Severus rubbed over his eyes, beyond exhausted even though the school year has yet to even start.
"Look, we need to do something about Mr. Potter. He barely scraped by getting into second year. He may be spoiled staying at home and being the sole focus of everyone all day and think he can get through with stubborn teenage rebellion or coast by on his celebrity status, or by pranking his teachers or whatever else he is thinking he's doing not doing any homework, but this needs to stop now. And let's not forget Mr. Longbottom who stutters so much I would be legitimately worried of him doing a spell wrong with potentially lethal consequences if he didn't have so little magic. Then we have Seamus who either sets things on fire or turns them into alcohol."
Severus snorts.
"Minerva, are you finally admitting that your Gryffindors are the most troublesome bunch of them all?"
Minerva McGonagall, looking a little more relaxed and less stern after her holidays, glares at him, leaning forward.
"Oh, don't get me started on yours – Mr. Potter is yours, if you remember," Severus grimaces – true, he had forgotten momentarily that the latest Potter had not in fact ended up where everyone had expected him to. "And we could talk about Mr. Malfoy's loose tongue around my muggleborn students," another grimace, "or his general bullying which I'm sure will only escalate now that there are younger students underneath him to push around. Then we have Crabbe and Goyle who can produce miraculously well-written homework but can barely string a coherent sentence together in class and struggle to produce any magic."
"And those are only the first years," Flitwick interjects. "We have a lot of problematic students at Hogwarts this year even if we discount the Weasley twins who only sometimes verge over into bullying and mostly stay within the confines of humorous with their pranks. There's a lot of bullying within Ravenclaw, lack of looking after each other and overworking themselves. I'll be lucky if I don't have to admit anyone to the Hospital Wing in the first week. Zachariah Smith is likely to turn into a problem at Hufflepuff as well and for all their vouched loyalty, there's a lot of faith and turning on each other at the whims of whatever rumours are currently running rampant. Frankly, I am run ragged just trying to keep up with classes, tutorials and grading and my lectures to curb behaviour in-house is garnering little to no attention."
The other three heads of houses sighed in unison.
"I don't understand where our budget goes," Sprout admits. "Tuition is at an all-time high, we've cut classes but we cannot afford new broomsticks, our potions all have to be brewed in-house for the infirmary and gathered by us as much as we can and we are all buried under tasks. Frankly, Minerva, I don't know how you take on the Deputy role on top of all this."
Minerva grimaces.
"It's not really just Deputy anymore," she confesses, "with Albus off at the Wizengamot or internationally, a lot of his duties fall to me. I haven't met any of my lions in years. I have been looking for a permanent replacement as Head of House or Deputy but no one stays long enough or is interested. At this point, I'm certain Hagrid is the only one who would be interested in it and as much as Albus trusts him, I wouldn't entrust Hagrid with the children. Do you know last year he took the children assigned to him for detention – eleven year old wee bairns! – into the Forest with him, split up from them and told them to look for the thing attacking unicorns! Unicorns are naturally shy of adults so whatever attacked it had to be fast and strong enough to overcome a Unicorn and he sends children after it! Which means I also have more detentions to supervise now as despite my lecture and setting aside three hours to talk to Hagrid on a Saturday, the man still doesn't understand why what he did was wrong."
"Were the children alright?" Severus asked and Minerva nodded quietly. The others just exchanged quiet looks – they were all well aware of the headmaster's blind spots and no one had a solution other than to work around it as Minerva had done by not delegating to him anymore.
"What about the other teachers? The ones who don't handle main subjects?" Sprout suggested.
"Most of them are on part-time contracts. While they eat and live here, they aren't actually here all that often outside of classes and many have a second job. So unfortunately, that's not a solution either."
"Well, at this point I will take suggestions on how to handle Mr. Potter. I have given him detentions and he does work hard, but he is quiet and still refuses to do his homework. I don't know if it's sheer obstinacy or what else it could be at this point," Severus offered, returning back to the point Minerva had made at the beginning of the meeting.
"He is really small," Flitwick piped up thoughtfully. "Has he been checked?"
