sticking his arm out in front of him.

There was a bang and a towering purple monstrosity appeared on Privet Drive. Harry took several quick steps backwards, and blinked at the triple decker bus which was suddenly in front of them. Harry watched as a gangly figure jumped down from the doors and a young man in a strange orange cloak walked up to them, bowing oddly.
“Professor, fancy finding you out here. I’d never expected to find you among the Muggles. Collection day exemption, I take it, Sir?”
Harry chanced a glance at Professor Snape, who looked more irritated, if that was possible.

“If you would, Shunpike. I do not have all day. You would do well to stop reminding me why you did not graduate past Hufflepuff.”

“Sorry, Professor.” Harry thought this Shunpike guy looked terrified, and he could understand why. He didn’t look like he could have left school all that long ago. “If you and the young gentleman step this way, we’ll have you in Scotland in no time. He’s only our sixth today, you got an early start, Professor.”

The young man took up Harry’s trunk, and swung it high in the air, clearly misjudging how light it would be. Snape ascended the steps to the bus, expecting Harry to follow.
Harry looked back over to the house and saw the silhouette of his family through the net curtains of the sitting room. They were wavering slightly, and as Harry watched, the three of them tumbled into a heap.

The young man – Shunpike- was waiting for Harry to get onto the bus, and Snape glanced back, irritated and alert, from his place in the doorway of the bus. Harry climbed on, pulling himself up by the purple handrail. Snape led them to the only normal looking seats on the ground floor of the bus, the others were all armchairs, and peculiarly, a footstool. As Harry sat down, Snape waved his wand and a rope appeared out of the end of it and wrapped around the boy in a way which was slightly alarming, but Snape tapped the rope again and it stopped trying to strangle Harry, and instead fastened around his chest and seat back as a kind of crude seatbelt. The bus started to pull away, and Harry was just able to pull far enough away from his restraint to see the three Dursleys peering carefully past the curtain.

The bus sped away like a race car, and Privet Drive disappeared in a blur.
To be continued...
Explanations by thegoldenfirebolt

 

The bus was both horrible and exhilarating. Harry laughed nervously as the seats he and Snape were sitting on spun around the inside of the bus, attached only at the top, by a pole with a bell on it. Just as fast as it had accelerated, the bus stopped dead, and the seat tipped dangerously forwards. Snape’s wand was already in his hand, and the man dragged it through the air to create a kind of gloop which stuck the chair in place.

Harry thought that would just mean all of the other chairs would crash into them, now that they weren’t a moving target. The conductor announced that they had arrived in Kent, and an elderly couple climbed aboard carefully, heading for a cluster of armchairs.

 

“Can I get you sirs a drink?” The conductor asked Harry and Snape, walking over without holding onto anything as the bus lurched into motion. He reached into a bag by his side and pulled out two large mugs, one of tea, and the other piled high with whipped cream.

 

“No.” Snape said flatly, looking unimpressed.

 

Harry watched as the man put them both back in the bag, without spilling a single drop. The conductor moved on to the couple who had just got on, and started sorting out their tickets.

 

“Don’t we need tickets, professor?” Harry asked cautiously.

 

Snape cast his eyes upwards, but Harry didn’t think he was looking at the chandelier over their heads. “Not today. The ministry arranges free transport for teachers accompanying minors to Hogwarts.”

 

“Do you need to fetch all the students?”

 

“All those from non-magical families.”

 

Harry thought about this for a minute. So you had families who had magic, and then people who didn’t, but were wizards anyway. He wondered if his Mum and Dad might have lived if they had been magical. Maybe there wouldn’t have been a car for them to crash, if wizards took the bus everywhere. Although the bus didn’t seem particularly safe.

 

“Does everyone take the bus to How- Ho… The school?”

 

“Hogwarts.” Snape corrected shortly. “No.”

 

“Oh.” Harry knew that Snape didn’t want him to ask any more questions, so he tried to be quiet. But he had so many questions to ask, that one burst out of him, not even ten seconds later. “How-“

“There is a train.” Snape cut him off. “I take it you would prefer to be silent by choice, Potter?”

 

Harry huffed, and looked out of the window at the countryside speeding past. The bus stopped in a tiny country lane in Wales (based on the wild spelling of the road signs), then almost instantly at the side of a motorway in York.

Harry thought that Snape was a strange kind of teacher to send out to find students for a school, but held his tongue on the subject, lest the man take more direct steps to ward off questions. The bus stopped in London again, outside of a grimy looking pub on what looked like a pedestrian street, about six people got on there. A family, and a man by himself.

