Dumbledore ascended the stairs and wafted into the infirmary, damned calm and superior as usual. However, to my surprise, Poppy did not immediately launch into a rundown of my transgressions; she began berating him about his lack of attention to our students’ struggles in general.

Apparently, she and Dumbledore had quarreled about the proper course of action to take with abused children in the past. She felt he was horribly negligent, and actually cited my case as a prime example. I’d certainly never heard any of this before; indeed, it was a rare moment anyone on staff questioned Albus’ decisions.

After nearly ten minutes of raging, she ended with, “You and I both know no other healer would be at your students’ and staff’s beck and call 24 hours a day all year, and I will be forced to resign if you continue to treat abuse cases with such blindness and naïveté! So, Albus, will you allow me to decide the appropriate course of action when I see a student in danger?”

Dumbledore was seven shades of pink. I admired the floor in an attempt to appear as though I’d not heard his thorough dressing-down. His face awash with false confidence, he pandered to the formidable medi-witch.

“Shall continue our discussion at a more appropriate time, then, Madame Pomfrey?”

With a steely glare, she turned from him, only to set the pensieve right in front of his face.

“Take a look at this, then tell me I’m wrong,” Poppy challenged.

I crept into the background. Not only did I want to avoid thinking about Harry’s marks, I wanted to avoid thinking about my grave error. I had no idea what Albus would say about my treatment of Harry. But I couldn’t escape it; Poppy was narrating for the headmaster.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Poppy lady sounded really concerned about me. Were things really that bad? If I was hurt as much as she’d said, I must really have been bad to deserve all of it. The whole experience was scary. I waited til all of them’s backs were turned, then crept off the tall bed and, snatching up my clothes, scuttled into the corner. That’s probably where my Snape would want me anyway, what with having caused this scene.

“The child has been beaten and starved for years, Albus! Did not Minerva, Hagrid, and myself express reservations about that damned muggle family from day one? You said you were checking up on him; was that a lie? Was it?” The madam’s face was a shade of crimson I’d only viewed in tomato soup.

Dumbledore sighed. “I did check on him . . . although in hindsight perhaps not as thoroughly or as often as necessary.”

“Perhaps? Perhaps! Albus Dumbledore, when are you going to take your great grey head out your arse and realize that blind optimism is a farce? Don’t you care?”

Finally, he stated, “Children should be with their families.”

‘Oh no, oh no, oh no! He’s going to send me back to the Dursleys!’

Abruptly, Poppy turned and left, the glass in the infirmary door window shattering as she slammed it behind her. I jumped nearly out of my skin; she was going to let him take me away! She’d given up.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

‘Surely he won’t try to take the boy from me!’ I realized for the first time, I wanted the boy. I didn’t think I could bear the thought of another caring for him; there was no question in my mind very few would understand his reactions or particular needs. And Albus had just said something about family . . . surely he would not take the boy back to his blood relatives? ‘I won’t allow that!’

“Severus, did you hit the child?” his voice was deadened as I rarely heard it.

“Yes, Headmaster.” No use belaboring this inevitable discussion; I’d not pretend I had a valid excuse, and he’d already heard my explanation by way of Poppy.

“This doesn’t seem to be working out very well, my boy.” How I hated it when his tone grew condescending!

“It will not happen again, Albus. I’ve promised myself and Harry that.” I wouldn’t waver on that promise!

“Even so, wouldn’t you be happier if we made other arrangements? Honestly, I expected you to be shouting at my gargoyle by midnight the first night.”

When I began to answer back, his crinkled, parchment hand waved my voice away.

“Allow me to speak with the boy, Severus. I’m certain you’ve some tinkering to do in your dungeons? After all, you’ve been gone several days now.”

I glanced at the bed; how was Harry taking all of this? But the boy wasn’t there. He was hiding on the floor in the corner. I turned to go to him, but Albus caught my arm.

“He already looks frightened, Severus. Best leave it to me, eh?” He lifted his eyebrows in that omniscient manner befitting only him.

Perhaps he was right. I did seem to scare the child endlessly. If Dumbledore never thought I could pull this off, why should I? But the boy seemed to be starting to respond to me and, Merlin help me, I didn’t want him taken away! I retreated to my rooms, competing motivations raging across my thickened consciousness.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It didn’t sound like the Snape man would stand up for me either. I fought not to wretch as the reality of my current situation impacted my scattered mind.

“Harry?” the old man whispered. I looked up, against my better judgment. “You needn’t be frightened child. I won’t hurt you.”

He stood his ground; that was promising. I thought my head might explode if he came closer.

“What are you scared of, my child?” As if it were as easy as that!

‘That you’ll send me away. That I’ll have to leave my Snape’s care!’

But, “I’m sorry, sir!” was the only reply that would fly from my clenched teeth.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Harry. I know Severus has been unkind, but you won’t be forced to suffer his ill temper any longer.”