It was an unspoken secret acknowledged by the heads of houses – and ignored by the headmaster – that when children were abused or neglected they often landed in Slytherin. Not always, but predominantly – so while the teachers intervened when they spotted a case, Severus had implemented a yearly mandatory health check for all his students although he would accept private physicians' reports where they were reputable and honest.
"He went to St Mungo's before school started and given the all-clear in the report. I don't remember Lily looking that small when we were young, but then again, they all look small these days."
Minerva laughed and the rest chimed in, another few minutes of the meeting lost reminiscing about their own childhood and seeing the children they'd taught when they were ten and tiny now as adults trying to grandstand in the Ministry and the hilarity of seeing the kid they'd seen throw food and tantrums now pretending to be a grown-up with no memory of aforementioned events.
"I'm sorry. We have very little leeway with Albus in regards to punishment – bullies have to be caught in the act and no general cautionary other than what we always say but ends up amounting to little more than lipservice. We can only try more detentions, talking to him or his guardians to pressure him. It doesn't amount to a suspension and there is little other recourse we can take at this point."
Severus sighed; he'd thought so, but it was always best to check. Minerva knew the rulebook inside and out and knew what she could slip past Albus and what wouldn't.
"Then I'm not sure we'll get more out of him than we did last year," Severus admitted with a shrug.
Professor McGonagall sent Harry to his room. He's not sure how long he's meant to stay here for. Aunt Petunia usually told him to get on with it when she was tired of him being useless and sick, but he thinks he's been in bed for days now. He's not sure. He snuck into the bathroom at one point to drink some water and adds it to the confessions he will need to give to the head elf – disobeying a direct order. The room keeps spinning and his limbs keep shaking though so Harry is kind of glad the Professor hasn't come for him yet as he would surely mess his tasks up even more. He isn't sure how he feels. One moment everything is too hot like he's boiling and the next he's shivering with cold. He thinks he's thrown up but isn't sure – it smells like it though but Harry's memory is not working well. He hopes he hasn't forgotten his chore list – he relies on his memory for that but instances of the head elf and Auntie giving him tasks all blend together and he's not sure what day it is.
Then he feels his sweat cool and he doesn't sweat anymore. Gradually, he doesn't feel that clenching in his tummy anymore either nor the dryness in his throat or that need for water. It's like the world is becoming less focussed, a bit darker but less imposing.
And in between one heartbeat and the next Harry wonders if this is what dying feels like. If this is what his parent had – it's no wonder they didn't hold on. This is so nice, so peaceful, like the world is a million miles away with all its worries but Harry doesn't know how to care anymore.
He slips into sleep but wakes up shortly after to someone above him. He's apologising before he knows what's happening and follows the order without even thinking of protesting, the peaceful quiet slipping away but Harry had known he didn't deserve it – not yet, he needed to pay it all off first. He had just forgotten, for a moment, what it felt like not to worry. Then the blackness swallows him whole when he's all floaty in the air. He hears his Professor panic and it's alright, it really is, whatever happens, but Harry's mouth doesn't cooperate and his Professor sounds further and further away.
Things came to a head at the beginning of November though, when Severus noted that Harry Potter had not attended the Slytherin house meeting. Gritting his teeth, Severus continued nevertheless, warning his students to keep the anti-muggleborn rhetoric inside the house and not agitate the situation first and to, for Merlin's sake please not leave the safety of the house with any less than two other students, preferably guided by an older one.
Calling the meeting to an end, Severus called forth his prefects.
"Where is Mr. Potter?" He asked without preamble and watched the confused look-arounds.
"I'm not sure. I've never really noticed him in here, but we did put the notice up on the board as you requested."
Severus huffed and dismissed the students. He couldn't really expect them to manually chase down every stray, but it was still frustrating.
"Draco," he called as he stepped closer to his godson, "who in your year rooms with Mr. Potter?"
The youngest Malfoy looks up with furrowed brows before shaking his head slightly.
"No one, Uncle Sev. He threw a tantrum that first day last year and then went off. I presumed he met up with either you or the headmaster for his own room?"
Draco shrugged but looked slightly concerned now that it had been brought up.
