Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling. I will never be J.K Rowling. I just have a horrible habit of borrowing her characters. I will return them. I promise.

A/N: This is a (rather drastic if I'm entirely honest – LOL) re-write of one of my old stories. I watched the film that originally inspired the first story again for the first time in years and found myself writing this the next day.

Summary: Everyone thinks of Seamus Finnegan as the fun-loving Irishman with a talent for blowing things up…but that was just a well perfected mask…underneath which lay a child, haunted by his childhood and determined to help boys who were suffering just like he had…

To Save a Raggy Boy

Prologue

Going back had never been something he had planned on doing.

As a child he had sworn that once he had managed to escape from behind the thick iron bars he would never look back.

And yet here he was, willingly stepping into the place that had tortured his childhood and still haunted his dreams.

St Jude's Reform School.

Twelve months had passed between the fall of the Dark Lord and this moment…twelve long months that had been spent trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

It hadn't been an easy decision to make but this had been his answer.

He wanted to help the poor boys who, just like he had been all those years ago, had been abandoned into the care of the teachers at St Jude's, to make a difference to their difficult and troubled lives…

Dropping his suitcase by his feet he leant his back against the bars of the gate separating the school from the rest of the world, shutting his eyes tightly as he gave himself one last chance to change his mind…

"No…" he muttered angrily to himself, kicking back at the bars as he got frustrated with himself. "For crying out loud, Finnegan, what the hell is wrong with you? You managed to survive a war for fucks sake…"

Keeping that thought firmly in his mind he straightened up, brushing his hands down his stylish muggle suit before reaching out to pull on the chain hanging down the wall beside the gate, smiling softly as he heard the all too familiar bell ringing inside the buildings main entrance.

He could practically see old Mr O'Shea rushing from his office to answer the door, muttering about unexpected callers whilst brushing the biscuit crumbs off of his jacket and trying to comb what was left of his grey hair over the large bald spot dominating the top of his head.

Even across the small courtyard separating the gate from the main entrance of the school he could hear the ancient lock of the equally ancient front door protesting loudly as the key was turned, the doors hinges squeaking loudly as the door was slowly pushed open to reveal…

Mr O'Shea, apparently unchanged by the years…if you ignored the fact that his suit was significantly tighter than before and his hair, what very little there was left of it, was a shocking white colour.

Seamus covered hid his laughter behind a loud cough and a fake smile.

"Mr Finnegan?"

"Aye."

Producing a walking stick from behind his back the elderly teacher moved slowly across the yard, withdrawing his large set of keys from his pocket so that he could unlock the old fashioned gate.

"You've changed, boy."

"So've you, sir."

Mr O'Shea let out an almost wounded sound as Seamus made a point of nodding to the state of his hair, his hands fluttering almost nervously at his side.

"I can't say that I ever saw you coming back to us as a teacher," Mr O'Shea commented, his friendliness coming across as more than a little bit forced as the young man picked up his suitcase and stepped inside, tilting his head back to look up at the imposing building as the gate was locked once more.

"Neither did I."

As they stepped inside the old building Seamus felt a cold shiver run up and down his spine as he took in the familiar silence of the large building. The heavy atmosphere was so familiar it hurt, the rule of absolute silence feeling as natural as breathing now that he was within the grey walls of his old school.

"Right, Mr Finnegan, I'll show you up to your room so you can get settled in before dinner," Mr O'Shea announced softly as he made a show of returning the large set of keys to his old leather belt.

"Thank you."

Walking through the corridors was like stepping back in time – it seemed like nothing at all had changed in the seven years he'd been gone.

Heading up the battered old staircase he was surprised to see the photograph of his last year at school proudly displayed with all the others.

That hadn't been put up by the time he's left for Hogwarts.

Because he'd been the smallest boy in his class he was sat in the middle of the front row and had been given the "honour" of holding the old fashioned slate board that on which someone had written their class information along with the year.

Unfortunately sitting in the centre of the front row meant he'd been sitting directly in front of the Headmaster, Mr Grimly, and he could clearly remember being kicked in the behind for wriggling too much.

He was unsurprised to see that the photographs that had been taken during his absence were exactly the same as all the other, just a different group of boys, each one of them as thin and as…lost as Seamus himself had been.

Passing by the second floor which was made up of classrooms and the dining hall Seamus heard the soft sounds of boys voices, some chanting their times tables, others listing off history dates but each one as dull and monotone as could be.

The dormitories and washrooms took up the third floor of the building, the younger boys to the left of the stairs, the older boys to the right. Seamus could still remember which of the uncomfortable metal beds had been his…

Continuing their slow ascent of the stairs they finally reached the fourth and final floor of the building where the teachers lived…and Seamus felt as if he were suddenly inside a completely different building.

Gone were the depressing grey walls, their paint chipped and fading, replaced by freshly painted walls of a bright yellow colour which filled the corridor with light. The floor, although covered with the same brown tiles as the rest of the school, had recently been scrubbed clean and not a single tile was chipped or cracked.

Each door had been freshly varnished and there was even a delicate looking vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill at the end of the corridor.

In fact it seemed to Seamus that the only reminder of the rest of the school were the iron bars on the outside of the window.

"This will be your room while you're with us, Mr Finnegan," Mr O'Shea announced, reaching out to turn the handle and open the door of the room in question.

The room itself was simple enough, containing a single bed with light blue sheets, a small wardrobe and a chest of drawers, a writing desk with a matching chair and series of shelves around the walls.

There was even a layer of carpet beneath his feet.

Above the desk was a decent sized window, framed by a pair of thick curtains.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here, Mr Finnegan."

"Thank you," Seamus murmured in response, clearing his throat awkwardly as he compared his warm little room with the cold dormitories he had slept in on the floor below. "I'm sure I will be."

"Dinner will be served at six o'clock. Would you like me to send one of the boys to fetch you or will you be all right on your own?" Mr O'Shea offered.

"I think I can remember the way."

"Right…well…I'll leave you to get settled in then…"

A deep sigh burst forth from his lungs once he was alone, quickly becoming choked off as he fell down onto his bed with his hand over his mouth.

His chest felt unbelievably tight…

It wasn't that he'd been operating under an illusion that coming back would be easy. He'd known all along that it was going to be difficult for him…but he had never imagined that it would hurt so much so soon…

Oh God…

If this was how he reacted to simply being inside the building once more how the hell was he going to react when he was faced by his old tormentors again…when he saw the man that had…that had…he couldn't even this the word without feeling sick to his stomach…

"Come on, Seamus…" he ordered himself shakily, smacking his fists against his thighs. "You helped defeat the Dark Lord! If you can do that you can fucking well do this! You've got to do this…for the boys…"

A/N I did mention that it was a rather drastic re-write…LOL! Comments and suggestions are as a welcome as ever.