This method had borne fruit, obviously, as Harry was now sharing something with Severus that he had not even asked about.
"Harry," he said at last, when it was obvious the boy had closed down. "I would like to know where you got that information." There; he'd not confirmed anything, as he could not, with Albus' oaths of secrecy weighing heavy on him, but he'd not outright accused the boy of making things up, either.
Harry seemed to accept his words as the peace offering they were, and turned to face him again. He refused to meet Severus' eyes, though, the same as he had done for the last two weeks. "Just figured it out, sir," he said quietly, picking at the skin around one thumbnail. "Me and some friends did. Figured out that Fluffy's an, er . . . a cerberus, and's guarding something. And in that vision, of the unicorns, you know? I got the sense that You-Know-Who wanted whatever it was that Fluffy's guarding."
Severus' eyes narrowed. "Was it just a feeling, or did you actually hear His thoughts about this thing?"
"Just a feeling," Harry said. He closed his eyes, as if remembering, and his voice was tight as he continued, "Was all just feelings, really. But some're more clear than others. Like, I knew when he was chasing it that the unicorn blood would keep him alive for a while, but not long enough. And that's when I got the sense about whatever Fluffy's guarding. That he needed it, to make himself live longer."
"Good. Thank you." Severus looked away. This was bad, but he had suspected as much, and he was very glad Harry had told him. "I'll inform the Headmaster--"
"What? No! I--"
The boy's face was so stricken, that Severus interrupted quickly, "Not that you gave me the information, Harry. I wouldn't betray your trust like that. I will only tell him that we need to double check the protections, all right?"
"Yeah, okay." Harry ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean--"
"It's all right. No need to apologize." Severus drew the packet of pictures out of his desk drawer. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Harry freeze, then sit straighter. "What would you like to see?"
Harry leaned forward eagerly. "The one of Mum at the Quidditch game?"
Severus smiled to himself. He was quite fond of that one, too. He shuffled through the pictures to find the one of that rather cloudy day, where Lily's smile seemed to light up everything around her.
He had just located that picture and brought it to the front of the pack when a hesitant voice said, "I lived in a cupboard."
Very carefully not changing his expression, though his jaw wanted to clench as much as his fists, Severus finished moving the picture to the top of the pile and placed the pictures on his desk. He glanced at Harry to see that the boy was staring at his hands in his lap. "Oh?" he said, the merest hint of curiosity tingeing his tone.
"Yeah. The one under the stairs, where Aunt Petunia kept cleaning things for the house. Was my bedroom till I got my Hogwarts letter, and . . . and where they sent me when I was bad, too. But when the letter came, then they thought someone was watching, so they let me have Dudley's second bedroom."
Still trying not to react too much, or frighten Harry's confession into silence, Severus nodded slowly. "Why did they think someone was watching?" He was almost positive that Albus had not been, or, if he had, Severus almost did not want to know it. He didn't think he could handle it if Albus had known about the horror the boy had been through and had done nothing to aid him.
"'Cause of the way the letter was addressed," Harry said, and he moved his chair slightly so he could see the picture Severus had laid out, both of them acting as casual as could be, as if what they were saying meant so very little.
"What way was that?" Severus tilted the picture towards him, just a touch, and when Harry could see it, he smiled, just a touch.
Harry reached to take the picture, and Severus let him. He held it out in front of himself like it was a letter. "It said, 'To Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive,' and all the rest of it. They were real upset."
"Your aunt and uncle?"
Harry nodded. "Uncle Vernon took the letter and wouldn't let me have it, even though it was mine. He and Aunt Petunia threw us out of the kitchen, me and Dudley, and they were whispering that maybe 'they' were spying on them, since 'they' knew about my cupboard. That night, he came and visited me in my cupboard, but he'd never done that before."
"Did your uncle . . . do anything to you?" Severus asked quietly. He would kill the man without qualms, if he had.
Harry laid the picture flat and once again ran his fingers over the edge, as if he could somehow go through to the other side if he wished it hard enough. His expression was rather wistful as he gazed at his mother. Severus knew, could he see his own expression, it might be the same.
Finally, Harry said, "No. Not really. I mean . . . he told me the letter was addressed to me by mistake, but I said it wasn't, on account of the mention of my cupboard. But he'd burnt it, he said, then told me he thought my cupboard might be getting a bit small, so I should have Dudley's second bedroom now. I asked him why, but I knew . . . I knew they were feeling guilty, really, 'cause you're not supposed to keep kids in cupboards. I just wanted to hear him say it, and that they were sorry. But he didn't. They weren't. He just he yelled at me to be silent, that I wasn't to ask questions, and I should get my stuff up there straight away. So I did." An odd sort of smile crossed the boy's lips and then was gone just as quickly. "Dudley was awful mad the next day. Screamed a lot and hit Uncle Vernon with his Smeltings stick, and even made himself sick on purpose, but they wouldn't give him back his second bedroom."
Ah. Severus recognized the smile now. Schadenfreude. "So how did you get your letter?" he asked, curious now.
"Hagrid had to bring it to me. Uncle Vernon tried for days to keep them from coming into the house. I got three the day after that first one, and they were addressed to me as being in the smallest bedroom, so the Dursleys were sure someone was spying on them then." Harry seemed to be warming to the subject, at the same time as he continued to look at the photo of the his mother in the stands at the Quidditch pitch. "Then Uncle Vernon drove us all over, and finally rowed us out to this little island in the middle of nowhere, where it was stormy and smelt like seaweed, and all we had were some crisps and bananas. And at midnight, right on the minute of when my birthday started -- I could see Dudley's watch, he'd gotten a digital one on his birthday, and it glowed in the dark -- Hagrid came booming through the door." Harry grinned, shaking his head. "I'd never seen anyone so huge! He gave Dudley a fright, for certain. Then he gave me my letter, told me I was down for Hogwarts since the day I was born. He brought me a birthday cake he'd baked, too, first one I ever had, and even made sure Dudley didn't eat it all, so I got some."
Severus nodded. That last bit jibed with what he'd heard about Hagrid's trip to collect the Boy Who Lived after it was close to the deadline to hear back from students, and Potter had not responded to his official Hogwarts acceptance letter. Severus had sneered then, at the foolishness of arrogant little boys who couldn't be bothered to correspond with their betters . . . but he knew better now.
"And so," Severus said carefully, hopefully, "they still let you stay in the second bedroom after Hagrid brought you home again?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "No more cupboards."
"Not even for punishment?" he asked softly, glancing at the boy beside him. He had not told Harry he'd overheard him talking to his owl about being locked in the cupboard for a week without food. It would not have surprised him to hear the horrid Muggles had used the threat of it at least.