Harry could hear the voices of Ron and Hermione as soon as he and professor McGonagall were within feet of the Headmaster’s office. They did not sound happy, and he hurried forward to see them.

“Harry my boy, good to see you, although I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances” Dumbledore intoned as soon as Harry arrived. “Miss Granger, Mr.Weasley, as you can see your friend is fine. Now I must ask that you return to your dormitory.”

Harry could hear Ron mumble “He doesn’t look fine to me” while Hermione threw her arms around him. He was grateful she hadn’t aimed for his neck.

“Harry! What on earth happened to you?” she asked, her voice dripping with concern.

“Mr. Potter can’t answer you right now, he has lost his voice. And I believe the headmaster has dismissed you both.” McGonagall levelled a cold eye at the pair, who backed off, but not without quick words of comfort to their friend.

Once they were alone Dumbledore conjured a scroll of parchment and a quill.

“I believe these will be of use to you my boy.” Harry pulled the floating items out of the air with relief. Finally, communication! He began to scribble immediately, and a moment later held it up for Dumbledore to read.

“Professor Snape had personal errands he needed to take care of.” A moment, and then: “Yes, he was angry, but not at you.”

Harry snorted. That would be a first.

“I understand you have some injuries, Harry, and not all of them from today.” The Headmaster could see that the boy didn’t want to broach the subject, but his Gryffindor bravery served him well and he nodded in response the old wizard’s implied question.

“I am sorry to hear that, Harry, very sorry indeed. I wish you had come to me as soon as you could, but I understand your motivations. I give you my solemn word that you will not be returning to your Aunt & Uncle’s.”

A scribbled ‘where will I go?’

“We will find somewhere safe for you before the end of the year.”

They passed the next hour discussing what Harry remembered about his attack, gently probing around his life with the Dursley’s, and finally, discussing how he would learn without being able to say the spells. Everyone agreed that it was important he keep up with his lessons, so Harry would attend classes, voice or no voice. He would simply have to practice the incantations when his throat healed.

“One last thing, Harry,” The Headmaster began as Harry and Professor McGonagall stood. “Professor Snape left this for you.” He dropped a small jar into the boy’s hand. Shocked and curious eyes glanced up at the old man. “It is a healing balm. You are to apply it to your neck and anywhere else you have fresh wounds.”

One quick movement across the tablet: ‘Why would he do that?’

Dumbledore’s face softened. “I believe Professor Snape assumed you would rather not acquire any new scars.”

Harry was quietly grateful. No one had ever done anything to help him without being asked, and Snape would have been the last person he would have asked. Although, if he was being perfectly honest with himself he had to admit that he would never have approached any of the grown-ups for help.

But perhaps he had been going about everything all wrong? Here he was, with his darkest truth laid bare in front of his professors, and not only had Dumbledore promised him he needn’t go back to the Dursley’s, but Snape had told him a secret and given him something of value. Snape!

If he thought the world was spinning earlier in the hospital, he was fairly convinced it was upside-down now.

Professor McGonagall walked him back to the tower and left him in the common room with a look he couldn’t quite decipher and a solemn “Take care of yourself Mr. Potter.” The moment she stepped away, Ron and Hermione ushered him over to one of the tables and began launching questions at him.

“Did you really lose your voice?” “Who did this to you, Harry?” “I bet it was Malfoy and his goons.” “When did it happen?” “It wasn’t you-know-who was it?” “What’s that in your hand?”

Oh. He hadn’t realized he was still clutching the jar of balm in his hand. He was about to begin writing some explanations when Hermione moved to take the jar. She snapped her hand back in surprise when Harry swiftly stepped away from her and released a quick angry noise from his throat. Holding the bottle tightly against himself, he grabbed for his quill and parchment and wrote in tall, swift letters “It’s mine!” The dot on his exclamation point tore through the parchment.

He didn’t miss the significant look that passed between his friends at that moment. He recognized the worry, and knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was being utterly ridiculous, but he couldn’t make himself relax.

“Harry,” Hermione began softly, “I wasn’t trying to steal from you. Why would I want a jar of something if I don’t even know what it is?”

“Yeah, Mate, she just wanted to see what it was. Are you sure you didn’t get knocked around on your head?”

“Harry, really, I was just curious. Why don’t you just tell me what it is, I won’t touch it again, I promise.”

At that he relaxed, though he did slip the jar into his robe pocket. ‘It’s a healing balm from Snape.’

“What, that git! He probably slipped something evil into that jar and that’s why you’re acting all nutty!”

“Shut up, Ron! Now is not the time. Clearly Harry needs some rest. Let’s all just go on up to bed.”

Harry lay on his bed for an hour just trying to clear his mind and explain his reactions, but he couldn’t come up with anything that made sense. Finally he pulled out his parchment and began to write. As soon as he finished he glanced around the room to check and see if his year mates were sleeping, and then slipped out of his bed and out of the tower.

Severus Snape was down in his office, marking the fourth year potions essays for a second time. He had gone too easy on them the first time, and the marks really should have been lower.

So he was marking essays. And he was not thinking about that Potter brat. Or at least that’s what he was trying to do when he heard a scratching noise against his office door. Glancing over he spotted a piece of parchment being stuffed under the gap.

Striding over he picked up the paper and swung the door open. He spotted no one. Unscrolling the parchment he recognized the messy scrawl of pre-teen boys the world over.

Dear Professor Snape, it read,

Dumbledore gave me the healing balm you left with him.

Thank you for giving it to me, you’re right I don’t want

anymore scars. Got enough already.

Thanks again,

Harry Potter

Sighing, he refolded the note and slipped it into the folds of his robe. “I know you’re lurking out here, Potter. Quit wasting my time and yours and go back to bed.” As he turned back towards his office he added “You’re welcome.”