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He spoke of odd things happening to him, things which he could not understand, but of which his relatives must have known due to their knowledge of his parents' abilities. Yet nothing was ever explained—instead, he was punished whenever anything happened which could not be explained while his relatives lied to him, telling him he was the spawn of drunkards who were killed in a car accident, blaming them for the scar he now wore on his forehead.
As horror after horror was spoken in that same emotionless monotone, still, Jean-Sebastian reflected, there was something missing from Harry's tale. The young man fell silent, and Jean-Sebastian determined he would discover whether or not Harry was hiding anything from him.
"Thank you for trusting me with your story, Harry," Jean-Sebastian told him, showing the young man a smile of compassion. "But, Harry, I need to know something. Your relatives treated you abominably, but you haven't said anything about physical mistreatment. Did your uncle ever beat you?"
His eyes widened and he began shaking his head vigorously. "No, he never did anything like that. I mean, there were some times I thought he was so mad he would, but he never did. Maybe he was afraid of what I could do to him when I grew up or something."
"And your cousin?"
Harry laughed bitterly. "Dudley's favorite game was called 'Harry hunting'. He and his gang used to terrorize the neighborhood and vandalize whatever they could without getting caught. I learned very quickly to be much faster than Dudley and very good at hiding—otherwise, I'd get a beating. But he never hit me hard enough to leave a permanent mark and was careful to never leave any kind of mark where it would show. He didn't want my school teachers to know about the bullying."
Jean-Sebastian digested all this, reflecting it was better than he would have thought or hoped. The mental abuse in some ways was worse than if they had physically abused him, but if they had beat him, then nothing would have prevented Jean-Sebastian from exacting a stiff price for their actions. As it was, he was inclined to leave well enough alone—Harry was physically undamaged after all, and it would not do to drag up further painful memories for the young man. Instead, he would focus on helping Harry rehabilitate his sense of self worth—something which he knew would be difficult yet ultimately rewarding. It was amazing how well he had turned out, given the adversities he had faced in his life—Jean-Sebastian would have understood if he had grown into a bitter and vengeful young man, yet nothing was further from the truth. He was as pleasant a young man as Jean-Sebastian had ever had the good fortune to meet.
"Harry, I want you to know something."
The young man's eyes flickered up to meet his, but his expression remained placid, waiting for Jean-Sebastian to come to the point.
"That part of your life is over, and I will never bring it up again. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Harry responded.
Jean-Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the young man, prompting him to flush with embarrassment. "JS…" he amended sheepishly.
"That's better. Just remember, Harry, I will not bring it up, but that does not mean you cannot. If you ever want to talk about it or ask my advice, I will always be available for you, and for that matter, Sirius can help too."
"Thanks JS," Harry replied with considerable feeling.
"You're welcome, Harry," Jean-Sebastian said, his mouth rising in a warm smile. He had only met Harry that day, and already he was developing a fondness for the polite and serious young man. If the stories he had heard of Harry's time in Hogwarts to this point were any indication, life with Harry Potter certainly would not be dull.
That evening, Hermione Granger was sitting on the bed in her room considering the events of the day when Ginny stepped into their shared bedroom. Knowing as she did Ginny's obsession with the Boy-Who-Lived, Hermione was not surprised that the announcement from earlier that day had been a shock and a crushing blow for the young woman. She had been closeted with her mother for the better part of the day, presumably commiserating and crying out her frustrations, joined by her mother no doubt, considering Mrs. Weasley had wanted the match longer than her daughter had.
The Ginny who entered the room still had a hint of red around her eyes, evidence of the amount of mourning she had done for the loss of all her dreams. Still, as Hermione looked closer, she saw something she had not expected—a small inkling of hope. Although Hermione could not claim to be an expert on wizarding customs and laws, she did not know how Ginny could still hold out hope. The betrothal was a legal one, sealed by the magical power of the two families, therefore completely binding and unbreakable.
"Hi, Hermione," Ginny said, her manner nervous and uncertain.
Hermione smiled and returned to the open book on her lap—the book which she had opened over an hour earlier, but of which she had, as yet, not even read a single page. She was uncertain what she could do to help the young woman. Ginny's feelings, after all, were uncomfortably close to Hermione's, although unlike Ginny's, hers new and still somewhat raw.
"Crazy day, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but a good day, nonetheless," was the response.
The room was silent for several moments until Hermione glanced up and saw tears glistening in the corners of Ginny's eyes.
"Yes, a red letter day," the redhead spat bitterly.
"Harry's free," Hermione responded pointedly. "Would you have preferred the Ministry had snapped his wand?"
Flopping down on her bed, Ginny sank down onto her back, spreading her arms out wide and allowing an explosive sigh to pass through her lips. "That's not what I mean, Hermione. I'm… I'm happy Harry was freed, but…"
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