Severus pinched his nose, trying to stave off the inevitable headache he felt coming on.
"Are you telling me that Mr. Potter hasn't been in the Slytherin House since over a year ago and you didn't think to mention this to me at any point?"
If Slytherin's monster hadn't already been roaming the halls, Severus would have sent his entire house out to search for the lost child as punishment (and to find him faster). Not to mention that Minerva had sent the kid back to bed a few days ago because he'd been ill. Just where had that boy been staying?
Exhaling loudly, Severus gathered himself.
"Well, there will definitely be another house meeting in the coming days," Severus finally announces wryly, leaving the common room behind with a swirl of his cloak and dismissing the prefects who overheard and tried offering their services in the search. No need to have more children go astray – or, Merlin forbid, missing.
With a quick location-seeking spell, Severus makes his way around the dungeon, going deeper in until he finds an almost-abandoned hallway where he finally finds a small door his spell is pointing him to. Wand in hand, in case of danger, he opens the door and instead of the luxurious room he half-expected, he finds a small mattress maybe half the length of the child on the floor with a blanket curled around a sleeping, shivering form. The child is called into a tiny ball, likely to preserve heat. His face is sweating and red and the room smells of sickness. Severus cannot even step into the room – the roof is too low and he is already crouching and can't even make a step before hitting the mattress. The kid has basically found himself a cupboard to curl up in but the presence of the pillow and mattress along with his trunk suggest that this is precisely where Mr. Potter has stayed for the last year and a bit.
Lily would turn in her grave.
Sinking down, Severus gently checks skin temperature, heartbeat and respiration rate manually before giving in and lifting the child gently.
"Sorry, 'm sorry, sir," the child looks dazed, glassy-eyed as he tries to focus on the Professor looming over him. No wariness, just expectant – but of what, Severus wonders half-heartedly even though in his heart he already knows. Has known since he saw this room. "I can still work, promise. Sorry I missed your class, sir."
He wants to soften his voice, to tell the child it will all be okay, that he will take care of it and he doesn't need to worry anymore; but Severus knows better than to lie to an abused child. Albus has too much influence and Severus too little for this all to go smoothly and the child won't know what to do with kind.
"You are excused, Mr. Potter," he says, voice oddly dry and scratchy. "But you will need to come with me to the Hospital Wing."
"Of course, sir."
And the child actually tries to stand up, despite the way his eyes cannot focus, his breathing is erratic and the sweat pouring off him even as he shivers. He still tries to stand, to do as he's told and Severus barely hides his grimace.
"I believe you will need to be carried, Mr. Potter."
With a quick spell the child is invisible – no need to garner attention – and lifted into the air. Severus has no intention of making things worse by physically touching the kid until he knows for certain what has and hasn't been done to him.
The trip to the Hospital Wing is uncommonly quick as if the corridors around him are shifting to accommodate him making his way there faster; Severus fast stride quickly changes into a run when Harry falls unconscious again and refuses to wake up.
"POPPY!"
The medi-witch scurries out, likely anticipating more petrified victims, and Severus loosens his hold on the invisibility spell over Mr. Potter.
"He's been sick for days and gone unconscious now. And a full check, please," he tells her and nods quickly when she looks back at him to check if he really is suggesting what she thinks he is – that the boy-who-lived had been abused. The skin around her eyes tightens as she nods at him in determination, setting up the recording spells as needed to ensure everything can be used for prosecution should it become necessary.
Severus sighs and drops onto an empty seat nearby, eyes remaining on the too-small boy lying motionlessly in the bed and the very, very long list of medical history Poppy's spell is currently producing.
They need to talk to the boy, Severus knows. The physical aspects, horrendous as they are, are likely only a small part of it. It's the psychological aspects they need to assess.
Mr. Potter is in St. Mungo's due to the severity of the illness and his dehydration along with all the long-term effects of the abuse. In the room are Albus, Minister Fudge, Minerva, and Madame Bones. In any other case it would only be him and a representative for the child and, on occasion, an auror. This child, however, is special – he doesn't get a representative. His case will be handled in a slew of backroom deals most likely and the only faith Severus has that Harry Potter will not be screwed over again is due to the presence of Madam Bones, known to be scrupulously fair.
