Wednesday, 4th October

Hagrid returned Hedwig to him after breakfast two days later, and Harry was beyond grateful to see his friend healthy and thriving once more.

He'd called Sirius and Remus using the two-way mirror Monday night and explained what happened. They had both been furious, and rightly so, but also confused and a little upset that Harry hadn't gone straight to Dumbledore about it. He had neither the time nor the inclination to get into that particular little argument right now - honestly, the man was letting Umbridge have free reign of the entire castle, assigning detentions left, right and centre, not to mind use her blood quill on literal children, so was it really that much of a surprise when Harry said he didn't trust Dumbledore to do anything about her attacking Hedwig?

Well. Perhaps saying that Dumbledore was letting Umbridge have her way wasn't entirely fair. It wasn't as if the Headmaster could reject an order by the Minister, after all - not if he had nothing to hide. But either way, Dumbledore couldn't do a single damn thing about it so what was the point in going to him about it?

Harry swore to use the mirror to talk to Sirius and Remus more often rather than risk Hedwig getting injured again. As for his letters to Narcissa Malfoy, he'd just have to use one of the school's generic barn owls. Umbridge wouldn't know that he was the one sending them, and although Hedwig was undoubtedly going to be more than a little miffed about it, he'd rather her be annoyed and alive than… well… dead.

"What've you done this time, Potter?"

Harry blinked, startled out of his thoughts and turned to follow Blaise's gaze.

It was lunchtime, and they'd just trudged up from Herbology, soaked to the skin by the ocean's worth of rain outside. He'd been quite looking forward to having an uneventful afternoon and drinking some lovely hot tea before they had to return outside for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Based on the determined look on Ginny's face, however, uneventful this afternoon would not be.

"I'm still mad at you" she said in way of greeting, folding her arms across her chest and jutting her chin out, "But I don't want you to die".

"... Thanks" Harry replied belatedly, feeling beyond confused, "I'd rather not die too, if it's all the same".

"Have you changed your mind?"

"About-?"

"Yeah".

"No".

He was consciously aware of his friends, along with a few other Slytherins, listening in on their conversation.

"Right" Ginny said briskly, "Didn't think so, but I said I'd ask, just in case. Our first… uh… thing is on tonight".

"You found a place, then?"

"Yep. Inside the castle too. Luna found it, if you can believe it! At first, I thought she was having me on- or, well, you know, not having a laugh but just… being Luna". Ginny rolled her warm brown eyes and then shook her head. "Anyway. Invitation's still there, despite my better judgement, but that's not what I came over here for… Alright. Budge over".

Startled by the sudden request, Harry obeyed without thinking, shuffling to his right so that the redhead could climb onto the bench and sit between him and Blaise - who was not, Harry was amused to find, looking terribly upset about the whole ordeal.

Draco, on the other hand, was starting to turn pink, and he opened his mouth and-

"Shut your ferret face, Malfoy" Ginny said, "This is important!"

He squawked in indignation, confused and angry and bewildered, and Blaise laughed, flashing the girl a wide, genuine grin.

"You, my dear, officially have an open invitation to dine at this table whenever you so like".

"Don't encourage her!" Draco hissed at him.

"Oh, go jump off the Astronomy Tower!" Ginny snapped, before turning back to Harry, "Michael Corner is an absolute idiot!"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's not exactly new information".

"True" she admitted, "But he's gone full-on moron this time. He thinks you told Umbridge about the… about the you-know-what at The Hog's Head".

Harry blinked, momentarily stunned. "Wait- what? Why would he think that?!"

"Because he heard from someone who heard from someone else who overheard Hermione saying that she's talked to you about it" Ginny explained, "And since you're, apparently, in his delusional world, the next Dark Lord, you must've tattled to Umbridge and that's why Educational Decree Twenty-Four got passed".

"That is… actually insane".

"Isn't it just?" She groaned. "Michael's always been convinced that all Slytherins are evil. Honestly, I don't know what I ever saw in him. He's got a mean streak a mile wide, and he's been throwing your name around like it's cursed or something!"

