A/N: Trigger Warning- Mentioning and depictions of Abuse and aftermath. I'm not a survivor of physical abuse, but rather of psychological/emotional abuse. Physical abuse will play a small role in this story beyond its mention from here out. I hope that my depictions don't sound stupid or offensive. If so, then please let me know so I can edit and apologize to you. I'm trying to deal with my own demons by writing this, and I'd hate to hurt someone else in my efforts.

This piece will focus on Harry and Hermione, with Neville being a secondary focus. At the moment, Harry gets the most attention due to how much is happening to him. This piece will involve pairings, but the only guarantee I have at the moment is HHr. Beyond this, I'm thinking about some other non-standard pairings and ideas. This fanfic is inspired by all of the wonderful fanfiction I've read on this site. I believe you can look up my favorites and follows on my page. If it's on the list, then it has influenced this story. If it's not, then it still might've influenced the story, but I forgot to Fav/Follow it.

Abused Harry, Intelligent/Independent Harry, Assertive Hermione, Cunning Neville, Evil Dumbledore, etc.

I don't own Harry Potter or associated properties. I believe that JKR and Warner films both own the property that I'm writing about.

Sic Semper Tyrannis

Chapter 1

He could feel the fresh bruising. He should be numb to it now, since there were always bruises, but for some reason the pain never seemed to lessen. He didn't know why he was subject to the hell that was the Dursleys, but what he did know was pain.

He did not wake due to the pain, but rather due to the aural assault that was his relatives walking down the stairs for breakfast. Today he had forgotten to wake prior to them and make breakfast. Today would not be a good day.

"Wake the fuck up!" His uncle screeched as he got off the floor in the cupboard beneath the stairs.

"Sorry! I'm coming. I'll get breakfast started." Replied the fearful birthday boy.

The day went downhill quickly. After making breakfast, his aunt, though he'd be surprised if she wasn't a demon straight from hell, began to berate him. She didn't enjoy hitting him like his uncle and cousin did. She preferred deeper jabs. She was responsible for telling him how worthless his parents were. How they died in a car accident because his father was a drunk. How his father abused her sister and her sister was on some sort of drugs. He was told that he was even worse than them and that's why they made him their slave. She was also responsible for the poor boy being required to get mediocre grades lest he get lashes for making his cousin look stupid. He only made that mistake once.

He was a small boy, and one could tell he was malnourished. He looked like he had come straight out of the commercials about childhood poverty. He had been homeschooled since he was 9 for this very reason. Though social services had never been called, his 'guardians' thought it would be better for his 'health' to be at home. How they had never been reported was beyond Harry. While he no longer could make better marks than his cousin due to his aunt being his teacher, he still had to play dim. Around midday something strange happened as the diminutive boy stood in the garden picking weeds.

He saw an owl. As the sun sat at its peak, he saw an owl. The child knew owls were nocturnal, and he saw an owl flying as fast as it could straight towards him. Luckily, his aunt and uncle were out for lunch with his cousin; they loved lording the fact that they could eat whatever they wanted whenever they wanted over him. The owl then trampled one of his Aunt's potato plants; he knew he'd be blamed for this. The owl gave him an expecting look as it held an envelope out to the young boy.

Harry took the envelope, but didn't know what the owl was wanting, nor did he know how he knew the owl wanted something. Today was officially off the rails. The fact that a nocturnal animal had brought him postage was the last thought in his mind as he opened the envelope.

"What in the bloody hell is this…" He spoke quietly to himself.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The boy didn't take the time to read the second page. He simply asked the owl to wait. He didn't know how he knew the owl would listen, as he ran inside and grabbed a paper and pencil before his relatives got back. If they saw him with an owl, the potatoes, and trying to write something he knew he could end up in the ground. He found the materials and wrote his letter:

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I do not have time to write any more than I am lest I get a good beating. Please let me into your school, and please have someone pick me up from my residence. You must know it as your owl did. I will not be able to get any of the materials without your help. I do not know what magic is, if it is real, or any of that, but I know I need out of here. If you can get me out of this place, then I accept your offer of schooling so long as you provide safe travel and asylum from my 'relatives.'

Fearfully,

Harry James Potter.

