His Guardian Angel

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. 

Harry jerked awake. He threw his hands up in the air, shrieking for Quirrell to stop. He couldn't stop seeing the man disintegrate at his touch, couldn't stop hearing him scream in pain; pain that Harry had caused. Hot tears streamed down his face and once he had regained his bearings enough to know that Quirrell wasn't near him he turned over and started bawling.

He'd killed someone. Not just someone, he killed a professor. Someone he was supposed to be able to rely on, someone who was supposed to be there to protect him. For the first time since he'd met Hagrid, he truly hated magic.

Magic is what had done this. He had felt it pulse through his hands and whatever it was that he had unknowingly cast had melted the skin off of his professor's face before turning the goo to ash. Magic may have gotten him away from the Dursley family, but it had turned him into a killer.

It was then that he realized there was a hand on his shoulder. Someone was sitting on the edge of his bed, just waiting for him to calm down. He lifted his head, gaze settling on the headmaster before he burst into fresh tears.

"I-I d-didn't mean t-to, I-I promise! He just-just w-wouldn't stop!"

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore's voice floated over him like a soothing balm. He didn't sound angry or upset...not even surprised. "I know you didn't mean for any of what happened to happen. But I need you to be brave for me so you can answer some questions I have." Harry nodded and wiped at his face. He could answer questions.

"Harry, I need you to be completely honest with me. Do you understand?" He nodded. "Good, good. Do you mind telling me about your time with the Dursleys?" Harry blinked, unsure if Dumbledore had just asked about the Dursleys of all things. Isn't the dead man in Hogwarts more important?

"Sir, I'm not sure what this has to do with-"

"I'm sure you have many questions for me," Dumbledore interrupted. "But I would ask that you simply trust that I'll be able to explain more to you once I have some things answered first."

Sucking in a breath, Harry eyed his bandaged hands. "The truth? From the beginning?" He glanced up to see Dumbledore nodding and took another breath to calm himself down before telling Dumbledore everything.

"The Dursleys don't like me. I'm not sure when they started making me do their chores...it's always something I've done ever since I can remember. They tended to overreact when strange things happened-accidental magic, I think. Aunt Petunia shaved me bald once trying to keep my hair from being a mess and when it grew back overnight she walloped me with the frying pan.

"They...they didn't treat me very well. I have a lot of scars from them." He tried to push his sleeve up to show Dumbledore the many scars he'd gotten on his forearms and wrists. "These are all from making mistakes in the kitchen. Mostly I'd burn myself accidentally, I wasn't tall enough to reach the pan properly when they started making me cook breakfasts."

"Harry," Dumbledore looked incredibly sad. "I think that's more than I needed. You don't have to tell me anymore if you don't want to." Harry nodded and crossed his legs under the sheet. "There are some things you should know about your life, Harry."

"Oh I already know that Voldemort killed my parents and that he wants me dead too." Dumbledore chuckled.

"While that's the short version, there's a bit more to it than that. But first thing's first; I do have a few questions about what happened with Professor Quirrell if you're up to it."

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"Now just remember if it's too much you don't have to answer. Can you tell me about what happened? As much of it as you can remember?"