"I take it he hasn't heard that I'm Umbridge's arch nemesis these days?"

"He probably has and is just choosing to ignore it" Ginny replied, "Anyway, Michael's been ranting about it all since Monday, so I figured you should know. He's… furious. Like really, really furious. He's not exactly the type to let things go, and I wouldn't put it past him to try something stupid".

"Like what?" Harry asked, though he already had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

She shrugged, an unhappy downturn to her lips. "I don't know. Hexing you in the corridors. Spreading more lies. Something equally petty and idiotic. He's already managed to convince a handful of students that you were the one who told Umbridge so just… be careful, alright?"

Harry sighed. "Great. As if I didn't already have enough on my plate".

Blaise, who had been quietly watching the exchange with great amusement, chose this moment to interject.

"Don't worry, meu amor. You've got us. No one's stupid enough to take on a pack of Slytherins. Well, no one who values their limbs, at least".

Ginny snorted and turned to him. "Oh, please. As if you lot would actually stick your necks out for the Boy Who Lived!"

Blaise gave her a mockingly offended look. "I'll have you know, Weaslette, that we are deeply protective of our own".

"Harry's not one of yours!" she shot back, crossing her arms.

"He eats at our table, sleeps in our dorm, and tolerates Malfoy" Blaise countered smoothly, "That makes him ours".

Ginny arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're just saying that because you want an excuse to act all superior."

"And you're just upset because he doesn't need you to defend him" he replied with a smirk.

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm sitting right here, you know".

Ginny ignored him, narrowing her eyes at Blaise. "I'm not upset, Zabini. I'm just saying Harry can take care of himself without you lot pretending you're his bodyguards".

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quipped, "Besides, you seem awfully invested in Potter's well-being for someone who insists he doesn't need any help".

"Someone has to keep an eye on him. Merlin knows he's hopeless at it himself".

"... Touché. Alright - you win this round, Weaslette".

"I win every round, Zabini". Ginny turned back to Harry, her expression softening slightly. "Just watch your back, okay? Corner's an idiot, but he's an idiot with a wand and a grudge".

Harry nodded. "I will. Thanks, Ginny".

She gave him a small smile before standing up, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Good. Now I've got to go before Corner thinks I'm conspiring with the next Dark Lord. Try not to get yourself killed before dinner".

As she walked off, Blaise watched her with a thoughtful expression. "She's a feisty one, isn't she?"

Harry gave him a wary look. "Don't even think about it".

He grinned. "Too late".

Thursday, 5th October

Ginny's warning came to fruition the very next day.

As they stood outside the DADA classroom near the end of their morning break, Harry leaned against the stone wall, listening to Blaise, who was animatedly discussing his latest Ancient Runes lesson.

They were still ten minutes early, and there were very few other students milling around, but Harry couldn't shake the prickling sensation creeping up his spine. His instincts, honed from years of living on edge, screamed at him to be on guard, a feeling he hadn't experienced since that day Sirius had bounded up the stairs as Padfoot and Harry thought he was about to be mauled by a grim.

It happened in a flash.

A jet of light streaked toward him from the crowd, and Harry barely had time to duck. The spell hit the wall behind him with a resounding crack, showering him and Blaise with shards of stone.

"Oi! What the-" Blaise started, but Harry had already drawn his wand and spun around, his heart pounding.

Three figures stepped forward, their wands raised and red and gold stripes along their ties. At the front was Kenneth Towler, one of the burly seventh-years that the twins had warned him about. His face was twisted with anger, his wand aimed squarely at Harry.

"The reflexes of a snake, huh?" Towler snarled, "Why am I not surprised? Look at you! Strutting around the place as if you think you're better than the rest of us".

"What are you even talking about?"

Towler sneered. "Don't play innocent, Potter. Corner told us everything. You're Umbridge's pet snitch, aren't you? Selling us out like the little Dark Lord that you are".

