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At the tender age of 11, all Harry ever learned from his family was that he was a puppet, tied by a string to the hands of people who controlled him, the puppeteers. His bound hands will be led to the kitchen to cook their meals and leave him with nothing, then force his knees onto the ground to weed the garden without a single ounce of care as to whether the boy had energy when his stomach was empty. They decided whether he existed or not, forcing him to act the way they wanted. In the case of a puppet, it is stored in a box when it is not needed. Like Harry, he is locked in a cupboard under the stairs when his so-called 'family' feels the slightest bit of irritation towards his presence.The worst part of it all? Puppets never speak. It's either the puppeteer speaks for them, or they don't speak at all. It started with frequent visits from Child Services where Harry learned those first four words. 
"Don't say a word. Let me handle it."

Let me handle you.
You can just imagine how that went as he grew up. His primary school teachers often marked him with a big, red 'FAIL' for not completing his tasks at school that required verbal performances. He could only shake his head when asked a question as to why he could not speak. It bemused the teachers, for they knew Harry loved to read, and the boy's written works highly surpass his cousin's vastly disappointing ones.However, in the end, it was always the same words. To nice people, it was, "Oh, he's just very shy." But to people who think Harry was as disobedient and misbehaved just as much as the Dursleys think, it was, "He's always like that. Think he's so superior that he can't speak to his elders. Well, what can we expect from the son of people who got themselves drunk enough to get into a car crash?" You made me like this. he thinks to comfort himself. It was unfair, it wasn't his fault he was forced to be like this. It wasn't his fault strange things kept happening around him that they got so pissed and forced him to just shut his trap and not waste his breath explaining.After that, he would be forced to speak so he wouldn't be too prideful and for once, so he would be respectful, only for his voice to come out cracked and hoarse that he couldn't form words. Petunia and Vernon should have expected that way too many "Don't say a word"s would lead to Harry not developing his vocal cords properly."I'm not paying some shrink just to teach this boy how to talk!" Vernon had yelled that day when they visited the local clinic for a checkup regarding Harry's voice. "And we can't do it for him either, we're too busy," Petunia added. The doctor sighed. "Well then, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I suggest your nephew should learn sign language if he is unable to talk."Petunia sighed, wary. "Fine, I guess we can do that much for the boy." Harry learned sign language from the age of 5. The Dursleys? Of course, they didn't. They thought they could just get by and go with the flow.  Learning British Sign Language wasn't actually a problem for Harry, he was a fast learner and he loved books. He often made visits to the local library when the Dursleys would go on vacation and leave him alone in their house. When the librarian saw how much he went just to read, she gave her a card so that he could take home any books he wanted and return them the following week. The only problem was, if he was ever caught reading books instead of doing his 'chores', he would either get hit by the said books or he would come crying to the library the next week, returning a torn-out book and begging the librarian not to make him pay anything because he truly had nothing. The librarian was kind enough to let it go, reminding him to never forget to do his chores and always obey his parents. He never told her that he never knew his parents, nor was it his parents that he defied. All of that was before his disability, but even then he never really spoke. It was always a shake of a head or a nod, adding to one of the reasons why he needed to learn sign language. He brought home a book regarding BSL and started from letters to phrases then to sentences until he started to use it with the Dursleys and, if there ever were, just other people in his daily life.And there he was during Dudley's birthday, leaning on the metal railing as he looked at the boa constrictor in the zoo."It's scales are beautiful," Harry thought. "Why, thank you, dear one," the snake, very uncharacteristically, replied. Its body was held up high as it stared at Harry's eyes. Harry was shocked. He never opened his mouth to speak, he was sure of that. How come the snake could hear him? Then again, he was a freak who does freakish things, he shouldn't be so flabbergasted by this. Harry stepped off the railings. "Did you just... talk to me?" He asked through his thoughts, using his hands to sign as well. “But how? I can’t speak. I only think.””You think as if you’re speaking, darling. And that’s enough for creatures like me,” it replied.The snake then chuckled before slithering its way back into what Harry could tell was the snake's sleeping area. He couldn't believe his ears, the snake chuckled! And just from that, Harry could sense that the snake was a male.Before Harry could come up with a response, he felt someone push him before he landed on the cold ground. "Out of my way, freak! It doesn't wanna see what your stupid hands are doing," The annoying voice of his cousin, Dudley, spat at him. "Mum, look at this! You won't believe what this snake is doing!" Dudley leaned over the railings and touched the glass, then Vernon followed and rapped his knuckles on it. “Hey!” Vernon called."Move!" Dudley yelled. Harry stood up and made Dudley face him. "He's asleep!" He signed. Dudley rolled his eyes and pushed him back on the ground again. "What a freak," he muttered. Harry could feel anger fill his veins, and before he knew it, the glass disappeared and Dudley fell through it as he yelped in shock, getting drenched by the water inside the tank. The snake woke up and, taking the chance, slithered his way out of the tank to escape. "Thanks," he said, winking at Harry. Harry held up his fist, facing the snake, then his two hands, making a 'come' motion which meant, "You're welcome." After, he winked back.Dudley stood up and tried to get out, only to find himself enclosed by the glass that was just gone earlier. The sound of Dudley knocking on the glass made Harry grin. From the distance, he heard a snarl. Harry met the eyes of his Uncle Vernon, and his smile immediately fell.   "WHAT HAPPENED?!" Vernon Dursley bellowed, holding Harry by the hair as the latter was pushed onto the door of his cupboard. Dudley and Petunia passed by before going upstairs, the former wrapped with a towel while the latter rubbed her hands down his arms to keep her son warm.Harry frantically used his hands to explain, gesturing to his head with a panicked shrug to indicate that he didn't know. "I swear, I don't know!" Harry signed."Something must have happened and you had something to do with it! What did you do to Dudley?!" Harry's eyes were filled with tears, his hands became shaky. "One minute the glass was there and then it was gone, it was just like magic!" Once Harry finished signing, his uncle reached into his pocket and oulled out his notepad.“Write it down, boy!”With blurry eyes and shaky hands, Harry tried to write what he had just signed and showed it to his uncle as he breathed heavily.But his uncle just snarled, and Harry knew from that moment that nothing could ever go his way. The door of his cupboard was opened and he prepared himself for the worst. Harry was pushed to his small cot in the cupboard, his small toys rattling from the force of the shove. "There's no such thing as magic! You will stay there. No meals!"   A few days later while the Dursleys were having their breakfast that Harry had cooked that morning, the latter was just in his cupboard and playing with his soldier toys. Suddenly, he heard pieces of paper slip under the door. It must be the mail, Harry had thought. He creaked his cupboard door open, trying to be as quiet as possible and act like he didn't exist. He gathered the letters and walked to the kitchen to give them to the Dursleys until something caught his eye.  
MR. H. POTTER,

The Cupboard under the Stairs,

4 Privet Drive,

Little Whinging,

SURREY
 Harry knew from that moment that he had such rotten luck when Dudley chose that time to barge and see him going through his letter. "Dad, look! Harry's got a letter!" Dudley exclaimed, snatching Harry's letter and throwing it up in the air, out of the latter's reach.Harry desperately tried to grasp it, only for the letter to end up in his uncle's hands. "Such bollocks. Who'd be writing to you?" Vernon said pointedly to Harry. "Please give it back. It's mine," Harry signed multiple times to the point it would be considered begging. He expected to be yelled at, slapped, or even sent away. However, what he didn't expect was Vernon and Petunia looking at him. Was it fear? Was it anger? Or was it both? He didn't know. He never really knows. He didn't know why he was treated this way, he didn't know if the letter was a prank. And what is most different about him: he didn't know how to speak.

