A/N: Sorry the last chapter took so long to get out: I'm a university student, and it was midsem time. As much as I'd like to spend all my time exploring the world of Harry Potter, I had to explore the world of the New Critic in English Literature first! Chapters WILL come out more often, now. Thanks for your patience!

Chapter 3 – The Case Study

Madame Poppy Pomfrey loved children. She loved them so much, in fact, that after her children and their children had grown, she spent years training as a mediwitch in order to join the staff of Hogwarts and care for them. However much she loved her job, though, she missed caring for younger children, those too young to attend Hogwarts. So it was that when little Harry Potter, scarred and in pain, was brought to her infirmary, she nearly rejoiced in her task. "Physically, he should be just fine," she explained to Dumbledore and McGonagall, all the while fussing about the child and tucking him into bed. "He'll be a little sore and his muscles might not respond normally until the affects of the curse have worn off completely – most children subjected to it do not survive, you know – but the outer signs of the abuse should be gone within weeks. Mentally, however... do you remember the child who began years back... 1971? Behavior problems along with a fear of being touched... if it hadn't been for his friends..."

"We remember how he turned out anyways," McGonagall snapped, reaching to grab the child's hand. "Harry won't end up the same. After what the Lestranges did... do you think he'll be afraid to let us touch him? He's just a little boy... he needs to be hugged..."

"I very much doubt the Muggles showered him with hugs," Poppy returned, glaring sternly at Dumbledore. The dratted man should've known! But he didn't even look ashamed of himself. "Now, out. I'll not have you crowding him."

"Get me the moment he wakes," Dumbledore murmured. He patted McGonagall's arm lightly before turning to go. At least he finally knew better than to counter her orders. It was her profession after all. His was to do Headmasterly things. Poppy gave a loud sniff and turned back to her work.

Dumbledore really shouldn't have left – as expected, it was mere moments before Harry's eyes fluttered open and he stared around the Infirmary in a panic. But Poppy wasn't about to call the Headmaster back – no, this called for her grandmotherly touch. It had been long years since Albus had been raising a child – and Henry, Sr. had died years earlier, a disillusioned adult. No, Albus had made enough mistakes with the Potter family for one lifetime. "Hello, Harry..." Poppy murmured, kneeling beside his bed. It was best to tred lightly – the boy would likely cringe from touch and be skitish around everyone. He needed someone he knew he could trust.

Harry's eyes flickered from the ceiling to Poppy's face, and he curled into a ball. "I hurt," he whispered, expressively green eyes filled with fear and confusion. "Aunt Petunia... the man said she's dead."

Heartbreakingly enough, his first words were for the horrid Muggle who'd mistreated him. "Never mind, luv," Poppy responded. The urge to smooth down tufts of shockingly black hair was overwhelming, and his response wasn't as drastic as it might've been. He merely jerked a bit under the touch of her hand rather than drawing away as the other pale, thin boy had, years earlier. "You will feel better very soon, I promise you... and you won't be going back to your Aunt and Uncle. They've not treated you right," she tried to explain.

The boy was only four, but a lifetime of pain seemed visible in his face. "Not home? But... I have... may I go back to get my box?" he pleaded. He suddenly seemed to realize he'd asked a question and cringed back from Poppy's hand, as if expecting a blow.

Poppy drew her hand back instead, to show it was perfectly alright for him to ask a question. "I'll ask Headmaster Dumbledore if he'll allow it. And if not, we can find a new box for you. A magical box, for treasures."

Harry gasped softly. "You said the m-word. Aunt Petunia's going to smack you!"

"The m-word? You don't know about magic?" Poppy demanded. She was getting overexcited, she knew, but it seemed impossible – Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, didn't know about magic!

"No! There's no such thing as magic, Aunt Petunia said. It's... it's freakish," he said slowly, sounding out the word as if it had been a recent proclamation by the dread aunt.

Poppy pursed her lips. "Well, she's wrong," she murmured. "It's perfectly normal. I use magic. And you can use magic, too. Your aunt can't. She's just jealous."

The light of amazement in his face was enough to make all her efforts worth it. "I can do magic things?"

"Yes... when you grow up, you'll learn to do all sorts of things." She reached over and stroked his cheek lightly, and he was too happy to jerk away from her touch. It was the most promising movement yet. Perhaps Harry would bounce back faster than expected. "Let me show you, Harry... what can I make for you?"

