CW: Disturbing Imagery.

This is a rare time when a CW is actually necessary. On the bright side, if another one occurs in this story it won't be for a very long time.

Sunday January 6th, 1991

Beyond the train, the hills of Scotland passed by in a wintry blur.

"-been doing some more reading on runic wards over the holiday."

"-hear it's a lovely place-"

"What about-"

"Surely you can use that to-"

"-lissa?"

"Hmm, what?"

"It's everything alright?"

"Sure."

Melissa continued to stare out of the window, as Amy, Rachel, and Stephanie looked to the usually cheerful Slytherin with concern. Though if they said anything else during the train ride, Melissa didn't care to notice.

Monday January 7th, 1991

"Welcome back, students." Professor Salvatore greeted the children as they entered the room. They were surprised to find a large wardrobe rattling beside the professor's desk. It was obviously going to be a practical lesson, though they hadn't expected one on their first day back.

"I have a special lesson for you today. One that I will be introducing to all students who have not had this lesson already. Over the holidays, the school's caretaker came across a boggart wandering through the school."

A boggart. Lovely. Melissa thought with dull acceptance. It's been a sundae of hell. Might as well add a cherry on top.

"I will first give you a brief history on boggarts, as well as how to counter them. From there I will allow each of you the option to challenge the creature, though I don't expect all of you to be able to cast this spell on the first try."

He went on as planned. Explaining their nature and weaknesses. Once the theory portion was done, he moved the desks aside and formed a line up of student volunteers to approach the warded wardrobe one at a time. The morning was full of snakes, spiders, cruel bullies, an allergy-inducing pineapple, and an assortment of other objects and their riddikulus counterparts. Students were shrieking and laughing in successions, though the success rate of spells cast was probably at best 40:60 due to nervousness or lack of magical power. That said, most of the students didn't mind, as the experience was overall a fun one.

Melissa, on the other hand, hardly paid any attention as she moved up the line. Truthfully, in the state she was in, she wondered if anything would come out of the wardrobe at all. It probably would be bored by her lack of reaction and simply stay away.

"Your turn, Miss Bennett." The professor encouraged her.

She stepped over the ward line, her wand hanging limply at her side. "Let's get this over with."

The door opened, and a greyish figure crept forward. It shifted, disjointedly, slowly rising in it's step. The creature gained faded colours in the form of ragged, oversized clothes and red and pink gashes contrasting against the grey skin. The top of it's head grew black and shaggy, but the greatest shift in colour came when the creature turned it's humanoid face towards her, piercing her with bright green eyes.

Harry?

She stared dumbfounded at her grey-toned friend as his face twisted in a sneer.

"You knew! "

She took a step back, flinching at his tone and bloodied face.

"You knew. All this time, you knew about my life, about how I was going to suffer, and you did nothing! "

"Miss Bennett, remember, this is a boggart. Perform the spell."

Melissa didn't hear a word of warning.

"And why would you? Life's a joke, right? Who cares who suffers, who lives or dies? Doesn't matter anyways, right? We all end up in a grave, eventually. You said it yourself."

"No, no." She shook her head, wandless hands reaching out to him. "Harry, I didn't mean it like that. I swear! I-"

Her view of Harry became obscured by a dark robe as a tall figure suddenly blocked her path.

"Riddikulus!" Professor Salvatore commanded.

What became of Harry, she couldn't say. Nobody was laughing. Everything was quiet as far as she could hear passed her own sobs.

"Harry." She fell to her knees, hands holding her face as tears streamed down her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She gasped and cried apologies over and over. A set of warm arms came around her from behind. Still, she cried on.

"Miss Flinton, please escort Miss Bennett to the hospital wing. Have Madam Pomfrey give her a dose of calming draught."

"NO!" Melissa shrieked, pushing the person behind her away. She scuttled some steps away and fell back into herself.

"Miss Bennett-"

"No!" She shook her head. "I can't!"

Silence followed a moment before the professor spoke again. "Don't worry, I will handle this. Class is dismissed for the day." Sounds of steps and whispers and rustling bags moved around the room as someone leaned in close to her. "Miss Bennett, please stay here a moment. I'll make us some tea."

Melissa nodded, her eyes remained downcast, and the figure left her presence. Eventually the door closed and silence followed the room. Then came a distant whistle of a kettle and a clatter of china. A minute later the presence of Professor Salvatore returned. From her tear-obscured vision, a set of tea, milk and sugar was placed before her.

"I've put some sugar in already. This is if you need more."

Melissa nodded mutely and reached for a sip, then returned the tea to its place.

"I have a feeling that I've been in your place once before."

Doubtful. A voice whispered deep in her mind.

"I remember, after the incident with the manticore, our team healer offered me a calming draught to deal with the panic and pain. I had refused. Not because I didn't need it, but because I felt that I didn't deserve it. That I deserved to suffer the pain, instead."

The girl flinched at the feeling put into words. No words came from her, though. The professor took a sip of his own drink, silently studying her.

"I'm sorry about your friend. ...How did he die?" Melissa didn't answer the inquiry. "I know it can be hard, the guilt after loss, but you have to know that you're not to blame for-"

"He's not dead."

That stopped the man in his tracks. Then the words clicked in place. "But you fear he will be?"

She nodded. Her hands grasped at the tea. Not for a drink, simply to feel the warmth. "He's magical, but his family… they don't understand. They hate him for it. They've always been terrible. I knew that. I've always known that. We try to help; but, last year, while I was away… They hurt him! They hurt him and nobody told me! " Her hands flung down and the drink spilled from the cup. She barely flinched as the hot liquid went down her hand.

