Severus didn’t bother to ask whether the welts on the child’s back hurt—the rectangular bruises may have been the more colorful, but the tiny circular ones that had to have been caused by the studs the boy had mentioned were what he was more concerned about. Muscles relaxed slowly as he spread the bruise salve, and by the time Severus finished Harry’s back his breathing had returned to normal and he’d twisted slightly to watch Severus as he worked. “That’s all I can do here; I assume you’d prefer to take care of the rest yourself?”

“Yes, sir. I…thank you.”

Severus waved off the thanks. “Here’s the salve, then; the washroom is through there. And you might want to change into your robes while you’re at it.”

That drew a nod, and Harry rummaged in his trunk for a moment before taking the jar from Severus and disappearing into the inner room. While he was cleaning up and changing, Severus took the time to mix a bit more of his strongest pain-relieving potion. This day is only going to get longer. He grimaced as he swallowed, and then turned at a quiet snicker. “Something amusing, Mr. Potter?”

“No, sir, sorry, it’s just…you’re the potions’ master, and you don’t even make potions that you like.”

“I hold effectiveness more important than pleasant taste. You are ready to go, then?”

“Yes, sir. I should leave my trunks here?”

“That’s fine; you can stop back and pick them up after we speak to Albus.” He took the boy up to the floo—that dose of pain reliever had done wonders for his mobility—and before long they had both been delivered to the Ministry of Magic. Severus half expected Fudge and his cronies to be waiting for them, but for once the floo terminal was empty and they were able to make their way to Albus’ private room unhindered. Minerva and was still with him, but Alastor and Arthur had apparently gone off somewhere.

“Harry, my boy, how are you? Dear me, that bruise looks nasty? Have you gotten salve for it? Severus, I still don’t understand why it was so necessary that you pick him up—I may be able to get Hogwarts reopened within the week but it certainly won’t happen sooner than that. And as long as you’re here, I could wait until the school reopened for his accounting of events. Quite honestly, the position that Fudge has taken makes the reason behind your disappearance less than relevant—he’s only been concentrating on the fact that it happened and blaming it on the incompetence of Hogwarts’ staff in general.”

Once again proving that Fudge is an idiot, Severus decided. Anyone with any sense would have been concentrating on the events surrounding their disappearance, trying to find whatever weakness in Hogwarts’ defenses had been exploited. Granted they’d been taken from the Forbidden Forest, not Hogwarts, but no one would have known that. At least Fudge’s idiocy explained why their return hadn’t heralded an immediate interview with the Wizangenmot…for which he was rather grateful, actually. I suppose as long as he’s denying the return of the Dark Lord, he can’t very well say he’s suspicious of Death Eater activity. And Albus should be able to turn the situation to our advantage since we aren’t dead as Fudge no doubt hoped. Severus glanced down at the boy. But perhaps we should deal with the matter of his guardians first…neither Fudge nor the Dark Lord will be going anywhere anytime soon. “If you have a moment, I believe that we need to speak to you privately.”

“Is something wrong?” Minerva asked, looking up from the scroll she’d been scanning.

“It’s okay,” Harry said before Severus could speak again. “I can tell her too…she’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

“Figure what out?”

“I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys’. They—”

“We’ve been over this before,” Albus said with a shake of his. “I know the situation is not ideal, but you need the protection of the blood wards.”

No wonder Harry’s never told him, if he’s barely allowed to finish a sentence before his request is denied. “The wards do precious little when it is his relatives who pose the threat,” Severus said sharply.

Minerva’s eyes narrowed. “I suggest that you—one of you—explain just what you are talking about. Why wouldn’t you want to go back to your relatives?”

“They hate me,” the boy said in a rush. “I mean they really hate me. Most of the time I’m locked in a cupboard or in Dudley’s second bedroom with the bars on the windows, and they only feed me when they have to, and….”

“And what?” Albus asked when the boy trailed to a halt.

Harry’s eyes dropped to the ground, and Severus frowned. “Do you wish me to tell them?”

“No, sir, I can do it.” He lifted his head again. “They hit me sometimes—my uncle does, at least.” He gave a quick wave at his face.

Minerva whitened. “I knew they were the worst sort of muggles, but I didn’t think….”

“Surely there was some mistake…it must have been an accident,” Albus objected, although he had paled slightly as well.

Severus drew himself up. “Deliberately striking a child multiple times hard enough to leave bruises is hardly an accident—doing so on occasions spreading over several years even less so. Show them your shoulder.” Harry obliged, tugging his collar sideways although it wasn’t much more than a moment before he covered the mark again. As with his face, the salve was doing its work, but the actual bruises hadn’t faded much. “Between that and bars on the windows—how, exactly, did you overlook Arabella’s comments on those, Albus, or the fact that his Hogwarts letters were getting sent to a cupboard?—I believe you will agree with me when I say that he will not be returning to that place.”