The Owl took his letter. He never knew that by addressing the letter to the Deputy Headmistress that he had saved himself from years of torture, but he did know that if this magic was real, then it must be how he hadn't been killed the few times that Dudley and Vernon both beat him at the same time. Or the time his aunt had carved FREAK into his chest. He knew that she had hit a vein, but somehow, he didn't die. He thought it strange at the time, but was more concerned with the pain than he was with how he managed to live. There were many days he'd have rather he died.

HJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJGHJG

It was around the same time the young boy received his owl, that a young girl was talking with a doctor.

"I don't know why, but I just can't handle being around people. I can feel their judgement and their ridicule. They stopped being so explicit about it once I began to devote myself to reading and studying, but that's another problem. Now that I've begun to study and read so much I don't do any of my school work. I still make top marks on my exams, but I can't convince myself to do my homework. My parents try to help, but they're so happy that I'm not crying or saying I don't want to wake up in the morning to do anything. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm scared, and I feel helpless. My books make me feel safe. I've been reading about science, various arts, history, and most of all literature. I love literature. I'm not a damsel in distress, but I can't help feeling like it would be nice if someone cared about me enough to rescue me. Not because I'm a girl, but because they think I'm worth helping. I'm rambling, sorry," she said sheepishly.

Her therapist was stunned. He didn't know what to say. Normally he could help his patients walk through their problems, and they'd have an idea of how to solve their own issues, but this girl had already done the work for him. She knew what her problems were. She had analyzed their cause. And now she was looking for answers. He had none. She was smart, and she enjoyed learning. That was going to cause her to get bullied. The school wouldn't do anything, since she was afraid to report her tormentors. The one thing that made her feel safe was also making her marks drop. Luckily, he'd already spent most of their time discussing meditation techniques and the medication she had been put on. The meditation seemed to help, but the medication had been doing about as much good as sugar pills. As he had only five minutes left he left her with this:

"You seem to have a good grasp of what's going on in your life. Especially for someone who's your age. I don't have many answers for you. You should meditate for the next week. When we meet again I'll have thought about what you said, and try to come up with an action plan that will help you get through this difficult point in your life."

The girl grumbled her goodbyes at his non-answer. She had hoped the medication she'd been given would numb her into not caring about the bullying, but it didn't seem to take. However, once she and her mother arrived at the house they were in for a surprise of an entirely different sort. Standing at the door was a rather tall elderly Scottish woman. She was talking with Dan Granger, who, much to the amusement of Hermione and Emma Granger, looked beyond confused.

….

"Why do you need to know where my daughter is?"

"As I said previously, I want to extend her an offer to the school where I reside as Deputy Headmistress."

"And I asked you what school you were from, why she should go, and how you even know to extend such an offer to my child."

Emma had had enough of listening to the argument between an inquisitive and overprotective father and the Professor. "Dan, I'm back with Hermione. Why don't you let her in and we discuss this matter? It might help Hermione, and it could be a good school. Besides, there's no harm in listening."

"Fine, but I don't like that she refused to be forthright with me. I'm her father she should have just told me," Dan whined quietly.

"Hello, Mrs. Granger and Miss Granger. As I was discussing with your husband I would like to extend an offer of education to your child at a rather exclusive boarding school in Scotland. Before I do, I think I need to perform a demonstration."

The professor used this as an opportunity to tease the father. Suddenly there was a black cat walking around the drawing room. Just as suddenly, the professor was back. Then, the coffee table was made to walk around the room. Then, it returned to its rightful location as the professor put her stick down. In the shock no one had noticed said stick until the walking stopped.

"What…"

"Did-did you all see that too?"

"I thought my medication had finally started working," the young girl replied.

"Yes, yes I know it was quite a show. Normally you would've gotten that in about 15 minutes when you threatened to kick me out for, as the muggles say, being psychotic. Now, about this school…"

"Ye-yes," the overbearing father muttered.

"We are the premier school of witchcraft and wizardry in the, what is your government called again.. ah yes in the United Kingdom. However, as it stands we are the only magical school in the United Kingdom, so unless you want to leave the country you will not be able to attend elsewhere. The school's official title is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Our records indicate that you Miss Granger are a witch. However, since your parents lack such a capacity we, meaning I, make a special effort to extend the offer of enrollment. I'll tell you that you are required to attend some magical education, or have your magic bound rendering you a muggle. This is to avoid you becoming an adult and performing dangerous accidental magic. Oh, yes, if you've had many unexplainable things happen as a child, flying books for example, then those were instances of accidental magic. Now, are you interested in attending our school?"

