Memory's Prisoner

Chapter 3: He Didn't Know Anything

They were once again in a memory. Petunia was teaching Harry how to wash dishes as that was going to be his next chore.

"Aunt Petunia? Why don't I have a mom and dad?"

It was an innocent question, but Petunia's eyes flashed with anger as she swung to face the curious child.

"What have we told you about asking questions, boy?" she snapped.

"Don't ask questions. But I want to know about my parents..."

"Your parents were good-for-nothing drunks. That's how they died, too, got in a car accident cause they were stupid enough to drive like that! You that horrendous scar in the accident as well. That's all I'm telling you and you will not ask me again," Petunia hissed as she shoved a plate into his shaking hands.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"A CAR ACCIDENT! HOW DARE THEY?!"

Most of the wizards present were seething in anger. Even the Slytherins were upset at the deaths of Harry's parents being portrayed that way, though they were much better at hiding it.

"That's what they told constantly. Hagrid was the first person to tell me about my parents. I didn't even know what they looked like."

"Didn't they have any pictures," Ron asked still visibly angry.

"They didn't even have pictures of me, and I lived there," Harry snorted. "Aunt Petunia hated my mom and wanted nothing to do with her."

The fifth year Gryffindors had formed a sort of huddle around Harry as if to protect him from his past. Luna and Ginny plotted between memories, trying to find a way to get Harry out of that house. Umbridge sat on the sidelines, observing and taking notes. Most of them had forgotten she was there, and the Inquisitorial Squad tried to make themselves invisible, feeling as though they were invading something sacred and pure. A few were beginning to question what they thought of the boy-who-lived.

The world around them meddled as another memory surfaced. It was drizzling and Harry was standing in the doorway in a baggy t-shirt and oversized shorts with a threadbare drawstring bag gripped in his little hands.

"Come on, boy! You will not make Dudley late for school," Vernon shouted at Harry as he rushed to the car before they left him. "This is the only day we'll be bringing you, you hear? After today, you'll be walking to school on your own. Can't have a freak like you being seen with Dudley."

Harry nodded as he looked out the window, attempting to memorize the way to the school. Soon, they had arrived and Harry scrambled out the car and towards the building. He got lost a few times before he managed to make it to the Kindergarten classroom. The teacher began calling attendance, checking off each name as the child raised their hand. She called Harry's name, but he didn't react.

Hermione sent Harry a questioning look which he replied with a head nod towards the memory.

The teacher had finished taking attendance and asked if anyone's name hadn't been called. Harry raised his hand.

"What's your name, young man?"

"Boy."

"WHAT?" The room was quickly sent into silence.

"What do you mean?"

"My uncle calls me boy."

The younger version of Harry looked confused and worried. His eyes were wide and he seemed to realize he had done something wrong even though he didn't know what. The teacher brought him into the hall and retrieved a file from her desk.

"Is this you?" she said holding up a picture of him attached to a file.

"Yes ma'am."

"It says your name is Harry Potter. Is that right?"

"No ma'am. My name is Boy, but Harry is a nice name."

The memory faded, and left the astonished faces of every occupant in the room.

"You didn't know your own name?" Malfoy's voice was soft, but it seemed loud in the deadly silence the room had fallen into.

"They never told me. Uncle Vernon called me Boy, and Aunt Petunia and Dudley called me Freak. They still do."

Malfoy was left speechless, the only sound that followed was the frantic scritch scratch of Umbridge's quill.