The headmaster ignored his questions. “I…I think I would like to speak to Harry alone, for a bit, if you two don’t mind.”

Minerva nodded immediately; Severus glanced down at the boy to make sure that was acceptable to him before acquiescing as well. “I’ll return in an hour, than?”

“That…that will be fine,” Albus agreed. “Alastor should be back by then as well.”

“I need to return to Hogwarts,” Minerva said. “But Mr. Potter, when you get a chance I would like to speak with you also.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Severus glanced back as he exited to see Harry sitting gingerly on the stool Minerva had vacated while the headmaster turned his chair to face the boy. Perhaps half an hour.

“Severus, a moment?”

“I thought you were going back to Hogwarts?” he asked as Minerva beckoned him into another empty office. Is the Ministry normally this understaffed? he wondered absently. Perhaps people are resigning in droves to get out from under Fudge’s control. That was an amusing thought, actually…he would have to remember to pass it on at the next staff meeting Umbridge attended.

“I will be going back shortly, but first I had a few questions for you. How badly is Mr. Potter hurt? Do you know how long has this been going on? When did you find out? What were you saying about a cupboard? And there were bars on his windows? What kind? When were they put there?”

Occasionally she was more like the Gryffindors she supervised than she realized, Severus thought with amusement, considering the string of questions and the increasing speed of their delivery. “In order? He will be fine, at least physically; for several years at least; during Occlumency lessons—I assume Alastor mentioned those; his letters to Hogwarts were addressed to the cupboard his relatives kept him locked in; and those muggles put heavy bars on his window before his second year to keep him inside. Any more questions?”

“I…the letters were addressed to a cupboard? He was locked in it? Are you certain?”

“I’ve seen his memories, Minerva…it’s rather hard to mistake that cupboard for anything else, and I have no reason to disbelieve his recitation of events surrounding his first trip to Hogwarts. Why?”

“I help Albus address those letters…we use a quick-quill. But I…I can’t believe that either of us would have overlooked….”

“Frankly it’s the bars that concern me. Muggles have such strange names for things anyway that the address might have been misinterpreted, but you know even Arabella wouldn’t have forgotten to report bars on a window.”

“Maybe he thought they were keeping Harry safe,” she offered.

Severus’ sneered at that. “A strange way of going about it.”

Minerva shook her head. “I don’t know, Severus. I should go.”

He considered taking a short trip to Diagon Alley after she’d left—as long as the students weren’t around he could attempt a few of the experiments that he hadn’t had time for this past summer—but in view of his healing injuries he decided that the wiser course of action would be to relax for a short time. And he needed to speak to Alastor and find our where the rest of his things had been taken while he was in Azkaban. He’d had a flask of the wyrsa-poison with him for further study…better no one at the Ministry messed about with that.

Time passed more slowly than he expected, and he rather wished that he had a pair of extendable ears with him. The door to the office was open so he’d be able to see if anyone came out of Albus’ room, but the hall remained empty. Surely the headmaster won’t try and convince the brat to go back to his relatives after what had happened… honestly, he was fairly certain that Albus had the best of intentions, but he tended to work towards the bigger picture. Little things like an abused Golden Boy…well, he wouldn’t endorse it consciously, of course, but that doesn’t mean that it necessarily takes priority. Especially since the brat has proved abominably good at hiding it. At least when the Weasleys took Harry his well-being would be assured—no one could ever accuse Molly or Arthur of being bad parents. I’d like to see the reaction if anyone tried. Their children would hex the idiot into oblivion with half of the Wizarding world cheering them on.

“Severus?” Alastor’s head came around the corner. “What are you doing in here?”

“Albus wanted to speak to H—Mr. Potter alone for a few minutes. What happened to you?” The Auror’s limp was more pronounced that usual, and he had one arm guarding his side.

“There was an attack in Knockturn Alley. No one on our side was severely hurt—we think it may have been an internal quarrel among You-Know-Who’s followers.”

There’s certainly no shortage of those, Severus had to agree. “Who was involved?”

“No Death Eaters, if that’s what you’re asking, at least that we found. All that was left when we arrived was a dead shopkeeper—Mr. Ludwig Stallins—with the Dark Mark burned into his chest.”

He didn’t recognize the name, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. “A dead man attacked you? Levicorpus?”

“No, he was inanimate. I got clipped by a damned bludger while we were going through the shop’s contents.”

“Cursed?”

