As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
Octavius' first conscious thought was that he was warm and hidden. Thus feeling safe, he did not wake with his usual abrupt panic but rather ambled slowly toward wakefulness with uncommon reluctance.
"Well, there you are, dear," an unfamiliar voice startled him though it was not unkind sounding. His eyes snapped open then and he immediately recognized Madame Pomfrey of the hospital wing. Which, he then realized, was exactly where he was. The mediwitch smiled at him but her hand on his chest held him down. "If you will insist on sitting up, child, do be sure to move slowly or you will find yourself feeling quite ill," she warned, and then moved her hand away.
Octavius nodded and, not being a fool, sat up very slowly. "Why am I here?" he asked. He didn't remember anything after walking into the Divinations classroom.
"It seems you fainted in Divinations class, my dear. How are you feeling now?"
"I am well, thank you."
"I truly doubt that, my dear. Never mind. You missed dinner in the Great Hall. I shall have something brought to you now that you are awake." She summoned a house-elf and gave orders for a light meal to be brought. As soon as the elf disappeared again, her attention again bore into the child. "Now, my tests show that you did not faint from hunger, so what did happen will have to be investigated."
"I do apologise--"
"No, no, child. Fainting is not something one apologizes for. It happens for many reasons and it can be a symptom of some underlying illness. As you have apparently never been seen by any Healers, we shall have to undertake our own investigation. It won't hurt, I assure you."
"I am not afraid of pain, Madame Pomfrey. But I ... I am afraid of being expelled."
"Oh my dear child! One is not expelled for fainting!" At that moment the elf returned with a tray of food which he handed over to the mediwitch. She placed it hovering above the boy's lap. "Now, you eat what you want. Don't stuff yourself, mind. If you need anything just call out." She moved off to her office to let the boy eat in peace. And to floo the Headmistress in privacy.
It was not that worthy lady who came to visit the boy, however, but rather she let Harry come on his own. They both knew the child related better to him. There was something odd about the boy, something that bothered the Headmistress and gave her an unease that she was distressed to admit she could not explain. At first she dismissed this as some figment of imagination. But it wasn't and she did not want the boy hurt any worse than he already was.
Harry arrived sometime after the boy had finished eating and he found him resting with hands folded under his head, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. "Good evening Octavius," he greeted softly as the boy had not noticed him enter and he didn't want to startle him.
Octavius' eyes focused quickly on the man and he sat up. "Good evening sir. Might I return to my House now?"
Harry smiled. "After we have a small talk. It's almost curfew."
Octavius nodded, suddenly wary.
Harry saw that shift in attitude and sighed inwardly. This was going to be so hard. "Now, Octavius, have you any thoughts on why you fainted in Divinations class? Professor Trelawney is not that horrible, you know."
Octavius blushed. "It wasn't her, at least I don't think so, I mean... I... I don't know, sir."
"What can you recall about the class, then, Octavius?"
"Nothing much, just arriving and finding a place to sit."
"You don't remember how class started? What Professor Trelawney introduced?"
"Erm... Dreams, wasn't it sir?" He was frowning as that much recollection seemed so vague that he wasn't sure that perhaps he was simply making it up.
"Yes, dreams. She asked if anyone wanted share their dreams for interpretation." Harry hesitated seeing, seeing that the boy truly did not remember the events of the class. But then he took a chance and further prodded, "You said that you dreamed of a little boy..." He watched the child's expression change.
"He's not me, really sir."
"I know Octavius. But why don't you tell me about him anyway."
"What do you want to know about him, sir?"
Harry smiled. True he wanted to reassure the small eleven year old but as well he felt that the boy's willingness to talk was a real advancement in their relationship. "Why don't we start with what happens to him in your dreams."
"He cries a lot sir. He's only a little kid, usually."
"Why does he cry?"
"I think his parents are fighting."
Parents? Plural? But Octavius couldn't have known his mother; she'd died in childbirth.
The boy interpreted his expression without any mistake. "I told you he isn't me. It's not my parents fighting it's his," he said in a miffed tone.
"Yes. Quite... Erm..."
"I sit with him when he's crying very hard. I think he gets hit quite a bit too."
"Do you get hit, Octavius?"
"No! I fall! I'm very clumsy..." the head fell forward and Harry knew this for the lie it was and waited without saying another word. As he expected, the boy spoke again. But what he said was not expected. "I saw him older in class."
"What?"
"The boy. I saw him older and then I saw him grown. But I wasn't dreaming then, I wasn't asleep." There was another long pause. "I was scared."
"He can't hurt you--"
"Well he wouldn't, would he? After all, I'm his only friend."
Harry frowned. "I'd like to talk about you, Octavius. Can we do that?"
"I'd rather not."
"Why not?"
"I don't think I should."
"You won't get in any trouble."
"You don't know that," the boy could barely manage a rough whisper and he had started to shiver.
"I won't force you, Octavius. It's fine. We don't have to talk about you. But I promise you would not get into trouble here."
"Maybe not." But no more was forthcoming and the boy refused to look up, his head bowed so dark hair hid his expression, his small body huddled in on itself.
"How about I tell you something about me, then?"
The boy responded with a barely perceptible nod.
"Well, let me see... When I was a baby I had to go live with my Aunt and Uncle. They really didn't want me and as soon as they could they kept me in a cupboard." He paused when the child flinched. "Have you ever been locked in a cupboard or closet, Octavius?"
"Wardrobe," returned a small stilted voice.
"Just as bad, I think. I didn't like it at all. I would cry and cry and all they would do is yell at me and sometimes, if my Uncle was very mad, he hit me."
"When you were a baby?"
"As far back as I remember, Octavius."
"You hadn't done anything wrong?"
"No child can do anything so wrong that he should be locked in a small space and ignored or beaten."
"Maybe not a little child. Like the little boy in my dreams or you..."
"Well, I never did those things to any of my children. And sometimes they have been right naughty brats!" He tried to gain a smile from the somber child. But there was not even the slightest amusement in that face.
"The little boy's father doesn't like him." Octavius admitted. Then he took a deep breath. "Mine doesn't like me either. And I guess you don't like your children either."
"Oh no Octavius! I adore my children! I love them deeply. But even I know that they can be mischievous sometimes. I love them even so." He saw the doubt on the child's face. "You can ask them if you want," Harry suggested.
"Maybe I will." But he didn't sound as if he actually considered the idea seriously.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his perpetually mussed hair. "Do you want to stay here overnight or go back to your dorm?"
"I've not slept there yet. I really should before they throw my things in the dustbin, sir."
Harry stifled a laugh. "No, they are not allowed to do that. All right then, I'll walk you back. It's past curfew now." He stood up and then looked into the boy's face, catching and locking his gaze with his own deep green eyes. "You can come talk to me any time, Octavius. Any time at all, all right?"
Octavius gave him a small nod. He understood, he wasn't ready to trust just yet, but he understood the offer.