Author's Notes:

Hi people! First, I really want to thank everyone who took the time to leave a comment. Your words make me want to keep investing time in this story and encourage me to keep writing stuff, so yeah, thank you!

Second, I… let's be honest, I don't really like this chapter that much anymore. Lots of it are bits I had written more than two years ago (I rarely write things in a linear order; usually, I already have paragraphs that are supposed to go way further in the story but no idea how to connect them with where I actually am at XD) and I'm not entirely convinced with everything. But I've managed to connect everything here into a vaguely coherent text, and people seem to want to read what comes next, so I figured, well, you know. I should probably still post it.

Chapter 8 - Nerves

Severus was about to leave his office for a few minutes to send a message when he realised that he had forgotten something he should have done immediately. "Potter! You are in need of medical attention," he barked. "Since you did not go to the Hospital Wing, I suppose that you have not been using any potion recently, besides the Murtlap essence supplied by Miss Granger?"

"Why do you need to know?" the brat asked.

"Because some potions interact negatively with each other. Which, by the way, is one of the reasons why you should never take one which has not been prescribed by a certified healer."

Count on Potter to avoid answering directly even the simplest question. Severus sighed for the umpteenth time this morning. And it was not even 9:30 a.m. yet. Why did this boy always have to make everything difficult?

"How long does it take for the risk of, er… negative interaction, to disappear?"

"It depends," Severus answered irritably. "Basic healing potions are created to pose as little risk as possible regarding that issue, but to be safe, it is usually better to consider any potion you might have taken in the past fortnight. Why do you ask? I have never seen you this curious about potions during the times you are actually supposed to learn about them. My question was rather straightforward, so would you please answer it sometimes today?"

Potter winced and seemed to brace himself. "Umbridge made me drink something, this Tuesday."

"Of all the irresponsible, imbecilic things… When exactly did you intend to inform me of that? Don't you know how dangerous drinking an unknown potion is? Have you got any idea what effects it could have?" From the corner of his eyes, Severus saw that Granger and Weasley were looking just as upset as he felt.

"It's not really like she left me a choice!" Potter protested. "And yeah, I know what it did." His face was scrunched as if in pain.

"And? Do I have to squeeze every fact out of you, Potter?"

The boy took a deep breath. "Well, she actually gave me three potions. There were two that I knew – a Pepper-Up and a basic Anti-infection thingy, I think, the vials were the same Madam Pomfrey uses – but the third…" He paused. "She called it a Nerves-sensitising, and it..."

Severus swore under his breath. "Please tell me that she didn't use the Cruciatus curse while you were under the influence of this potion."

Potter averted his eyes and stayed silent. Severus heard Granger uttering an outraged cry and was somewhat tempted to emulate it, despite its undignified aspect.

"That's the time she actually used 'Crucio' with her wand," the teenager said, his voice almost flat. "And then she activated the necklace twice."

Severus was fairly certain his face had turned livid. It took him all of his willpower not to start shouting. He mentally counted to ten, took a deep breath and asked, "And you stayed conscious through three Cruciatus under the influence of this potion?"

"Well, no. I passed out after the second. When I woke up, I think the effects of the potion had started to fade. I'm not sure. I couldn't feel much besides the pain. She just used the necklace once last time before I left, as a goodbye I suppose." The relative neutrality of the boy's tone was unnerving, and his face was blank. Severus briefly wondered how Potter could have been so awful at Occlumency – he currently sounded better at hiding his emotions than he had been during the entirety of their disastrous lessons. But the brat could never be bothered listening to an instruction, let alone make an effort, and lived to make his teacher's life more difficult, so it was not surprising. A small voice in Severus' head reminded him of the tremendous pain the boy had been through without complaining, though. And added that Potter's apparent emotionless state looked more like the response to a traumatism than like a controlled effort.

He was brought back to the present by Weasley's swearing. The redhead sounded hurt, "For fuck's sake, Harry! How could you keep that from us? And you really were going to keep facing her alone? Don't you trust us at all?"

"It's not that, Ron, you must know it's not that. Of course I trust you. I just… I didn't know what to do, okay? And I thought that if I said something, I would put you in danger too, because she could hurt you, or cause problems to your dad, and she all but said that staging some sort of accident for Hermione wouldn't be a big deal because she's Muggle-born!"

