Authors note: Hi guys, I'm back. It's been a while since I've published anything, and you'll notice I've deleted everything else. I'm trying to start fresh. I'll update as often as possible, send me a pm if I'm taking too long, and hopefully you'll all love what I have in store. This will be a Severitus story, and will contain descriptions of abuse so be warned. I hope you all enjoy!
To the average stranger number 4 Privet Drive was normal in nearly every way. The grass cut on the horizontal, the flowerbeds weed free. There would be no reason to suspect something unseemly was going on beneath its roof, unless they were to look closer. Upon closer inspection you would notice an occupant of the home that doesn't seem to fit. A small gangly child with a mop of black hair, that looks the age of three but is in actuality five. The boy is quiet, reserved, and very rarely makes eye contact. He nearly never speaks, and is never in school all week long. If you look too closely you'll notice the bruises. The scars. The marks. Of course, you don't look closely. No one ever does because no one wants to know.
Boy shivered violently, the cold air chapping his skin. He watched the snow fall around him gripping his body tight.
"Bad boy, bad, ruining Dudley's dinner with your freaky hands," Boy berated himself. No dinner for Boy tonight he thought sadly, though he knew he deserved it. The sky was pitch black, though only dark clouds could be seen. The snow fell in clumps, Boy was already numb all over and if he squinted hard enough he could see how blue his hands were. As his eyes slowly closed Boy wished with all his might that maybe, just maybe, he would be allowed to eat soon. That maybe Aunt and Uncle would love him tomorrow, if he was good enough.
Many miles away, just as little Harry's eyes slipped close, a soft blinking light suddenly turned red and a blaring noise was heard throughout the castle. As the alarm sounded Albus Dumbledore's fork clattered to the floor, his chair screeching in protest as he shoved it back.
"Poppy, prepare the infirmary," was all he said to the startled staff as he rushed out the castle.
After summoning the Aurors and apparating to Privet Drive, the sight that met him would forever be burned into his memory. The small boy's chest labored with each breath, his body too tired to even shiver. The boy's lips and extremities blue from the frigid temperature, the old wizard cast a mild heating charm, to begin the warming process but to avoid shock. Albus bent down and cradled the small boy to his chest. Tears froze to his wrinkled cheeks as he took inventory of the open cuts, the fractures, and the scars, but most importantly the soft heartbeat. He bundled the boy as close to his own body as he could, instructing the Aurors that had arrived to place the Muggles at the residence under arrest. As Dumbledore apparated to the gates of Hogwarts, the indignant yelling of one Vernon Dursley could be heard up and down the street.
The doors to the infirmary burst open, revealing a distraught Headmaster and an unconscious limp little boy.
"Poppy!" he called out, the matron already rushing forward. Poppy shifted the boy from the Headmaster's arms into a bed with fresh white linens, that quickly turned brown and red where the boy touched. Vanishing the boys clothing so as to get a better look at the injuries she gasped slightly, already at work.
"Albus, a warming potion if you would. The boy is barely two stones, so the dose for a two year old if you would. A nourishement potion, blood replenishing, and a junior skele-grow," Poppy ordered, her wand waving a diagnostic charm as she spoke. Looking at the sheet Poppy grimaced.
"Hold on with that skele-grow, I need to re-break several bones first. Dose him with a dreamless sleep, and then we can get to work, I believe you know the spell?" she asked. The still silent Headmaster paused, and nodded, spelling the requested potions into the boy's stomach. They were in for a long night.
Many hours later, not long after the moon had disappeared and the sun took its place, Harry lay sleeping, out of danger. Madame Pomfrey sat heavily on a neighboring bed, Albus doing the same.
"He is out of danger," Poppy sighed wiping her face, "But it was close. Any longer and he would have succumbed to the cold and the infection." At that Dumbledore's face, if possible, got even cloudier. The ever-present twinkle strangely absent.
"Thank you Poppy. I fear what would have happened had you not been here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some affairs to straighten out. If you would join me in the Great Hall in say..three hours? I daresay an emergency staff meeting is in order," holding up his hand when he saw the signs of protest, "Everything will be explained then. If you would also keep an eye on him, who knows what state of mind he'll be in when he wakes," with that Albus swept out of the room.
Poppy watched the Headmaster sweep from the room, her eyes troubled. This wasn't the first case of abuse she had dealt with, though it was the most severe. She thought back to Halloween five years ago and sighed. Minerva and her should have argued harder, they had known they were the worst sort of Muggles, but never had they dreamed this would happen. Why hadn't she checked on Harry throughout the years. Poppy would never forgive herself, and she hoped Dumbledore was prepared for Minerva's reaction. The cat animagus was never one to leave her feelings unsaid. When the abuse comes to light, one thing is for sure, many would be invading the Headmaster's office, demanding an explanation. Though that still left one question. What would happen to the poor child in the bed before her? And would he be able to recover from the years of torture?
Hope you all like it! I'd love to hear back from you, what you thought about it and all. See you all soon!