One could have heard a feather drop, and then all hell broke loose. Once the calm had been restored, the young girl was given the opportunity to answer.

"I think I would like to attend very much. Are most students from the non-magical world? Can I buy books about the school before I attend? How would I even buy said books? Where would I even buy those books?"

"Would we be able to afford to send her? Would she be safe? Can we visit? When will she come home?"

"How is magic real? How, just how," the father yet again replied unable to get past his initial surprise.

"Yes, magic is real. No one as of yet has attempted to explain it via science, but many muggleborn parents, including an especially irritating Ravenclaw, have tried to understand it. However, that isn't of import. As you've expressed concern over paying for the education, your house looks rather expensive for muggles, so I think you'll be fine. Hogwarts is exceptionally safe. I'll show you where you can buy your books young Miss Granger. I'll show you how to exchange your muggle money for magical money. Most students are from magical families. Term starts September 1st. As you are muggles, you will not be able to visit, but most parents don't visit, anyways. However, term is till the first week of December, and you may return home for break or stay at the castle. Oh, yes our school is a magical castle. After first term, we allow students to return for, what is that holiday you all celebrate…, Easter. You may return for Easter for 1 week. Summer break begins after the second week of June. Here is your letter of acceptance, so am I to understand that you'd like to attend our school?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I could keep our child away from the school without wiping her memories, anyways." Emma replied. Then, as her face drained of color she fearfully exclaimed "Wait you can't do that can you?!"

"Well, if we bound her magic we might have been able to, but as she's expressed a desire to attend the only thing that could stop her is an inability to afford tuition. However, you all seem willing to allow her to attend so I'll leave this form with you to read over. It has information on what books she must buy, when I'll pick you all up to go buy said books, and how to get on the train to go to school. When we go to buy her books, we will also be meeting with a few other families that aren't magical. We will be converting some of your muggle money into magical currency, and then we will buy your books, some robes, and then you will be fitted for a wand. Any questions?"

"I do have a question but it's unrelated."

"Yes, you may Miss Granger, but I need to be on my way soon. When we shop I would be very pleased to discuss the magical world with you and your parents."

"What do you teach Professor, that's all I wanted to know."

"I teach transfiguration. It's the branch of magic concerned with turning one object into another."

"I cannot wait until September…"

"Well, I'll see you on the first of August to help you purchase your goods. Good evening Grangers, and thank you for your hospitality.

…

Once the professor had left, and the family had calmed down, the young witch, laid in bed and for the first time in a long time thought that things might just be ok.

McGonagall

The professor sat down in her Apartment at the castle reading through her postage. Soon she came across a piece of mail that probably should have gone to the headmaster himself, but upon seeing the name she couldn't resist reading it. The name was Potter. The unknowing hero of Magical Britain. She wondered what he had to say, and if he knew he'd labeled his postage improperly.

As she read the first sentence she froze. Then, she became more horrified as she read. She thought he must be joking. However, when it came to students, the professor refused to assume the innocence of the parents until the innocence was proven. She immediately started looking for Albus.

…

"Minerva, I'm sure you're mistaken. Things cannot be as bad as the letter says they are. I'm sure when he gets on the train in September he'll be perfectly healthy and you'll see that his relatives were just a bit overzealous in assigning chores and punishment."

"I don't care Albus! I'm going now to pick him up. I just thought you should know. If they aren't harming him, then he can go back tomorrow. I don't care what you say. I will resign my position if you want me to be cautious about this. Children are not to be abused. Especially not magical children. You know what it does to their cores if it goes on long enough. I will not allow the hero of magical Britain to be turned a squib because we allowed this abuse to continue. I'll see you in half an hour, and if he isn't injured then I'll have him meet with you and myself."

Albus didn't know what to do at this point. If he denied her this, then he'd be seen as complicit to the abuse of the hero of magical Britain, and he'd lose his best Professor. Not to mention the person who performs the duties of Headmaster, and the head of Gryffindor. He might have charmed her memory, but he knew she was smart enough to only show him a copy of the letter, and if she discovered she'd been charmed thing would turn out rather ugly and very quickly at that. "Fine, I guess that is fine. However, if he is being abused, just get him out of there. Do not hurt the muggles. I'll make you a portkey to use after you use my floo to get to Hogsmeade. I doubt you recall the location well enough to apparate there."