"Mr. Potter?" Severus asks gently and the child blinks and focuses back on him. Apparently, the child hadn't even been able to see properly and St Mungo's got an optometrist in to create glasses for the child. It only serves to magnify the accusing green of his eyes. He's just glad at this point that the others agreed to sit quietly in the corner after their first interrogation – without him present, he'd like to note – went so badly.
He muses that both Fudge and Albus probably attempted to get the child to open up by pampering him and playing up to his celebrity status, neither of which would work on a child who, now that Severus knows he's been raised by Petunia, has likely spent his life being talked down to with little to no self-esteem to speak of.
"Yes, sir?" comes the clear voice of the boy, obviously eager to comply with whatever Severus orders him to do, he imagines. Severus has a great many complaints about wizards but they at least know that abuse of a magic child can lead to disastrous – deadly – consequences for the entire family should it turn into an obscurus. Most cases of abuse coming to Severus have a muggle, squib or muggleborn relative rather than a wizarding one. This one is no different.
In a split second, in review of the information at hand and what he knows of Harry Potter so far (without his James-induced blinders on), Severus decides on a tack which will likely incur outrage from the group sitting to the side, despite them agreeing to being silenced for his talk with the kid.
"Some people have made accusations against Petunia and Vernon Dursley," Severus states quietly and calmly without hesitation. "You may be able to help them if you talk to me."
There's the predictable outrage from the others, but Severus ignores them, honing in on the eagerness in Harry's eyes and the way he lights up at the idea of getting to help his abusers. He wants to throw up, but he occludes his turmoil away as much as he can. This cannot be emotional – Harry will be unlikely to know how to deal with emotional adults or that anyone can be unhappy on his behalf rather than take it out on him.
"Really? I can help? I'd like to help, please. What accusations, sir?"
Now comes the tricky bit – a number of abused kids have become exceptionally good at reading minuscule facial cues to discern whether something was true or a lie. He didn't know if Harry was among them, and quietly doubted it, but Severus always preferred to be overly cautious rather than not at all.
"If we tell you the accusations what you say may not hold up. So we need to ask you some general questions. That's why everyone is here," Severus says with a gesture to the people in the corner who are all suddenly remarkable calm and adult-like and very different from their earlier tantrums. Harrys' eyes are narrowed and distrustful when looking at Albus and Fudge but Bones garners nothing but passing curiosity.
As it turns out, none of the students know anything because no one has talked to the kid. At all. Over the entire first year and the months into the boy's second year and no one has given him a hug, a pat on the back or even just a kind word. Severus hates children; ungrateful little ingrates, tiny bullies, they are spiteful little things and he hates them.
His cold, dead heart aches for this child who looks closer to eight years old than he does to twelve and a half. He wants to resurrect the Dark Lord and tell him that the Dursleys were responsible for his downfall. He wants Bellatrix there with him when they take their revenge, wants them to suffer for weeks, for months and it still wouldn't be enough, would never undo what they put this child through and Severus is sure he can't even imagine the half of it. Whenever he hears about it, it's always worse than he imagines – the people they trust breaking down their innocence, sometimes systematically, other times incidentally and Severus isn't sure what this one will be like or which one is worse but he's pathetically grateful that at least this once Albus will have to stay here and sit through listening to what he condemned an innocent babe to go through.
"Oh," Harry says, frowning slightly, looking hesitant. "But I shouldn't say, Aunt Petunia said."
"Not even if it's to help them?"
He looks even more uncertain but then finally eyes him again.
"I guess… I guess it'd be alright. As long as it's you. You already knew my not-quite-private name, so it's alright, isn't it?"
The not-quite-private name generated ideas he was hesitant to pursue; the medical history had shown no signs of outright sexual abuse but that didn't mean none had occurred; it just meant no penetration. The idea that Severus had used any name in conjunction with any act like that was frightening. He didn't recall calling Mr. Potter anything other than his name, although he may have referred to him as child or boy at some stage, he supposed. Of the two, boy would be somewhat more demeaning and more likely, Severus deduced rapidly.