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Peter Pan and Tinkerbell
Which way to Never Never Land?
Emerald City's gone to hell
Since the wizard
Blew off his command

From “30/90” by the Tick, Tick… Boom! Movie Cast
  If there was one thing you should know about Harry Potter, he had such rotten luck. Ever since that day when he got a letter from an unknown giver, the Dursleys have been mad. Even 'mad' was an understatement, because Harry never thought he would end up in this place on his birthday. Harry got a bedroom, which was Dudley's second bedroom, that was a new thing. But right after he got it, they moved out of their house to go on a 'vacation' in Cokeworth. The owls just seemed to never stop, but wait, when did owls deliver letters? It was usually the mailman. What was so special about these letters that they seemed to follow Harry everywhere he went?It ended up with the Dursleys picking to live at a hut on the rock in the middle of the sea. It was storming outside and Harry was so afraid the hut was going fall apart. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were upstairs, Dudley was on the living room couch, and they were all dozed off. While Harry was sitting on the dusty floor, where he was also told to sleep. A birthday cake was drawn in the dust, and Harry kept track of Dudley's annoying, beeping watch to know if the clock had hit midnight. "Make a wish, Harry," the boy thought, blowing at the candles he drew. He smiled, even though he felt sad. It was another year where his wish wouldn't come true, but he had hope and that's all that matters. Screw hope.The large door of the hut banged loudly, almost like it was being opened. Harry didn't know if the force was from the storm, but he soon knew that it wasn't when the door burst open and a gigantic figure's silhouette was seen from inside. Harry hastily stood up, making his way towards the side of the fireplace where he could be hidden by a huge pillar. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia appeared by the stairs, the former holding a rifle to shoot the trespasser, while Dudley stood and shook like a leaf."Sorry abou' that!" A loud, growly voice, yelled apologetically. What? This was the guy that broke down their door? Harry heard the fallen door creek as it got picked up and placed back on its hinges. Then, he heard Uncle Vernon yell, "I demand that you leave at once, sir! You are breaking and entering!" The man—or giant?—approached Vernon slowly, his steps heavy against the floorboards. "Shut up, Dursley, you great prune." He grabbed Vernon's rifle, bent it, and—
BANG! 
Harry flinched, while Petunia and Dudley yelped in shock. Silence settled in the hut for a short while as the man made his way across the room before he spoke once again."Well, I haven't seen yeh since yeh was a baby, 'arry! But yeh were a bit more along than I would've expected, particularly right in the middle," The large man said with a chuckle. Fear instantly crept up Harry's veins. Could the man see him? "I-I'm— I'm not Harry," Dudley stuttered out. Oh. "Well, where is he? Should be here as I'm delivering something to 'im," The man then walked around the hut until Harry was now eye-to-eye with him. Boy, was he huge. "There ye are, 'arry! Boy, I wouldn't have seen yeh from there. You're as quiet as a mouse!" 
Of course, he was. 
"Yeh look so much like yer father, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes." Hary's eyes beamed at the comment, he had never heard that one before. It was always about bad blood when it came to his parents. They were drunks. They were jobless. And he just happened to be the fruit of all that evil. That was all there was to know. But now, he stood in front of that strange, large man who had a face so kind and he had so many questions that he couldn't ask. "Go' somethin' for yeh! 'Fraid I might've sat on it at some poin' but I think it'll taste fine just the same," he added. Then, he pulled out something from his pocket, it was a white box tied with a green ribbon. How did it fit there? He handed it to Harry, to which the latter received and opened. A large "HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY" was written in green frosting on top of a pale pink cake. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, eyes full of surprise and happiness. Harry looked up at the man. He put the top of his fingers on his chin and gestured to him, which meant, "Thank you." Then, the boy added, "I'm sorry, but who are you?" The man then looked at his Uncle and Aunt, Harry's eyes following his gaze as well. Harry swore he saw Aunt Petunia look anxious. "What is he doin'?" The large man asked, but it was genuine and not the mean way people would ask once they saw Harry doing sign language to talk to them. Petunia cleared her throat once she realised the man was asking her. "It's... It's sign language. He can't speak."The man looked confused. "What?" "British Sign Language. He learnt it because he can't speak," Petunia repeated, her voice sharp."Can' speak? That can't be right.""Well, he is. Ever since he was dumped on our doorstep." The lie slipped smoothly down Petunia's tongue like it had been a practise statement for when someone asks about Harry's condition."Is tha' so? Well, Professor Dumbledore must've known if tha's the case. Little 'arry should be checked out for his voice or else how's he gon' do magic?"Harry turned to the man sharply. "Magic?" he signed. Somehow, the man just looked at him with shock. "Never use that word around us! Who even are you?!" Vernon demanded, his face turning red."Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. Well, you must know all about Hogwarts, don't yeh, Harry?" The man, Hagrid, gave Harry a warm smile. Harry held a fist against his chest, rubbing it in a circle while shaking his head. "Sorry, no," he signed."No? Blimey, Harry, didn't you ever wonder where yer mum and dad learned it all?" Hagrid asked him. Harry then realised he didn't want to keep silent. He needed to ask these questions because this was just so confusing. He pulled out a small notepad from his pocket and a short pencil."Learned what?" Harry wrote. Hagrid read the note and replied with a simple, "You're a wizard, Harry." With shaky hands from astonishment, Harry quickly wrote a reply. "You must be mistaken. I can't be a wizard, I'm Harry. I'm just Harry."Hagrid smiled. "Well, just Harry, have you ever made anything happen around you when you felt angry or scared?" he asked. Harry's head tilted in understanding. That made sense, but it was never about magic. He was a freak, and that was all he'll ever be. However, Hageid must've guessed that Harry had gotten the message. Hagrid approached the boy, pulling something out again from his pocket. Now, it was a letter, his letter, that was slightly crumpled. 
MR. H. POTTER,

The Hut on the Rock

To Mr. Harry Potter, 
          We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As Harry read the letter that explained every detail regarding his school, his eyes were open wide. He was about to ask Hagrid something, about how he was going to get all of his supplies when he had nothing, but then Uncle Vernon started to bellow. "He won't be going, I tell you! We swore when we took him in that we'd put a stop to all this rubbish!" Vernon bellowed, strolling his way to Hagrid. Harry turned to look at his aunt and uncle. "You knew? You knew all along and you never told me?" he signed, his hands sharp and firm to show that he was angry with the situation. Hagrid caught up with Harry's confusion and frustration. "I can' believe yeh didn't tell 'im! This is an important part of his life!" Petunia then started to walk towards Harry, "Of course, I knew, boy. How could you not be? Your mother was just the same. My perfect little sister who my parents were so proud of the day she got her letter. Only for it to all go to waste when she and your father went and got themselves blown up!" She talked, her face filled with anything but remorse. "Blown up?" Harry responded, his eyebrows furrowed. "You told me they died in a car crash!"When Harry got nothing for a reply, getting the idea that they didn't understand him, he picked up his notepad again and wrote down a question."They said my parents died in a car crash. Is that true?" Harry wrote it down and showed it to Hagrid, whose face turned red with anger. "A car crash? A car crash killed Lily and James Potter?! That's an outrage! It's a scandal! How dare you belittle their sacrifices?!"So it wasn't true. Harry thought, his arms now lying limp against his sides, notepad and pencil at hand. It was all a lie. And what? His parents' names were Lily and James? They made sacrifices that led to their death? This was the first time he had heard of it. "He will not be going!" "Oh, and some muggle like yeh is gonna stop him?" Hagrid tested. 
Muggle? It must be some non-magic folk.
"He will be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he will be taught by the finest wizard this world has ever seen: Albus Dumbledore!" Vernon never budged. "I'm not paying some crackpot old fool to teach him magic tricks!" Hagrid's face contorted to something livid. "Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me," he said, pointing his pink umbrella at his uncle's face.Harry was so over his head at the situation that he didn't notice Dudley was already eating his birthday cake. He didn't see it until Hagrid then pointed his umbrella at his cousin and gave him a literal pig's tail. Wait, when did that umbrella have magic?The Dursleys wailed and screamed so dramatically that Harry couldn't help but grin."Don't tell anyone yeh saw me do tha', Harry. I'm not supposed to do magic outside of Hogwarts," Hagrid reminded sheepishly before adding, "I'll pick yeh up tomorrow to help yeh get yer things fer school." Harry signed a small, "Thank you," and this is the first time he has smiled this long.