Severus felt a headache building and decided that he could let the Gryffindors continue their argument while he wrote a note to Shacklebolt in the next room. After wordlessly Summoning a potent Pain Reliever and giving it to Potter, he told the teenagers to wait for him without touching anything – not that he was trusting them, he knew better now, and there was a charm on his possessions which would alert him if anyone tried to mess with something. The Potions Master then passed the door leading to his private quarters and retrieved the communication device that was used by the Order of the Phoenix. It was a big cylindrical glass jar containing magical blue flames; modified Floo powder was stored next to it. Minerva and some Order members Severus did not know well had worked together to modify normal Floo powder until it could be used in those small magical flames to transport letters from one jar to another, thus creating a small, closed communication system. The jars could not be connected to the regular Floo network, but they allowed for almost instant correspondence with little to no risk of a message being intercepted. It was useful despite a few disadvantages, mainly the fact that the containers could not be shrunk (apparently, it messed with the complicated magic needed to maintain the connections between jars). And those things were too big to be held in a pocket, which meant that they had to either be carried in a very large bag or left somewhere. Still, using this system was less dangerous than sending sensitive information via a Patronus, as there was no way to know whether the person you were trying to send a Patronus message to would be alone when receiving it.

Severus wrote a short letter to Shacklebolt, knowing that the man was usually in his office in the Auror department on Saturday mornings and could pretext having to leave for an investigation, when called for help. The letter explained that Shacklebolt needed to come to Hogwarts as fast and as discreetly as he could, bringing along and one or two other members of the Order who were also largely trusted as Ministry workers, and carrying the material required to produce official testimonies. The professor specified that if Shacklebolt could persuade Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to accompany him too, it would be ideal – she was not in the Order, but she was competent and impartial. If asked to help with a grave problem involving corrupted high-ranking Ministry officials, she would probably accept to come to Hogwarts discreetly.

The flames turned purple when Severus put his message in the jar and said Shacklebolt's name. The Potions Master was disagreeably reminded of the time Black had suggested that the Order pay tribute to this colour by calling this communication system 'the Floorple', leading to a harrowingly long meeting where terrible puns flew. Among the suggested names for the jars were Mason Floo, Communicafloo and Dwarfloo, the latter horrifyingly having a lot of success. In Severus' opinion, Floo jar would have been the most sensible name, but according to the mutt, it would have been confusing because it was also how people usually called normal jars containing non-modified Floo powder on chimney mantles. An asinine argument, for only a dunderhead would be unable to understand from context which item was the subject of a conversation. But Black and Lupin were utter dunderheads, so there was little surprise here. And Albus seemed to think that 'Dwarfloo' was funny. In the end, Severus' sound suggestion to simply call the device Portable Floo was disregarded, but he kept using that name. Dwarfloo was a terrible idea, and it was Black's suggestion – Severus would not use this idiotic moniker.

As an afterthought, Severus also used his Portable Floo to send Shacklebolt a small bag of Acid Pops. He was not trying to be nice; the candy bag was a Portkey designed to bypass Hogwarts's wards and bring its bearer directly inside the Hospital Wing. Albus had given it to Severus in case he would need immediate medical attention after a Death Eaters meeting, but in the present situation, it was probably the only way Ministry officials could enter Hogwarts without Umbridge being alerted.

Severus then scanned his Potions stocks, hoping he still had one particular remedy in sufficient quantity, and was satisfied to find that he did. Grabbing it, he went back to his office and gave the vial to Potter, curtly explaining that it was a very special concoction designed to help with nerves damages caused by the Cruciatus.

Upon drinking it, Potter started shaking, but his tremors did not last long, and he said, "wow, that feels… good. You said it was for the after-effects of the Cruciatus? I wonder why Madam Pomfrey didn't give me that," he said absentmindedly.

"What do you mean?" Severus asked, furrowing his brow.

"In June. After…" he trailed off.

"Someone casted the Cruciatus Curse on you in June?"

"Yeah. Voldemort."

Severus winced. And remembered reading about it in the little interview Potter had given.

"I was not informed of that fact at the time. This potion is rare and its creation recent; it is therefore little known. Madam Pomfrey usually has regular potions against nerves damages in stock, but this recipe is a modified one, designed to help with injuries caused by dark magic. She did not have it in the Hospital Wing last June; I am not certain she was aware that such a potion existed. Had I known about what you went through, I would have prepared it for you. I… apologise," he said gruffly.

Potter looked bemused. "Why do you apologise? You didn't know. And Madam Pomfrey had other potions, it's not very important."

"The Cruciatus can leave lasting damages, Potter, especially on someone as young as you. It was the responsibility of all the adults around you to make sure you had the best care available, and we seem to have failed you."