Harry could distinctly remember what Sirius had told him about dealing with bullies at Hogwarts - namely, that if anyone tried anything, then Sirius gave him his full and enthusiastic permission to absolutely flatten the bastard. Harry hoped that his godfather would remember those words as soon as this inevitably got back to him.

Towler flicked his wand, and a streak of orange light shot toward him. Harry raised his own wand just in time to conjure a shield, the spell ricocheting harmlessly away, before following it up with a powerful, "Reducto!"

The boy dodged, his two friends spreading out to hurl curses at Harry from all sides. He ducked another spell and retaliated with the Stunning spell, which thankfully made contact with the boy on the right, sending him to the ground. Blaise, to his credit, had drawn his wand too, sending hex after hex at the other attacker.

The corridor erupted into chaos as students scrambled to get out of the way, their shouts echoing off the stone walls. Harry moved on instinct, deflecting and dodging curses as he tried to assess the situation.

"You think you can get away with this?" Towler shouted, sending a Blasting curse that Harry barely avoided, "You're a traitor to your own kind!"

Harry gritted his teeth. "I don't know what lies Corner's been feeding you, but I'm no one's snitch!"

Towler laughed, a cruel, humorless sound. "Liar!"

Before Harry could respond, a loud voice boomed from the end of the corridor.

"Hey!"

Fred and George Weasley had rounded the corner, their wands already drawn. Without hesitation, they fired a barrage of nonverbal spells at Towler and his friends. Towler staggered back, deflecting the spells with a hastily cast Shield charm, while his second accomplice was hit squarely in the chest and knocked off his feet.

"Leave him alone, Towler!" Fred barked, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"You don't get to pick on our mate!" George added, his wand aimed steadily at the boy.

Seizing the opportunity, Harry aimed a well-placed Disarming charm at Towler. The Gryffindor's wand flew from his hand, and Harry caught it deftly, his chest heaving, gasping for air, as thick grey dust still settled in the air surrounding them.

His moment of victory was short-lived.

The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom opened with a jerk, and the sickly sweet voice of Dolores Umbridge cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

"Well, well, well" she said, stepping into the corridor, "What do we have here?"

Harry's stomach sank.

"Professor, it wasn't Harry that-" Blaise began, but Umbridge held up a hand, silencing him.

"I am perfectly capable of seeing what's in front of me, Mr Zabini" she said, her voice dripping with false pleasantness, "Mr Potter, attacking another student. I must say, I'm disappointed".

"I wasn't attacking him!" Harry protested, "They attacked me!"

"Is that so?" Umbridge said, her smile widening. Her gaze flicked to Towler, who had the audacity to smirk. "Then why are those two poor, poor boys lying on the floor? And why are you the one holding Mr Towler's wand?"

Harry clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the wood, wanting nothing more than to break the stupid stick in two and jab each end into her beady little eyes. She'd waited until he'd disarmed Towler, he just knew it! She was just a room away throughout the entire duel, after all, so how could she not have heard them?

"Give it back" Umbridge said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Harry turned, walked over, and handed the wand back to Towler, who leaned in as he took it, his smirk deepening.

"Good boy" he whispered, his voice dripping with malice, "Obeying your mistress like a good little pet".

Harry's eyes darkened. He stepped even closer, his voice low and dangerous.

"Watch your back, Towler. You caught me on a good day, but if you ever, ever, so much as glance in my direction again? They'll be finding pieces of you hidden around the castle for months". He smirked, sharp and wide. "After all, I am the next Dark Lord, remember?"

Towler's grin faltered, all blood draining from his face.

"Enough!" Umbridge interrupted, her syrupy tone grating on Harry's nerves, "I believe this earns you a detention, Mr Potter. Many detentions, in fact. Attacking another student, unprovoked, like this? Why, I believe that earns you detention from now until the end of the month!"

"What?!" George protested, "No! That isn't fair!"

"Yeah, he didn't even start this fight! It was Towler and-" Fred started, only for Umbridge to round on him.