Harry pursed his lips and frowned in a most adult way – it was laughable, but for the fact he'd been forced to grow up so early. "A puppy... may I have a puppy?"

Poppy couldn't help but smile and take Harry's little hand in hers. "Well, I can't make you a puppy without asking Professor Dumbledore – and even then, a real puppy would be better, since Transfigured ones tend to change back after a time – but how about a plush puppy? A Jack Russell terrier, with floppy ears?"

His eyes lit up. "Oh! I could have my own? Not Dudley's old one?"

She didn't bother to ask who Dudley was – likely the horrid woman's son – but smiled and snagged her wand from its place, tucked in her belt. "Watch me, now – it's magic. And someday, you'll be able to make some little boy a stuffed puppy, too."

"Oh, I will!" Harry promised, leaning forward eagerly.

A flick of her wand later, the promised toy was there made from a tin cup, on Harry's lap. Perhaps they wouldn't have a problem with touch at all – Harry scooted across the bed to give Poppy a hug. Truly, the most rewarding day since late 1971.

+

It was all Severus could do to keep from bursting in on the scene and lending his help. He stood in the doorway of the Infirmary, watching the tender scene, and staring at the child. Harry Potter. The son of James Potter, the son of Lily Evans, finally introduced to the wizarding world. When he'd heard about the arrangements... oh, he'd known it would turn out badly. Hopefully little Harry wouldn't turn out as scarred as Severus himself.

He couldn't help but fall instantly under the sway of the child's large green eyes, son of James or not. They were Lily's eyes, looking out through the four long years since her death. Lily, who had brought him back from the depths of despair only to send him floundering once more, when she'd left. But without Lily, Severus would've seen himself wasting away in Azkaban. Despite the pain, she'd been his salvation.

The child didn't look like James. Poppy had washed away the grime present earlier, at the Halloween Feast that left one little Gryffindor in tears and one little Slytherin without parents. He could use a haircut – Severus could, as well, but his appearance meant little enough to him. There was something in his face, something in his eyes that drew Severus – but he was Lily's boy, that was to be expected. It must've been the reflection of Lily's face that moved him. He didn't look like James, but he was still a Potter.

He was just a little boy. He wouldn't understand the underlying loathing that kept the two from ever associating. He was a little boy, and would find himself in the midst of a crazy world.

"He has the curve of Lily's cheek," murmured a voice from behind him – Minerva, looking in past Severus' shoulder.

"And Lily's eyes," Severus added. "He's too thin."

"Much as you are," Minerva said, poking the other professor in the arm. "He doesn't look much like his father, though. When he was first born, he did... or he seemed to. Perhaps it was all the baby fat. He's lost more than that."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter never lost the chubby cheeks. He looked like an idiot."

Minerva smacked his shoulder and leaned against the doorframe. "Shame on you, speaking of the dead that way. Besides, it's years past. I'm sure there would've been explanations for what happened, in time... there just wasn't time left for them."

"Maybe there would've been." Severus sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in a huff. "I doubt it, though. Did I ever bother to tell the whole story, as I knew it? You weren't my favourite person at the beginning – you certainly gave me enough detentions as a child."

Minerva laughed and looped her arm through his, dragging him away from the scene playing out in the Infirmary. "You deserved every single one... besides, aren't you getting back at me now through my House? Gryffindors have gotten a record number of detentions since you took over from Professor Flamel two years ago. Honestly, I wasn't sure what it would be like to have a new Potions Professor... he taught me, you know... but no, Severus, you didn't tell me the whole story. The students should be in bed now – we could nick some hot chocolate from the kitchens and have it all?"

Severus sniffed indignantly. "No need for the kitchens. My brew will always surpass theirs..." He steered the Transfigurations professor in the direction of his quarters. "Now, then, I might as well start off now... how much do you know about that time? About me, and Potter, and Lily?"

"Well, I know you were tutoring Lily in school. It seemed the two of you had something going in fifth year, but then there was Black's trick." Minerva winced. "You were right, Severus... about him..."

"Yes, well – just think how much would've been solved, had he been expelled. But, it is the past... and you were right about Lily and I. We tried to keep it quiet, as she was a Muggle-born Gryffindor, and I a pure-blooded Slytherin with illustrious ancestors on both sides. She had a streak of cunning in her... I think it scared her. When I took a side against Black, however, she couldn't stand it – the tutoring stopped, and I didn't speak to her again until 1979." Severus sighed, shrugging his arm away from Minerva.

