I’d done that thing again. Where I was lost and remembering and I was there – there – again. Just scared, so scared and not able to think, breathe, move at all.

So cold, so hurting, so sad and stupid and why did he still want me?

Who would want me, especially like this?

I did no good, just slept like a lump. He should beat me.

‘I am bad. I deserve to be punished.’

Even woke him from his sleep. Sleeping in a chair cause I hogged the sofa.

‘What is wrong with me?’ screamed in my head. At me. Voices there, talking to me, yelling at me. Uncle Vernon, Aunt, me . . .

Why can’t I be free?

‘He’s talking again. Listen!’

……………………………

“Can you hear me, Harry?”

It took a moment, but he answered faintly, “Yes, sir.”

“She should not have done that, you know. I am very angry with her. You did nothing wrong, child.”

“I’m sorry, sir!”

He must have been hearing my words differently; like a garbled mess though an ancient phonograph horn.

“You are not in trouble, Harry. Now tell me what I said.”

Alarmed and confused, he parroted, “I’m not in trouble, sir?”

“That’s right. Very good.”

I really, truly did not want to talk about this. He probably did not either. I chose to move onto other subjects I’d meant to discuss lately.

“Would you like to call me godfather, Harry? Or my given name, Severus?”

This caught his attention, rescuing him from the depths of reverie.

“You’ll allow me to call you ‘godfather,’ sir?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes, of course.”

Breathily, he exclaimed, “Thank you, godfather!”

Before he could slip into fearfulness, I wanted to move on.

“Would you like to see Poppy again, or would you like to go home?”

“Could I . . . could I please see Madame Poppy again and then go home, sir?”

There was that word again – sir. ‘Give it time, Severus. Patience.’

I scowled at myself.

……………………………

He had the Poppy lady come down the chimney again. She said something like “bloody cat,” which must have been some witch thing. Maybe a black cat?

They talked for a bit while I imagined I was on a broomstick soaring high above the shadow of a crescent moon. I could zoom through clouds and feel the wind tugging its way through my messy, tangled hair. I imagined I had windshield wipers on my glasses so they wouldn’t get foggy! Dipping, diving, and twirling felt like going over a bump in the road really fast, I supposed. If I’d only had a real witch’s broomstick before, I could have taken off from the rooftop at the Dursleys and never come back.

My flight ended sharply when my Snape nervously asked if I’d mind staying with the Poppy Lady for a bit. It was all right. I felt good here with her, like my insides wouldn’t fly away from the cloying static all round me. Like I did with my Snape – godfather.

‘Is this what they mean when they say “you’re safe”?’

……………………………

Seethingly, I ground out the noxious password “Rowntrees Jelly Tots” and bounded up the steps to the Headmaster’s office.

“I am going to kill that beastly woman, Albus!” escaped without thought.

“Sit down, sit down, my boy. Licorice snap?”

My gritty glare served an apropos answer.

“You nearly crucified me for one ill-thought action against Harry. McGonagall’s caned him, Headmaster!”

The old man’s eyebrows went up in surprise, yet he still answered, “She must have seen good reason for it, then, Severus.”

Sheer prejudice! I leapt from the proffered chair and nearly smacked into the hag in question as she graced our esteemed headmaster with her odious presence.

“I see Severus has already come to blather about my disciplinary practices,” she droned snidely.

“Twelve cuts, Minerva? To an eight year old!” This experience was so strange. I’d never gotten this worked up over anything of the sort in my life.

“Severus, will you please stop shouting! Albus, yes, I did give twelve strokes for destroying property and adamantly lying about it. I’d only planned on one, but I hadn’t realized how weak I’ve become in old age. I couldn’t even manage a sniff or an apology from the spoiled thing. I would certainly never hurt Lily and James’ precious son!”

“He was not lying! He behaves like a house elf when left to his own devices. Those damned muggles were horrible to him –”

At that moment, Poppy’s head appeared, awash in emerald flames.

“Severus, you must come here and see what that –” She faltered as her gaze swiveled to Minerva.

Beginning again with a voice like a straight razor, she declared, “You can be certain I will take the time to speak with you, Professor McGonagall!”