"…'s okay," the boy mumbled, clearly embarrassed. "Thanks for giving it to me now. It… it helps a lot."

Severus was surprised. Both at himself and at Potter. He was not usually one to apologise easily, and him apologising to this particular Gryffindor… would Hell freeze over soon? Weasley seemed to think so – the redhead was looking at Severus as if he had suddenly grown a second head. But the teacher did feel bad about what Potter had been through – he could hardly bring himself to think about how long the boy had been suffering without anyone noticing. And he also felt bad about not having started brewing potions to counteract the effects of dark magic as soon as his Mark had started to become more visible on the previous year – he usually liked to be prepared for every opportunity, and yet he had waited for the Dark Lord to come back to begin creating a stock of such potions. He would not explain that to Potter, of course – the boy did certainly not need to know about Severus' failures. But he was still angry at himself for his lack of anticipation.

Did I have to apologise, though? To him? Really?

Maybe not, he decided, but what's done is done. Besides, he had to admit that the brat was not reacting as expected at all. Where had the spoiled child gone? The Potter Severus had in front of him was still defiant, but his anger sounded more like the desperate reaction of prey caught in a tight corner than like the temper tantrum of an entitled dunderhead. It was almost making the professor feel guilty about his earlier resolve not to show any kind of compassion. He could almost hear the voice of Charity Burbage, his colleague and friend, asking, "Really, Severus, I'm not telling you to start distributing candy, but do you have to be a right bastard all the time?"

Shaking his head, the Potions Master decided that he should probably try to offer his student some sort of psychological support. Despite his less than kind feelings for Potter, Severus knew that he was still a child who had been tortured. Offering no support at all would be… unpalatable. But the dour teacher was not very good at comforting comments.

After an awkward silence, he settled for asking, "What did your Mind Healer say to help you cope after the events of June?" Severus knew that the question hardly counted as kind words, but he hoped Potter's answer might provide some inspiration.

"My what?" the green-eyed boy said, sounding confused.

The professor furrowed his brow. That was not the expected reply. "Your Mind Healer, Potter. Or therapist, psychiatrist, psychologist, whatever the Muggles call them. The person your relatives took you to when they heard you had witnessed the murder of a classmate."

Potter looked like he was trying – and failing – to contain a snigger. "You think the Dursleys took me to see a shrink?"

"Do I look like I am trying to clown around, Potter?" he snapped.

"Sorry, sir. It's just…" the boy snorted. "My relatives paying to get me appointments with a shrink, it's about as likely as, say, Voldemort deciding he needs to find a new purpose to his life by wearing a blue wing and hosting children's shows. My uncle holds the mud on his shoes in higher esteem than shrinks."

To Severus' annoyance, Weasley sniggered loudly at the conjured image, and Granger was unsuccessful at muffling a small chuckle.

"Do you really have to use the Dark Lord's name simply to make asinine comments?" the teacher asked irritably. "Did Professor Dumbledore arrange for you to see someone, then? Or did the mutt who is supposed to act as your godfather?"

"No, sir."

Severus scowled. "Am I to understand that you had no opportunity to talk about the events of June with a competent adult?"

"Err… immediately after, I told Dumbledore and Sirius what had happened, but since then, the only adults who really asked questions about that are Umbridge and Rita Skeeter. And you, just now, I guess."

"Marvellous. People who were able to bring you great emotional support, no doubt."

Potter seemed puzzled. "What it is to you? Why do you care?"

"You're fifteen and you have lived through events which would traumatise most adults. As much as I personally dislike your company, I do not believe that I would like to learn of you going through a severe mental breakdown. But I suppose hoping that someone around you would be responsible enough to understand the need for professional help was too much to ask."

The teenager looked outraged. "I'm not going insane! And I don't need a shrink! I'm not weak, okay?"

"This has nothing to do with weakness, you foolish boy," Severus answered with exasperation. "And did I not just imply that what you lived would be enough to drive many adult wizards to a severe mental health crisis? I am honestly rather… surprised that you managed to act as you have without the help of a Healer." There! Not exactly a compliment – I'm not about to compliment Potter! – but acknowledging that he has been through hardships, that counts for something, right? The Potions Master pointedly ignored the mocking voice in his head which asked if that was seriously the nicest he could be.

Then, as the green-eyed wizard before him seemed at a loss for an answer, Severus noticed something which had him furrowing his brow again. The belt marks stopped abruptly between Potter's back and the front of his body. Too abruptly.