She pursed her lips. "In '79, you were still..."

"Yes," Severus broke in, giving a rough laugh. "I was still a Death Eater. You know my reasons for it, I've no need to bring that back up. In the light of day, however, we shared a job at a research facility. We were both new interns – she for a Charms specialist, and I was paired with a Potions Master, of course. She'd married Potter in '78, just a few days after school ended. A year later, things weren't bright and beautiful in newly-wed land."

Minerva stopped abruptly. "Wait. You mean – I always thought she and James -"

Another snort. "Minerva, honestly – they put up a strong front, for the media since James was so high-profile, but Lily was seriously considering leaving him."

"No. That's not possible." There was a long pause while Minerva stalked down the hall and stopped before Severus' quarters. "James would've mentioned something. Albus was practically a grandfather to him -"

"Yes, I know. And I wouldn't tell my grandfather about my marital problems. After James' father died, Albus stepped in there, too – and some things are too painful to pass on, even to those trusted. Not even Albus knows what I'm about to tell you. My grandmother certainly doesn't." Severus shrugged and tapped the relevant blocks outside his rooms, opening the door. "It was the Seventies, Minerva. Free love abounded. It just took a little while for the wizarding world to pick up on Muggle values – it always does."

Minerva stopped short again, just inside Severus' living room. She sunk onto a Slytherin-green couch. "That's not true. You can't expect me to believe that Lily would even think of-"

"She would and did. She was going to leave him. I doubt marital fidelity was on the top of her mind the first night. We were both completely pissed – hard day at work, the Ministry was evaluating the College for grant renewal, everyone was on edge. Going to the pub as coworkers sounded like a good idea at the time, and she couldn't stand straight by the time we left." He turned away, trying to hide the pain on his face as he dug through the cupboard to find clean mugs. "I suppose she was inebriated enough to find me attractive. That was that. And the next morning, when she realized she'd shagged a Death Eater, we came to an understanding very quickly – she wouldn't tell the authorities about me, and I wouldn't tell James about her."

She nodded slowly. "You came back to us in December."

Severus sat a mug of hot chocolate in front of Minerva and took a seat nearby, on an equally Slytherin-green chair. "This was in June. It was hardly the last time. We came to other understandings – she was going to leave James, I was going to leave Voldemort, and all would be happy with the world. Or so I naively thought. Potter knew she was having an affair, I think, but he suspected someone else."

"Whom?" Minerva asked. She sipped at her drink. "This is very good... Well, I know it hasn't a thing to do with the story, but who did James suspect?"

He gave a wry grin. "Lupin. Later, in '81, Potter thought Lupin to be the traitor. He never suspected the best friend, of course. And Lily fancied Lupin while we were at Hogwarts. She admitted that to me... but no, it was the evil Slytherin shagging the girl."

Minerva snorted. "You really could be less offensive about it."

"But that's what it was. There was no pretense of love. Then, late in November, she appeared at my office door at the end of the day and announced she'd made up with Potter and wouldn't be seeing me any more. She also informed me that Voldemort had been the cause of my father's death. The evidence was all there, in her hand. She quit her job the next day, and went to work in PR for Potter's Quidditch team, though I now know that was simply a cover for the Order. I saw her once after that, in June of 1980. Very pregnant, of course. She and Potter looked so very happy that I didn't approach them to tell her I'd taken her advice and joined up with the Order. Not that I could – it was in the midst of a banquet, and anyone could hear what I said." Severus shrugged and downed the whole of his mug in one go.

"She left in November, you say?" Minerva's brow wrinkled. "She was already pregnant then. Harry was born in July."

Severus gave another snort. "Well, they'd obviously made up, then. Seeing the boy is... difficult, considering. Especially after what's happened to him. I wouldn't want him to turn into me."

"Yes, well... we'll have to make sure he has a better family than yours. At least that terrible attack had one good consequence – we saw what was happening to Harry. He was removed from the environment. The rest of his childhood will be loving, no matter whom we find to care for him." Minerva patted Severus' hand lightly. "Thank you for the chocolate, Severus, but I have to find Albus. Let him know the boy's awake. And thank you for trusting me with your secrets."