Minerva was flummoxed. She usually didn't get her way on things this easily. Maybe he took her threat seriously. Well that made things easier. "That'd be appreciated Albus."

HJP

After the beating for the state of those damned potatoes, the young man laid on the floor and screamed in his mind. His only thought was: "Out! I need out! Let me out of my fucking head! I can't fucking handle it here. I just want out of my mind." Some might be surprised that he wanted out of his mind rather than out of the room, but this was merely because he'd given up the hope that he could escape this torture. He just wanted to be away from his thoughts so he needn't relive his memories. He wanted out so he didn't have to think about everything around him. He had given up on escaping the torture, but held out hope that he might escape reality.

"How did you get in my house?! Get out! I'm calling the bobbies!"

Silence.

Steps. He could hear the steps. "Where is that boy at. I'm sure this is the residence he owled me from."

Fear and hope mixed together all at once as he jumped from the floor and opened his door. Fear of this being some cruel joke. Fear of his Uncle killing the woman. Fear. Just Fear. Hope was for the obvious reasons: potential to escape, potential to be happy, potential to be around people who wouldn't beat on him like a punching bag. The potential good outweighed the potential bad, but the fear and hope still managed to coalesce into an emotion that left the boy stuttering and shaking, all the while smiling at the elderly woman in what looked to be black silk robes and a fancy classical witch hat. At least this is how he saw things.

"Hell-llo, I'm Harry James Pot-ter. I wr-wrote you this mo-morning."

"Well come with me. I can tell from your speech, appearance, and living conditions that you were not lying in your letter. I'm taking you to the school healer, and then we can talk."

She grabbed his shoulder and then he felt like someone was pushing him through a very narrow pipe. Then, they were in a bar. The woman grabbed some green dust and threw it into a fireplace, and somehow she began talking with another woman. Just as quickly he was told to walk into the fireplace. He started spinning, and then stopped. He was in what looked to be a hospital. There was no medical equipment. Rather there was simply another older woman in white robes standing in front of him. She pulled him forward, and hugged him. She-She was crying. These weren't little sobs. The woman was crying as if she had lost her own child. He didn't know what to do. Then the older woman from before walked behind him. The woman behind him he believed to be Professor McGonagall.

"Pomfrey we need to perform diagnostics on him and get him healed. I feel the same way, but he's safe now, and we need to get to work."

"Fine, but this cannot and will not stand. I will resign if something isn't done to the people that did this to him."

"My letter has already been written. I completely agree. I will sooner kidnap the child before sending him back to those- those creatures. Heir Potter, I want you to know that you should have never been in that place, you will never be going back, and you will be getting medical treatment for what you've been through. If I must forward my salary to St. Mungo's to get you both a long-term healer and a mind healer, then I will. This will not stand. Now, Healer Pomfrey, please help the young man into bed."

The boy couldn't move. He just sat there. He didn't speak. He was hoisted into the bed by the woman identified as a healer previously. Normally, an eleven-year-old boy should be hard to pick up, but due to his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys he was underweight. Suddenly, the healer was waving around a stick muttering to herself, and just as suddenly lights started flashing around him. The healer began a heated discussing with the Professor, though only after closing a curtain around his bed. He could only make out a few words, but the one phrase that stood out to him was, "He should be dead. His core should have cracked by now." He didn't know what that meant, but it sounded important. After a bit he was given a small meal, since he was told a large meal would actually hurt him right now. Then, the healer gave him some funny drinks that put him to sleep and did other things he didn't know about.

….

In the morning the boy woke to an open curtain and a conversation he was sure he wasn't supposed to be privy to. He pretended to sleep.

"Headmaster I called St. Mungo's last night. I'm not capable of handling a case such as this. This is the single worst case of child abuse I've ever seen that doesn't involve sexual abuse. The boy's core should have burnt up long ago. There are no cracks, but that's a mere miracle. I don't know how to get him the treatment to deal with what is undoubtedly psychological trauma, but also the chronic physical abuse that occurred is going to be hell to get him healthy enough to enroll this semester let alone to perform at grade level. His parents were two of the most powerful magicals of their generation-not in Britain, but on the planet, and now this child might never be able to meet his potential. I'm not leveling any accusations at anyone, but whomever is responsible for this needs to be held accountable."

