A/N: So I actually had some spare time this weekend (shocking, I know), and so I thought I would work on getting another chapter out for you all. Enjoy!

The entrance hall was crowded. Far too crowded for Harry's liking. There were too many people closing in around him as they all slowly made their way to the Great Hall for the feast. It was suffocating.

Not to mention that getting jostled around from every side was doing nothing to help his injuries. In fact, he found himself having to bite down on the inside of his cheek several times to keep himself from expressing any sort of discomfort at the less-than-gentle contact.

"I think I'm going to head up to the common room," he finally said, leaning towards Ron and Hermione so that they could both hear him.

"What? But Harry!"

"Aren't you starving? You didn't eat anything on the train!"

Harry just shook his head. "Nah, I had a big breakfast," he lied easily, hoping that his empty stomach wouldn't suddenly start making noises and give him away.

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, Hermione. I feel just fine," Harry insisted, for what felt like the millionth time that day. "I just need an early night. That's all. I'm sure I'll feel completely refreshed in the morning."

And before either Ron or Hermione could protest any further, Harry turned and began pushing against the crowd towards the staircase, wincing at the pain in his wrist when another student carelessly bumped into his elbow.

At first glance, Harry didn't think that Aunt Marge looked sick at all. A little disheveled, perhaps. But otherwise the woman looked fully alert and just as unpleasant as ever as she leaned back against the pillows in the rather large bed that now occupied Harry's old room. His own small bed was nowhere to be seen.

"What is he doing here?" the woman demanded.

"The boy was sent home for the Christmas holidays, Marge," Vernon explained, pushing Harry further into the room. "We had no choice in the matter."

The large woman's beady eyes narrowed as she looked Harry over from head to toe. "Did you get into trouble?" she suddenly barked, reaching for the glass of water on her bedside table.

"No, ma'am," Harry answered. "The whole school had to close. There was a-uh-flood in one of the bathrooms," he quickly invented, thinking of Moaning Myrtle.

"So one little leak and the whole school shuts down?" Marge questioned before taking a sip of her drink. "Sounds like the staff were just looking for a reason to get rid of you for a couple weeks."

Harry just stood there awkwardly, silently fuming but thinking it was probably best not to respond.

"Well don't just stand there!" the woman finally declared, when the silence had dragged on for several long seconds. "Make yourself useful and fix these pillows for me!"

There was a short pause, and then Harry was hurrying over to the side of the bed as Aunt Marge leaned forward and away from the mound of pillows propped up against the headboard. And the young boy immediately set to work, fluffing the pillows into a more comfortable position.

"Hmm…" Aunt Marge hummed, as she once again leaned back in bed. "I suppose that'll do for now. Now go prepare me something to eat. I'm absolutely starved."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered, looking over at his aunt and uncle uncertainly.

"Well, you heard her, boy," Vernon said, jerking his head towards the door. "Get going."

"Yes, sir."

Harry hurried for the exit then, and soon found himself heading back down the stairs. The loud thumping just behind him let him know that his uncle wasn't far behind.

"So you've seen her now," Vernon stated once they had reached the bottom of the staircase, the tone of his voice almost daring Harry to laugh or to take pleasure in the situation.

But Harry just frowned as he turned to face his uncle. "What's wrong with her?"

The man looked as though he were about to berate his nephew once again for asking questions. But in the end, he decided against it.

"There was an accident a couple months ago," Petunia answered, still standing on the staircase, one hand gripping the banister firmly.

Harry's frown deepened. "What kind of accident?"

"Car accident," Vernon responded. "Marge hasn't walked since."

"She's paralyzed?" Harry asked, not exactly sure how he felt about this bit of news. He knew he ought to feel some sort of sympathy or pity for the woman. But he wasn't quite able to summon any in that moment.

Vernon scoffed. "The doctors seem to think it's all in her head. That she could just get up and walk any time she wanted. But clearly they are mistaken."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, though he couldn't be sure that he actually meant it. Aunt Marge had done nothing but make him miserable for as long as he could remember.

