Harry enjoyed sitting with his friends at Gryffindor table again (though Neville had loaded his plate with far too much food) and he basked in the noise and warmth that rang through out the great room. His cupboard was always quiet, as was the Dursley house in general, and it was relaxing to hear people yelling and joking and throwing food at each other without hearing a bellow of outrage from anyone.

The teachers still looked a little worried. They had apparently turned up nothing in the school-wide search. Ron, who had stayed the whole break with his brothers, was telling them the scoop as he picked at a turkey leg.

“They had these big machines, right, and they swooped ‘em all over the building, and if there was a beep then they sent in Lockhart and McGonagall and Snape, and they had to find out what made the beep. Nothing int’resting, though. There’re Doxie eggs in the Charms room, though, don’t sit in the back. Wicked though, they attacked Lockhart and he screamed like a girl. They pulled chunks out of his hair, too, haven’t seen him since. And Snape found a whole litter of kittens. Gin took one and brought it to Filch.”

Ginny blushed and loaded mashed potatoes onto her plate. “He’s just seemed awful sad and lonely, since Mrs. Norris went to the Infirmary. I thought it might cheer him up.”

Neville and Hermione were uncommonly quiet at dinner, and Harry wondered why as he made a miniature castle out of his potatoes. He had little time to ask, however, for as soon as he had started to put green beans in the sides of it for windows, Professor Snape gave him detention for playing with his food and dragged him down to the dungeon.

“Potter.”

“Professor.” Harry was almost hyperventilating, and he gulped when Snape shoved a potion at him. “W-what is that, sir?”

“Another diagnostic potion. Drink.”

“I—I thought that some potions you weren’t supposed to take on a full stomach. Isn’t it bad for—“

“Drink. Now.” The man seemed in no mood for excuses, so Harry licked his lips and swallowed the potion.

His body lit up again, and Harry looked down to see how it looked.

His arm, the one that had been broken, was letting off a small white glow, and higher up on it darker, more vibrant purple shone through. His hands were letting off a faint green, and he looked at them with a vague sort of interest. He couldn’t remember doing anything to them.

And that was all. He looked as hard as he could, but that was all there was. Harry could almost cry in relief.

Severus frowned, then motioned for the boy to turn around. For a moment he thought he saw something, but then it was gone.

The boy was fine. The boy was fine.

Severus didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or enraged.

“Why did you take off the spell?” Severus hissed, and the smile that had overtaken Harry’s face started to creep away.

Snape didn’t need to see what happened, because Snape knew. Snape knew he couldn’t get through two weeks without doing something wrong.

“I—Uncle Vernon, he said not to—“

“And you listen to that ridiculous Muggle instead of me?”

Harry looked down at his shoes, ashamed even though he hadn’t actually done that. “He—I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“But you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“No. No, I didn’t, I was really good.”

“Don’t lie to me, Potter.”

Harry flinched and his lower lip started to quiver. “I’m not—“

But Severus wouldn’t hear any of it. He had been fretting and worrying and blasting house elves into the air ever since Christmas Eve, had checked that bloody charm twice a day, four times that day, and it had only been once Potter had gotten on the Express that the conditions on the charm changed.

HARRY POTTER

CONDITION: Poor

LOCATION: Hogwarts Express

The word had glowed in his eyes whenever he tried to close them. Poor. Poor, what did that mean? Did that mean hurt, or ill, or dying? Was it his soul, or his mind, or what? What was poor?

“Don’t lie to me!” he hissed, and he advanced so quickly that Harry took a small step back.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—I tried really hard!” Harry said, and his lip started to wobble out of control. This was it. For months he had been wishing and hoping and trying, but in the end everything the Dursleys said was true. He was just a stupid, bad kid. And no one would ever like him, or love him. And that, that hurt more than the beating he’d taken from Uncle Vernon, more than watching his family drive away as they left him on a street corner, it hurt like his nightmares did, like his parents were being killed right in front of him.

“Elaborate.”

“I—I tried really hard, I was really good for the first couple days, and I didn’t even d-do it, Dudley did it and he blamed me, and I’m sorry, I tried as hard as I could—“

“Tried to what?”

“To—to be good enough. So that you would—“ The tears brimmed over and Harry wiped at them, sniffling ineffectually.

“Pot—Harry. Stop crying.” Harry bit his lip and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and when he pulled the hand away from his face Snape realized he had made a gross error in judgement.

“I’m sor—“

“Stop saying that. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I—I got in trouble.”

“Because of your cousin, yes?”

Harry nodded.

“Why would I blame you for what your cousin has done?”

“B-because I—I didn’t stay out of trouble, even though I promised I would. And, and now you’ll not like me anymore—“

“Cease this insufferable babbling, Potter. I still like you.”

Harry looked at him in utter shock. “You—you do?”

“Yes.”

“But—but I—“

“You survived in an abomidable situation, one that I’m sure most of the students and several teachers here couldn’t survive.” Severus paused for a moment, then licked his lips and said what he longed to hear from his father, when he was young. “I’m—I’m very proud of you.”

Harry looked dumbfounded and opened his mouth before closing it again. “But I—“

“No, Potter. I am proud of you, and nothing you tell me will change that.”

“But I took off the necklace. I—I disobeyed you.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because—because I just wanted—“

“Spit it out, Potter.”

“I just wanted you to think I was good!” Harry cried out, and he started to sniffle madly to try to keep in tears. “I just—I kept seeing the mirror, and how you looked so nice at me, and you smiled at me and I just, I wanted to come back and have you smile at me like that! Because, because you were pleased I’d done something right! But I can’t, nothing ever goes right and, and I just keep wanting things that can’t happen. But I tried so hard this time, and I really thought—I just wanted you to love me!“

As soon as Harry had finished, he clapped his hands over his mouh and looked horrifed. “I’m—sorry, sir, I shouldn’t’ve said that—“

Severus felt like something inside of him was shattering in an alarmingly pleasant and peculiar way, but he tried to continue as normal.