The news about his parents caught him off guard. His parents weren't just magical, but they were powerful. He didn't know how to process this information. However, he could tell from what he was hearing that someone beyond the Dursley's was responsible for him. This brought him nothing but fury and resentment. Suddenly everything had a blue tint to it. He realized everything that had happened to him could have been prevented if someone had been watching over him. Since his parents were magical, that meant that someone should have paid attention to him. He should have been told. The room began to shake. No, not just the room, but a crack appeared on the ceiling he stared at. He couldn't handle this. He needed out. He needed away from this. He needed away from himself. He hated himself now that he knew he could have stopped his abuse. He could have made sure he was never hurt. If magic was real, why didn't he stop his abuse. Was he too weak. Was he afraid. Yes he was afraid, but was he afraid to stop them. All he could hear was himself screaming in his mind. Nothing made sense any more. The people in front of him stopped talking. They saw the crack. They saw his eyes. The he saw a red light. It didn't hit him. Then just as suddenly, the healer had come to him. Not with the intent to stop him, but she hugged him. He started calming down. She hadn't done this to him. She seemed to care for him. Why she cared didn't matter to him. The fact that she cared was enough.

"Do you not see what has been done to this boy?! Who left him there?! This child has enough power to crack the ceiling with accidental magic, and we left him to be beaten. This child has done nothing but hurt his entire life. Whoever has done this to him deserves the VEIL! He was born to loving parents. The entirety of magical Britain would have taken him in. Even the dark families wouldn't have treated him this badly. I doubt you had a hand in this Headmaster, but this is the most horrifying thing I've ever seen. I've healed the children of Greyback, I worked during the Grindelwald war, during the rise of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and I've seen every case of sexual assault that has been reported in this school for the past 10 years. This is the worst thing I've seen in my years as a healer. I don't know what to do. I'm scared for this child."

The headmaster was panicking. The child was beyond powerful. He didn't know if he could crack the walls of the school. Yes, the child had no notion of control or how magic worked, but in raw power the child somehow seemed to rival anything he had seen in his own lifetime. He had to play this carefully. He began probing the boys mind as he prepared to speak. All he could hear was the word, "OUT!" at a deafening level. Then everything went white.

"Headmaster! What happened?! I guess the healers at Mungo's can arrive a little early, it seems we'll need their help for two cases."

Harry sat in silence as his vision lost the blue tint, and he wondered why he had felt someone else in his mind before the old headmaster fell to the floor. People in white robes began to arrive en masse. They all stared at him, asked to see his scar, and asked who had done this to him. With the headmaster asleep, the healers began calling the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He didn't like being poked and prodded by the healers, as he was told they were, but it seemed like they knew him somehow. It seemed like they cared about who he was and how he was. They asked him all kinds of questions like where he had lived, if he knew why he was so important, if he knew who had put him in that home, and questions about how often he ate and whether he'd ever performed accidental magic before today. He didn't even know that what he'd done today had been accidental magic, let alone previously. They made mention that it was the sort of event where nothing seemed to make sense. He told them about what he'd survived and how he'd thought he'd lost enough blood to be dead. Or the time his arm seemed to unbreak overnight. They began staring. He wondered if he'd done something wrong. He turned away and just listened, hoping they'd ask no more questions.

…

"Healer Pomfrey, what happened to this child? Who brought him here? We need to take him to St. Mungo's. If we do it now, then he ought to be able to get his wand and school supplies the week before classes begin. The healing won't be easy, but we ought to get him to the point that he can attend classes within 3 weeks, and then with your help you ought to be able to get him back to full health by Christmas. We have special nutrient potions for things like this, but we've never used them on someone so young. Normally magical and muggle families get caught before things get this bad. This wasn't the sort of abuse that a drunken father gives, or a mean mother. This was systematic and purposeful. Also, what happened to the Headmaster?"