"But that's where you come in, Potter," Vernon stated then. "Petunia thought you could be of use."

Harry raised his eyebrows, not quite sure he was understanding. "You-want me to…help take care of Aunt Marge…while I'm here?" Was that the deal Vernon had been referring to earlier?

But Vernon just shook his head. "No, boy. I want you to make her better."

"Huh?" Harry asked, now completely confused.

Uncle Vernon took a step closer to his nephew and leaned down so that his face was within inches of Harry's.

"I want you to make her better," he repeated. "I don't care how."

It was another few seconds before the realization finally dawned on Harry, and he took a moment to look from his uncle to his aunt in disbelief.

"You want me to use magic?"

In the next moment then, Harry found himself groaning in pain as he was slammed up against the wall, his uncle's crushing grip on both of his arms.

"You know better than to use that word in this house," the man hissed, pulling Harry away from the wall so that he could slam him into it once more. "This arrangement changes nothing."

"But I don't unders-" Harry gasped.

"I don't care how you cure her, Potter," the man emphasized. "In fact, I don't even want to know. But if you wish to remain in this house—"

"But I can't!" Harry exclaimed desperately. "I don't know how! And even if I did, you know I'd get expelled—"

"You'd get expelled for using a wand," Aunt Petunia reasoned. "But you've done plenty of… freaky things…over the years without a wand, and never got into trouble."

"That was different! That was accidental ma—"

Vernon took a swing at the back of Harry's head, effectively silencing the boy, who now leaned heavily against the wall, rubbing at the tender spot that had just made contact with his uncle's hand.

"The choice is yours, Potter. Either you help us with this or-"

"No!" Harry declared, as he continued to stand flat against the wall. "I can't! I won't!"

"Why you ungrateful little wretch!" Aunt Petunia suddenly declared.

"It's okay, Petunia," Vernon stated then, raising a hand to calm his wife while simultaneously eying Harry with a grin that sent a shiver straight down the boy's spine. "I believe we should give the boy some time to think it over."

"Think it over?" Petunia repeated, glaring at her nephew in disgust.

"Yes," Vernon answered, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. "In the cupboard. Tell me, Potter. When is the last time you saw that bird of yours?"

Harry's heart suddenly sped up. "Hedwig isn't here."

"Hmmm," Vernon continued to smile. "Are you quite sure she won't be visiting any time soon? It is the Christmas season after all. Perhaps she'll come to deliver well wishes from some of the other freaks at that school."

"You wouldn't hurt her," Harry stated, sounding far braver than he felt.

"Wouldn't I?" Vernon asked. "You sure about that?"

Harry jolted awake in his dormitory, gasping for air as he was pulled from his nightmare and groaning in pain at his body's sudden movements.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron's voice reached his ears from the other side of the drawn curtains.

"Uh, yeah," Harry answered quickly. "Just a…strange dream."

Ron yawned then as he headed back to his own bed. "Okay, then." Only moments later, the boy could be heard softly snoring from his four-poster.

Harry reached for his wand and cast a tempus charm. It was awkward casting with his left hand. But until his wrist was healed, it would have to do.

"6:00," he murmured. It was a little early to start getting ready for the day. But after that dream…there was somewhere he needed to be.

Harry quickly disentangled himself from the covers and started to stand from the bed. But it was then that he caught sight of his wrist, the swelling and bruising now visible to the eye.

And that meant the other bruises would be visible now, too.

Throwing a quick glance around the dormitory to ensure that the others were all still asleep, Harry hurried over to his trunk and threw open the lid.

He purposely avoided looking into the small hand-held mirror resting on top of his other belongings and went straight for the bottle lying in the corner.

Harry swallowed the potion quickly, watching in fascination as the bruising around his wrist and along his arm began to disappear as a result.

And just a few moments later, the skin was perfectly smooth and unblemished. Or at least it appeared that way. Unfortunately, invisible injuries didn't hurt any less than the visible ones.

Sighing, Harry set the potion aside and grabbed a small bag from the messy contents of his trunk before once again closing the lid.

