Fellowship & Fairydust

By LastCrazyHorn

Word Count: 105891

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.

“Severus, I need to talk to you,” Poppy called to him.

They had just concluded Harry’s post-dragon medical exam, and were about to leave for breakfast when Poppy had interrupted them.

“I can wait for you?”  Harry offered, glancing at him and then back at Moody with a smile.

“No, you go on.  I’m sure Moody will make sure you eat all your vegetables,” Severus answered with a grin.

“Vegetables?  For breakfast?  That sounds . . . that sounds . . .” Harry started with a frown.

“Terrible, lad.  The word you’re looking for is, ‘terrible.’” Moody interjected, putting an arm around him and leading him out the door.

“Poppy, what is it?” Severus asked.

“These test results don’t make sense given what you’ve told me,” Poppy answered, her face uncharacteristically grave.

“I beg your pardon?”  

“He is still deaf in both ears,” She began.

“But he said it was better,” He argued with a frown.

“He is the same amount of deaf as he was in the beginning of the year, Severus,” Poppy answered in a hushed tone.  

Severus flinched.

“That doesn’t make any sense.  He said it was better. Why would he lie?”

“I don’t know, Severus.  Could he be utilising more of that latent legilimency you and Moody were telling me about?”  She asked, putting one hand on her hip as she stared up at him.

“I suppose?  But he does have a metamorphosis’ talents.  He demonstrated that for us all.”

Poppy nodded.

He thought furiously for a few moments more before speaking again.

“Could he be fooling himself into thinking he is ‘all better’ when he’s not?  What of his other injuries?”

“There have been other recorded instances–extraordinary ones, mind you–where a body’s magic has made it possible to absorb various enchanted objects into one’s own physical make-up.  Perhaps his forced transition to a dragon, and then back again, caused his body to do just that,” She stopped and stared off into space before refocusing with a grim smile.

“His legs register in my diagnostics as being his own.  And his fingers. And perhaps the scars are gone because he really did do as he said, and wished them gone.  But his hearing is the same; I just don’t know whether or not he is aware of it,” Poppy answered, a moue of frustration on her face.

Severus crossed his arms and scowled.  He turned and started to walk away, only to stop when another thought occurred to him.

“Perhaps, upon awakening and finding his other injuries gone . . .” His scowl deepened as he trailed off.  “Perhaps, it was important to him to be completely healed. Perhaps he thought that we expected it of him.”

“How will you ask him?”  Poppy asked.

He paused, his hand on the door he had been about to open.  

“I have an idea,” He answered, turning to back to smirk at her before exiting with a flash of his robes.

. . .

Pretending to be a hearing person around people who assumed he was as well was easy enough, if occasionally tricky.  Pretending to be a hearing person around people who thought his ears had gotten better was a touch harder.

It wasn’t that he had intended to lie, per se.  He had awoken alone in his bedroom within Severus’ quarters and had gotten the opportunity to take stock of his situation.  Clearly he had regained his humanity, and Harry had thanked whomever was listening for allowing him that small mercy.

Next, he had checked his hands and realised with some bewilderment that all of his fingers were once again present.  His pyjama bottoms had been yanked up then, and he had spent far too many precious heartbeats frozen in awe at the sight he had unveiled.  Two legs! Two legs that were both his and non-detachable!

Prodding at his face had revealed the presence of two spongy eyeballs, the scars on his face now stretched tightly around them.  And with another twist of his inner magic, even the scars had faded.

Except for his hearing, he was everything he’d wanted–everything he’d missed.  The thought made him angry. He could have three heads and he’d never have the approval of the Dursleys.  He’d never have the much vaunted happy childhood of his peers. He’d never . . . he’d never . . .

He remembered thinking that it had to be a dream, or perhaps yet another nightmare cooked up by Dumbledore to rob him of his happiness.  But it wasn’t. Dreams really did come true. He really could be something worthwhile. He didn’t have to be a freak anymore.