"Do you wish to join him Mr Weasley?"

George scowled and Fred looked positively mutinous, but they both stayed silent. Satisfied, Umbridge turned back to Harry.

"I will not tolerate such behavior in my school, Mr Potter. Perhaps your time with me shall finally teach you some manners. Now, so. In you come".

Harry stalked past her, his fists clenched at his sides, rage boiling just beneath the surface. Towler may have lost the fight, but the smug look he shot Harry as he entered the classroom made the whole ordeal feel like a hollow victory.

Saturday, 14th October

The library was unusually quiet, even for a Saturday. Rain tapped softly against the tall windows, casting watery shadows across the desks as Harry scribbled notes on an essay for Potions.

Thanks to Umbridge and her nightly detentions, he was falling behind on his work again, and it was taking every spare moment he had to stay on top of things. The back of his hand ached, but at least the healing spell Snape had taught him was keeping the wound closed.

The basilisk had been furious when Harry showed up in the Chamber late last night, scenting the blood on him and writhing around in such a ferocious madness that he'd genuinely worried about the stone pillars collapsing down around them.

It took everything he had to convince her not to travel through the school pipes in search of his "hunter", although secretly, there was quite a large part of him that had seriously considered it. Feeding Umbridge to a basilisk would leave behind very little evidence, after all, and all he needed to do was arrange a steelclad alibi for the time in question, and the Queen of Serpents could simply travel up to the surface and… you know… eat her.

It would be a fitting end, at the very least.

But alas, murder was frowned upon and Sirius and Remus would probably never forgive him - also, the poor basilisk had never eaten anything as foul as Umbridge before, and Harry was worried she might give her indigestion.

In addition to Umbridge taking time away from homework and visiting the basilisk, it also made Harry unable to attend Quidditch practice two nights a week. Needless to say, Montague was not impressed with him right now, and although Harry had tried to cajole him by saying that he could still practice on the weekend when he had no detention, it had done little to assuage his ire. At least their first match wasn't until November.

Next to him, Blaise was lounging back in his chair, pretending to work but mostly doodling idly in the margins of his parchment. Across from them, Tracey and Millicent whispered heatedly about something in their Herbology textbook.

After the week he'd had, it was a rare, peaceful moment… until a familiar voice hesitated nearby.

"Uh… Harry?"

He looked up to see Hermione standing a few feet away, Ron and Neville hovering awkwardly behind her. Ron was pointedly avoiding looking at them, and Neville seemed to be trying to shrink into his robes, clearly unsure about this whole interaction.

Hermione bit her lip, glancing nervously at Blaise and the other Slytherins. "Do you... mind if we, uh... join you?"

For a moment, Harry simply stared, her question catching him off guard. Then he remembered their conversation from a few weeks ago - when he'd refused to join the defence club because of its exclusion of Slytherins, and how he'd half-heartedly invited Hermione to study with him in the library instead. He hadn't expected her to actually take him up on it, but now it seemed that this was her way of apologizing.

Harry's lips quirked into a small, genuine smile. "Yeah, of course. Pull up a seat".

Hermione visibly relaxed, and even Neville managed a tentative smile. Ron muttered something under his breath that might have been a complaint, but he followed the other two as they slid into the empty chairs at their table.

For a few minutes, they worked in silence, the only sounds being the soft scratch of quills on parchment and the occasional rustling of pages. Harry felt a strange warmth in his chest as he watched them - Slytherins and Gryffindors sharing a table without biting each other's heads off.

Then Tracey leaned over to help Neville with a particularly tricky diagram in his Care of Magical Creatures notes, while Blaise made a sarcastic remark about Ron's handwriting that earned him a sharp glare and an even sharper rebuke. Millicent, surprisingly, was the first to break the ice with Hermione, asking her a question about her Muggle Studies homework, and they quickly fell into a surprisingly civil discussion.