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Fall is here, hear the yell

Back to school, ring the bell

Brand new shoes, walking blues

Climb the fence, books and pens

I can tell that we are gonna be friends

From “We’re Going To Be Friends” by The White Stripes
  The next day, Hagrid took Harry to London to buy his school supplies. He found out that there was a pub and inn called the Leaky Cauldron connected to Diagon Alley, where he bought his said school supplies. Hagrid even bought him a pet owl, simply as a birthday gift. Harry decided to name the owl Hedwig as it was the first name that he saw while reading his school textbooks. Deep down, he wished that he could talk to her. But he remembered what the snake had said to him a few weeks ago, "You think as if you're speaking, and that's enough for creatures like me." Harry just hoped it was enough for Hedwig, even though he really wished he could give her more. The most interesting thing about Harry's journey that day was how famous he seemed to people. He wished he could greet them back but he couldn't, and Hagrid thought it was safer if he didn't interact much with people because he was beyond famous.There was also one more interesting thing. Harry got his wand at Ollivander's and he picked up a little information regarding the scar he bore since he was a baby. Harry didn't ask, nor did Ollivander find it strange that Harry was silent the whole time. There was only one thing Ollivander said. "Curious. Very curious." Harry wanted to ask what he meant by that, when Ollivander suddenly continued, "It seems to me that this wand's brother, is the wand that gave you that scar." Harry shuddered. He was reminded about how Ollivander expected great things from Harry because the one who owned the 'brother wand' was someone who did great things. Terrible, but great.Harry and Hagrid settled in the Leaky Cauldron for some snacks, and the former couldn't help but notice how silent Hagrid was when people in the pub were whispering about someone named 'Vol' or something, he couldn't pick the whole words out. "Hagrid, can I ask you something?" Harry questioned, showing Hagrid the piece of paper where he had written it down after he lowered his spoon in his soup and adjusted his glasses. "Oh, o' course, Harry," replied Hagrid, more gleefully than normal. "Take yer time," the older man added, taking note that Harry was only writing it down. "The person that people around us keep whispering about," Harry started to write, his innocent eyes that stared at the words barely saw Hagrid, who was also looking at the paper, tense up. "Was he the one who killed my parents? And the reason why I got this?" Harry finished and showed it to Hagrid. Once the latter finished reading, he brought up his hand to point at the scar on his forehead. When Hagrid hesitated to answer, Harry added to the paper, "You know, Hagrid. I know you do."With a sigh, Hagrid adjusted his seat and the chair's wooden feet scraped against the wood flooring, closer to Harry. "I need yeh to remember this, Harry," stated Hagrid, "Not every wizard is as good and as noble as yer parents were. Yer parents fought, and what they fought for was right. The one who killed your parents went by the name Vo-V-Voldemort..." Hagrid explained, and it seemed like he struggled to say the name. Voldemort must have been a very bad person. "It was dark times, 'arry." 
"Is he, you know, gone now?" 
"We don' know fer sure, Harry." Hagrid sighed. "Some say he died, but I think it's codswallop. People 'ave been finding him fer years, but he ain't a mastermind fer nothin'."  Harry stood in the middle of King's Cross station, searching for Platform 9¾. He was so lost, that Hagrid had suddenly left him there just as Harry was about to ask him where to find the platform."Let's go! Quickly! We have to get to Platform 9¾!" A cheery but firm feminine voice was heard by from a distance by Harry. Hesitantly, Harry followed the sound, only to be presented by a large family that had red hair. "In you go, Fred," the feminine voice from earlier spoke. "He's not Fred, I am!" "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother."Harry smiled at the red-headed twins, something about them just tells him they're fun to be with. Then, he watched one of the twins dash towards a solid brick wall which confused him until he saw the boy just... go through it. Harry then continued to make his way to the family, trying to grab their attention without having to use his voice. Thankfully for him, the woman noticed. "Oh, dear, are you lost?" Harry froze. All he could do was gesture to the brick wall. "Do you need to get onto the platform?" "Yes, please," Harry nodded with a small sign.The woman smiled. "Well, not to worry, dear. It's Ron's first time in Hogwarts as well!" Harry's eyes drifted to a redhead boy who looked his age, only he was taller than Harry. The redhead boy smiled and nodded, and Harry had that small sense of hope that he might have a friend.Harry stepped between platforms nine and ten, where the red-headed mum pointed to a solid brick barrier and instructed Harry to run at it with a good bit of speed."Well, what you're gonna do is you're gonna step in front of that wall and run as fast as you can at it so you can pass through," she explained eloquently, her voice filled with patience. "Good luck." She smiled. Nervously, Harry did as he was told, closing his eyes as he braced for impact – only to find himself stumbling onto Platform 9¾, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express awaited.Harry's emerald eyes looked around in awe. He heard the signals that the train was about to leave soon. Consequently, he went to the proper area to put his trunk, there again, he spotted the same twins from earlier putting their trunks. Harry started to do the same, but his thin and nearly emaciated body was no match for his large trunk. Bless him when one of the twins noticed and started to help him. Harry gave them a smile and nod of thanks, not noticing that his bangs started to move out of his forehead, revealing his lightning bolt scar. "Wait... You're Harry Potter?" One of the twins, maybe Fred, asked as he pointed at Harry's scar. Harry simply nodded. "Mum! Mum! We met Harry Potter!" The other twin called and Harry noticed that the boy his age from earlier—Ron—had entered the platform with his mum and another younger girl who looked like her daughter. "Oh, mum! Can I go see him, please?" the younger girl asked meekly. "Now's not the time, Ginny. Come on, say goodbye to your brothers," the mum responded. "George, go help your brother." George walked towards Ron's trolley and started to guide the latter.Now that Harry knew the name of the other twin, he recognised this one as Fred. "Don't worry, Gin, once we're at Hogwarts, we'll send you a toilet seat," Fred said with a wink. Harry grinned mischievously. "Oh, stop with your shenanigans. I better not get another letter saying you two put dung bombs in the gentlemen's toilets!" "Thanks for the idea, mum!"    Harry was now seated in a compartment in the Hogwarts Express, his back lying on the comfortable seat. He was alone, which was weird because every compartment was filled and there were still multiple people outside.Suddenly, the door of his compartment opened. "Hello." It was Ron from earlier. "Do you mind? Everywhere else is full." Harry only shook his head with a small smile to not seem rude. Ron took a seat in front of Harry before introducing himself, "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley." There, Harry knew that he had to use sign language and admit that he couldn't speak. He might make it or break it with his potential friend. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter." Harry responded, signing his name with ease. And when Ron just looked at him bemused and shocked, Harry continued. "It's nice to meet you." Ron breathed out. "Whoa... Was that—sorry if I'm wrong—sign language? I'm not really sure but my dad works at the Muggle Artifacts section in the Ministry of Magic so he has encountered some muggle things... so..."Harry nodded excitedly, it was one of the few times someone recognised sign language around him. "Are you... deaf? No, sorry, that's a stupid question, of course, you can hear me..." His face contorted with concentration. "Are you mute, then?" Ron asked genuinely. Harry nodded again. "Yes. I can't speak," he signed.Ron sighed, his lips slightly pouting. "I'm sorry but I can't understand you," he replied honestly. Harry pulled out his trusty notepad and pencil and quickly wrote down. "It's okay, I can just talk to you like this. Do you mind?" He showed it to Ron who grinned happily. "Not at all!" He exclaimed reassuringly, happy that there was a solution. "It's fine. What was your name again? I didn't quite catch it." 
"Harry. Harry Potter." 
Ron read the note and looked up at Harry with shock etched all over his face. "Really? Then do you have the... the—" Ron pointed to his own forehead.Harry got the message and put down the notepad to pull up the fringe that covered his forehead. "Merlin's beard," Ron reacted breathily. "I never knew you were mute, it was never in the books or the news," he added.Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Books and news?""Yes, you're quite famous, you know. The wizarding world knows a lot about you and how you defeated You-Know-Who." You-Know-Who? He must mean Voldemort. Harry thought. "Well, this is gonna be a long ride and I don't want to tire your hand out from asking way too many questions," Ron said, and Harry never thought he'd met someone as kind as Ron. "Is it all right if I talk? You can tell me if it's not because I'm pretty talkative, as most of my family says. I don't want to annoy you or anything."Harry simply nodded. "It's all right if you talk, I'm a pretty good listener myself. But thank you for your consideration." Ron nodded before he started talking, to which Harry listened intently. The redhead was such a great storyteller, and Harry loved stories. Hearing about Ron's story as the youngest son of a wizarding family made him feel like he was listening to an audiobook. It was fascinating. However, what was more fascinating was: that Harry Potter got his first friend.