He needed to hurry if he wanted to get to his destination before the rest of the castle awoke for breakfast. He wasn't really interested in seeing anyone else at the moment. Well, except for one.

The owlery was cold that January morning. Harry pulled his robe tighter around him as best he could as he moved closer to one of the windows. He turned and looked up towards the rafters, at the sea of brown and gray and black feathers of the birds who rested there.

And then there was a soft hoot from behind him, and Harry whirled around.

"Hedwig!" Harry cried happily, moving forward to where his familiar was perched on the windowsill. "How are you girl? I missed you!"

Hedwig hooted again and flapped her wings excitedly as Harry began stroking her feathers.

"Oh, Hedwig. I'm so glad you didn't try to come visit me at home," Harry whispered quietly.

Hedwig's head tilted to the side in concern before she gently nipped at Harry's fingers.

Harry smiled, reaching into his pocket for the bag he had retrieved from his trunk. "How about some owl treats?" he asked.

Hedwig once more hooted in excitement as she watched Harry open the little bag and take out a handful of treats.

"It is a little early to be sending a letter, don't you think, Mr. Potter?"

Startled, Harry whirled around, dropping the bag of owl treats at his feet.

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows, arms crossed as he stared down his long nose at the young Gryffindor.

"I just came to visit Hedwig," Harry explained. "I wanted to give her some treats."

"This early in the morning?" the man sounded skeptical. "I doubt most of your peers have even bothered to roll out of bed yet."

Harry shrugged. "I like the mornings, sir. They're quiet."

Snape didn't say anything right away. He seemed to be taking in the boy's appearance with a critical eye. It made Harry feel extremely uncomfortable. Behind him, Hedwig greeted Snape with another hoot.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Harry asked, hoping to get Snape to stop staring at him like that.

"Sending a letter," Snape responded, withdrawing an envelope from within the folds of his robes and looking up towards the rafters for one of the school owls.

"It's a bit early for that, don't you think?" Harry responded without thinking.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Snape said distractedly, as one of the school owls finally seemed to take the hint and flew down from his perch to land on the professor's shoulder. "I happen to prefer the quiet of the early morning, as well."

Harry was relieved to note that Snape didn't seem to be too cross with him. "Did you have a nice Christmas, sir?" he asked, once again holding his hand out to Hedwig so that she could have her treats.

"Two weeks without dunderheaded teenagers trying to blow up my classroom?" Snape answered sarcastically. "Yes, I would say it was quite pleasant."

Harry smiled as the school owl pushed off of Snape's shoulder then and soared out of the window, the potion master's letter tied securely to his foot.

"I imagine you enjoyed your time off, as well?" the man inquired.

Harry's smile faltered somewhat, but he quickly recovered a moment later. "Yes, sir. But I'm glad to be back."

"Is that so?" the professor asked, his eyebrows raising once more.

Harry just nodded, turning towards Hedwig to avoid any eye contact with the man.

"I don't recall seeing you yesterday at the feast," Snape suddenly stated. "I thought we had already had a discussion about missing meals."

"I really wasn't hungry, sir. I had a lot to eat before getting to Hogwarts yesterday."

The man seemed to consider him for a moment before speaking. "Well now that you're here," he finally replied, "there will be no more missed meals. Or you'll be off the Gryffindor quidditch team faster than you can blink. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." The man stood there another moment, once again looking Harry over from head to toe.

And then he was turning on his heel and sweeping down the stairs.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as he continued stroking Hedwig's feathers.

"Well that could have gone a lot worse," he confided in his familiar. "For a minute I thought he was going to start interrogating me."

Hedwig let out a screech in response and Harry stooped to pick up the bag of treats that had fallen.

"Alright. You can have a few more," Harry smiled.

And though the boy thought that Hedwig still looked slightly concerned, she eventually hooted happily in response.

A/N: Thank you for all of the wonderful feedback and support! You guys are the best! Thanks for reading.

-Ailee17

March 10, 2019