"I'm not quite sure myself. He looked at the boy, and then all of a sudden he fell to the floor. It's like as soon as he made eye contact he was overwhelmed and passed out. I've never seen something like that. Mister Potter didn't do anything wrong though. He wasn't mad at anyone, but rather angry about everything. I don't know, what do you think?"

"I've an idea of what happened, but I need to ask your patient something prior to telling you what I believed happened," The healer quickly replied as he walked towards the young man. He had an edge of fear and respect as he looked at the one time savior of the magical world. "Mister Potter, I'm Healer Daniels. Can you tell me what happened before and after the headmaster fell to the floor."

"Hello sir, I'm not quite sure what happened, but I was getting really angry. Angrier than I've ever been. Everything I saw had a blue tint. All I could think about was the fact that someone was responsible for what happened to me besides the Dursley's, and then all I could hear in my head was my own screaming. I wanted to forget everything happening to me and that had happened to me. Then, it felt like someone was in there with me. It was like someone was trying to listen to what I had to say, even though I wasn't speaking. My screaming and my desire to get away from myself seemed to overwhelm them, and then they were gone. I'm not sure what happened. Something like this has never happened; though I do try to get away from myself all the time. I just want to forget and escape myself in something that doesn't hurt me."

"You don't mean… You can't be serious… What the hell Albus?!"

"It doesn't matter, we need to worry about this child. Give him dreamless sleep, and we're taking him to Mungos," The young healer in white robes quickly ordered.

…

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter… Young man are you awake or not?"

"…Wha. Where did my clothes go? What is that light? And why don't I feel hungry anymore? I don't remember eating…"

"Merlin, Morgana, what in the… Young man you are in St. Mungo's. This is a magical hospital. The light is a lumos charm. You aren't hungry because the Healers have been force feeding you nutrient potions for the past 3 days. You were dangerously underweight- that means you had not been fed enough to be healthy, and your magical core was close to cracking. I don't mean to bog you down on details, but you were so sick that your core might break irreparably. That would have meant no magic, no escape from the muggles, and no chance for you to get better. Plainly those muggles almost beat your magic out of you."

"I'm going to think about that later, but that doesn't explain who you are or where my clothes went?"

"Your clothes were vanished so that the healers could work on you. Many of your scars were left, since they thought you should have a choice about how you look, but the underlying damage was treated. I'm not a healer though, so I don't know as much as you might think. I'm what you'd probably know as a Bobby. My title is Director of Magical Law enforcement, and my name is Amelia Bones. I knew your parents when they were alive, and you never should have been treated this way. My department looked for you for years at the behest of the Minister Of Magic, like a magical Prime Minister, so that we could find you and check up on you to see if you were healthy, happy, and safe. It seems you were hidden from us and were none of those things. As a member of the Ministry, I've been authorized to issue you a formal apology and let you know that we are working on getting you a proper magical guardian arranged. As the regent of the Ancient and Noble House of Bones, I issue you a formal apology and ask you to determine whether you wish to remain in an alliance and if so, then you may issue any reprimand you see fit. As the friend of your parents who have passed, I apologize for allowing things to get to this point. I hope you can forgive me. As it stands, I'm going to take you into protective custody until we can find you a permanent guardian. You may not know this, but as the Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter you have some liberties afforded to you. First, if you'd like you can find any families your family had an alliance with and declare them your magical guardian. They cannot declare you their ward, you must declare yourself to be their ward. Second, you can declare a proxy to the magical government, the Wizengamot, which will vote for your House. Last, you can force an investigation into how this happened to you. There'll be one anyways, but with you forcing the issue no one can try to stop it, since it'll be considered an attack on an Heir of a Most Ancient and Noble House."

Harry sat in his bed somewhat vexed. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew that he had power. Power to protect himself. That was all he ever desired. He never sought out help, since when he did, the help he sought seemed to fail him at every corner. Every teacher, doctor, and police officer, seemed to forget about him after the first conversation. He never sought to fight his own battles. He had tried fighting Dudley once, and he had never forgot his place at the Dursley residence again. He didn't want to gain power for powers sake, nor did he have dreams of being some all might force. All he sought was knowledge and power to protect himself. If he ever had someone to care about, then they too would be protected. Thinking this, he realized how this alliance might help him. He thought if he could guarantee the help of this woman before him, then he might not suffer any more beatings. He might be able to function. He would use this, and hope that she wasn't using him. If he found someone to care for, then all the better, but he needed someone to help him at the moment.