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When we were younger, we thought
Everyone was on our side, then we grew a little
And romanticized the time I saw
Flowers in your hair

From “Flowers In Your Hair” by The Lumineers
  "Anything from the trolley, dears?" An old woman asked, pushing a trolley filled with a bunch of different sweets that Harry hadn't seen before. Ron's face twisted, and his expression looked upset. "No thanks," he pulled out a plastic-wrapped sandwich filled with corned beef. "I'm all set," he said, blushing. Harry felt bad for him knowing that that was all his new friend would be eating. Harry quickly wrote something on his notepad. "Tell her we'll take the lot." Ron's eyes snapped up to meet Harry's as if asking if the latter was sure. Suddenly, Harry pulled out a bunch of galleons out of his pocket. Ron gasped and nodded."Never mind, miss, we'll take the lot," Ron said to the trolley lady before winking at Harry with a small 'thanks'.Soon enough their compartment was now filled with a bunch of sweets varying from chocolates to gummies to candies, they better hope no one wants to sit in their compartment as there would be nowhere to sit on anymore. Harry was chewing on some licorice when Ron started talking once again."You know, Fred and George once taught me this spell that can turn Scabbers yellow."Right, Ron's fat rat named Scabbers. It was a familiar he got from one of his brothers. Then, he pulled out his wand which was another one of his hand-me-downs. Randomly, their compartment door burst open. "Has anyone of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," spoke a girl with bushy, brown hair as she leaned at the side of the door. Her eyes caught Ron's hand which was holding a wand, then they beamed with excitement. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." Ron cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!" He cast, pointing his wand at Scabbers. Harry just saw some light pass through the rat, but it certainly didn't turn him yellow. "Are you sure that's a real spell?" The girl asked with a small grin. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practise and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and you guys are?" "I'm Ron Weasley." "Pleasure," she, Hermione, replied before turning to Harry. "I'm Harry Potter," Harry responded, the same way he did with Ron a few hours ago. Hermione was bemused, he turned to Ron for an explanation. "He's, er, he's a mute. And he's Harry Potter," Ron simply answered, albeit a bit awkwardly. "Holy cricket. Are you really?" Hermione questioned, "But how come... you can't talk? I know all about you, of course—I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. None of those ever mentioned that you’re... mute." Harry picked up his notepad and started writing again. "I never knew I was famous so I don't know much about that, and I don't think I can tell you why I can't talk." He showed the writing to Hermione, who read it while her face dawned with realisation. "That's all right, I shouldn't pry. And I did read about it in the news that you were with your muggle relatives, so I shan't be surprised that you don't know much about the wizarding world," Hermione declared. "I've met people like you and I've seen people use British Sign Language. I've never met someone this young who knows BSL so well though. How did you learn?" Harry smiled and started writing, glad that the girl was interested. "I borrowed a book from the local library. I've been learning since I was 5." Hermione beamed with fascination. "That's amazing! I wish I could learn a new language. I should probably learn BSL so I can understand you," she said, no hesitation etched in her tone.
"That will be very appreciated. But you don't have to." 
Hermione shook her head kindly. "Well, I want to." Harry signed a small 'thank you' to which Hermione hesitantly signed back, "You're... welcome."Her hands were shaky and hesitant, he could tell that she was afraid she would be wrong, but it ended up right. Harry's eyes widened in shock and he grinned happily. It was a good start, it was the first time Harry met someone who communicated with him in sign language. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough."I did say I know a bit of the language. I hope that was right," Hermione said sheepishly. Then, she cleared her throat and stepped out of the compartment. "Anyway, you two better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon." She turned to walk away before looking back and adding, "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, right here," she said to Ron as she touched a side of her nose which Ron followed her hand removed the dirt.   "Firs' years this way! This way to the boats!" Harry sat on one of the boats with Ron as they both stared in awe at the starry sky with the enormous Hogwarts castle sitting underneath it. It was beautiful, and Harry couldn't believe that this was real. A few weeks ago he was sitting in his cupboard, wondering if there was ever hope in his life. And now, there he was, staring at what looked like a palace and about to start his new Hogwarts journey.They entered a random part of the castle and walked up a bunch of stairs. The castle was huge and they weren't even in the main area yet. They were all by themselves, which was unlikely for a group of 11-year-olds. Suddenly, a woman, who Harry assumed was a witch from her outfit itself, walked towards them with Hagrid along her side. She was wearing a pointy hat, just like the witches from the books and movies."The firs' years, Pr'fessor McGonagall," Hagrid said. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," the woman, Professor McGonagall, said appreciatively. Then, she turned to face the new students."Welcome to Hogwarts." Everything was quite peculiar, actually. The boy named Neville who lost his toad earlier finally found it. It was on the floor and he spotted it during McGonagall's lengthy speech. Despite Harry's excitement, he wanted to lie down from how tired he was standing up after Professor McGonagall explained all about Hogwarts and left them alone to prepare the Great Hall for their sorting."So, it's true then! What they were saying on the train," A loud, smug voice, that awfully reminded Harry of Dudley, yelled as if to get everyone's attention. Harry didn't mind it until he heard his name. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." Harry turned around, there he spotted a pale, blond boy who used a horrid amount of hair gel, walking towards him with two other people trailing behind him. 
Wow. A magical Dudley with his minions.
"This is Crabbe," the blond boy started, pointing his head to the right, then to the left as he continued, "And Goyle. And I'm Malfoy." Malfoy stood to face Harry eye-to-eye. "Draco Malfoy." Beside him, Harry heard Ron let out a snicker that the latter barely kept in. Malfoy’s head snapped towards Ron. "Think my name's funny, do you? Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe... You must be a Weasley," Malfoy spat as Ron squirmed in shame. "You better watch yourself, Potter. You wouldn't want to be making friends with the wrong sort." "Thank you but... I think I can find the wrong sort for myself." Harry couldn't help but sign firmly, his blood slightly boiled at the way Malfoy insulted his friend. Yes, Malfoy awfully reminded him of Dudley. Then he remembered, that only Ron and Hermione knew he was mute. Now, everyone knew, or maybe they just thought he was weird for doing something with his hands."What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, but not in the way Ron and Hermione did. Now, it was rude and not genuine in the slightest. "Are you mocking me?"Before Harry could sign again, he heard someone sigh, completely exasperated. "Oh, of course, you'd be uneducated. It's British Sign Language. Harry doesn't talk, and I wouldn't too if I were him," the familiar voice of Hermione spoke up from behind. And Harry thanked the heavens he had someone like her which saved him from all the explaining he had to do. Before most of the people in the place could comprehend what Hermione had said, Professor McGonagall entered and called for them to enter the Great Hall.   It was just like the books. If Harry were to summarise his experience walking inside the Great Hall, that was what he would say. Harry stared up at the ceiling, but there wasn't a ceiling. Harry heard from behind him that the ceiling was bewitched to look like the night sky, which it did. There were floating candles, and what sat in front of the Great Hall was an old, worn-out pointy hat. Very uncharacteristically, it sang! It sang such a long song that Harry wanted to just get in his dorm and lie down. However, that can't be the case because he needed to be sorted first. Harry wondered where his parents were placed back in their Hogwarts days, he hopes he gets there too. The sorting went in alphabetical order, so out of the three of them, Hermione went first, and she was sorted into Gryffindor. For someone so smart Harry wondered why she wasn't placed in Ravenclaw, although the hat did take a long time to sort her. People said it was called a 'hat stall'. "Potter, Harry!" All eyes were on him. All heads snapped to watch him walk up to the wooden stool and be sorted as whispers broke out in the hall. It was irritating.Once the hat was placed on Harry's head, a voice immediately spoke. "Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"           Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. He did not want to be in the same house as Draco Malfoy, whom he saw had been sorted into Slytherin a few minutes ago. "Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—no? Well, if you're sure—better be GRYFFINDOR!"A whole lot of Gryffindors cheered, the Weasley twins from earlier were shouting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" As Harry approached the table, he was invited to sit next to Ron and the boy who'd lost his toad earlier, Neville Longbottom. The sorting finished with Zabini, Blaise, who was sorted in Slytherin. Then, Albus Dumbledore stood up. "Let the feast begin." The tables turned over to reveal food filling everything to the brim. Harry was so overwhelmed that he couldn't start digging in when everyone already was. A few weeks ago he had no meals at all, and now it was the complete and literal opposite.Harry put as much as he could on his plate, and Ron still urged him to get more of the food. "I'm good, thank you," he signed.To which Ron just nodded and replied with a cheerful, "Hey, I can understand you!" Harry started to pick at his food, the thought of having so much to eat made him feel sick. So, he decided to just observe his surroundings. His eyes drifted to the faculty table, he tried to scrutinise them as much as possible so he would recognise them once he started his classes. Suddenly, his eyes locked with a professor at the table. The man had long, shoulder-length black hair and even his whole attire was black. Harry wondered what he teaches, would it be Defence Against the Dark Arts? The professor looked like that kind of guy. However, said professor had an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at Harry. Was it anger? Surprise? He couldn't tell. Did he know Ha—?
SMACK! 
Harry slapped his hand over his forehead from abrupt pain. It was from his scar, why did his scar hurt? His eyes looked back up to meet the professor's, and he was faced with stunned eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" He heard Ron ask from beside him, effectively breaking his eye contact with the man. Harry just shook his head, making a small sign of 'nothing' then pulled out his notepad that he pocketed inside his robes. He quickly wrote down, "Do you know who the professor wearing all black is?" and showed it to Ron, who put down his chicken to read the note.Ron read it and scanned the teachers' table for someone who matched the description. Once he found the professor, Ron shook his head with a small pout. "No, I don't. Sorry. But my brother Percy must know! He's the Gryffindor Prefect and reports to the teachers all the time. He's the one with the curly hair and glasses," Ron explained and gestured to someone he referred to as 'Percy'. Harry recalled him from earlier at King's Cross station, he's one of the Weasley brothers. "Percy! Who's the teacher wearing all black?" Ron asked his brother for Harry. "All black? Oh, that's Professor Snape," Percy responded, and Harry did see the gold 'Prefect' badge on his robes. Ron started to become curious too. "What's he teach?" he asked once again. "He teaches Potions," Percy answered before quickly adding, "but we all know it's the Dark Arts he fancies. He's been after Quirrel's job for years." Ron then turned to Harry. "Was that all?" Harry nodded appreciatively and signed a quick, "Thanks.""No problem, mate," Ron replied, then started to say, "So it looks like Quirrell will be our DADA teacher. I wonder what's under that thick turban, though. And I actually thought he was kind of weird. We met him a few weeks ago at Diagon Alley, you know? Personally, I couldn't understand a word he said. He speaks like he's always nervous. Stuttering. I wonder how he'd teach us that way..." As Harry listened, he looked around the place and saw the ghosts flying. Without a second thought, he pinched himself. 
This was all real.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Grocery store list, now you get this