Tears stung his eyes as he remembered that morning.  Maybe he could blame the difference of his body parts as an aftereffect of the spell Dumbles had used.  He could show them his metamorphosis skills that he had refined while on the streets and show them how he’d gotten rid of the scars.  What he couldn’t do is explain why not all of him had been fixed, or why their brat was still a freak, even in light of all that had changed.

He tried to pretend with Pomfrey that all was well once more, but he had caught the gleam of disbelief in her eyes shortly after the last spell had left her lips.  

“You lied to them,” She accused him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He had denied.  

“Why did you lie?  They love you. I can see it.  A blind old turtle could see it, if he squinted enough.  Why did you lie to people who love you as you are?”

It had angered him that she had added that adjustment.  

Not me. The me that is me minus the parts of me that will never be again, his mind had muttered and rambled before fizzling into heartrending silence.

“Are we done?  It’s time for breakfast, is it not?”  He asked in a far too calm voice.

“We are going to talk about this again,” She said, her expression promising much more than that.

“If you want.”

. . .

Now it was after breakfast, after his uncomfortable evaluation, and he was traveling back toward their quarters to take a nap.  His body was still far too tired to hold itself up after so much magical exertion. The scars on his face were still there, even if he had hidden them away under his skin.  If he let himself get too exhausted, they would reappear. They would never reappear if he had anything to say about it.

Everything was falling into place.  He was a boy again. He had a family.  He could be everything he wanted–everything anyone wanted.

Severus had gone directly to Moody about ten minutes into breakfast and whispered something into the old man’s ear.  Whatever he had said had caused his granddad to pat his shoulder and then rush out the room. Severus had taken his place at the Slytherin  table , making students from all the different tables turn and stare at them until his dad had turned and glared back at them.

He had asked his dad about his conversation with Moody, but his damnable sire–er, father had been remarkably close-lipped about it.  

That is, until now.

“Would you like to come back to our quarters for a while before going and seeing your friends?”  Severus had asked him.

“Sure,” He said easily enough, feeling the scars trying to reform across his face.  

He was so tired.  It was hard having everything.  

And nothing , his subconscious gibbered at him.  He ruthlessly squashed that thought.

Their trip back was quiet, making him desperately paranoid that he was missing something.  

You should tell them.

He squashed that thought down too.

Moody was waiting for them on the other side of the door, and Harry fell into a hug with him without even thinking.   As such, he missed the presence of the other person within the room.

“ Harry,” Moody’s words went from sounding in his mind to registering within his eyes.  “I’ve brought you some more family ta meet.”

He stared with wide eyes at the woman standing across the room from them.  She had short grey hair and her left arm was about half the length of her right.  Then he looked at Moody and stared some more at the sight of the man smiling–actually smiling .  

He watched as the man crossed the room and enveloped her in a giant hug that made her smile.  

“This is me sister, Samantha Moody,” Moody said, using his hands to sign the same.

Harry staggered backward into Severus’ solid presence.  

“Hello,” The woman signed.  “I’m Moody’s sister. You can call me Aunt Sam, if you want.”

“You . . .” Harry’s voice closed up as angry tears filled his eyes.  “You don’t . . . speak?” He asked, signing his question with halting movements.

“I speak.  But not aloud,” She answered slowly, her shortened arm not seeming to hinder her motions very much.  

Harry realised that she had slowed her signs for him and wanted to beat his head on something.  

“I can understand fine.  I just don’t sign . . . much,” He signed and spoke aloud, for the benefit of his dad.  “Not too many people understand it. And . . . and now, I don’t, I don’t need . . . I.”  His eyes, which had been swimming with tears, finally let loose, and he spun around and mashed his face against Severus’ chest.  

He could hear his dad and granddad talking in his head, but it was muffled by the sounds of his sobs.  

Distantly, he felt Severus’ fingers slip under his armpits and then hoist him up, resting him on his dad’s hip like a child.  

“Is it so very bad to be deaf, little snake?”  His dad’s voice sounded in his head, louder than the rest of the noise filling his mind.