The Cruciatus had left malevolent star-shaped marks on the teenager's skin. The marks were probably easy to miss for the untrained eye, but they were obvious to Severus – dark magic could not be hidden easily from those who were used to attune to such energies and knew what to look for. Apart from that, though, the boy's chest looked a picture of health. The contrast with the skin on his back was sharp, and the demarcation followed a vertical line too neat to be natural. Severus had to ask. "Mr. Potter, are you using a concealment charm?"

"What? No, not at all, why would I?" Potter answered, way too fast.

"You are a terrible liar. Finite Incantatem!"

"No!" Potter immediately covered his chest with his arms. "It's nothing, sir, just an old scar I don't like, please let me reapply the charm, it won't get in the way of anything, please, sir!"

The boy's fear was clearly audible, but Severus stood unmoved. "Don't be childish. You may reapply your glamour when I am done treating you. Besides, given how forthcoming you have been regarding your injuries thus far, you will understand that I can hardly be content with your word. I would not be surprised if you were actually hiding a bleeding wound, and I will not allow you to keep wandering with unattended injuries. Let me look at your chest."

The green-eyed wizard looked on the verge of another panic attack. He stood like a deer trapped in headlights, a terrified expression on his face. Severus would have sworn he could hear the boy's heart pounding, and his breath was shortening. And Potter, proud Potter, was begging now, "Please, sir, don't. I'll do anything – I'll scrub your cauldrons, chop your ingredients, whatever you want, but please –"

"Breathe, child," the teacher quickly interrupted. "Focus on the air coming in and out of your lungs. I am going to spell your cloak around you, and you will take ten deep breaths. When it is done and you are calmer, talking may resume."

Granger and Weasley were exchanging worried glances, visibly not knowing how to help their friend. Severus ignored them and after a moment of silence, he addressed the third teenager, "Better now?"

Potter sheepishly nodded. The Potions Master decided that the time would be ill-chosen to insist on the importance of verbal answers.

Willing to coax the child, he said as calmly as he could, "Please understand that I am not trying to humiliate you, merely to assess the real extent of your injuries. Would you accept to let me see your chest now?"

"It's really not necessary, sir, I swear. It's not an injury, just a stupid scar, and –"

"Were it indeed merely a scar, I see no reason why you would wish to hide it," the professor snapped. Although Severus immediately thought about some of his own childhood scars – it was not something he was comfortable letting anyone see. But it is completely different, he reminded himself. Potter had a perfect childhood with dotting relatives, he could not possibly have that kind of scars. It's either going to be an open wound he is most irresponsible for trying to conceal, or an old injury from a stupid stunt he finds embarrassing. Severus had no patience for irresponsible teenagers and could not care less about embarrassing the brat.

Potter looked utterly miserable. "Would you please stop acting like a toddler and remove your arms from before your chest sometime today?" the professor said with annoyance, refusing to let the boy's fearful eyes get to him. So much fuss for such a stupid thing, really, that was downright ridiculous.

The young wizard seemed to – finally! – resign himself to obey, and Severus watched him push back his cloak and bring his arms to his sides. When he actually saw what the boy had been trying to conceal, however, the double-agent was grateful for his experience at hiding emotions behind a neutral face.

The little brat was muttering something about getting in lots of fights when he was younger, which might explain some of the white lines barring his abdomen, but the scars on his thorax… Depressingly enough, Umbridge had apparently not been the first person in Potter's life deeming appropriate to carve letters in other people's skins. Unless she was also responsible for that, of course, but it seemed unlikely. This particular scar looked years old and of non-magical origin. It was relatively small, but Snape found himself unable to look away. The word "freak", spelled in sordid unsteady capital letters on the left upper part of the boy's chest, seemed to taunt him.

Granger and Weasley sounded shocked as well. "Harry! How… what happened? Since when… Did Umbridge also do that?"

The raven-haired boy shrugged, "No, it comes from a bunch of older kids who ambushed me when I was ten. Please don't make a big deal of this. It's just a scar."

No one in the room seemed eager to point that minutes before, Potter had been the one making a big deal of not showing it. Severus, utterly uncomfortable, decided that this was probably the best moment to check his communication device in the next room. He knew that no message had come through, of course, he would have been alerted, but he wanted to escape this conversation.

"Was your cousin one of those kids?" Weasley asked with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Potter shrugged again and answered, "yeah. But it wasn't his idea. I mean, he was the one always calling me… that, but I don't think he intended for things to go that way, and this time he didn't really… participate. There was this boy, Rudy, and, well, his gang was basically ruling the neighbourhood at the time. Dudley was trying to hang out with the big guys, so I reckon designating me as a target was a way for Dudley to get them to like him. He probably hadn't thought things much further."