I couldn’t help it; I spoke out of turn. “Please, please, sir, I’ll be good, I promise I will!”

He looked puzzled, like he didn’t understand English.

“Yes, well, I expect you to be good, Harry. But that’s beside the point. Now, come, get up off the freezing floor and we’ll discuss where you’ll be headed.”

He came toward me and I panicked. My body felt as if sparks flew from each follicle, and the Master Dumblesdore was thrown backward, away from me. He landed flat on his back, proud head hitting the polished white floor of the infirmary.

What had I done now? My heart beat so fast I’d trouble breathing; my skin felt itchy and hot all over. I vaguely registered a sound like chuckling in the distance, but my ears were rushing and pounding so I couldn’t be certain. As through a pea-soup fog, I noticed him sit up and stand. I just wanted to be somewhere . . . safe. As he came toward me again, hand outstretched, I was squished like a bug and spat out into a dusty, familiar room . . . in to Ashton-Under-Lyne.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It unnerved me as much as always when Albus skipped through my wards. At least this time he’d not caused me to botch a potion. He seemed particularly jumpy.

“Well, Severus, I must say it is clear the child wishes to stay with you,” he said rather doubtfully. Would he ever have faith in me? ‘Not bloody likely!’

“Will you allow him?” My voice conveyed much more desperation than I was keen on showing. Ah, well.

“You are his guardian, my boy, you know that.” As if law ever mattered with Albus Dumbledore around! If he was convinced Harry should be moved, so would any authority at the Ministry.

“Is that a yes or a no?” I’d turned away. No need for him to see what he could clearly hear.

“Do you even want to keep the child, Severus?”

I pivoted back round, lunging toward him with shoulders and eyes. “Yes!” I growled, at a deafening volume.

“Ah. Well, then, you’ll have to find him.” Damned calm, exasperating . . .

He filled me in on the details. I was quite impressed with the force revealed in my charge’s accidental magic. And apparating? At eight? From inside the most powerful apparition wards anywhere? Nothing short of impossible . . . ‘Just like a one year old surviving Avada and killing the most evil being ever known!’

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Who’s ‘ere?” The kind tailor sounded worried. Had he seen me appear? I realized I’s under a table, and he was coming down the stairs, so likely he hadn’t. I got up, purposefully knocking my head on the underside of the counter to momentarily curb the tears and panic. What should I say?

“Y-yes, s-sir. It’s just H-harry, sir. I – erm – I got lost.”

“Little ‘un?”

I showed myself, glad I’d taken the time to change out of the hospital gown.

“C – could you point me back to M-mister S-snape’s house, p-please, sir?” I had no idea how long it would take the wizards to figure out where I’d got, but I knew I’d best be home when my Snape arrived.

“A course, child. But . . . are you certain evrythin’s on the up and up, now?”

I hesitated. I shouldn’t have hesitated. “Yes, sir. Everything’s been . . . j-just great, sir.”

He looked at me closely. “Yer face looks better.”

“Yes, sir. He gave me m-medicine for it.” That seemed to convince him I wasn’t being mistreated.

“Might ‘s well take yer new clothes wif yeh. Was waitin’ fer a lass shipment afore bringin’ ‘em all away a Spinner’s End.” He handed me the nicely wrapped brown parcels. “Want me ter walk down ‘ere wif yeh?”

“No, n-no thank you, sir. Just, er, p-point me the right way, please.” I desperately wanted to stay with him; have him show some kind gesture and talk nice to me as he had that one day. But there wasn’t time for it; I didn’t deserve it anyway.

He showed me to the door and pointed to the right, where I knew he would.

He called after me, “Don’t be a stranger, child. Come up ‘ere again right soon!”

I almost smiled. I ran down the cobbled lane, desperate to get back. I knew not what good it might do; I couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of punishment I’d receive for this. I’d done the freakish equivalent to . . . attacking an elder and running away! By the time I tripped and fell going up the front stoop, I was crying even louder than I had in Madam Poppy’s arms. I was ever grateful the door wasn’t locked, and I bounded up the steps to my room. What had, up til now, been my room, at least. Who knew where I’d be sent? The Dursleys would probably kill me if they found out about this. ‘Maybe he’ll just beat me and lock me in the broom cupboard,’ I hoped fervently. I knew I deserved much worse!

After tucking the parcels into the bureau drawers, I threw myself into the corner and tried to stop my infernal weeping. Digging my nails into my flesh wasn’t working, nor was biting my tongue and lips. I did what I’d done in my cupboard so many times; I banged my head into the wall repeatedly until the tears dried. It was funny how hurting oneself on the outside got rid the pain on the in.

Real panic set in when I heard the pop of appating downstairs. They’d found me! At least I couldn’t breathe well enough to cry.