Unchecked calls and messages

I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy

I just wanna be a part of your family

From “anything” by Adrianne Lenker
  
"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

"I heard he doesn't speak, is that true?" 
Harry stopped in his tracks once he heard that last whisper and Ron did as well. "Leave him alone," Ron defended, holding Harry by the shoulder to lead them to their first class: Potions. Harry remembered how intimidating Professor Snape looked and from that knowledge, he certainly didn't want to be late for his class."Don't mind them, Harry," Ron added as they walked their way toward the cold dungeons where Snape's classroom was located. Ron was talking from their dorms to the classroom. He seemed to know a lot about Snape, he was glad to have a friend like him because he wouldn't know how lost he would be if he didn't have Ron. Once they entered the classroom, Harry spotted Hermione sitting in the second row of the class in the Gryffindors' area. Harry sat next to her and pulled out his Potions textbook and a piece of parchment. Harry knew a whole lot about sign language but ever since he entered the wizarding world, there are a new bunch of terminologies that he didn't know how to sign, especially in Potions. Harry had opened a few of his textbooks and started reading them even before he went on the Hogwarts Express, so he had listed a bunch of terms so far and was hoping to find someone to teach him how to sign them. And about his lessons, he knew a fair lot about them. Professor Snape entered the classroom and thus, made the class go silent without any effort. He started the class with a roll call, but he paused when he saw Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."Harry's eyes furrowed in confusion. What was that about? The comment sounded so bitter like he had a grudge against Harry or something. Harry had listened in on conversations around the school that Professor Snape could be mean or cold, but that comment sounded personal.He heard some of his classmates laugh and snicker, but most especially the Slytherins. However, the class became silent once again when Professor Snape began his speech. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."Harry listened intently, and even if he did, he still flinched when he suddenly got called."Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood... Harry read about that a few days ago when he was on Chapter 5 of his Potions textbook, he did some light reading so he could list down some wizarding terms he had to learn to sign. Harry heard how Hermione's hand shot up in the air, but once he found the answer that was buried in his mind, he started signing. Then, Harry came to the realisation that he couldn't sign 'Asphodel' or 'Wormwood' so he spelt it out and added a sign of 'Sleeping' but couldn't sign 'Draught'. Therefore, by the end of his answer, Harry just breathed heavily and signed with, "I don't know." Snape looked at him peculiarly, like he wasn't expecting it at all. So did everyone else in the room who all had their eyes on him. Well, Harry had exceeded the expectations of numerous people so far by being mute. The classroom was so silent, and Harry couldn't tell if that was the nature of it or if he, himself, had made the atmosphere awkward because of his unexpected answer. "Do you... not know?" Snape asked slowly and cautiously, his voice now becoming a mix of genuineness and snark. He started to approach Harry."No, I know the answer but I can't sign it," Harry signed to the professor who was now near him and could see his signs clearly.Snape sighed impatiently. "Desist with your incessant hand movements and speak up, Potter," he said, his voice dangerously low. Boy, was that harsh. For an adult who was so confident about his knowledge, Harry wondered why this man would not know about sign language. The Slytherins laughed once again, but the Gryffindors started to become concerned. They are probably now under the impression that the rumours about Harry being mute were true. "Sir—" Hermione called, voice meek but determined. And this time she didn't raise her hand for the sake of answering, it was for the sake of speaking up for Harry. Snape turned his head to the voice. "Did I ask for you to speak, girl?" He turned his head back to Harry, who wondered how someone could put that much danger in such a low and literally soft voice that could send a shiver down someone's spine in fear. Harry looked at Hermione and signed, "It's okay." The latter just kept looking at him with sympathy, which gave Harry the sign that she understood him. Hermione could tell that Harry knew the answers, it's just hard to sign those wizarding terminologies when you come from the muggle world. "Perhaps we should try another one," Snape began again. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape awaited the answer, his eyes now fully observant. This one, Harry could sign. "Either from the stomach of a goat or your cupboards." "Still don't know, I see," Snape remarked, but even Harry could tell that the professor was just either in denial or did not understand what Harry conveyed. Harry's head tilted. "But I answered your question." The answer went ignored by Snape, instead, he starts to ask another question."Let's try another one, and I expect a verbal answer, Potter." From Snape's expression, Harry wondered if the former was already catching up with his disability. "What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Harry's stare began to look like a glare as he simply signed. "Nothing. They're the same." "A verbal answer.""Professor, he can't—" It was Ron this time who spoke up. "I did not ask for your input, Mr. Weasley," Snape replied, eyes still focused and fixed on Harry. Harry's friends were on the brink of giving up at that point, and Harry could feel his heart drop from the utter humiliation. He was about to admit to a whole group of people that he was a mute freak. "Again, Potter. Answer my question." Harry had no other choice, and the only way he could cover up how embarrassed he was feeling was to channel it. He dug into his school bag to find the reliable notepad that he used to communicate, opened it, and scribbled the answer angrily. "SAME PLANT, ACONITE," Harry wrote, completely capitalised on his anger, and showed it to the professor with much more sass than he intended. However, he didn't let that stop him. He showed Snape the notepad and held his eye contact with him, almost saying, 'I'm mute, get the idea.'The people room held their breaths for Merlin knows how long. Snape's eyes travelled from Harry's notepad until onyx eyes met emerald ones. Then, he spoke, "10 points from Gryffindor for that blatant display of disrespect."Huh? That was disrespectful in Snape's book? Harry groaned internally, he had lost Gryffindor House 10 points just because he answered a question with the only other choice he had. "We will be speaking after this class." Draco Malfoy and his goons laughed once again. "How can they do that if Potter can't speak?" Malfoy said directly to Harry, loud enough for the whole class to hear."Quiet, Mr. Malfoy! 5 points from Slytherin for that childish comment," Snape said sharply. Ron, who was glaring at Snape the whole time, looked surprised. Snape taking a point off his own house for once? And for a disgraceful remark about Harry too?"For your information, and everyone's understanding," Snape said with a pointed look at Harry, "asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. Monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant that also goes by the name aconite, which makes Mr. Potter's answer... correct. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"Rustling of parchment and rattling of ink bottles were heard around the silent classroom as everyone followed Snape's order. Harry has made his decision. Potions class was the worst, and the whole incident earlier is now engraved permanently in his very brain. Harry didn't know what this professor's deal was. Why did he suddenly call on Harry and pick on him? Why did he have to humiliate Harry like that? Did he know he was mute and wanted to take advantage of it?It only got worse as the class continued. It was just the first day and first class and Harry already felt so drained. It was never like this in his 'muggle' school, but who was he to compare? There he was, making a potion on his very first day of potions class. It wasn't that complicated actually, although it's hard to focus when you hear the constant berating from Snape all over the classroom. And it wasn't that complicated if only Harry had better glasses.They were instructed to make a potion by following the procedure written on the blackboard. Snape's classroom was dark, which makes the words on the board lighter and more visible. But Harry's eyes weren't normal, which made all the words on the board completely blurred. Harry tried to squint, and it made the words slightly visible to him, but he was still unsure. Therefore, he couldn't confidently complete his potion. But sometimes, Harry would just pick up parts of the procedure from Snape's comments like, 'It says to add the snake fangs while the mixture is still boiling, idiot boy!' And if Harry was in desperate need of help, he would write to his notepad and show it to Ron, who was just beside him. It contained questions like, 'Does it say to crush 2 snake fangs or 7? I can't see the instructions clearly.' And Ron—thank the heavens for him, really—helped him. However, Snape seemed to pick up on Harry and Ron's 'passing of notes' and 'chattering instead of completing the potion', so the Potions Master took Harry's notepad to read what exactly he was passing to Ron. "First, you can't speak, and now you can't see? Does everything and everyone have to adjust to your selfish behaviour?" Snape then harshly slapped Harry's notepad back on the table, just beside his cauldron that contained the potion that Snape had just vanished. "You may complete your potion once your seemingly useless glasses have served their purpose." And just like that, Snape walked away. Harry sighed. Adults in his life just seemed to despise him and in the end, he will never know why. "I'm sorry about that, mate. Snape can really get nasty," Ron said in an attempt to comfort his friend, his voice hushed. Harry could only nod.   "For those who have successfully made their potion, vial it and leave it in your work area while I check it," Snape instructed. "And for those who weren't able to complete it..." Harry swore he could feel a pointed gaze directly at him as Snape continued, "You shall approach me when you are ready to brew it. Dismissed."Harry remembered how Snape told him that they would be speaking after class, so he tried to make a run—although he was only walking—for it, hastily following Ron out of the Potions classroom. Why did he even expect it? Snape kept an eye on him throughout the entire class. "I recall saying that I would be speaking to you after class, Potter," Snape drawled from behind. Harry halted his steps, and so did Ron. Hermione had already left due to her not wanting to be tardy for Charms class. Now, it was just Ron and him, and the former looked at Harry warily."Should I stay outside and wait for you?" Ron asked kindly. Harry simply shook his head and signed, "I'll be fine." Ron's head tilted in confusion. "Does that mean you're gonna be... okay?" he asked again, hoping he would be right.Harry nodded with a smile, and so did Ron before he exited the Potions classroom.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Rate yourself and rake yourself
Take all the courage you have left
And waste it on fixing all the problems
That you made in your own head