“When did you know?”

“Poppy.”  

He’d never liked that woman.

“But really, I would have figured it out soon enough.  Did you think you could fool me for long?”

He shook his head into Severus’ neck.  

“Why?”

His tears had slowed and he took a moment to scrub a hand under his glasses.  

“Why?”  Severus’ voice repeated within his mind.

He huffed in response and looked up at his father.  

“Because it was a miracle.  And I thought,” His face screwed up and he blinked hard against the sudden influx of tears.  “I thought that if it was going to be a real miracle, then it could solve everything.” He wiped at his tears angrily.  

“Everything, little snake?”  His dad asked, speech too precise to leave anything to doubt.

“I just–” He blinked hard again and swallowed hastily against the wave of water pushing against his throat.  “I just wanted to be normal,” He whispered. “I didn’t want to be the freak anymore. I just wanted to be normal.”  His tears dropped and he didn’t bother to wipe them.

“You’re not the freak anymore, little snake.  You’re our Harry,” Severus answered, carding a long fingered hand through his messy hair.  “And as our Harry, we know what we’re getting into. Whether it be dragon or hearing loss, or what-have-you.  You’re ours. And we want you as you are. No more hiding, please, little one. No more hiding.”

“You can’t mean that.  You’ve met me! You know I’m not right in the head.  You know I can’t just fit in with other people! I’m always going to be a disappointment!  I’m always going to be that kid you got dumped with! I’m no one’s prize. I just wanted to be something good for once.  So people could look at you and Moody, and Aunt Sam and think, ‘Wow, they sure lucky with that one. They sure got the prize on that one,’” Harry’s lips shook wildly as he cried, making his words nearly impossible to be understood.  

“Not like that freak he was before.  Not like that kid that no one wanted.  This,” He beat himself on the chest. “This kid though, you can be proud of him.  Not like that freak.”

His lips trembled and he buried his head in Severus’ shoulder.  

“This kid, eh Harry?” Severus’ voice broke, and the other two adults in the room saw that he wasn’t very much away from tears himself.  

“This kid is all I ever wanted.  I don’t want a self-aggrandizing hero or something that everyone else seems to think they have.  I want my Harry. I want the child that was willing to stand up for Longbottom and Bulstrode and Granger.  I want the child that made the Nott boy laugh. He never laughed much before now, and his mother wrote me before this term began, begging me to keep an eye on him.  But I didn’t need to, because you already had one there.”

“Hah hah, dad,” Harry’s voice was sarcastic in their shared mindspace.  

“I don’t want some cookie-cutter child with the perfect house and perfect family, because if I did, where would I be?  I’d be in a house alone. I wouldn’t have my Singe trying to trip me with his tail or protect me from a full grown dragon.”

Severus hand pushed itself under his chin and forced him to look up.

“I do not want anybody but you.  Do you understand, little snake? I only want you.  Like you are, regardless of the situation. Perfection is a dream world, little one.  I am not perfect, and your Granddad sure as hell isn’t.”

Harry cracked a smile at that and turned to look at Moody, who was still signing everything to his sister.

“What can I say, lad?”  Moody answered, when he finally looked up.  “I passed all of my perfect tendencies onto my grand dragon.”  

Harry snickered at this, and then laughed for what felt like a very long time.  

“I can’t wait for you to explain that comment to Aunt Sam,” He explained with a tired grin, his scars beginning to peek out around the edge of his glasses.  

Severus pressed a kiss to one of the nastiest looking scars on the side of Harry’s face, before moving carefully to drop himself and his son onto a nearby sofa.

“Do you love me, dad?”  

“Yes, little snake.  I love you so much,” Severus answered, wiping his son’s face with a light green linen handkerchief.  

“Even though I lied?”  

“Even though,” Severus confirmed, pulling his boy into his chest and pressing another kiss on his head.  

“We both love ya,” His grandfather’s voice boomed out across both of their minds.  

“Thank you.”  

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