'My priority was and is to keep him alive, Minerva.' Albus Dumbledore spoke heavily, seated in his office: the head of Gryffindor stood in front of him, having declined the offered chair. Her eyes were flashing and she gripped a letter from the Burrow in her hand.

'Alive? What part of him, exactly? Your face fell like mine did when he entered the hall for the first time. A speck of a child, the Sorting Hat almost swallowed him. Lily and James…were not small for their ages.'

'Molly Weasley had to stop him from cleaning up after dinner, but dinner wasn't even done yet and he hadn't felt safe enough to put food on his own plate. He saw a family meal as something other people should have while he worked.'

'You told me about him and the mirror…but Ronald Weasley asked me to move it before you moved it. Because the Weasley boy understands trauma like Professor Trelawney understands Quidditch, but even he saw how unhealthy and obsessive Harry's pull towards the mere idea of adult relatives who didn't want to hurt him was.'

'The boy has been damaged, Albus. Abandoned, unloved, uncared for. And more than that. Actively harmed. That kind of thing can warp a child forever. We're…we're lucky we don't have another Tom Riddle on our hands here.'

'We don't, though, Minerva. I don't take credit for my part in it. You're helping me see that I should have done more. But…we don't have that, do we?'

'I can't explain it any more than I can pretend I do not see it, but there is something in the one that reminds me of the other. And yet.' McGonagall reflected, images swimming in her mind of the child she had been watching more carefully than either person in the room had been consciously aware of.

'The boy is polite and respectful, but it's not just out of fear or a desire to get things. He's kind to his classmates and has at least two true friends. He… almost died saving the Stone instead of simply taking it and giving it to Voldemort.'

'I am concerned. But for him. Not for us.'

'I will…place limits on what you can do.' It was not a warning: it was a leaden, grief-filled acknowledgement of fact.

'I will do my best despite them.'

'And I thank you for that.'