From “Little Lion Man” by Mumford & Sons
  Severus Snape was a Potions Master, and to become a Potions Master, he needed a Healer's Degree so he could take the job as a Potions Master anywhere he could or wanted. A Healer's Degree for Potions Mastery required learning how to make potions for all kinds of sicknesses, whether it'd be internal or external. Severus had seen so many cases to find anything surprising. It went from vanished bones, and altered memories, to even finding people's biological parents. Severus had also dealt with people who've lost their voice, either they've been placed with a Silencio or had a throat problem. Therefore, Severus knew the slightest bit about British Sign Language. He has also dealt with people who lost their hearing, especially during the First Wizarding War, making BSL come in handy for everyone.He had seen lots to label anything peculiar or eccentric, but not once did he ever see a case like Harry Potter's. Severus had a long list of expectations from the Potter boy. He expected to see a spoiled boy who walked into his classroom with his chest out and head held up high. Hell, he expected a boy who would even have the nerve to talk about Quidditch inside Severus' atmospherically silent classroom. But not one of those expectations ever listed that the great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, would not talk at all. Never in his 31 years of living did Severus feel the shock he had felt once he saw Harry Potter not only answer his unexpected Potions trivia but answer it with bloody Sign Language. And it wasn't just the basic sign language like knowing how to sign the alphabet or sign 'Thank you' and 'Please'.It was Potter's way to converse."Potter!" called Severus, just like he had planned. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He tested.Potter took a while to answer to the point Severus was starting to become impatient. He was just waiting for the boy to finally let go of his pride and admit that he couldn't answer the question so that Severus could finally use one of his also-planned insults. But suddenly, the boy raised both of his hands, slightly hesitant. And it made the Potions Master bewildered. What is this boy planning to do? Something to seek attention, Severus bet. 
"A-S-P-H-O..." 
What?
"D-E-L and W-O-R-M-W-O-O-D..."
Oh, Merlin. Potter was answering his question using British Sign Language. This can't be right. As far as news would go, Potter was always in good condition as he grew up, as Dumbledore also shares with them. There is no way this boy is either deaf or mute. But Potter still continued to sign, and as someone who has seen and learned a bit of that language, Severus was a bit—just a bit—impressed that someone his age could sign that well, and quickly too. 
"..can make... sleep(ing?)..." 
Severus was surprised. Potter was close to the answer, but somehow, the boy seemed like he gave up and just signed: "...don't know."  Now, he stood firmly inside his classroom and watched the conversation go on between the Weasley and Potter, but somehow, the raven-haired boy still did not talk. Severus assumed that the Potter boy was just faking everything for attention. Who was Severus to assume, you may ask? Well, James Potter sure did a lot for the spotlight. However, the boy's movements were flawless and well-practised and even Severus understood most of them. "I ... fine," Potter signed, and Severus got a glimpse of it.Weasley chattered once more until he left the Potions Master's classroom, Severus saw Potter walk his way towards where he was seated earlier during his class. Potter put down his bag and sat down once again. Severus approached him, quite slowly."Now, Potter," Severus started. "I want you to enlighten me as to what that show you gave us earlier was about?" he asked, sarcasm seeping into his tone. Potter hesitated before starting to sign. But as he raised his hands, Severus interjected. "Are you conversing with me or the floor?" he warned. "Eyes on me, Potter." The boy bit the inside of his cheek before looking up at Severus' black eyes. "I don't know ... sir," Potter signed. Severus only understood bits of it. "I believe it has already come to your attention that I cannot fully understand you," Severus reminded.The Potter boy then pulled out something from his bag, a notepad that looked like it was bought from the school supply section of a convenience store and had been used for years, along with a short pencil that Potter slipped into the notepad's spiral binding. The notepad was sky blue with a brand that was previously printed on its cover, it cannot be seen anymore from the pad being so worn out.Potter opened several pages of the pad until he finally stopped at a clean page and wrote, "I said I don't know what you mean, Professor." Potter showed it to Severus. "What atrocious handwriting," Severus commented. But somehow, Potter took that as a signal that Severus didn't want him to write.Potter raised a fist against his chest and formed a circle which Severus understood as, "I'm sorry." The student added a few more signs, "I ... learn(ed?) ... write ... myself." And Severus swore he saw sadness in that boy's eyes.Severus was in disbelief. Was it his understanding or did the boy say that he learned to write himself? "Pardon?" he called. The Potter spawn started to write again. He wrote so quickly that it looked like he'd been writing for years as a method of speaking to people. "I'm sorry if my writing isn't up to your standards. I only learned to write by myself."Surprisingly to Severus, despite it only being written, the apology sounded sincere. And Severus felt a pang of guilt he never thought he'd feel ever since his 5th year, a feeling he never thought he would have for the Potter boy of all people. He never even meant what he said about how Potter's writing is 'atrocious'. In fact, Potter's writing was clean and legible, his letters were all the same size and didn't look like they were dancing like other kids' handwritings were. It was probably just writing with a quill that made it look a bit messy, but in reality, Severus just needed to find ways to berate the boy as a way to vent his grudges. Wait, what? Severus admitting to himself that he was a petty, rage-filled man? Never mind that. This was about the boy, not him. And Severus thought he would be presented with a cheery, spoiled boy who was beyond ecstatic to finally sink in his fame.Severus hated being wrong. "What exactly are you implying by, 'I only learned to write by myself'? Didn't your relatives ever teach you?" He finally asked, careful not to pry. Potter shook his head before starting to write. "I mean that quite literally, sir. My aunt and uncle are busy so I learned from children's books in the library." "Interesting." Severus raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I was unaware that your father had a sibling," he stated. Severus knew that the boy's mother had a sister and later on married an unattractive, beefy man named Vernon. But he refused and would be completely in denial if the fact were Harry was sent to them. But when was the world ever on his side? Severus' heart dropped once he saw the boy shake his head and start writing again. "My aunt is my mum's sister, Professor." "You were sent to live with Petunia Evans Dursley?" Potter nodded. "... know ... ?" he signed, or that's what Severus understood. Of course, he knows her. "A story for another time, Potter." "I'm sorry," he responded, sensing that he may have asked too much."I don't need an apology," Severus replied with a sigh. "What I need is an explanation. I need to know why you can't speak and why you have decided not to inform anyone of this disability. If it is not jotted down in that imbecilic mind of yours, it is required for a wizard to know how to do verbal spells before moving on to non-verbal magic." Potter did not reply, almost looking like he was stumped with a revelation."Are you way too prideful not to ask for help?" Severus scoffed, he didn't even give Potter the chance to answer. "Of course, you would be. You're so much like your father. Arrogant, self-absorbed... Pitifully pathetic at potions because all he did was strut around the school like he was some celebrity. Spoiled and pampered, I know you got that from him," he rambled on. He let his words spill like a waterfall like he'd been waiting for this exact interaction with the Potter spawn.But to his sheer, utter horror - tears welled up in the boy's eyes and he stared at the professor for a short while before he started to sign firmly and hysterically. Potter's hands were quick and loud from how hard he was using them to sign what was supposedly his feelings. That was the moment Severus unexpectedly felt fear. How come the boy suddenly acted that way? He only mentioned his narcissist of a father. Nonetheless, Severus' healer senses kicked in. Once he saw Potter's hands begin to shake, with the only signs he knew as 'not know', 'father', 'dead', 'not mean'? and 'trust', he knew the boy was in a state of panic. Severus could hear the loudening volume of his Potion cupboards slamming to open and close, as well as the clinking of his glass vials and the rattling of the wooden desk against the cement grounds. Accidental magic.Oh shite. "Potter, Potter! You have to calm yourself, foolish child," Severus chided, albeit his voice a bit gentle. Of course, he had made a fair bunch of students cry before, but that was because he needed to be strict in potions class as a failed potion could be the bridge between life and death. However, this time, he had to come clean to himself and admit he was being an arse. This is his first actual encounter with the Potter spawn and it was way too far from what he had expected, he needed to get used to this immediately or else the boy would be helpless. He was the adult, he needed to adjust. Wow, is that maturity you're showing, Severus? A voice in the back of his head said.He saw how Potter only let out ragged and panicked breaths, clawing on his own throat as he tried to breathe, but he couldn't let out a cry or even a single sound for that matter. The tears that were just welling up in his eyes earlier only streamed down silently on his face despite his physical body shaking. The boy had no voice. And Severus was severely and utterly fucked for being the first professor to discover this. Why couldn't it have been the boy's Head of House? Hell, why not Albus? He knew everything about Potter, did he know this too and decided to think, 'Oh, let's not warn Severus and see what he'll think about Harry now.' Severus hated to admit that if that actually were ever Albus' plan, the latter would be right. Every single line Severus had practised and decided to use against Potter immediately died down in his throat once he noticed the boy was having a literal panic attack from something he said. If the situation were different, Severus would probably say, 'Quit the dramatics' or something other than what he'd said at that moment. But now, he just found out Potter was silent. A mute and helpless boy. And Severus already had a long list of reasons why he, himself, would definitely be going to hell without adding the fact that he's picking on a defenseless child. "Match your breathing with my counts, Potter. Inhale at 1, and exhale at the next 1," Severus explained as Potter shakily nodded in understanding. "Inhale at 1, hold 2, 3, 4... Exhale at 1. Understand?" The Gryffindor nodded again. "Let's go again. Inhale, 2, 3, 4..." They stayed like that for Merlin knows how long until Potter finally calmed down. "Dare I ask?" Severus simply said. Potter just kept his head down, sniffling a little. Merlin, Severus can't deal with this right now. What did he not know about this child? He needed a drink. "Do I need to escort you to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter?" Potter shook his head.”Are you certain that you’re well now?” Potter gave a nod. But something about it seems hesitant, unsure. He knew that he shouldn’t just leave the boy in this state. The aftermath of a panic attack can sometimes be worse than the panic attack itself, but the boy stood his ground in a way it’s almost like this isn’t his first time having one. And that alone made Severus even more confused."Up, Potter, I will be talking to the Headmaster about your silence before I take further action." Potter stood up and swung his bag over his shoulder. Then, Severus conjured a piece of paper. It was an excuse slip regarding Harry's tardiness in his next class with Professor Flitwick. "Give this to Professor Flitwick. Charms is your next class, isn't it?" The Gryffindor nodded.“And if ever, at any moment, you start to feel uneasy, make your way to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey will not hesitate to assist you.” Severus didn’t wait any more for a nod, assuming that the boy should take note of it whether he wishes to or not. "We will further discuss this in your detention later tonight, after dinner. Dismissed." Potter left the classroom immediately. Severus noticed that he was still shaken up from the conversation, which is why once Potter refused to answer, he decided not to pry anymore. After all, it was his fault that the boy ended up that way. Merlin, what had just happened? The Potter boy actually being mute was never and not even the last of Severus' long list of expectations of him. Did Albus know? Did Hagrid, the one who was sent to give Harry Potter his Hogwarts letter after the past hundreds failed to be sent, know and just refuse to tell them?And the one Severus wanted the answer to the most: How on earth did the boy get that disability? Severus massaged his forehead before he walked back to his desk to prepare for his next class. Suddenly, something blue shone in the middle of his dark classroom. Potter's notepad. The boy was probably zoned out from his previous panic attack that he forgot his notepad. But how could someone forget something so important to him?Then Severus thought, maybe he would get the answers he needed from this notepad. However, he needed time to reflect and think about this new revelation before going on to investigate. Most of all, he needed to visit Petunia Evans Dursley.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did

