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HRA# Chapter 4: Snape Berates Dumbledore
🕑 Added 2025-01-12 08:53:17 +0000 UTCFor Harry, life had temporarily settled into a calm rhythm.
He no longer had to endure the irritations caused by too many humans around him or worry about their intentions—after all, to his tribe, "humans" often meant insults, curses, or even drawn swords, usually culminating in bloodshed and death.
That was just how Azeroth was—the war between the Horde and the Alliance never ceased.
Since that day, no one had come to disrupt his life. In fact, after Aunt Petunia candidly confessed certain things about his mother, even his aunt and uncle's attitude toward him inexplicably improved over the following days.
—Harry didn’t even have to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs anymore.
Harry couldn't help but wonder what kind of memory modifications Dumbledore had performed on them. Aside from altering the memory of the house collapsing into a mere nightmare, had he done something else? Ultimately, Harry decided it wasn’t worth overthinking.
At least, for now, things were fine—weren’t they?
Harry’s days gradually began to improve. However, outside of Harry’s quiet little bubble, the magical world was anything but calm.
A flood of Howlers was delivered to the Minister of Magic’s office by owls, and even the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts couldn’t escape the bombardment. Dumbledore was under heavy fire for his supposed neglect of Harry Potter.
Take this very moment, for instance.
Only this time, the person berating Dumbledore wasn’t a Howler but a dark-robed man with a sallow, brooding countenance.
"You promised me, Dumbledore!!" A newspaper was slammed onto the desk of the headmaster’s office, its pages spread wide in righteous indignation. Spittle flew from the dark-robed man’s lips, some landing in Dumbledore’s silver beard. "You promised to take care of him!! And this is what happens?!"
“Oh, Severus, calm down… I seem to be telling people that a lot lately. Would you like some treacle pudding? Muggle desserts do have their charm.” Completely unfazed by the man’s fury, Dumbledore cheerfully pushed a plate of pudding toward him.
—Only for it to be unceremoniously swept to the floor the next second.
His anger burned uncontrollably in his chest.
“Living with cruel relatives, dressed like a house-elf, skin and bones—and he nearly turned into an Obscurial because of their abuse!” Snape, the dark-robed man whom Dumbledore had addressed as Severus, jabbed the newspaper toward Dumbledore’s face, his rage barely contained. “This is how you keep your promises?! This is your ‘care’?!”
“Oh, my pudding…” Dumbledore glanced mournfully at the dessert on the floor before sighing. “I must admit there’s some truth in that report, Severus. But we both know what kind of person Rita Skeeter is. I don’t mean to speak ill of her, but her credibility is… questionable.”
“Still,” he added, his tone shifting as if lost in thought, “how exactly did she get her hands on this story? Fascinating.”
On the newspaper before them, beneath the bold heading of The Daily Prophet, the most eye-catching element was a massive photo on the front page.
In the image, a boy stood amidst a pile of rubble, with a towering stone giant formed from the remains of the collapsed house. The boy—his expression calm, showing neither fear nor panic—stood resolute among the destruction.
And below the photo, in bold, striking letters, was the headline:
“Harry Potter—The Next Dumbledore?”
...Based on this reporter's investigation, the boy who survived the Dark Lord’s curse and led to his downfall has not been living well these past years. Not only is he physically frail compared to other boys his age, but his attire—please pardon my bluntness—makes him look like a pitiful house-elf…
...Forced to rise early and stand on a stool to cook breakfast for his Muggle relatives, burdened with all the household chores, and frequently subjected to scolding and punishment…
...Years of abuse by his Muggle relatives left the Boy Who Lived in an oppressive environment. It was only in the days leading up to his eleventh birthday that everything finally erupted—of course, according to interviews with Ministry officials, we can confirm that our young boy did not turn into an Obscurial.
“A magical outburst,” Ministry officials explained, “similar to what every young wizard experiences in times of crisis. As the child who defeated Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry Potter’s magical outburst is naturally far greater than that of his peers. This is perfectly reasonable. That stone giant he conjured is impressive—something many adult wizards would struggle to achieve.”
...As we enjoy the peace and stability of our world, brought about by the sacrifices of this boy’s parents, we must ask ourselves: Was it worth it? For the hero who gave us this life, what kind of life has he endured in return?
...In these eleven years, has the Ministry fulfilled its responsibility to Harry Potter after the death of his parents? And what about Dumbledore—has he fulfilled his duty to the Boy Who Lived? These questions demand reflection...
The article appeared to adopt a neutral stance, presenting itself as an objective analysis, but its undertones clearly sought to absolve the Ministry of any blame, subtly steering public perception.
“Hmm… Rita’s writing is as engaging as ever,” Dumbledore remarked after a brief pause. “Her story certainly captures attention. Oh, and this photograph is excellent—especially that moment she caught of me and young Harry gazing at each other amidst the ruins. I do wonder how she managed it.”
“I don’t care about that woman’s self-made image, Dumbledore!” Snape snarled. “Her so-called bravery and truth-telling are irrelevant! What I care about are the facts she reported—Harry Potter was nearly driven into becoming an Obscurial by his Muggle relatives’ abuse!”
“If this is your idea of taking care of the boy, then you should’ve handed him over to me eleven years ago! Let me take him to Spinner’s End!”
Spinner’s End was Snape’s home—a clear indication he would have preferred to raise Harry himself. It was evident that Snape’s anger had reached its peak.
An Obscurial, or more specifically the phenomenon of an Obscurus, is a unique form of dark magic that manifests in young witches and wizards. When a child suffers physical or emotional abuse and consciously represses their magical abilities out of fear or trauma, an Obscurus forms within them, making the child an Obscurial.
An Obscurial lives in torment, and when their emotions spiral out of control, they transform into an Obscurus—a destructive force capable of devastating everything in its path.
Obscurials rarely survive past the age of ten, which explained the Ministry’s panic when an unprecedented magical surge erupted from Number Four, Privet Drive.
The Ministry could not accept a future where Harry Potter became an Obscurial. The boy was more than a symbol; he was the hero who had ended Voldemort’s reign of terror, restoring peace to the wizarding world.
Harry himself remained unaware of the fame that surrounded him. Yet, in this world, his name carried immense weight.
This very reputation put the Ministry—and the Minister—under enormous pressure. Should Harry indeed become an Obscurial, the fallout would go far beyond a mere resignation; certain individuals might even face Azkaban.
It was no surprise, then, that Dumbledore found himself under fire from a deluge of Howlers. After all… he wasn’t just a headmaster.
“Calm yourself, Severus,” Dumbledore repeated, his voice steady. “I have been watching over young Harry. While his life has been challenging, it has not reached a point where he might turn into an Obscurial. Harry cannot grow up in the wizarding world. The fame and adoration would ruin him.”
This was the wisdom of an old man.
“And you and I both know, Severus,” Dumbledore added softly, locking eyes with Snape, “he is not truly gone.”
Like a dousing of cold water, Snape’s fiery anger abruptly froze.
Involuntarily, he clutched his left arm.
The mark was still there. Faded, but never gone.
“Rita claims in her article that young Harry vanquished Voldemort,” Dumbledore continued. “But you and I both know that it was Lily’s sacrifice—”
“Don’t you dare speak her name!” Snape interrupted harshly, teeth clenched.
It was unclear which name Snape couldn’t bear to hear, but one thing was certain—he had calmed down.
Perhaps, for him, that earlier outburst was the anomaly.
