The Boy: Brandon Dursely

Chapter 31: BOOM!

That was the final blow.

Harry sobbed. The boy clutched the clothes above his heart, then closed his eyes.

Snape smirked in victory. His words had sunk in. Little did he knew that it sunk in much deeper than it should.

Should Severus Snape had been in a sober condition, should he had not allowed his fatigue as an excuse to cloud his judgement, he should not have mentioned the boy's parents, much more tell Harry, an emotionally unstable lad in the stage of his life where he is easily affected by words, where all he needs is a little push, that he had a worthless father. That he was a disgrace to anyone. Snape didn't realize yet at that point, that Harry looks up to him like a son looks up to his father.

Harry was like a sponge when it comes to Snape. He valued Snape's attention, the man's praises; he valued how Snape regards him as. After all, Harry was only eleven. At that age, his mind is easily poisoned by simple words. Harry was like Lily that way; he was easily affected by the power of words.

And one can also realize, at that point, that Snape acted like a Gryffindor; doing before thinking.

If he had thought about the situation, he must've remembered that Harry was not just any student, he was his charge. He was the boy who gives too much value on how Snape regards him as, and to hear those scathing words? It hurted a lot. It hurted Harry's young, kind, golden heart; it hurted his very soul.

Suddenly, the boy's breath hitched. The air cackled and the usually pristine desk cluttered. Harry Potter's eyes turned a shade of lavender, like that of a dragon's, and Severus' hair at the back of his neck stood. He shivered.

Harry slowly stood, his hands curled into fists.

"Shut up."

The boy's tone was low, dangerous.

"What are you--"

Snape was cut by a fierce, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Harry's face was red. He was more than angry. He was hurt. He only wanted to uncover secrets, he wanted to be regarded as strong. He was done being weak! He wanted to kill the Dark Lord, he wanted to make Snape proud. Was that so hard to ask for?!

"Shut. Up. My father is not a toerag!" The enchanted windows in Snape's office smashed, and Severus had to duck and cover himself. When he looked up, he saw Harry being enveloped by a blue light, acting like a Protego charm, only that it was impenetrable. The boy's Magic was penetrating his wards, and it was then and there that Snape realized his faults.

It was like cold water being dumped unto him, sending deep alarums in his mind, waking him from his stupor.

He had made a mistake. He had hurted Harry. With words, of all things. History repeats itself. Just like all those years ago, with Lily. Hadn't he had learned enough through experience that words are sharp enough to sever even the toughest of bonds?

Then Severus looked at Harry, whose now lavender eyes were still filled with tears. The boy was angrily wiping them away.

"Har--"

"Don't call me that!" The boy roared. A choked sob escaped the young boy's lips, but Harry continued to glare at him. "You have no right to call me anything!"

"Harry, I made a mis--"

"I said, you have NO RIGHT to call me anything!" The books came flying, whizzing through the air, the parchments were engulfed in flames, "My father--" another sob, and Harry approached Snape, this time towering iver his Protector, his beloved Professor. It hurts even more that Snape was the one who had said that Harry's father was a good for nothing man, "James-- my Da was a hero! He died for me! He is more of a man than you'll ever be!"