"I only hope you trust me equally. I don't give trust lightly," Severus muttered.

Minerva smiled. "I do. Remind me, sometime, to tell you about a very handsome lad by the name of Henry Potter." She winked and rose from her seat, moving for the door.

Severus sat alone, staring into the fire for the rest of the evening. He saw, there, two round, perfect green eyes staring back from a lifetime ago.

+

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, perching on the edge of the boy's bed and being very careful not to touch him or do anything that could be considered threatening in the least, "you do know that you'll be getting a new family to live with, correct? Madame Pomfrey has told you that?"

Harry nodded slowly, curled up away from Dumbledore. Minerva couldn't help but feel a stab of pain at what she saw. Long years ago, another scene had taken place – but the child hadn't escaped, then. He'd been sent back into hell, by the very staff that should've been able to save him. And then, there was that dear boy's fall to Darkness...

"Well, then," Albus was saying, "Madame Pomfrey told me there was something from your room in your aunt's home that you wanted."

The little boy looked over at the Matron, who was smiling and nodding encouragingly from the door. Poppy was certainly good at that – she'd put a good number of little children at ease over the years. Harry smiled at the mediwitch and looked back at Dumbledore. "My box. It has all my things in it," he said, almost breathlessly. "May I go back to get it?"

"Where is it?" Dumbledore asked. "I'll promise you that no one will look inside of it. I'll go and get it myself, if you wish."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh... but I hid it. In my cupboard. You might not find it, I have to go. But will you make Dudley not be there?"

Minerva couldn't help herself – she crossed the room and knelt by Harry's side. Something about the boy was just so alluring – perhaps the perfect innocence, or the brightness of his eye, despite the horror he'd seen. "Is Dudley your cousin? Why don't you want him there?"

"Ohhh... well, Dudley..." Harry gave a nervous giggle and leaned forward to whisper in Minerva's ear. "Dudley's mean to me. But don't tell Aunt Petunia!"

The bruises on his wrists seemed to suggest that the cousin hadn't been the only one hurting Harry – but Minerva kept silent, on that matter. "Well, where is your cupboard, then? Is it in your bedroom?"

Though she hadn't thought it possible, his eyes widened even more. "No! I sleep in the cupboard under the stairs – that IS my bedroom. I'm not very big, and the cupboard is big enough for me – I even have a shelf in there, for the books that Dudley doesn't want anymore – they have such pretty pictures -"

"You slept in a cupboard?" Dumbledore whispered. He drew back and turned away before the boy got a good look at the horror on his face. Minerva saw, however, and reached across Harry to lay a hand on her colleague's shoulder.

Harry flinched. "Uncle Vernon said I have to. Freaks sleep in cupboards, he said. Do you sleep in a cupboard, too? Can you do – do magic like Mum Pomfrey?"

"Of course we do," Minerva murmured. "All of us do. And your new family will be able to do magic as well – they'll understand if you make something disappear, by accident. It's perfectly normal, Harry."

His mouth fell open, almost comically. "I'm normal?"

"Of course you're normal," Poppy said, crossing the room. "Now, then... is there anything else you need to ask him? You see, I've promised Harry that I'd make tea for him, and it's tea time. We're going out on the lawn, to meet Hagrid."

"Yes, yes, go on," Dumbledore said, standing and taking a step away from the bed to let Poppy in. She scooped Harry into her arms – he didn't flinch away from her touch – and plucked the stuffed dog from the bed. "We'll stay for a few minutes, I think. Have a good tea, Harry."

Harry burrowed his face into Poppy's shoulder as the two went off. Dumbledore sat again, burying his face in his hands. "Minerva... I've made a mistake..."

"You can still help him," she murmured. "He's not so far gone as Severus was. Harry's only four... we can take him away from the Dursleys. Severus was eleven by the time he came, and was beyond our reach." Minerva frowned and patted his shoulder again. "We had no way of knowing what they were doing to him."

"A cupboard!" he snapped suddenly. "Can you imagine what life must've been like for the poor boy? He slept in a cupboard... it must've been filthy... He's too thin by half, and his hair's a disgrace! He looks like Severus – he doesn't even look like his father anymore! And Severus never really recovered... he still doesn't gain weight normally, and avoids people, and -"

"- Is standing at the door," the Potions Master's snarky voice cut in as he swept across the room. "I'd prefer to not be used as a case study. The history, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore winced, but accepted the book the dark man thrust at him. "Severus, I'm sorry – you know it wasn't meant that way."