"Of course it is," Severus spoke firmly rather than gently and only allowed himself a half-second of hesitation before adding "boy."
The child brightened, nodding eagerly.
"I knew you knew, sir!"
"And what's your private name, then, boy?" He asked, despite knowing the bo- child would turn hesitant again.
"'m not supposed to tell," he mumbled uncertainly, peeking in his direction from under his lashes, fiddling uncomfortably with the new glass frames.
"And why is that?"
"Oh that's because of the name thing. No one can know your true name or they can own you."
Severus blinks in surprise – alright, not what he expected; very anti-magic but so much better than what he'd imagined.
"Like Rumpelstiltskin?" He finds himself asking, the name falling from his lips even though he hadn't even been sure he'd remember it after not having read or heard of the story since he was ten years old and staying overnight at the Evans' household, exchanging fairytales with Lily.
Harry brightens up again, nodding eagerly, thinking Severus is on his side. And he is – just not the way Harry imagines. This will be difficult to navigate.
In a split-second decision, Severus reaches for the books they'd put up beside the child so he could read to avoid boredom while he's bedbound and easily flips through for the information on faeries.
"Your aunt likely doesn't know, but there's a bit of a distortion," Severus pauses when he notices Harry's confusion and easily rephrases, "a bit of a twist between what faeries and wizards and witches are really like and what stories have come up in the muggle world."
There, not outright calling his aunt a liar and offering an explanation which ought to encourage his honesty in return – hopefully.
"So it's not real?"
Severus taps the book again open on the information on the faeries and this time Harry's eyes slip down before he looks at him again, looking really confused this time.
"No, it's not. See here, this book even explains that difference in understanding right here."
There's a niggling thought in Severus mind which he tries to dismiss but it keeps becoming more pronounced. After all, Harry spent the last year at Hogwarts and no one had noticed that he couldn't see further than a hand length in front of him, not even Severus.
"Can you please read this out loud, Mr. Potter?"
He uses a calmer, more coaxing teacher voice than he would normally employ in a classroom full of brats, but the kid still looks confused.
"Sorry, sir. I cannot," he says, eyes scanning him, analysing him but Severus isn't sure what for.
"Why not, boy?" He asks, knowing it is the right descriptor to use despite having to clamp his occlumency shields down tighter to be able to press on.
"Because I'm stupid and can't read."
Severus forces himself to exhale normally and ignores the urge to curse (in both meanings of the words) and hit his fists bloody (preferably on the Dursley's faces).
"Were you ever taught to read?" Severus continues the interrogation, forcibly calm. A year and a half, nearly, under his direct eye and with several other teachers – a celebrity and the focus of their attention, at least at the beginning and still not one of them picked up on the fact that this child couldn't even read! No wonder he never did his homework!
"I don't understand, sir. Children need to learn reading and writing. But I'm boy. Sir."
That answered everything and nothing – so children were separate from Harry, he got that much. But why? And what was he?
"And what else does a child get that a boy like you doesn't?" Severus asks and Harry laughs, quickly and brightly.
"What, like a bed?" He says, like it's an outrageous suggestion that Harry may need to – or be allowed to – sleep in a bed. They have had to order him to stay and he's obeyed, but he's clearly not comfortable. The fact that even having a bed seems outrageous frightens Severus as he wonders if Harry thinks he's allowed anything at all and he finds himself changing topics.
He thinks he sees Fudge throw up in his bowler hat but doesn't turn to look.
"Returning to my earlier question then. What is your private name?"
Harry's eyes flit over the group in the corner before going back to him, still refusing to make eye contact. He bites his lip, uncertain. Severus sighs quietly.
"Do you know I knew your mother and your Aunt Petunia when we were young. We grew up together."
The green eyes widen. "You knew Aunt Petunia when she was young?"
For a moment Severus is surprised the question is about his aunt rather than his mother before his stomach roils as he realises that dear Aunt Petunia had undoubtedly spent a good long time maligning his mother and he wonders what the boy even thinks he knows about Severus' erstwhile best friend.