“It wasn’t; I most certainly did.”

Severus smirked. “Getting slow, Alastor, if an object doesn’t even have to be spelled to get the upper hand with you.”

“Watch your mouth, boy; you’re hardly one to talk!”

A fair response, and he waved away the glare. “In all seriousness, do you know where my things were taken when Ambrose sent me to Azkaban? There is a rare and quite deadly potions’ ingredient in one of the flasks that I’d prefer made it safely back to my stores.”

“Oh?”

“Wyrsa poison. I had some left over after concocting the antidote.”

“So of course you felt it necessary to bring it back to our shores. Why didn’t you mention this the other day?”

“I had other things on my mind.” As you well know.

That got a grudging nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll have a talk with him; see what I can find out,” Alastor agreed. “What did Albus and Mr. Potter need to discuss?”

Severus wasn’t inclined to spread the story farther without the child’s permission, but some explanation would be required or the old Auror would investigate on his own. Although…I’d rather like to see his response to those muggles’ treatment. I imagine a missing mouth would seem quite tame in comparison. “Mr. Potter’s living arrangements are no longer satisfactory.”

“Hm.” At least Alastor didn’t seem inclined to press the matter—but then he’d never placed as much faith in the blood wards as the rest of them, not without a competent wizard on hand in case they were breached. “A suitable replacement has been found?”

“Probably the Weasleys,” Severus replied. “I know they’ve offered.”

“That would be acceptable. Now, I have a few more questions for you about your little journey, and since we seem to have a moment….”

He trailed off, and Severus nodded. “I’m hardly otherwise occupied.” By the time the door opened and Albus emerged Alastor had exhausted his supply of questions, the majority of which were nothing but theories for Severus to expound upon. Rather like the Order meetings, actually. “Albus, I assume you’ve asked whatever questions you felt necessary?”

“I have.”

He was tempted to push a bit more—there was no excuse for leaving a child in that situation—but…Albus just looked so old, standing there…. “Then I’ll send his trunk and things on to the Weasleys’ as soon as I get back to Hogwarts.”

“Unfortunately that won’t be possible.”

“Excuse me?”

“There is no way for him to be safe there—I’m sure the Weasleys would take him in a moment, but there is no way to secure the Burrow in the next few hours, and it’s too visible for him to remain there without the Dark Lord finding out.”

He can’t possibly plan to return the boy to those…muggles? That’s insane! “Then where should I be sending them? To the werewolf?” Merlin help us all if he says the mutt.

“Remus can’t take custody of a child because of his…condition, unfortunately, and Black is obviously out of the question as well.”

“Where, Albus?”

“I’m supposed to go back to Hogwarts,” Harry said, coming out behind the headmaster.

“I thought the student rooms were locked.”

“They are.”

Albus was looking at him expectantly; Harry didn’t seem willing to meet his eyes—oh, no. “No. Absolutely not. I do not want—” he cut himself off, hearing the boy’s uncle echoing from earlier this morning. ‘We don’t want that freak back! We never wanted him…’ As much as he had no desire to share his quarters with anyone, the brat didn’t need to be rejected in that manner twice in one day. “I am in no position to care for a child,” he amended his statement.

“It’s hardly a permanent situation Severus, just a few days until Hogwarts reopens. He’ll be safe enough at Hogwarts, and with no one but a few of the other faculty around Voldemort won’t find out.”

Harry was twitching slightly, but made no comment.

“Surely there are more appropriate places—perhaps with another of his housemates? Madam Hooch is giving flying lessons at her family’s estate….” Aside from the mess that was bound to be made of his quarters, the child would be bored to tears staying with him…he was hardly appropriate company for an active fifteen year old.

“I’m afraid that won’t do; it will have to be Hogwarts.”

“There are plenty of other professors remaining there for the interim….”

“Minerva isn’t there all that much and staying with her wouldn’t be strictly proper regardless, nor would be staying with Rhiannon or Sybil.”

Severus was almost positive that he saw the child flinch at the idea of staying with the Divination teacher. Not that I can blame him.

“Flitwick’s quarters aren’t well designed for anyone of shall we say greater stature than himself,” Albus continued, “and Devon was planning on leaving tomorrow to visit his sister. He’s now an uncle.”

“I’m thrilled for him,” Severus returned dryly. He did, technically, have a spare room that could be used for guests, but in all his time at Hogwarts he’d used it exactly once. And that had been for himself when he’d accidentally cracked a vial of exploding fluid in his own bedroom seven years ago. I suppose the house elves have kept it up…. “It seems you’ve left no other options.” The headmaster had a decidedly annoying way of doing that sometimes.