 

The family had a little baby with them who wailed as the bus sped along. The baby had two older brothers, a little younger than Harry by the look of it, who peered curiously at him from their sofa, and gaped at the ropes holding him in his seat. After a couple of minutes, they seemed to get bored of whispering and started talking about racing brooms instead. Harry’s ears perked up, interested. Snape telling him that he could learn to fly had been one of the most interesting parts of what he had said about magic.

 

The bus ground to a halt reasonably slowly for once, and Snape released Harry from his seat. Harry felt a bit sick as he stood up- from all of the stopping and starting and being thrown about in his seat. The conductor shouted “Hogsmeade” from somewhere, and appeared from the deck above. He took Harry’s case out for them, dropping it to the ground next to the grim professor.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They had come to a stop in an old-fashioned looking village of squat stone houses. It was still early morning, but there were a few people wandering around in strange colourful clothes and tall hats like the people on the bus.

Even stranger were the birds which were flying along the street. Harry blinked at them, confused, were they all owls? Some of them even looked like they were carrying newspapers, or letters, in their claws.

Harry picked up his case, noticing that Snape was looking impatient again. The man was looking down a path leading out of town, then he turned to look at the village they were on the edge of. He nodded to himself, glancing down at his charge.

“Come.” He said, walking towards the houses.

 

Harry followed, struggling a little with the unwieldly case. It was a bit cumbersome, when a backpack would have contained Harry’s meagre belongings. 

They walked past a few quiet shops, and a relatively bustling post office (which also seemed to be selling owls, to Harry’s confusion), turning down a side street as they went. Harry kept his eyes peeled for the school, but none of the buildings was much larger than a house. Snape led him to a shop with a peeling sign, with a gruesome picture of a bloody pig’s head swinging in a light wind.

 

Coming in the door, Harry could smell the sweet smell of warm, spilled beer, and Harry realised that the shop was actually a pub. There was only one person there this early in the day, a bearded old man with bright eyes who standing behind the bar and wiping at the counter top half-heartedly with an already grimy looking cloth.

 

“Snape.” The man said gruffly. “Why do I have the misfortune of seeing you this early in the morning? And with some little brat too.”

 

Harry wondered if that meant the two men got on.

 

“I need a place to speak with the boy before I bring him up to the school.” Snape explained. “We will take a black coffee and a tea.”

“Only got goat milk for the tea at any rate, so you will just have to put up with that.”

 

“Fine.” Snape said dismissively. Harry wrinkled his nose.

 

“Who is the lad anyway?” The man squinted at Harry, “Someone important? They usually come in on the train though. And they like to get all the muggleborns to the school as fast as they can to save them vanishing again.”

 

“He isn’t important.” Snape said flatly. “But you will know of him. Aberforth, this is Harry Potter.”

 

The old man blinked slowly, staring at Harry, who looked back with interest. Why would this old man know who Harry was.

 

“Good morning Mister...” Harry trailed off as he realised he didn’t know the man’s surname. “Sir.”

 

“Mr Sir, is it?” He snorted. “I’m not a mister anything, Potter. You call me Aberforth, if you have to. Not that you’ll be back in here until you’re of age, if you’ve any brains.”

 

“We require a table, and some privacy.” Snape said pointedly.

 

“Yes, yes.” The old man waved them away.

 

Snape led them to a table away from the roaring fireplace, and the bar. “There is always someone listening through the fire.” He said, as if that made any sense, sitting himself down. Two greasy looking mugs appeared on the table.

 

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he sat down quickly, taking the mug closest to him and tapping it to see if it was real. It was totally solid! He tried the tea inside quickly and scalded his tongue on the boiling drink. He couldn’t taste it because it was so hot, but he thought he could smell the goat milk. 

 

Snape waved his wand in a circle around them, and Harry was aware of a slight buzzing noise. He saw Aberforth by the bar put a finger in one ear and twist it about, before glaring at Snape, irritated.

 

“He cannot hear us now.” Snape said. “Shut up and listen now, Potter, or I will make you shut up. What I am about to tell you is highly sensitive information, which most of your classmates will know of already. It concerns you, and you would be wise to pay attention.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it and nodded instead. Snape had had no problem using magic to keep the Dursleys quiet, Harry really didn’t want that to happen to him.

 

“As I told you, you are a wizard. Your relatives, obviously, are not magical. However, your mother and father were a witch and wizard.”

Harry’s jaw dropped again, and only Snape’s hand still being on his wand kept him from speaking.