"Yes, I did," he admits, and feels like a confession worth a life sentence in Azkaban but the boy nods, feeling more affirmed, clearly, which is what Severus was aiming for.
"I'm Freak," he says quietly but certainly, "and freaks don't need to read."
Severus swallows hard and forces himself to continue.
"And what do Freaks do?"
Harry brightens. "I cook real good, and have learnt a lot more at Hogwarts," Severus brows furrow as he tries to decipher that. He sincerely hopes the child doesn't mean potions.
"I also know how to do the laundry and tidy, how to dust and vacuum and mop and the house elves taught me how to do it in the magic castle when you don't have a vacuum cleaner. I can also clean dishes."
"That's," Severus tongue is made of lead but he forces it carefully around the words he doesn't want to say. "very good, Harry." The child may as well be sunshine personified for how much he brightens at the smallest compliment.
"So you've been helping the house elves, then?"
Harry nods eagerly.
"I've learned loads," he brags – if it can even be called that. "and I always report when I need punishment, I've been good, I swear."
The green eyes peer up at him uncertainly, clearly eager for Professor Snape to agree but he finds he'd rather swallow his tongue than congratulate the child on being punished.
"And what sort of things have you reported that you needed to be punished for?"
Severus doesn't want to know how much they needed to indoctrinate the child for it to report every little sin rather than risk it being discovered – and what constitutes as a sin. He finds out anyway and wishes desperately he hadn't.
"I need to still tell the head elf about when Professor McGonagall," he nods to the witch sitting in the corner, "sent me to my room but I left to get just a little bit of water from the bathroom."
The child fidgets, looking down at the bedspread.
"It was just a really tiny amount, I swear," he promises desperately and Severus closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. He doesn't want to see the expression on Minerva's face when it's already taking all his occlumency skills just to control his own.
"I believe you," he rasps out and Harry relaxes promptly, before listing his other sins. Things like being 'insolent to Professor Snape for not doing his homework'; Severus wants to cuddle the child, looking like James Potter or not, he wants to cry and he wants to tear Albus apart. He thinks Malfoy would join him, even if he told him the reason why (maybe especially so – the Malfoys adored their little hellspawn). He also says things like being in someone's way when it's clear they ran into the child; not doing his homework despite being unable to read and write; getting injured enough by older children pushing him around to impede his chores.
Severus ignores the faces of the other adults in the room, unsure what he would do if he found Minerva crying.
"You seem to work very hard," Severus encourages and Harry nods promptly. "can you tell me about your day at Hogwarts?"
He is glad the child doesn't ask how this relates to Petunia because Severus isn't sure what lie he would've spun, but his heart drops when he realises why he looks permanently sleep-deprived – because he is. Harry is getting four to five hours a night, instead of eight or ten hours.
Counting internally to ten, silently grateful that Harry is a patient child who just awaits his next order instead of pressuring Severus to continue before he is ready (and hating that he is even the slightest bit grateful for anything that was done to the child).
"And your normal day at the Dursleys?"
And so he finds out and wonders how the child didn't collapse; and further determines that Harry learned to cook back when he needed a chair to even reach the oven (explains the burns on his hand he received when he was four years old; Severus can imagine only too well what spiteful little Petunia would do if it was overcooked or undercooked).
"And what is your punishment at the Dursley and from the head elf?"
Harry easily lists burns and 'occasional' hit if Harry deserved it (apparently Petunia using the frying pan to hit the child is normal, Severus notes quietly), the frequent locking in his cupboard for days at a time – with toilet breaks, if Aunt Petunia isn't too mad – the harder chores and the lack of food and water.
When asked about his parents, the child doesn't hesitate to call his own mother – Lily – names which make Severus' hand shake and even James doesn't deserve what the child thinks of him. Then comes what Aunt Petunia told him about the magical world.
The somnus spell is silently cast and quickly, before Severus can ask anything further.
His whole body trembles, betraying him, as he stares at the innocent child – a hero in their world - lying in the far-too-large bed. A child they had failed – that all of them had failed. The silencing spell cuts out and he hears the none-too-quiet sobs from behind him.
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