But I hold onto every detail like my life depends on it

From “the grudge” by Olivia Rodrigo
  Harry exited Snape's classroom with a heavy heart. With the slip in his hand, he ran his way to Charms class and tried to brush off what had happened earlier. Now, Harry understood. It was no wonder people kept talking about Snape and that everyone was so scared they had class with him first thing on the first day. Harry hated the thought of that man being the first to find out about his disability. However, he couldn't forget the fact that Snape had helped him with his... issue earlier. It had happened often to Harry, that anxious feeling where he gets so worked up until he realises he can't breathe. It happened a lot when he was sitting alone in his cupboard, once again wondering what he did to deserve to be put in that place. Then, he would get berated again, being a common victim of the phrase: 'Suck it up'. Harry couldn't fathom it, how come Snape helped him with that? Did he know what was happening with Harry? Whenever Harry would start to act that way when he was alone, he ended up passing out, and that happened a lot of times. But this was the first time he was actually calmed from the storm. And by Snape, of all people! He would get to that later, for now, he knocked at the door of his Charms classroom that was handled by Professor Flitwick."Ah, yes. Do come in, Mr. Potter! Perfect timing, we were just doing attendance," Professor Flitwick kindly greeted. Harry smiled and handed him the excuse form Snape had given to him earlier. "I'll take note of this. Thank you, Mr. Potter," Flitwick acknowledged as Harry took his seat next to Ron. Once the attendance taking had ended, Flitwick started with a few introductions about Charms before immediately jumping into the lesson. "Without further ado, today, we are going to be learning the Wand-Lighting Charm. Does anyone know the incantation of this spell?" Harry knew the answer and desperately wanted to raise his hand as this was the only time he could actually prove that he was good. Back in his primary school days, despite Harry's precocious intellect from reading books most of the time, he was always told that Dudley was the best and should be the best, therefore banning Harry from even trying in his schoolwork. However, Harry remembered how he was forced to answer Snape's questions earlier and how he humiliated himself in front of the whole class for answering questions with Sign Language. "Yes, Ms. Granger?" Harry was snapped out of his thoughts when Flitwick called on Hermione, who was raising her hand eagerly. "The incantation is 'Lumos', sir," Hermione answered with a smile. Professor Flitwick cheered with a simple, "Excellent!" Then, there they all were. They started to wave their wands to say the incantation, and Harry felt hopeless. Snape was right, he probably couldn't do this and needed to tell someone about his condition. However, Harry remembered that there was non-verbal magic. How can he try that? Do you just think of the spell? 
Harry tried it. He waved his wand properly and thought, "Lumos." 
It didn't work. Snape did say that it was advanced, but he didn't have a choice right now. "Lumos. Lumos!" Harry thought desperately. It still didn't work. "Are you all right, mate?" Ron asked right beside him. Harry turned his head to him. "You're kind of... waving your wand too harshly. Are you trying to do it non-verbally? My mum does it all the time, and Percy does it sometimes. You basically just say it in your mind and let your magic do its job. You should try to relax and maybe it will work," Ron suggested. Harry nodded and thanked Ron for the recommendation. Then, the former breathed in, counted three counts, and breathed out. Just exactly how Snape taught him earlier when he had calmed him down. Harry opened his eyes. "Lumos." The tip of Harry's wand suddenly had a bright light shining at its tip, lighting up his side of the room. Harry's eyes widened in shock, and so did Ron and Hermione, who were sitting beside him. Maybe even a few Slytherins. "Well done, Mr. Potter!" Professor Flitwick praised. "Whoa... it worked?" Ron said with awe, and his expression wore pride when he realised he had given Harry his advice and it worked."That's so cool, Harry! Did you do that non-verbally?" Hermione asked, eyes beaming with pride. Flitwick's expression suddenly looked shocked. "Non-verbally, Ms. Granger?" he asked. Suddenly, Hermione's eyes widened and he looked at Harry with panic. The latter, already happy enough with his achievement, signalled to Hermione that it was okay for her to tell Flitwick. Hermione nodded at the thumbs up. "Yes, sir. Harry can't speak, so he's doing the spell non-verbally." "My, my. This is a revelation!" For a split second, Flitwick looked confused before he decided to snap out of it. "Well, great job, Mr. Potter. Keep up the good work." Harry smiled, he might start to like this subject.   It was lunchtime in Hogwarts and everyone was in the Great Hall, all except for four professors. Severus had called in a small meeting with a few professors who expressed their concerns regarding Harry's disability. Those included Severus himself, McGonagall, and Flitwick. The other professors were watching over the students in the Great Hall. "How could you not inform us that Harry Potter is a mute?" Severus asked, his voice snappy and demanding.The three professors watched the headmaster expectantly, waiting for a response. Only for it to be a small, "A mute?""So the rumours are not rumours at all? Potter really is a mute?" Minerva asked in shock. "I'm afraid so, Minerva," Filius answered."A mute?— Yes, a mute, Albus! The boy doesn't speak!" The Potions professor replied, giving a pointed look at Albus.Albus was stunned enough that he had to stand up. "And how have you come to that conclusion?" the headmaster asked. "He converses in British Sign Language," Severus informed. "And if he sees that you can't understand him, he uses a notepad." He reaches into the pocket of his robe and pulls out the old, blue notepad. "This one. He left it in my classroom earlier this morning." Albus observed it until Filius started to speak. "Hermione Granger also informed me that Mr. Potter cannot speak," Filius added for more information. Minerva's eyes flashed with realisation. "You taught his class their first lesson today, right, Filius?" The half-goblin nodded. "How was Potter able to accomplish the Wand-Lighting Charm if he cannot speak?" "Oh, yes! I almost forgot," Filius laughed slightly, and Severus noticed that he almost looked proud. "The boy can do non-verbal magic." The three professors stared at the half-goblin, surprised at how casually he had just given that information.Severus could barely contain his astonishment. "Pardon?" he asked."Non-verbal magic? At his age?" Minerva questioned in shock. "That's impossible!" "I was an eye-witness. So were his other classmates," Filius added. "He was the first to accomplish it, after all." Minerva's eyes furrow in confusion. "But he's untrained. How could that be?""I don't think it is about his skills, I think this is more of a natural occurrence," Albus interjected. "His magic must have developed differently and adapted to his disability." "Then that must