 

“Your parents were… rebels of a sort. Vigilantes, fighting against a political movement which they disagreed with. There was one man in particular – we refer to him as our Lord- whom they targeted. There was a fight in their home when you were little over a year old, your parents both perished, and a curse struck you. This curse reflected and caused the temporary destruction of this Lord.”

 

“…” Harry gaped. How could destruction of a person be temporary? And his parents were killed in their own house? What kind of fight was that?

 

“The world carried on for a few years, and there were a few struggles in that time. The then headmaster of Hogwarts placed you with your muggle family, against the wishes of the people, and took control of the government. But our Lord was restored to himself, and freed the people from this Headmaster.”

 

Harry frowned why would a teacher of a school take charge of a country? And why would he have anything to do with what happened to Harry?

 

“Our Lord was later elected as our minister for magic – like the muggle prime minister. There is a new headmaster at Hogwarts, and the school is run a little differently to how it was in the past. Do you understand all of that?”

 

Harry blinked, assuming this was permission to ask questions, “My parents were killed by this man who’s now in charge of the country? Because they fought along with some other person who broke the law?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And I got hit by a spell that somehow killed the prime minister, but it’s okay, because he’s alive again?”

 

Snape picked at his nails carefully, not looking at Harry. “Minister for magic. You still have the scar, if you require proof.”

 

Harry’s hand went to his forehead, and the lightning bolt scar that he had had for as long as he could remember. He thought hard for a minute.

 

“So does this Minister guy hate me then? Is that why you’re warning me?”

 

Snape frowned, scraping away at a particularly yellow fingernail. “He is allowing you to come to Hogwarts to be educated. I do not believe he would allow that if he thought you were a threat to him.”

 

Harry couldn’t imagine that a scrawny ten year old would be much of a threat to a grown man who knew magic. He certainly hadn’t been much of a match for Snape this morning.

 

“However, it is true that some of the Minister’s supporters do some animosity towards you due to the roughly four years he was gone. There are also rebels, more like terrorists, who disagree with the minister’s views, who might be looking to have you as a figurehead for their efforts.”

 

Harry was speechless.

 

“I should warn you of course, that any attempts on your behalf to make contact with these rebels might alter the Minister’s assessment of the threat you pose to the country.  I wouldn’t count on your continued education if that were to occur.”

 

Harry nodded carefully, privately concerned about his continued existence if he pissed off this minister guy.

 

“However, if you prove to be studious, I expect you are likely to do as well as any other child from a non-magical family. Your parents were… not unintelligent at school. I suspect they were corrupted by our previous Headmaster.”

 

“What were they called?” Harry asked. Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry knew he thought he was asking about his parents “No – I mean, this minister, and this headmaster.”

 

“We do not speak their names.” Snape said firmly.

 

“Why?” Harry scrunched up his nose, “That sounds stupid.”

 

Snape frowned, “We do not use the minister’s name out of respect. The Headmaster’s name is banned, as an effort to discourage rebellion. Using either name will get you in trouble – with the teachers at Hogwarts, or with Aurors’ assistants if you are in public.”

 

Snape pulled a sheet of curled up paper from the pocket of his coat, and what looked like a short, battered feather. He wrote down three words. Two names, by the look of it.

 

“Do not read these aloud. I will be unimpressed if you call the Aurors’ Assistants here,” Snape warned, pushing the paper across the table to Harry.

 

Voldemort

Albus Dumbledore

 

 “Which one’s which?” Harry asked.

 

“The first is the minister – Our Lord. The second is that old headmaster. I should tell you that we are currently in the company of his brother.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, spinning in his seat to look for the barkeeper. He seemed to have left the room, however. “So that’s why he only has one name? Because nobody can say his surname?”

 

The professor nodded.

 

“That’s got to be really…”

 

“Inconvenient?” Snape suggested, “Undoubtedly so. However, everyone knows he is the Headmaster’s brother- the wizarding world is a small, albeit growing community. Everyone knows that he is simply ‘Aberforth’, and why. I imagine it was more inconvenient for those who had to change their first name.”

 

“Can you tell me about the school?” Harry asked, “You said it was different now? How is it different?”

 

“You have been assigned a student mentor, who will be able to explain all of this to you when we arrive at the castle. Besides which, it shall not be different to you, as you have no expectations for it. We had best be moving on. I must return to my other duties.”

 

“You mean getting more students?”

 

“No.” Snape waved his wand, and the faint buzzing disappeared. “You are the only student I am assigned to collect. I am the depute headmaster of Hogwarts, and as such shall co-ordinate the efforts of the other professors today. And manage any complications.”