“Excellent, it’s settled, then.” Albus smiled, setting Severus’ teeth on edge. “Then I’d like to speak to you for a few moments about your…journey. Alastor, I’m sure you’d like the chance to question Mr. Potter as well—perhaps you could take him to get something to eat at the same time?”

The Auror nodded, indicating for the boy to follow him while Severus stepped into the room after the headmaster. “I assume that you’re interested in the potential uses of unicorn blood also?”

“Among other things. I’d like to start with the Occlumency lessons you’ve been giving him—how strong is he?”

“Acceptable, considering how long he’s been attempting it.”

“Has he managed to block any visions from Voldemort?”

How am I supposed to know that? Ask him. “I don’t know.”

“What about…”

It was several hours before Albus was satisfied—Alastor dropped Potter back off after their interview and the boy was in the room for a good hour before Albus’ questions ceased. Severus was honest enough to admit that some of the extra time spent in the interview was his fault. His irritation with the older man—both his general treatment of the Potter brat and his handling of the housing situation—had him acting more than slightly obtuse and forcing the man to drag the answers out of him, but he just wasn’t feeling particularly cooperative and didn’t mind letting Albus know.

“It’s getting late,” Albus said as he brought the questioning to a halt. “I have more work to do here, but you two should be getting back to Hogwarts. The floo should be open.”

Severus nodded, gesturing to Harry. “Come on, then. I suppose there’s no need to retrieve your things.”

“No, sir.”

The boy said his goodbyes to the headmaster—Severus was still annoyed enough at the old man that he didn’t give him more than a sharp nod—and they made their way through the ministry’s headquarters back to the floo. “Go ahead; wait for me on the other side. He wasn’t about to leave the child alone anywhere where Fudge’s supporters might find him. The last thing we need is for that idiot to get a private interview—Merlin knows what he’d twist next.

Harry was waiting as he stepped out of the hearth, and Severus swept past him. “I assume you ate your fill when you were with Alastor?”

“Yes, sir.”

The trip down to his dungeons was decidedly slower than his trip up—the pain-killing potion had begun to lose effectiveness about halfway through his interview with Albus, and what he really wanted to do was lie flat for awhile. Unfortunately, I get to make the brat comfortable and find some way to occupy his time so my quarters don’t end up in shambles. “The spare room is through there, you might as well take your trunk in. I’ll call a house elf to bring in the bedding you’ll need. Come out when you finish getting your things organized and I’ll go over the rules.”

Harry nodded, picking up his owl cage and dragging his trunk through the far door. He reappeared a few minutes later. “I’m done, sir.”

“Fine. The washroom is through there, as you know. That is my bedroom to the left; if I am in there please do not disturb me unless there is an emergency. My workroom is next to it—if you even think about going in there I’ll use you to test my experimental potions for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. This room is open to you; feel free to look through the books if you have the urge.” As unlikely as that is. There wasn’t anything particularly incriminating on that bookshelf; after all, occasionally one of the other teachers insisted on coming down, and it wouldn’t do for them to find shelves of books on Dark Magic in his sitting room. So he put them all in his workroom and warded the door in the extreme. “I believe the library is open as well—kindly you refrain from any attempts to access the forbidden sections while residing here—as is the Quidditch pitch.” Harry’s lips twitched at that, but he didn’t say anything. “You are free to come and go as you please—on Hogwarts grounds, only—provided that you let me know in advance where you are going and return at a reasonable hour. And, if you’d like to keep it, I suggest that your invisibility cloak remain in your trunk. Meals will be served in the Great Hall at normal times; I occasionally take meals here. You may do so as well, provided that you clean up after yourself. Are these guidelines clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bear in mind that I reserve the right to change them at any time or make other restrictions should I feel that it is necessary.”

“Yes, sir. I…I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“Do you need any more of the bruise salve?”

“I put the extra in my trunk.”

“Then I will see you in the morning.” Severus was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow…he hadn’t even needed a dose of sleeping potion. When he finally awoke the next morning it was considerably later than normal. There were two notes waiting for him—one from Harry saying that he was going to spend the morning in the library, and an owl post from Alastor with a scrawled ‘I think this is yours’ and an unlabeled flask. A quick check confirmed that it was the wyrsa poison, and he crossed that item off his list. At least something is going right. And as long as the brat isn’t tormenting me with his presence…. He flicked his wand, disarming the first level of spells warding his workroom. Although Harry had been reasonably considerate this morning, managing to get himself up, fed, judging by the covered plates of leftovers remaining on the table, and out quietly enough that Severus hadn’t heard a thing. Perhaps this week wouldn’t be as arduous as he expected.