"Perhaps not." Severus shrugged and stood before them awkwardly. "I don't blame either of you. I just wasn't Gryffindor enough to catch your attention." A thick tension fell between Severus and Dumbledore, even as Snape cut off the older man's response. "Well, go on. Find the boy a home. He can't stay here."

Albus wasn't in a frame of mind to respond to anything. Lines of pain were etched across his face, each making him look twice as old as usual. Minerva wasn't quite sure why Albus had put his trust in the young man standing before them – only twenty-four, and the agent of plenty of pain in his short life – but something connected the two that Minerva certainly didn't understand. And it was hardly the first time that something Severus had said had brought Albus to speechlessness. She reached over and gently took the tome from his hands, allowing Albus enough time to regain his composure. "Now then... oh, Lord – I didn't realize all the Rosses were killed." Minerva traced a finger along family lines as the whole of Harry's father's past was projected up before them. "Well, that line's ruled out – he can't be sent with the Avery's, after all. And a Lestrange? I wonder if they knew they were trying to kill their grand-nephew."

"They wouldn't have cared," Severus cut in. "I knew them, well enough. Medea... I wouldn't have expected this of her, especially since Dina was born, but Iscariot was known as a cruel man even among Voldemort's followers. She was a restraining hand, but even that didn't seem to be enough to stop them. Had Dina been the agent of Voldemort's destruction, I've no doubt they would've killed her. Their own daughter."

"So many dead," Albus whispered. Minerva tore her glance from Snape to examine the Headmaster fearfully – he seldom retreated into remembrance like that. His eyes were locked on the long string of names, each with a date of death attatched. And one in particular – Henry Potter, Sr. "How long has it been since Henry died? Seven years... four months... I shouldn't have outlived him..."

Minerva nodded sadly. No one should outlive their son – even an adopted one. Henry should've been her own age, enjoying the prime of the wizarding life, playing out on the grounds with his grandson rather than lying in a grave in Hogsmeade. "But it's over, now. No more sons are going to die." She patted his hand, and went back to the tree. "Well, there's a Ross here – no, wait, he's only eighteen. He can't possibly take care of Harry... hasn't Henry Ross taken his adopted father's last name? He's a Ravenclaw seventh year, is he not?"

Snape nodded shortly. "Henry Parker, he goes by. He's for Muggle university next term. Though we should bring him to meet Harry – it might do the boy some good. Both of them."

"My own brother would be next of kin," Minerva murmured. "I hadn't realized the Potters were so close to the bloodline. And Albus, next of all – but you can't take him on, you've too much to do."

"He needs a father, not a grandfather," Albus said. He sighed and leaned back against the headboard. "It's as I feared, isn't it... we'll have to look even farther. A blood match may not be possible, and it's blood we need, to keep him safe."

"We could do a blood match on him," Severus suggested. "It's a simple enough potion. I know Lily was Muggleborn, but another may've come from her family, years back, and we wouldn't know about it. It's common enough for more than one member of a Muggle family to manifest magic."

Minerva gave a snort. "I have doubts about that theory – isn't that one of You Know Who's? That all Muggleborns actually came from a halfblood marriage, hundreds of years back?"

Snape drew back and grew silent – he never was able to accept criticism of his ideas – but Albus jumped in. "No, Severus, that's an excellent idea. If nothing turns up... it looks as if you or Minerva may be the closest we have to blood relatives."

Severus gaped silently for a moment. "Wait – me?"

"Well, the lines intersect in two places. Here and here," Albus pointed. "And this one is only a few generations back. That double crossing makes you the second most likely candidate – after all, the next choice would be David Avery, Sr. or Lucius Malfoy. Henry's father hadn't been brought up with the right sort of crowd... if it hadn't been for the uprising, Henry would've been another Ulysses..." Albus shrugged. "If you'd rather, you could just take him on now, Severus -"

Snape, of course, was halfway to the door before Albus had finished. "I'll have the potion in mere hours. We'll do the test tomorrow." He fled.

"James would rise from the grave to murder us if we left his son with Severus," Minerva murmured.

Albus gave a half smile to that. "Well, perhaps he will. Although... I think he'd thank us, in the end. Severus may be the exact sort of help that Harry needs, and I think Severus needs Harry."