mean he has been a mute at a very young age," Severus said. "And he was certainly not a mute when I picked him up at Godric's Hollow," he added to clarify.Minerva added, "Nor was he a mute when Albus and I sent him to live with his..." she trailed off. Severus sighed and ran a hand over his face. "His relatives." Suddenly, the Transfiguration professor turned to Albus angrily. "I told you, Albus. I told you they wouldn't care for that boy!" "Minerva, I'm sure they would never be the reason why Harry can't speak," Albus tried to reassure the woman. "And how are you certain?" Severus countered back before Minerva could. "Even if they weren't, they still didn't care enough for the boy that they allowed something to be the cause of his disability even with the knowledge that he is a wizard and would need his voice." He paused for a bit of suspense and reflection for the older man. "That is negligence, Albus." The two other professors waited for a reply from the headmaster who looked anywhere other than Severus' gaze. Minerva noticed how strange the atmosphere suddenly became, and thus decided to speak. "Have you checked with Arabella Figg? She must've noticed if the boy was brought to a muggle healer to check his voice." "I will write to her and ask her if she has observed anything regarding Harry's disability," Albus finally volunteered. "And Hagrid." The three professors turned to look at their youngest. "Hagrid must have known if he was the one who delivered Mr. Potter's Hogwarts letter," Severus explained."That too," Albus agreed. "I will go down to his hut myself so you three can focus on your classes. I thank you for bringing this to my attention." Without hearing another word, Severus started to leave the Headmaster's office. "A word, Severus?" Albus suddenly called, making the Potions Master halt his steps as the other two professors continued to make their way out of the office. Severus walked back into the bright workplace once again. "What else do you need, Headmaster?" Severus asked. Albus inclined his head. "I'm certain you are aware that we will need to ask Harry about this soon, so he can adjust sooner to his life here in this world." "I am aware, yes," Severus admitted."You are a Healer, right? And you are familiar with British Sign Language?" "I am a Certified Healer, and I am familiar enough," Severus answered, unsure where this conversation was going. "Might you know anyone who can... translate sign language?" The headmaster asked, "With your experiences of being a healer, you must have met someone who can. And if we were to interrogate young Mr. Potter, then we should make it comfortable for him so he can be more open. Therefore, we could hire a translator instead of having the boy adjust to us by writing." "That sounds like an acceptable plan," Severus commented. "I hope it satisfies you that I do know someone. Give me a decided date of when we are going to be talking to Potter before I write to her." "That will be most appreciated, Severus," Albus responded. Severus only nodded before strolling his way out of the Headmaster's office. "And Severus?" Albus called again, and Severus just wondered if the man just waited for that one, specific moment when he was walking out of the room just to call him back again. Severus turned to look back at the older man, only showing irritation etched on his expression. "You might want to take a look at Harry's notepad if you want more answers," Albus suggested. "It may be out of context but it's best if we have a bit of information before we question Harry." "I will take note of that, Headmaster."   
I swear I DON'T KNOW what happened

I DIDN'T DO IT
Severus felt sick as he flipped through the pages.
I've learned my lesson

Please not the cupboard

One minute the glass was there and then GONE it was like MAGIC!

You must be mistaken. I can't be a wizard.

They said my parents died in a car crash. Is that true? 
Severus blanched, astonished at the things he was reading.Then, there were the more recent ones. 
The person that people around us keep whispering about, was he the one who killed my parents? You know, Hagrid, I know you do.
Severus took in a sharp breath.
I never knew I was famous so I don't know much about that, and I don't think I can tell you why I can't talk.
Severus' head tilted, 'Never knew he was famous?'
Do you know who the professor wearing all black is?
Severus thought about why the boy must have asked about this, the thought went back to yesterday when he locked eyes with Potter. Thank you.The professor presumed that Potter got an answer to the question because the token of gratitude was written just below it.
SAME PLANT, ACONITE. 
Then, Severus got to the last page. 
My aunt is my mum's sister, Professor. 
Severus closed the notepad, rubbing a hand on his face. Petunia Evans Dursley, what have you done?It wasn't just the written words that made Severus feel uncomfortable, but the state of the pages as well. There would be clean pages, but then suddenly there would be crumpled or overly folded ones. Just from how the words were written, Severus could tell the emotions through it. Potter ranged between capitalised words and then going back to lowercase, which meant he was in a state of panic or anger as he wrote. Severus didn't know if it was because of the old state of the notepad, but what he certainly couldn't put a finger on was: Why was there blood on some parts of it? Yes, Severus knows that's blood. He knows how to differentiate it from paint, and the boy sure wouldn't be foolish enough to paint random red spots on a notepad. The boy is hiding something. And Severus had to find out exactly what it was.  Harry's other classes went by normally that day, other than the fact Professor Quirrell kept having a close eye on him for some reason. It was dinnertime at Hogwarts, and Harry wasn't eating. It would take a while to get used to the amount of food at Hogwarts. Now, it was more of pushing his food around the plate than eating. He lost his appetite further every time he remembered that he had detention with Snape right after dinner."Eat up, Harry," Ron said from beside him, nudging the boy. "Go on, are you worried about detention? I'm sure it won't be that bad." Harry gave his friend a deadpanned look, almost as if saying, 'Didn't you see him in Potions class?'Ron gave a sheepish shrug until Hermione started to speak."Ron's right, Harry," Hermione said, just starting to sit down. She must've been studying before she went for dinner. "Professor Snape usually just assigns you to do something while he's grading papers," she explained before adding, "At least that's what the older kids say." Harry didn't even feel the need to ask Hermione where she learned that.Harry sighed and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'll be going," he signed to his friends, pointing a thumb behind him."He means he'll go now," Hermione whispered to Ron. Ron turned to the bushy-haired girl like he was offended she thought he didn't know. "I know what he means!" Harry chuckled at Ron's antics before making his way to the Potions classroom in the dungeons, where it was definitely colder at night.  Then, he stopped right in front of Severus Snape's classroom door, raising a fist to knock on it.