Harry caught Hermione glancing at him now and then, her expression almost sheepish. He wasn't sure if she was still feeling guilty about the defence club or if she was just surprised at how well this was going, but either way, he was grateful.

This wasn't going to end the stupid, childish rivalry between their houses - centuries of animosity couldn't be undone over one shared study session in the library - but it was a start. A small step in the right direction. And for now, Harry was secretly delighted to be the one helping to bridge that gap.

As the rain continued to patter against the windows, Harry dipped his quill back into his ink pot and bent over his Potions essay, the faintest trace of a smile lingering on his lips.

Tuesday, 31st October

The corridors of Hogwarts were silent, the usual murmur of unseen magic dulled by the weight of the date. October thirty-first. Halloween. For most, it was a day of feasts and celebrations, but for Severus, it was a stark reminder of tragedy and failure.

Patrolling the halls, he allowed himself a brief moment to reflect. He hadn't seen Potter at dinner, and the boy's absence had nagged at him - and yet it wasn't uncommon for children to withdraw on painful anniversaries, and Severus, much as he loathed admitting it, understood.

He heard footsteps - faint but unmistakable - echoing through the corridor ahead. Secretly delighting in the chance to catch a misbehaving student out of bed, Snape turned the corner - and found himself face-to-face with the very boy he had been wondering about.

"Potter" he said, pulling up short, "I'd have thought you'd know better than to get caught after curfew".

His emphasis on the words "get caught" didn't sail above the boy's head, but the smile he gave in return was only half-hearted at best.

"I had detention, sir" he explained quietly, his hands in his pockets as he slouched in place, "With Professor Umbridge".

"Oh". For a moment, Severus felt strangely wrong-footed. "I had thought, perhaps…"

Well. He'd assumed that the boy couldn't sleep, given what date it was. He'd assumed that Potter had been haunted by the memories of his parents' deaths. He'd assumed that he was wandering the halls in an effort to escape them. He'd assumed… He should've known better than to assume - especially when Harry bloody Potter was involved.

"It is inconsequential" he finished, shaking his head, "And just what, precisely, did you do to earn a detention, Potter?"

"Nothing".

Severus raised an incredibly unimpressed eyebrow.

"I did nothing" Harry repeated, calmly yet firmly, "Honestly, sir. That- That woman just seems to take offence at my very existence!"

"I can empathise".

"I'm telling the truth!"

The man stared at him, hard, taking in the tense line of his shoulders, his defensive expression, the way his jaw was clenched tight enough to crack a tooth… but there was no hint of deception.

"... If it were not for the fact that you have yet to be assigned a detention by any other professor - miraculous at that is - then I would be rather disinclined to accept that as the truth" he said.

"But since I haven't been given detention by literally anyone except Umbridge?"

Snape's dark eyes studied him closely for another moment before giving a slow nod. "Then I have no other option but to reluctantly believe you, Potter".

"Thank you, sir".

He refrained from rolling his eyes at the brat - but only barely.

"So just how did our esteemed High Inquisitor justify this detention then if you did nothing?"

Potter shrugged. "It was something about lying, I think. She likes to say… controversial things, and then gets annoyed when I don't react. Or- actually, no, I think this one was because I disarmed Towler a while back after he attacked me. Or maybe… I don't know, sir. Honestly, I stopped keeping track of her excuses weeks ago".

"Weeks ago? This is-" Snape cut himself off, pinched the bridge of his nose, and then spun on the spot. "Come. This is not a conversation fit for a dimly lit public corridor".

Severus strode briskly through the dark corridors, not glancing back to ensure that Potter was following him but knowing all the same that he was - that boy was far too intelligent to disobey a direct order like that. Which begged the question: just what on earth had he been doing to receive so many detentions from Umbridge?

Snape felt… annoyed, to say the least. Not at Potter, of course, but at the newer bane of his existence that had perched herself in their castle like a particularly revolting fly. But aside from quite literally everything else that the toad had done, she had also apparently been giving detentions to his students.

