“Harry Hunting,” Harry said quietly.
“It was a game my cousin Dudley and his friends invented. They’d count to ten to give me a head start. Then they’d chase me. If they caught me, they’d knock me down and kick me until they got bored. They started playing it when I was six.”
Snape said nothing, so Harry continued, voice steady.
“In the summers they had a special variation.
Dudley’s Aunt Marge would visit.
She bred dogs and always brought her pit bull, Ripper.
Instead of chasing me themselves, they’d sic the dog on me.
I still have the bite scar from when I was seven—before I was tall or fast enough to climb trees.
From the time I was about four, I cooked for the Dursleys, cleaned for them, did all the yard work.
Sometimes they’d deliberately spill things on the floor after I’d finished my chores, just so I wouldn’t have any free time.
At night I slept in a boot cupboard.
My medical records show one broken arm, a fractured collarbone, and at least four cracked ribs.
Until I started primary school at six, I literally thought my name was ‘Freak,’ because that’s all anyone ever called me.
The night before school began, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia sat me down and explained that other people would call me Harry Potter, so I shouldn’t look surprised—but in their house, I should expect nothing but ‘Freak’ or ‘Boy.’ As near as I can tell, all of it happened simply because James Potter, Lily Potter, and Albus Dumbledore decided keeping me around was inconvenient.
It would have complicated the far more important task of raising the Boy-Who-Lived into the wonderful specimen of humanity he is today.”
Harry stood and picked up his book bag.
“I haven’t told you any of this because I expect pity. Certainly not because I expect you to do anything about it. I’ve never met an adult who helped me in any meaningful way. But I want you to understand one thing: You. Have. No. Idea. What it means to hate James Potter.”
He walked to the door and opened it.
“Until next class, sir.”
“Potter.” Harry turned back.
Snape hesitated, then sneered.
“Your hair looks ridiculous. Like some lazy Gryffindor who just rolled out of bed. Get it sorted before you embarrass your House any further.”
Harry nodded curtly and left.
“Oh, Lily,” he whispered into the empty room.
“What have you done?”
Later, while Harry was at lunch, Hedwig arrived carrying a thick legal envelope.
He tore it open eagerly and began poring over the parchments, absently eating a sandwich as he read.
“What’s that, Potter?” Draco asked.
“Documents from my solicitor. Speaking of which, remind me to send your parents a thank-you note. They were very helpful.”
“My pleasure.” Draco glanced toward the entrance as the Gryffindors arrived late.
Some were chatting amiably, others looked upset, and the youngest Weasley appeared absolutely murderous.
The eldest Weasley looked equally angry, but his glare was directed at his younger brother.
Then Draco noticed Jim was missing.
He scanned the staff table—Snape had entered late with a satisfied expression.
Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lily Potter were absent.
Draco pointed this out to Harry, who merely raised an eyebrow.
“Interesting.” “That’s not the only interesting thing, Potter,” a third-year remarked.
“I heard your dad Apparated in just before lunch. All the Potters together… except you, of course.” The boy laughed rudely.
Harry frowned at the casual use of “dad,” then straightened with a spark of excitement in his eyes.
“James Potter is here? Where?”
“After the spectacle his son—the other one—made in Potions, I imagine he’s in the Headmaster’s office with McGonagall, Professor Potter, and Junior,” Draco said.
“Why do you care? I didn’t think you wanted to see any of them, and after Monday I doubt he wants to see you.”
Harry sifted through the solicitor’s documents until he found a rolled grey parchment, which he slipped into his pocket.
He stuffed the rest into his bag.
“What he wants is irrelevant, Mr. Malfoy. All that matters is what he deserves. Total war, remember?” With that, Harry practically sprinted out of the Great Hall toward the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office.
He sat down, composed himself, and waited.
The moment James saw Harry, his face darkened.
So did Jim’s.
“What do you want?” Jim hissed.
“Nothing from you, little brother.” Harry drew the scroll with a flourish and handed it to his father.
James snatched it, unrolled it, and his eyes widened.
“You’ve filed an injunction? Against Lily or myself interfering with your schooling or inheritance? Or even speaking to you without your Head of House present? You mean Snivellus?! Why, you little bastard—”
“James!” Lily snapped.
“You should listen to her, Father. You just slandered her, your other son, and me with that remark.” Harry’s voice was calm.
“I had planned to give that to Mother and owl you a copy, but seeing your face in person is infinitely better.”
“Do you really think this little stunt will accomplish anything?” James growled.
“In case you’ve forgotten, Dumbledore is Chief Warlock. He’ll never allow it.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. The moment you broke the seal and read the title, it alerted my solicitor that service had been completed. As we speak, he’s filing a motion to force Dumbledore to recuse himself from any matters involving our family due to clear conflict of interest. After all, Father, you told me it was his idea to ship me off to the Dursleys for ten years.”
“Harry,” Lily interrupted gently, “I know you’re upset, and I don’t blame you. But isn’t this a bit extreme?”
“Oh, hello, Mother. It’s nice to finally hear you speak to me instead of ignoring me across the Great Hall.” Harry’s tone remained polite.
“No, this isn’t extreme.
Threatening to snap my wand in front of hundreds of witnesses was extreme.
Promising to send me back to be beaten and abused by your relatives and illegally disinherit me was extreme.
All because I was sorted into a House you dislike—the same one your boss Rufus Scrimgeour was once in.
That is extreme.
This?
This is simple self-preservation.” He turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Enjoy your weekend, Potters.
I know I will.”
And once again, he smiled.