"Ma'am, I am willing to accept your apology on all counts. You didn't do this, nor did you place me in that home. You sought me out, which is more than I thought anyone else would do. However, in place of reprimanding you, I just want a guarantee that you'll protect me from harm in all forms and keep me from the Dursleys and those that sent me there. If I can get that from you, then if you'll have me, then I'd like you to be my magical guardian. You're a Bobby for magical people and are supposed to protect people. I doubt I'd feel safe with anyone else who didn't have your resources or wasn't someone who was supposed to protect people. I have trouble with authority figures, since they always forgot about me, but you seemed to look for me without prompt, and you look like you care about me. I'm 11 though, so maybe I'm dim. I'm more scared of going back right now, than I am of you forgetting about me. Though, I don't know how to get such a guarantee, but if magic is real, then there must be some way I'd imagine. I don't know about all this House Potter stuff either, but it sounds like you and I are both important people. Ca-Can you tell me how to properly accept your apology, in case I need to do so again in the future?"

Amelia didn't know what to say. The young man in front of her all but begged her for help, while at the same time telling her that he wouldn't trust her. He was truly afraid of going back, and had given up his fear of adults who ignored him in favor of his fear of returning to that hell. He had a look in his eyes similar to someone who had been through crucio one too many times. She decided at this, that she'd have to swear an unbreakable vow. Normally she'd avoid such an act at all costs, but protecting the child of her long-gone allies and friends was too important to her. With this she began:

"I will make a vow, that should I break it, will kill me. On top of that I'm going to make an oath stating that I never will reveal that this vow exists, unless you allow me to do so. This oath will take my magic if I go against it. The Oath will have to be taken by me and accepted by you. The vow requires a third party. I'm not willing to perform this vow until you can find someone you trust to perform the incantation. This is too important to you for me to decide who performs the incantation. However, this all being the case, you ought to be able to get the vow and oath out of me before you attend Hogwarts. Would you like to come home with me today though? We can't get your school supplies for another two or three days due to how ill you are, but you can come with me to stay until then."

Tears. They'd been streaming for a while, but they were in full force now. He couldn't speak, so he just nodded. God, he was so happy. He never felt so happy. Bones, normally a stoic, stone-faced woman decided to hug him. If he was to be her ward, then signs of affection would need to begin so that he could heal. He froze and began crying harder. Stiff though he was, he felt safe with her. He let himself fall asleep as she hugged him. She called for a healer and after his being discharged they left to Bones Manor.

Longbottom Manor

"Neville, I want to thank you for agreeing to help me with my work. I couldn't have done it without you. Your help is just one of many, but it will help begin advancing my theory of magical manifestation and power. Remember you took a vow that binds you to not reveal the nature of what happened to you, and any further research that you may perform with us. You're a good boy. I want you to know that your Gran intends to give you your father's wand as your first wand. I'm going to take you out to get you your second wand. As the Heir to a Most Ancient and Noble house, you are expected to have two wands. One for general use, and one in case you are disarmed. I suggest you use your father's wand for classwork. Don't ask why. Just trust me. Practice all of your work with your wand I'm getting you."

"Fine Uncle Al, but I have no idea why I need to use Dad's wand in class. Also, I'm supposed to hide the fact that I have two wands from others, right? Is it wrong or something? Are muggleborns not allowed two wands? And I'm happy to have helped you with your work, but you didn't give me a whole lot of choices. I don't know what I did to help you, but I appreciate getting to spend time with you. Thanks for taking me to get my supplies. Gran loves me, but she can get mean sometimes."

"It's fine my boy. And, anyone is allowed a second wand, but few understand the necessity in it. If you tell people, then they'll know to watch out for it. Smart muggleborns always ask for a second wand, since they tend to fear losing their wand. They view it as a means to protect themselves, and hide their second wand. Smart Nobles do this too. Don't tell anyone, or you'll lose your advantage. Strangely enough, Old man Ollivander only gets a subsidy on the first wand, but won't charge you full price unless you ask for a third. Not many people ask for a second, as there are few non-Nobles who get them, and even fewer muggleborns think about the advantage of a second wand. Anyways, let's get that wand before he closes…"