"I was supposed to help him, but I just made it worse! He's supposed to go to Hogwarts, but what if he doesn't make it until then! What if they see the letter and lock him up for good, or worse! "

She crumbled into herself. Shaking in sobs as her hand combed through her hair. "The hat was right. I'm a terrible friend! I only cared about having fun with him. I haven't done a damn thing for him since the obliviators! I should have done more! Tell an auror! Tell McGonagall! Fuck, why am I so useless at this!"

As she cried, Professor Salvatore offered a handkerchief. Melissa used it on her tea-covered hands and grazed it against her face. The professor remained silent as she cleaned herself up.

"Miss Bennett," He began slowly, "I know this is hard, and your options seem minimal; but, before I can offer any practical advice, I have one question to ask and I would like an honest answer."

Melissa nodded, finally looking up at the professor for the first time since before class ended.

"What, precisely, are you hiding about your friend?"

Melissa's eyes went wide, and her drained mind partially froze. "...I don't know what you mean."

The professor breathed out slowly, his dark eyes studying her as he countered. "Your friend is a muggleborn, yet his family knows and fears him for his magic. You've hinted that they imprison him on a regular basis. An incident has occurred which required an obliviator, yet you are aware of it so it is not from something you had seen, yet had previous knowledge of. Furthermore, rather than the headmaster or your own head of house, you specified that you should have told Professor McGonagall, a known animagus.

"From what you have described so far, I can only come to one conclusion; but I do not enjoy working on guesses and unknowns. So I will ask again, is your friend a werewolf, or is there something else that has you so terrified for your friend's safety?"

Melissa stared at the professor. Had she been in a better mood, his assumption would have sounded hilarious to her. Yet now… she could only blink dumbly at him. It seemed tempting, so very tempting so latch onto his theory and run with it. But werewolves… they're treated terribly in wizarding society. What if the wrong thing was said and something terrible happens to Harry as a result? Could she live with herself if that happened?

"If I told you the truth… who would you tell?"

"That depends on the answer. ...Who do you not want to know?"

"Dumbledore." She answered without thinking.

Professor Salvatore raised a brow at that answer. "...Professor McGonagall is close to the Headmaster."

"Why do you think I've never asked her?" She bit back.

His expression gave way to a hint of a smirk. "I see." He leaned back and crossed his arms, contemplating the possibilities. "In that case… I will only speak of this to any person that has your permission."

Her eyes widened again. "You're serious?"

He nodded, assuredly. "I am."

She searched the man's face for any sign of dishonesty. She couldn't tell, to tell it true. That said… she felt like maybe this was a chance, her only real chance.

"My friend is Harry Potter."

That answer surprised him. "The Boy Who Lived?" She nodded. He considered it a moment. "His parents were both magical."

"But his mother was muggleborn." She answered. "His aunt always says terrible things about her. I think she hates magic because of his mum."

The professor looked down for a moment, ponderous. Reevaluating her hints with this new information.

"Why Professor McGonagall, and not Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Melissa curled in on herself as she thought up an explanation. "After we called child services, Harry was brought back to his home with his memories erased of what happened. He didn't remember us helping him. He didn't remember us at all! The Ministry doesn't know where Harry lives, but guess who does?"

Professor Salvatore's face revealed a small level of shock. "So you believe Headmaster Dumbledore knows Harry is being abused?"

"And won't do anything about it."

As the professor thought over the unfortunate circumstance, Melissa drank down what small morsel of tea remained in her cup. She was becoming dangerously close to going numb. She had been hiding this secret for so long. What started off as a joke waiting years for a punchline had become a weighted burden. When did that happen? When did she start caring so much? ...Why didn't she start sooner?

"I take it that Harry Potter has no other family?" Professor Salvatore concluded.

Melissa nodded her head. "Grandparents are all dead, no other aunts or uncles, his godmother is permanently in St. Mungos, and his godfather is in Azkaban."

Professor Salvatore's mechanical hand tapped lightly on his knee as he contemplated further. "It certainly limits the boy's options. As far as I'm aware, the British Ministry does not maintain any orphanages for magical children. That said, with his status in the magical world, perhaps a family can foster him until he comes of age. Do you know what his godfather is in prison for?"

Melissa groaned and rolled her eyes. "Something stupid. They think he's the reason the Potters died. Which is dumb, seeing as they didn't even give him a trial to find out who… Oh. Oh! I'm an idiot!" She groaned and rolled onto the ground.

"What is it, Miss Bennett?"

She didn't respond a moment, gears turning in her mind. "If there is a way to free his godfather, like, legally free him, Harry could live with him, right?"

The professor nodded favourably. "That would be the case. Though legality is not my specialty. Certainly not for this nation."

"No, but I know someone else who does know." She responded, her eyes to the ceiling. Strategies forming. It was a hell of a gamble. The big question was how much could she get away with it without arousing suspicion? "Professor, if I find a way to do this, can you promise not to tell anyone about all this?"

His brow raised. "I've already given my word. However I'm not entirely sure how a child of your age could go about this successfully. Nor why you would want to keep it secret."

"It might be… complicated. Also, there's a risk it won't work, and I'd like your help if it doesn't."

He looked at her incredulously. "Might I ask what you are considering?"

She pondered an answer for a moment. "I'd rather you didn't; but… if you want I'll wait until I'm absolutely sure about my theory and let you know before I make a move. Knowledge and preparation, right?"

He breathed out, a frown on his face. "As much as I appreciate you taking my lessons seriously…" He sighed, as though now realizing the corner his own logic has backed him into. "Very well, but I do expect you to speak with me first. Otherwise I will not be able to help you properly and ensure its success."

"Yes, sir." She promised. "I wouldn't have it any other way." One last tear fell from her eyes as her face was finally allowed to smile again. "... and, Professor, thank you."