……………………………

Madame Poppy was angry! Didn’t think she was angry at me but how could that be? Couldn’t figure why everybody was so upset over a bit of a caning. She did it over my new trousers, even. I got blamed all the time for things I hadn’t done and had been beaten far worse loads of times.

As it was, I was laying on the settee, waiting for Mr. Professor Snape to see the effects of my punishment. ‘Wait, she said Professor McGonagall! Mr. Professor Snape was talking to her! I’m sure to get it now!’ I was already laid down, not a stitch covering my bum.

I fought a bit of vomit threatening to spill out my mouth. Clenching my teeth and making myself breathe, I braced for what was to come.

The sooty smell wafted from the floo as my guardian stepped out. He came straight over to me, and I was shaking so violently my legs were jumping.

“Oh, Harry,” he said softly, laying a warm hand on my back, “Let’s get this taken care of so we can go home.”

The Poppy lady gave to me that liquid stuff used for sores. ‘They’re so nice!’ She even let me put it on all by myself. I felt a great deal better, just being able to sit comfortably.

My Snape went back through the fireplace while Madame rocked me and told me a story about a fairy-tale game called ‘kiddish.’ ‘She has as good a imagination as I do!’

I wanted to savor this time, as I knew special moments like this wouldn’t happen often. Unfortunately, my stomach had other ideas. I scolded it for feeling hungry. I’d just had breakfast this morning! I was getting too used to eating all the time.

……………………………

Dumbledore was ready to side with McGonagall. However, when I showed them the image that, with a wave of my wand, I’d procured of Harry’s state, the effect was even greater than I’d expected.

Minerva was shell-shocked.

“I never meant to . . . You can’t believe I would . . .” After that, she broke down sobbing.

Albus made a fuss of offering a handkerchief and offering allaying utterances. This was typical Minerva, from my standpoint. She had no idea how to deal with children like Harry. ‘Or children like me.’ Indeed, my first intimate experience with her as a first year had been much like what the little one had just suffered.

I’d fallen asleep in her Tuesday morning Transfiguration class. I was so incredibly relieved to finally be away from home, the exhaustion of a thousand sleepless nights had caught up with me. Not to mention Pomfrey had patched me up straight away off the train. For the first time in my life, I was relaxed and pain-free.

That did not last once McGonagall got hold of me. After dinner I’d reported to her classroom with three other Slytherins, all older than I. I was first, and I did not move nor make a sound; my father’s insisted protocol. I received the maximum number of strokes allowed at the time, each one more forceful than the last.

Back in the common room, I was praised for my stoicism, yet advised to make a fuss next time so the proceedings would be quicker and less harsh.

After solid minutes of blabbering, I did the only logical thing; I lit a cigarette. In light of the circumstances, neither elder wizard scolded me. Finally, the worst seemed over, and the tabby regained her mewl.

“How, in Merlin’s name, did the child keep quiet?” she asked incredulously.

Albus began to answer, but I knew I could explain better, not to mention, more concisely.

“Training. He was frequently beaten at the hands of his uncle. He was also forced to cook, garden, and clean the entire home, exclusively. That should give you enough insight to realize you were not only gravely mistaken, but barbaric.”

With that, she swept out of the office urgently. Feeling a bit triumphant and quite languid, I flaunted my disregard for Albus’ office by just missing the fireplace with my discarded ashes before lounging in a chintz armchair. I wanted to smoke the rest of my fag before leaving. This also served to show the headmaster I knew I was in charge of this situation. I wasn’t head of Slytherin for naught.

Taking a final drag with as much condescension as I could muster, I assured, “Headmaster, I have serious decisions to make about the future of myself and my godson. Presently, I am not convinced Hogwarts will be a positive environment for him.”

He started to protest in that exasperating, simpering manner particular to twinkle-eyed mages when Minerva bustled back in - holding the bloody cane! But before I could take it from her and thrash her with it, she broke it in two and thrust it into the flames, casting Incendio to speed the process of destruction.

“Severus, I am so very sorry. I must apologize to Harry at once,” she proclaimed as if she still had some say-so in the matter.

“Absolutely not, it is out of the question. We’ve just now managed to calm him. Albus, I shall be in contact to discuss the coming school year. Until that time, I trust we’ll not be bothered.”

It was time to go home!