“There’s no shame in saying it, Potter.”

“But I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have told you, you’ll think I’m ungrateful, and I’m not. You’ve been the nicest to me of anyone ever, sir, truly. And that’s, that’s better than anything else.”

“It is not, Potter. I’ve done nothing special for you. If anything I haven’t done enough.”

“But—you got me a Christmas present last year, and you wrote me all last summer and took care of my trunk and leant me Hedwig and, and you’re very nice to me, and you saved me from the streets—“

“You should never have needed saving—“

“But I did, and you brought me here! And, and I’m thankful, I really am. It’s better than anything, Hogwarts, and the only reason I’m here is because of you. And, and you—“ here Harry’s voice became small, “—you like me. And that’s better than, than having nothing. It’s better than anything I have anyway. You don’t—you don’t have to love me, sir. You really don’t. I—I don’t know if anyone can, but you’ve come the closest of anyone. And, I am grateful for it, sir. I really am.” All through this Harry swallowed and sniffled and did everything possible to prevent the tears that seemed iminent.

“You don’t have to be grateful, Potter. I—“ Severus tried to say it, but his courage failed him. “I do like you. And I really have done nothing for you, nothing that shouldn’t have been done a long time since.”

“But you did it.”

“Potter—“

“I—I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It was then that Snape touched his face and found it wet. Well, not wet—damp. Slightly. Barely.

“I am not upset, Potter,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry—“

“Stop that.” Severus took a deep breath and looked down at Harry. “I have said I am proud of you, Mr. Potter, and I am not a man who lies.”

These words seemed to remind Harry of something, and he looked down at his feet quickly, scrubbing at his face with his robe sleeves.

“I—sir, I’m very tired—can I go to my room?”

Snape leveled a sharp look his way, then relented. “Fine, Potter. But we will talk again tomorrow. After dinner.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Harry went to the door slowly, giving Snape a small smile before leaving. Severus sat at his desk for a good ten minutes, staring at the door, before he wiped at his eyes once and started constructing the next weeks lesson plan.

000000000000000000000000

Harry felt like someone had picked him up and wrung him out as he headed back up to the Gryffindor common room. He realized, belatedly, that he didn’t have his trunk, but then he saw it stacked neatly with the others in the center of the common room.

He was about to grab his trunk and bring it upstairs when he heard someone call ‘Harry!’ He turned and saw, in their familiar spot by the fire, Neville and Hermione.

“Oh, hi.”

“Where did Snape take you?” Neville asked. He looked anxious and kept playing with something in his pocket.

“Just to his office. He—he just gave me a talk, really.”

“That’s good. Imagine scrubbing cauldrons your first day back!”

Harry managed a feeble grin. “Yeah.”

“Well, Harry,” Hermione said, and she looked nervous too and Harry started to get that feeling he always got when something was going wrong, little hairs prickling at the back of his next and his legs tenssing so he’d be ready to run. “We—we want to have a talk. There are things we need to talk about.”

Harry smiled weakly. “Like what?”

Neville cleared his throat and looked at the ground, and Hermione talked for both of them. “We’re worried about you, Harry.”

Harry almost burst into hysterical laughter. “What? Why? I’m fine.”

“We’re worried about your f-family,” Neville said. “They—they aren’t very nice.”

“No, but that’s not anything special. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Really.”

“Hermione thinks that—that they don’t—“

“I think they’re neglectful and horrid,” Hermione said. “I think that it’s not right that you have to live with somebody who hates you.”

“They don’t—“

“They hate magic and you are magic, Harry, and it isn’t fair. I looked at some books over the holiday—“

“My life isn’t a book, Hermione!” Harry said with a bit of anger and worry.

“I know it isn’t, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “But I looked at some books about British law concerning abuse—“

“I’m not abused,” Harry said weakly, but Hermione kept going.

“And they all said that schools are obligated to report it to the authorities. And—“ She stopped talking suddenly and was staring at his eye in horror. “What happened to your eye?”

Harry reached a hand up and touched his eye. “What? Nothing’s happened to it.”

Hermione took a book out of her bag and tapped it with her wand, making it a hazy silver mirror. She held it up.

Harry bit his lip when he saw his eye was just as it had looked at the Dursleys—puffy and purple.

He hadn’t understood what to think when he’d looked in the bathroom mirror that morning and it was gone. All he’d felt was relief, especially when he turned and saw all the welts on his back from Uncle Vernon’s belt were gone as well. He’d thought he might have healed them, accidentally, and he worried what Uncle Vernon would think, but he hadn’t known how or why his injuries were gone just in time. He’d hid his eye from his uncle until he got to King’s Cross, and then he focused on Hogwarts.

Now it was back, and he knew that the marks on his back were probably back as well. He could almost cry. Hermione looked like she was about to burst into tears as well, but Neville seemed angry.

“D-d-did they do that to you?” he asked, and Harry shrugged.

“I don’t—“

“Did they?” he asked again, and he took Harry’s silence as a yes. He did something decidedly un-Neville-like—he took hold of Harry’s hand and grabbed Hermione’s sleeve and started to drag them out of the common room.

“No, I’m not seeing the headmaster!” Harry said as he tried to pull away from Neville. Hermione, who had already freed herself from Neville’s grasp, answered him.

“Then we’ll go to Professor Snape.”

Harry let out a wordless groan as the other two marched him, resolutely, back to the dungeons.