It started with a death.

Harry didn't know much about the child. Just that he was in Hufflepuff. He was a second year. They said 'hello' in the halls between classes.

That was it. It was all he knew about the child. Harry was in fifth year. It had sucked so far. Umbridge, the "Senior Undersecretary" or something else, was the defense professor. She did a horrible job. And the detentions Harry had to suffer through couldn't be legal.

She had stood up at breakfast, two days after winter break, smiling that simpering smile, and left. Professor McGonagall sighed and stood as well. She announced that there was some bad news but sat back down. Professor Sprout stood instead, and announced that her little second year (His name was Dylan Falls) had died over the winter holidays – beat to death by his abusive relatives.

Harry had a hard time believing the kid could be anything less than a pureblood. He just sort of… fit in. But he was a half-blood. His mother, from what Harry heard, was like the portrait of Sirius' mother, Walburga or something like that.

The boy grew up with his father (James, same as Harry's father) until the man's untimely death when Dylan was nine. Dylan was sent to live with his mother, [muggle] step-father, two half-siblings and a step sister.

Dylan's mother, one Jessica Gates, hates magic. Ever since James showed her magic, she had hated it. No tolerance whatsoever. Her husband (Kyle) agreed with her, once he was told. The two half-siblings, a boy and girl felt the same as their mother. The girl was Harry's age and was the result of a one-night stand two years before Jessica met James. The boy was ten, and Kyle's son. Kyle's biological daughter (Maia-Kristie, but she liked to be called May) didn't share the rest of the family's views and did her best to take care of Dylan. But she was only seventeen and couldn't take any legal action.

So when Dylan got a letter in November about how the family realized how wrong they were about magic, he was excited. Harry remembered him talking about it. Maybe they were telling the truth, maybe they weren't, but Dylan never returned.

Harry was glad Umbridge wasn't there for that announcement; how they convinced her to leave the room, he didn't know.

But after the announcement about the poor boy, Professor Flitwick stood on his chair and said that they (here, Harry clenched his fists. If they were saying what he thought they were, he'd explode) he said that they only wanted the best for their students and if anyone else was suffering in their home, "Please come speak to us."

Snape snorted.

Twenty students, of all ages and blood, stood. One of the older ones, a seventh year Slytherin, strode out of the Great Hall in anger. The rest followed. The staff looked baffled. McGonagall muttered "Wha…?"

Harry stood. He was nearly bursting. Anger and bitterness bubbled in his core. The entire hall was staring at him.

"Mr. Potter?"

The four heads seemed to be involved the most – although Snape was acting different for the other three.

Harry tried to calm himself down. He spoke when he thought he would be able to control himself.

"Why?" He asked.

Flitwick looked confused. "Why what, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath as the anger came back full force.

"Why did it take a death for you to begin caring?"

The staff, all of them, jerked back in shock. "Wha' do you mean? 'Arry?"

Harry glared at them. "What do I mean? I mean – why did it take a death for you guys to finally admit there might be some less than stellar homes? 'Cause frankly, I'm sure there are students who have told you they don't want to go home."

McGonagall said, "We need evidence. We can't do anything without them talking. And if they don't talk, then it isn't so bad. If it was, they'd talk."

Snape snorted again. "Yeah right." He muttered. McGonagall stared at him. "What do you mean Severus?"

Snape stared at her. "An abused child isn't going to talk about their home life because they're too afraid."

Sprout shook her head. Harry had been forgotten about. "Severus, that just isn't logical."

Snape sighed. "And fear overrules logic."

Harry began moving to the center of the hall.

Flitwick (by this point, the other professors had backed out of the argument for their own sakes) snapped out "They have nothing to fear here at Hogwarts."

Snape sighed, evidently deciding that the others were a lost cause. Harry had reached the middle of the hall, and all the attention was focused on him again. "Professors. I agree with Snape."

"Why?" McGonagall asked sharply.

Harry stood tall. "Muggles begin schooling at four or five." He began. "When I was six, I tried to tell a teacher that my relatives were abusive." A gasp echoed around the hall. "The teacher called the cops – muggle aurors. It didn't work."