 

“Oh.” So Snape had come out specially to drag Harry from his cupboard. Harry wondered whether this ‘Voldemort’ had sent him himself.  And Snape was the depute headmaster? He hadn’t mentioned that before.

 

They left the pub without seeing Aberforth again, but Snape left a few oddly shaped coins on top of the bar for their drinks.

 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They walked along the path where they had been dropped off the bus, Harry digesting all of the new information he had swirling around in his head, and Snape probably pretending that he didn’t have Harry trailing along just behind him, struggling with his case.

 

“You need to be careful.” Snape said, in such a sudden way that Harry stopped walking, thinking there was an imminent hazard. When nothing happened, Harry felt like an idiot and had to jog a few steps to catch up with Snape, who hadn’t waited for him.

 

“Careful how? Sir?”

 

“Careful at school, careful around wizards. Careful about what you say and what you do, and how you do it.” Snape folded his arms, not slowing down. “And never assume that the Dark Lord is unaware of what you do. He has, and will continue to take a special interest in you, and you would do well to be cautious around him.”

 

Harry was confused, “But what shouldn’t I do? Or say? I won’t ever see him, will I?”

 

“He comes to the Hogwarts gauntlet, annually.” Snape said. “I doubt He will seek you out then, but you should do your best to not stand out. Be mediocre without being hopeless, or else you must be brilliant and be perfect. Having met you, I suspect you should aim for mediocre. More generally, you should not misbehave, or say anything seditious.”

 

“Sedi-what?”

 

“Treasonous.” Snape said shortly. “Even in jest.”

 

Harry contemplated this, looking around at the path they were taking. They were walking along a shelf of a hill, which led up into a forest on one side, and a long drop to a lake on the other. There were strange noises coming from the forest, which looked like it got much thicker and darker as it went on. Thankfully, the path stayed quite close to the lake’s shore.

 

He caught a glimpse of brickwork far in the distance. “Is that it?”

Harry was quite excited in a way – if incredibly nervous – to see this new school where he would be spending the next year of his life.

 

Snape glanced in the direction he was pointing. “That’s the west wall, I think. You will see it properly in a minute if you stop dawdling and get a move on.”

 

Harry practically ran around the corner of the path, feeling Snape’s disapproving eyes on his back all the while. Then he saw it.

 

The castle was huge! Much bigger than Harry had expected. It rose up taller than any flats Harry had ever seen. Like a huge cathedral Harry had been to on a free school trip once. But it took up so much more space too, sprawling out, bigger than any building Harry had ever seen.

 

Snape caught up to Harry and kept going, still at that same pace. Harry remembered to breathe, and stumbled after him, down the path. They lost sight of all but some of the tallest towers as they went down the hill, the big castle walls blocking them from sight.

 

They came to some gates, which looked too heavy for any one person to move, but some tapping from Snape’s wand was all that was needed for them to swing obligingly open by themselves.

 

Harry got an even better view walking along the path up to the castle. The forest was shut out by the walls, and Harry was able to see the whole building. Now it was clear that there were also greenhouses, and a building by the lake, and some sort of stadium off in the distance.

 

It was in the direction of this stadium that they headed now, away from what looked like the main doors of the castle. As they got closer, Harry saw it was actually a tent, in yellow and orange stripes. Like a big version of the drawings Harry had seen of medieval jousting events. Harry mentioned this to Snape.

 

“An old duelling tent.” Snape said briefly, “During the summer term, we use the tent for tournament duels. Or else the quidditch pitch, or Great Hall, or shore of the lake, and suchlike.”

 

“Quidditch?”

 

“An inane sport those children were prattling about on the Knight Bus. A ball game played on brooms with unnecessarily complex rules. The matter at hand, however is what we use this tent for in the summer.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes.” Snape’s face was blank. “You will have this explained to you shortly, but before term starts, you will stay in this tent. You will have a mentor, who will attempt to educate you on certain aspects of magic, in preparation for running the gauntlet- a task you must undertake to be admitted to Hogwarts.”

 

“A task? But you wanted me to come? Why bother to collect everyone if you’re gonna send loads of us away again?”

 

“We only want the best students attending Hogwarts. If you are not capable of a simple task, then you do not deserve to be here.” Snape said nastily.

 

“Will I have to do magic for this thing?” Harry asked, nervous. He had never cast magic on purpose in his life.

 

“It is usually not necessary at this stage. However, most gauntlets require at the very least an understanding of the very basics of magical theory. Inside now.”

 

Snape reached out, and pulled aside the flap of the tent, gesturing for Harry to precede him.

 

To be continued...


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=3889