jharad17 - Whelp

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!? RELEASE MY SON AT ONCE!!"

The air crackled like just before a thunderstorm, but he wasn't scared. His father was here now, and he could let go.

---

TBC . . .with trouble for Filch, an explanation of Harry magic, and a trip to the Malfoys. Fun, fun, fun!

A/N:New chapter should be up by Wednesday. Thanks to everyone who's been so supportive of this story; I lavish chocolate upon you!

*Chapter 16*: Chapter 16

Whelp -- Chapter 16

By jharad17

Disclaimer: I'm not blond, nor rich. 'Nuff said.

A/N:In honor of the 500th review (Holy Cannolis!), here's a newly minted chapter for your enjoyment. Next one really will be Wednesday. Or Thursday, depending on how fast I write. Thank you all, so much!

---

Daddy came for me. That was Harry's first thought upon waking. The second was that his head hurt. He was in a bedroom, not chained in the backyard, and when he opened his eyes, just to peek, he saw he was in his bedroom, the new one at the castle. His glasses were on the nightstand and he stretched out for them and pushed them onto his nose.

That's when he heard the voices. Loud ones. Angry ones. Out in the sitting room, down the hall. Father, and . . . and the Headmaster.

"—want him dismissed , Albus! The way he manhandled the boy . . . almost choked him to death. I won't have him near Harry. I won't have it!"

"Don't you think you've done enough to the man already, Severus? Be reasonable! I know Argus was harsh, but he didn't know who Harry was—"

"In Merlin's name, why not? You knew we would be here today. Didn't you tell him?"

"I informed the entire staff, of course. But I suspect he didn't--"

"Didn't what? Care a whit who the child was or that he had every right to be there? If Nelli hadn't come to me immediately, I don't know what would have happened."

There was a long pause, and the Headmaster's voice was much quieter when he spoke again. Harry crept to the doorway and listened, like he'd always done back at the Dursely's, from within his cupboard. "What of the Patronus message?"

"Harry sent it. A cry for help." Father sounded sad all of a sudden. Harry couldn't remember sending any message, just the bright shock of light and then his father, there, saving him. "It would have come too late. He had passed out when I reached him, as it was."

But you saved me, Daddy , Harry wanted to tell him. It wasn't too late.

"I doubt he would have let it go further than that. He's already powerful--"

"Albus . . ." There was a warning note in his father's voice, that Harry could hear loud and clear; it was rarely so low and sharp at the same time. "You have no idea what those Muggles put him through. It went on quite far enough without his magic kicking in to save him. It's quite possible Filch could have killed him without Harry fighting him at all. You'll notice his spell work has not been geared toward getting him out of a situation, but towards mitigating it instead. The Silencing spell, to keep his suffering to himself? And then sending a message instead of just striking that bastard dead!"

Harry couldn't contain his gasp. He knew they were talking about him, and his accident magic, and he hated that his father sounded so upset about his Silencing, when he'd thought it was okay for him to do it now. But he couldn't kill anyone, even if they were really, really mean! Even the Dark Wizard who killed your parents? a little voice wondered. Harry told the little voice to shut up , even as the door opened wide to reveal his father staring down at him.

"Did you hear enough?" Father asked, his voice still cold and hard as glass.

Making himself stand his ground instead of darting behind the bed to hide, Harry nodded shakily. "Y-y-yes, sir."

Father lifted one eyebrow and took hold of Harry's shoulder, propelling him into the sitting room. He was angry. And Harry deserved his anger, he knew, for eavesdropping and for being in the Great Hall. "Sorry, sir," he said. "I'm sorry."

But his father didn't answer, just kept that one hand on his shoulder, kept moving them inexorably toward the Headmaster. Just like that scowly man had said he was doing. And the Headmaster would hang him in chains! He dragged his feet and tried to push back against his father. "I'm sorry! Please, sir, I didn't mean to look at the sky! Please , don't put the collar on again!"

The hand abruptly left his shoulder, and he fell backwards, against the wall of the short hallway. He gasped again as the ache in his head pounded harder.

"What?!" Father asked. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

"The man – he – he said – Headmaster would – would put – put me in chains, sir," Harry told him, between gasps. But he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't ! "Please, don't, sir. I'll be good, I promise!"

"Oh, child." His father crouched in front of him, where he was half curled up on the floor. When he tried to put a hand on Harry's head, though, Harry jerked sideways, away from him. Father withdrew his hand. "There will be no collar , never again. Mister Filch is . . ." Father gritted his teeth; Harry could hear them grind against one another. "He is not a nice man. He will never do any such thing to you. And neither would the Headmaster."

"No, sir," Harry said, because he was supposed to, but he couldn't help making it sound like a question.

"That's right. I would never allow it." Father sat back on his heels and held out his hand. "Please get up, Harry. I am not angry with you ."

Harry bit his lip and looked into his father's dark eyes again but didn't take the hand, not yet. "I didn't know I couldn't look at the sky, sir. Is it a new rule?"

"No. It's not a rule at all. Mister Filch acted inappropriately." He threw a look over his shoulder. "The Headmaster will punish him for laying hands on you when he should not have. Or else I'll do it myself."

"Really, sir?"

"Really," Father said. "And what are you supposed to call me?"

"Father," Harry whispered.

"That's right. Now, would you like some water or something to eat?"

"Yes, sir, but . . . Father, aren't you mad at me?"

Father dropped his gaze to his hands and shook his head. "I was worried about you. When I saw . . . I am very angry with Mister Filch. But not you, Harry, you did nothing wrong."

"But I listened . At the door. It's like spying and only sneaky little bastards do that."

Father paled and jerked back. "Where did you . . . who said such a thing to you?"

"Aunt Petunia. In my cupboard, I listened to them when they yelled, 'cause sometimes it was about me, and I . . . I had to know ." He didn't want to say why, that if he didn't know what they were yelling about, or what they were planning to do to him, then he couldn't be prepared. Whatever happened, it was always easier to deal with if he was prepared. "But she caught me at it, and told me I was spying on them. Said it's only for sneaky little bastards like me."

Father was quiet for a long moment, and didn't meet Harry's eyes. Then, finally, he looked up. "This is a difficult one, Harry," he said. "First of all, you are not a 'sneaky little bastard.' That's another one of her lies. But . . . it's true that it's rude to listen in on conversations that you aren't involved in. It's just not your business. But sometimes . . . sometimes , it can be very important to do so. Remember how we were discussing how you have to be very careful around some people?"

Harry nodded. "Like the Malfoys."