ground.
But for now, Severus nodded, and the boy grinned and went back to his explorations. The wardrobe was already hung with his clothes, and the full sized bed was draped in blue and gold curtains. A trunk at the end of the bed held extra quilts, and Harry used a shelf on the wall to arrange his collection of dragons, as well as his Gobstones, which Dappin had taught him how to play with. The house elf had become very fond of Harry, Severus knew, and was most upset to be left behind at Spinner's End.
This room even had its own bathroom, and though not as grand as the master bath, it was large enough for a sunken tub, basin and toilet. Rather than looked pleased, however, Harry stood in the door of the bathroom and stared, lip between his teeth.
With a frown, Severus surveyed the room, and the boy, before he realized what was wrong. 'Move back a bit, Harry,' he said, and Harry startled, but did as he was told. Severus drew his wand and in a few swishes and one flick, he transfigured the tub into a wide shower instead, the glass paneling covered with brooms chasing after golden snitches.
'Thank you, sir,' Harry breathed.
Severus nodded again. They were going to have to discuss this particular fear of Harry's one day. But not now. Today, they had other things to address. One that he'd been putting off for some time, and another, newer development.
'Come out to the sitting room. We need to talk,' he said, and the boy obeyed, looking suddenly fearful. To reassure him, he said, 'You're not in trouble. We just have to . . . I have some things I need to discuss with you.'
Looking slightly less nervous, but not at ease by any means, Harry stood in the sitting room, in front of the chair Severus settled into, until Severus waved him into a seat on the davenport. Putting up a privacy charm, to prevent any eavesdropping by Meddling Old Codgers, he peered around the room again.
The accommodations here were quite nice, really. The furniture was in neutral tones, and of a comfortable level of plushness for one's back. The walls were lined with built-in bookshelves, and there was plenty of space for more bookcases, should he need them. He probably would. A small private potions lab lay at the end of the hall, opposite his own bedroom, which was next to Harry's. There was a study as well as this sitting room and a small kitchen. For the most part, they would avail themselves of the house elves' cooking, but every once in a while, he liked to make his own tea, thank you very much.
Once his gaze returned to Harry, sitting with his hands neatly folded in his lap, still looking for all the world as if he were about to be chastised, Severus sighed a little. 'Harry, look at me, please.'
The boy lifted his gaze, but not his head, and Severus found himself staring at Lily's eyes, through shaggy bangs the color of coal. He was very glad after the adoption ritual that the boy still had her eyes, even though every time he saw them, he felt a pang for the chance he'd lost so long ago.
Choosing his words carefully, Severus said, 'We talked very briefly before, about your parents and how they died, do you remember?'
Harry nodded. 'You said they lied, my Aunt and Uncle did. That my Mum and Dad weren't really in a car accident.'
'Correct.' Severus unclenched his hands and made himself take a deep breath. If this was hard for him, he could only imagine how it must be for Harry! 'The dreams you have . . . the lady you see in them is Lily. Your mother.'
Harry's face paled as if he'd been slapped. 'I hear her
'Yes, child. Your parents – James and Lily – died when you were just a baby. The green light you see in your dream, that is called the Killing Curse. It's magic, but the very worst kind of magic. A Dark Wizard used that curse to kill them.'
His mouth a little O, Harry stared at Severus as if he'd never seen him before. Severus waited, as Harry's brows drew down into a scowl reminiscent of his own. A few minutes later, the boy said slowly, 'Aunt Petunia always said I . . . that I should've died with them. Did . . . did the Dark Wizard try to kill me, too?'
As gently as he could, Severus said, 'Yes, Harry. But he didn't succeed. He vanished instead, and you ended up with just that scar on your forehead.'
Harry clapped a hand to his scar. 'I thought I got it . . .'
'In the car accident?' Severus tried hard not to sneer at the very idea. But Harry only nodded, and so he continued, 'No. It's a curse scar, and will likely never fade. And many people in the Wizarding world know you survived the killing curse. They will know you by that scar.'
The boy looked so confused, Severus relented. 'I know it's a lot to take in, but Harry, you have to realize, no one else has ever survived that curse. The fact that you did, and that the Dark Lord has not been seen since the night he tried to kill you, makes you rather famous in our world. There are those who will fawn over you, those who will expect much more from you, and there are those who will not believe you capable of such magic and will resent you for it.'
He paused, and considered whether to say more, but he had to, if he were to properly address the next issue. 'And then there are those who followed the Dark Lord, who will be . . . less enthusiastic about the fact that you sent him scurrying. Those people, you will need to be careful of. I will protect you to the best of my ability, of course. But you will have to be vigilant as well.'
'Vigilant?'
'On your guard. Even here, at Hogwarts, I'm afraid. Some of the children here have parents who once followed the Dark Lord. Of course, many of them say they were forced to act against their will, but . . .' He sighed, and stopped. There was no reason to get into the reasons why some Death Eaters were in Azkaban and others were not. It was enough – perhaps even too much – for the boy to know they were still out there.
'Will they try and kill me?' The question was so earnest, and serious, from such a young, innocent face that Severus wanted to scream from the unfairness of it all. This boy had been through so much, in his short life. Unloved, uncared for, aside from his first year, abused and neglected, then uprooted from everything familiar and told his parents were murdered . . .
But he owed Harry the truth. 'They might,' he said softly. 'You will need to be very careful around them, and it is possible no one will mean you harm. But you will also be under my protection,' he reminded him. 'And I will