Potter was in Slytherin, damn her! And as his Head of House, Severus should've been informed about the detentions immediately. The fact that he hadn't been informed was… not good. Umbridge clearly didn't care about school rules, given that she'd allegedly been targeting Potter for no legitimate reason, so what did she have to fear by telling Snape about his numerous detentions? It wasn't as if he could do anything against the woman, as much as he would absolutely love to.

But if she wanted to make the boy suffer, then she would have sent Potter to himself or to Filch. Instead, she was choosing to disrupt her own evenings off as well, which meant… what? That she herself was personally doing something to the boy?

Except Potter wasn't acting any differently than normal, save for the rather understandable tiredness at being kept up so late. If anything, he was acting even more polite and respectable at Hogwarts than he'd been at Grimmauld Place without the bad influence of that dogfather of his.

So just what in Merlin's name was Umbridge playing at?!

Needless to say, the walk to his office was a tense and silent affair, save for the soft echo of their footsteps. Once inside, Severus gestured for Potter to sit, and then, after a brief, uncharacteristic moment of hesitation, he took the chair next to the boy instead of his usual seat on the other side of the desk. Potter wasn't in trouble, after all, and he seemed to be the type that responded better to mutual respect rather than authority.

"When did your detention with Madam Umbridge begin?"

Calling her a professor was taking things just a bit too far in his books, although calling her madam wasn't much better.

"Just after five, sir".

"And she only let you go now?"

Severus barely kept his tone in check, casting a disbelieving and somewhat annoyed glance at the timepiece on the bookcase. It was twenty minutes past midnight. Umbridge had kept the boy for seven hours?! That was almost an entire school day!

"She's quite insistent that I learn some manners, sir" Potter replied, slouching in his chair, "Of course, in her mind, manners mean whatever the Minister thinks is acceptable at any given time of day".

Snape didn't admonish him for his cheek. It was a thought he'd had himself on numerous occasions.

"And what does she have you do during these unwarranted detentions?"

"I write lines, sir".

"For the entire night?!"

This time he couldn't keep his voice from rising. Potter glanced over at him and smirked, although there was something strangely bitter in the expression.

"She, uh… She really wants the message to sink in, as it were".

Something about Potter's flippant tone grated on him. There was something here that the boy wasn't telling him - he was sure of it.

Severus leaned forward, his gaze narrowing as he studied him more closely. It was only then that he realised Potter still hadn't taken his hands out of his pockets. He'd kept them in his trousers on the walk down here too - a rude gesture, perhaps, while in the company of his Head of House, but certainly doable. Keeping his hands in his pockets while sitting like that had to be uncomfortable, however, and Potter had never been one to slouch before...

Writing lines, he'd said. That would undoubtedly require him to hold a quill, and to hold one for seven hours would be excruciating after an entire day of classes and homework. Perhaps that was why they were in his pockets. It was a perfectly plausible explanation. A simple one, even. And yet… nothing about the Boy Who bloody Lived could ever be simple.

"Show me your hands, Potter".

"What? No! Why?"

And that reaction all but confirmed it.

He gave him a withering look. After one long, tense moment, Potter sighed. "... Fine".

As soon as Severus caught sight of the boy's hand, he saw red - both metaphorically and literally.

"You foolish child!" he hissed, grabbing his wand and yanking his chair closer, "Hold still. Vulnera Sanentur…"

His stomach was churning at the sight, and Severus silently cursed himself. He was no stranger to blood, after all, and this wasn't even the most blood he'd ever seen on Potter himself - but there was something about this injury, something about the deliberate way the lines had been carved into his skin, something about the way the boy was seemingly apathetic to it all, that had him far more shaken than he'd felt in months.

It was only as the blood cleared and he was able to make out individual words did he put two and two together. His temper, already frayed, well and truly snapped.

A blood quill.

Umbridge had forced Potter to write with a blood quill! For seven hours straight! Merlin, it was a wonder the boy even had any blood left in him at all! Although that did go a long way in explaining how pale and exhausted he looked. And she had been doing this to him for- how long did he say? weeks?!