Harry banished his clothes, all except his trousers, and turned around. "This is what I got for my efforts."

His back was mangled, gouged out in places, a mess of bumps and dips and white and tan.

"I never spoke of that again. I didn't speak at all for nearly a year.

"Professors, I can firmly say, with total belief in my mind, that anyone who is abused is afraid that they won't get the help they need, that life will get worse."

McGonagall took in a shaky breath, and with an equally shaky voice, asked, "Severus? How do you know so much about this?"

Snape gave her a piercing glare. "You never once heard me talk about my home life, Minerva. There's a reason for that."

McGonagall choked. Snape had been, after all, her student only twenty years before. Flitwick fell off his chair. Snape continued.

"An abused child may try to hint at it though. So that no-one can blame them for talking, but they get help."

The other professors looked helpless. "What are hints though?"

Snape smirked. "Some are unconscious reactions. Faint trembling. The desire to be perfect. A fear of loud noises or bright lights. The like. What am I missing, Mr. Potter?"

The teachers looked back to Harry, as if just remembering the show only a few minutes before. "Flinching. Fear of physical contact, or sometimes, the opposite. Or both. Lord knows I've been both afraid of touches and yet almost needing it to survive. Overly quiet. Seeking small or dark places. Fear of failure, although that's already been mentioned by Professor Snape, with the desire to be perfect."

Snape stared at Dumbledore. Harry did too, guessing what was about to come. "They might tell you they don't want to return home. They could say that "it's not too bad. I've had worse," when injured – particularly with really bad injuries."

Harry continued. "Not overly trusting either. Usually very perceptive – you noticed how most of the ones who left came from Slytherin?

"Well that's because the ability to observe, improvise and turn a situation in their favor is important. It's a very cunning-like trait.

"Ambition too, is often found in an abused child. Some want revenge, some want justice – though the line between the two is very fine – and some just want to get away. They might want to prove their "captors" wrong.

""I'm not useless. I'm not a waste of space." I know that feeling. If I could just get away, then I could do so much better.

"Of course, this is just what I've felt in my lifetime."

Harry paused, thinking for a minute. "Children who are mentally or emotionally abused exhibit other symptoms. They might seem depressed, or they may hate themselves. They may not be able to be mature about emotions, and in freedom, are lost and react immaturely."

The professors looked horrified, but Snape didn't give them any respite. "Have you ever, Minerva, have a student ask to not go home? What about you, Pomona? Filius? That should have set off warning bells in your mind. That something isn't right. But be my guest. Just keep neglecting your students. When another Dylan happens, I'll be there to say 'I told you so.'"

Harry gave each of the professors a sharp look – all of them, not just the heads – and strode off after the rest of the students. He stopped at the door, though, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear,

"For me – not anyone else, but because you guys decided I'm special – but just for my own personal reasons, I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen.

"Dumbledore – you keep telling me that I'll be the one to defeat Voldemort. You also say that I have to go back because the blood wards protect me.

"To the first thing, I say, how can I defeat my enemy if I've died at my family's hand?

"To the second, I say, how can a blood ward protect me if nobody wants to be involved? I also say, you want to protect me? How safe am I in a house where I fear for my life? You aren't protecting me. You keep sending me into a warzone saying it's the safest place for me.

"And, please remember that children aren't the only ones who get abused. People of all ages get abused - by their parents, friends, or partners.

"That just my own thoughts on the matter though. Nobody else is a bloody savior. I wish, sometimes, that I'd never been born. How can you people place all your hopes on someone who didn't know his own name for six years? I was just a child. I still am. Hermione once said that wizards don't possess an ounce of logic. She's right. Come back once you've got your ounce."

Harry left the hall in shocked silence. Umbridge was still nowhere to be seen. The professors all looked faint, except for Severus Snape.

Severus' respect for a single boy had just risen, and despite the fact that Severus would never like the boy, he gave a silent toast before sipping his –suddenly necessary – light wine.

Thank you to the commenter who pointed out that I mostly addressed physical abuse and offered some traits of those that are mentally or emotionally abused.