The disgust Severus felt was mirrored on the two Gryffindors' faces. He had not closed the door between his office and the entrance to his quarters, and despite himself, he was still observing the teenagers.

Weasley said, "I should owl Fred and George and tell them to test all their products on your cousin from now on."

Without coming back in the room, Severus interjected, "I suppose your relatives already took legal action and settled the matter?" The scars were unnerving him. He knew he had been right not to take a chance with the absurd brat but regretted to have seen this. He wished the discussion about it would be over already and yet could not help a form of morbid curiosity.

Potter looked uneasy. "Rudy was sent to a correctional facility at some point after that, I think. He was 16 or something, but he had a criminal record already. The other guys were mostly just following him, and things got better once Rudy left. My cousin has his own little gang now, and they like to play tough, but they don't do that kind of stuff, just, you know, regular beating up people. They're stupid and mean but not… not like Rudy was. Doesn't matter anyway. It was a long time ago. Kids' stuff. And now you've got proof that I'm not hiding injuries, so can we please drop it?"

"But, Harry –" Granger tried to intervene.

"How did you hide the scar during summers?" Weasley interrupted. "You've always been very private – I remember I found it weird at first, because my brothers had no problem roaming the house half naked, but you, even removing your shirt when I was in the room seemed to make you nervous. I figured it came from your Muggles. But remember the end of the summer before second year, the huge water fight we got into at my place? You joined us after a while, and in the end, you took your shirt off like everyone had – well, except Ginny. And I know for sure you didn't have those scars."

If possible, Potter looked even more uncomfortable. "There's a potion for that. I ordered it by owl during first year. I didn't know any concealment charms at that time and I didn't want the Quidditch team to see … well, that scar. In the locker room. I sort of hoped I'd also be able to hide… you know," he said, designating his forehead, "but it doesn't work on curse scars."

Abandoning all pretence of being occupied in the next room, Severus came back, furrowing his brow, and remarked, "That potion is rather expensive."

"I don't expect you to understand," Potter answered defiantly. "Just tell yourself that I was a stupid eleven years-old who liked wasting his money. You probably already did anyway."

"Watch your tone, boy!" But Severus understood. He understood very well. More than that, he remembered. Going to great lengths to hide injuries or scars – that was something he was no stranger to.

Granger said softly, "we wouldn't have judged you, you know. If you had told us." Weasley nodded.

"Well I didn't. Can we please drop the subject now?"

Weasley turned towards Severus and bluntly asked, "are you going to do something about Umbridge now?" But the Potions Master barely listened. His eyes were still on Potter, who had reapplied his glamour with a muttered incantation and a swift wand movement denoting a lot of practice. The spell-work was impeccable, despite it being a difficult variation of the basic concealment charm. The way Potter had casted it, the spell would last precisely 24 hours, whether he remained conscious or not, because all the magical energy needed to maintain it was taken at the time of the casting. It was the charm Severus himself used when he needed a glamour and wanted to be certain that even an unconscious state caused by a grave injury would not give him away, and he knew the toll it took on the body. With his current injuries, Potter being able to cast it and to stand normally afterwards was rather impressive. And the boy had to have spent a lot of time researching to discover this spell – even the most basic concealment charms were rather hard to find in the library. The potion he had mentioned – and managed to successfully order! – was even less known.

But this matter would have to wait. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to answer Weasley's question. "I have contacted the Order of the Phoenix already. Now here is what is going to happen…"

A/N:

So, I can't say that things are moving forwards very fast. Hum.

A voice from the back: Maybe it'd go faster if you updated more regularly, genius!

Me: Er, rude. But you're quite right. Which makes it even more rude. Ruder. Less polite. Something. Shut up.

In other news, I'm afraid the whole thing about Harry having an injury that says 'freak' is just over-the-top, and really, doesn't the boy have enough trauma as it is? But since it's in the parts that were written already, and it is supposed to help the plot finally moving forwards at some point, I kept it.

(One of my arguments to myself was, 'it's Not That Bad, lol', 'cause I have a great sense of humour.)

Also, I'm very sorry for not replying to reviews, as I said before, I love them, and they make me feel better and keep me motivated and everything, and hopefully at some point I'll start being able to answer to people individually again, but for now, not really, so yeah, sorry and thanks again to all of you amazing folks :)