As the wounds began to knit themselves closed, Severus's anger only grew, and yet throughout it all, Potter remained completely and utterly silent. He didn't know what to make of him - what to make of this so-called Golden Boy who didn't so much as flinch when any other child his age would've been crying their heart out. Unwittingly, the Dark Lord's words came to mind.

He is far more like you, Severus, than I could have ever anticipated… He is far more like both of us than I could have ever anticipated.

Was it wrong of him to be glad of that? Grateful, even? Potter wouldn't have stood a chance at surviving in Slytherin if he weren't just a little bit like Severus was himself - and he sure as hell wouldn't have survived Umbridge.

But their House only ever attracted those from Dark homes - and dark, here, was meant in every sense of the word. Knowing what he did about Potter's upbringing, however…

Snape was… strangely angry about what Umbridge had done, Harry noticed, which was odd given that, although they were on reasonably polite terms, it was clear as day that the professor didn't exactly care about him in the conventional sense - or, perhaps he did, and sarcastic insults were just his way of showing it.

Either way, Harry couldn't ever remember a time when the man had been so entirely focused on a single task, and he watched curiously as Severus ran his wand ever so carefully along every single line and curve of the letters carved into his hand - far more carefully than Harry had ever been himself healing them.

I must not tell lies.

He wondered if Snape had ever lied to him. He didn't think so, and yet it seemed laughable that the war's best spy hadn't done so, even if only just the once. Harry couldn't remember him ever lying to him, though, and he quite liked that about the man. If he was angry or annoyed or displeased, he simply said so. Harry always knew where he stood with Snape. It was a relieving feeling.

Slowly, one by one, the cuts across his skin began to close, until nothing but a violent, red scar remained.

Severus stared at it, Harry's hand still being held unbearably gently in his own.

"… Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Honestly?" he replied, "Why bother? It's hardly the worst abuse I've suffered over the years… Something which you're aware of, too".

Snape's head jerked up, dark eyes snapping to his face. For a fleeting moment, surprise flickered in his expression before he smothered it almost just as fast.

"I don't know how much you know about the Dursleys, professor" Harry said, quietly, "But you certainly seem to know far more than most".

"… And what gives you that impression, Potter?"

"The way you act" he replied, confidently, "Or, more accurately, the way you don't act. You're not exactly treading on eggshells around me - and, believe me, I appreciate that, sir, I really do - but there are still some things that you avoid doing with me that you don't avoid with anyone else".

"Such as?"

"Such as moving too quickly. Raising your voice. Walking up to me from behind without speaking first. Bringing up or asking questions about my past, despite the curiosity I know you must feel… How oddly considerate of you, sir".

Severus let out a long, slow exhale and finally released his hand, leaning back in his own chair with a carefully neutral expression.

"You're not the first victim of child abuse I've had to deal with, Potter" he finally said, "It's not impossible that some people are naturally more ambitious and self-sufficient than others… But it's also not impossible that, for some children, those personality traits were learned".

"Nature versus nurture. I had to learn how to adapt" Harry agreed, "How to put my own survival above everything else… I suppose that does lend itself to a certain level of resourcefulness".

"As well as determination, cunning, and intelligence".

"Why, sir, that almost sounded like a compliment".

Snape scoffed and rolled his eyes at the brat. "I was, of course, speaking in a more general sense, Potter".

"Of course".

"Either way, despite having suffered worse, that does not make your current pain irrelevant!"

"Well, given that I have suffered worse, I can honestly say that I don't find this all that painful". Harry smirked. "And that really pisses off Umbridge".

Severus snarled at him. "You foolish boy! You're allowing her to physically scar you for life out of pure spite?!"

"No… That's just an added bonus".

Snape looked two seconds away from hexing him, so Harry dropped his grin and finally turned serious.

"I doubt I'm the only one she gives detention to, sir. So as far as I see it, the more detentions she gives me, the fewer detentions she gives to innocent first years".

"Ever the hero" he drawled, though his voice lacked its usual venom, "Tell me, Potter, where is that self-preservation you spoke of a mere moment ago?"

"Probably being blinded by Gryffindor stubbornness if I'm being honest".

"Potter".

"Sir" he mimicked, and Snape took a deep, calming breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did it, perhaps, ever occur to your tiny insignificant mind, that by telling someone about this, you could get Umbridge removed from her post permanently?!"

"How?!"

"Because your godfather is the most powerful person in wizarding Britain!"

"Which means he has far more important things to be doing than listening to me complain about nothing!"

Snape stopped. And stared at him. And stared some more. And then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "bloody Gryffindors" under his breath before raising his eyes to the heavens as if asking for strength.

"Potter" he finally said, his voice taut with barely restrained emotion, "Potter, you are, without a doubt, the most stupid, foolish, thick-witted, hair-brained, idiotic dunderhead that I have ever had the misfortune of being placed in my own House!"

"... Even worse than Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Yes!"

Ouch.

"Did it ever even cross your mind that Sirius bloody Black might actually, possibly, maybe care about you?!"

Harry shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat. "Well… yeah, I mean, he… he's said so, once or- or twice".

"And if someone you cared about told you that a person in a higher position of authority was all but torturing them-"

"It's not torture!"

"It's an illegal, highly restricted, bloodletting, Dark artefact!" he snapped, "And if one of your friends was being subjected to the same treatment as you are, would you not do everything in your power to help them?!"

Well, when he put it like that…

"Write to that blasted awful dogfather of yours and tell him what is happening before I do!" Severus finished, "Or I swear to Merlin, Potter, I will torture you myself!"

Snape forced him to down a Blood-Replenishing Potion before he left, a truly horrible tasting metallic red vial that made him feel instantly nauseous. In Snape's defence, however, once that awful feeling had passed, Harry was feeling much better - less dizzy and more alive.

He still didn't write to Sirius.

What was the point? The Minister had apparently given Umbridge a carte blanche when it came to running this school, and Harry was certain that any teacher caught complaining about her would be fired - so who's to say that any student caught doing the same wouldn't be expelled?

She'd already promised to expel anyone caught joining a club that she hadn't approved of, and that was a far less dangerous offence than a publicly condemning mutiny. Harry hadn't even intended on going to Hogwarts, but now that he was here, he sort of… well… he liked it, and he didn't want to lose all of this because of Umbridge.

And besides, Sirius may be politically powerful, but he was still below the Minister for Magic so he likely wouldn't be able to do a thing about getting her removed from Hogwarts anyway - if it were that easy to do, then surely Dumbledore, the Viscount Baring and Chief Warlock, would've kicked her out by now, right?

Harry wasn't even officially Sirius's kid yet either, and, as irrational as he knew it was, there was still some tiny little part of him that wondered if the man would cancel the adoption process if he made himself too much of a bother. He'd already told Sirius that Umbridge had attacked Hedwig, after all, and the man hadn't done a thing - hadn't been able to do a thing.

So. Harry risked losing Hogwarts, losing his home, and losing his family, and all of that for… what? Complaining about a few measly detentions? And if he did tell Sirius and Sirius did try to get her removed and their plan failed - as it very likely would - then Umbridge would proceed to make his detentions even worse, if she didn't outright expel him for it - and she'd probably take her anger out on other students too. Was his mild inconvenience worth more than the pain of half of Hogwarts? Not a chance.

And anyway, tonight was his last night of detention with her, and he didn't plan on getting assigned anymore anytime soon. Not that he'd planned on getting these detentions with her, of course - he had Towler to thank for that, but thankfully the boy hadn't attacked him again since, having apparently taken his little threat to heart.

So no. Harry wouldn't tell Sirius. He would stay here, at Hogwarts, and plot his own revenge on the witch. Let her think she had him cowed for a while, let her lower her defences, let her think that he was well and truly under her precious Minister's control.

And then.

He would strike.