It took a moment—more than a moment, to tell the truth—for Severus to shake off the shock of what he’d just seen. He tried to justify it, at first. After all, the miniature whale he’d seen earlier…well, children could be cruel. Severus knew that perhaps better than anyone. And it was certainly possible that the shrieking woman had simply had a bad day…expecting her nephew to do his chores well was hardly an atrocity. But no justification he could envision could excuse or even explain what that man had done. What he’d been about to do. I’ve seen anger of that sort before…. And from the boy’s reaction, it hadn’t been the first time. That child is supposed to be the boy-who-lived, the arrogant little brat who defeated the Dark Lord and now lords it over the rest of us, expecting to be treated like a prince. Not…not an abuse victim. If there was one thing Severus did not like, it was being wrong in his judgments. Particularly not that wrong. He tried to think back to any signs the child might have shown over the years, but…well, the two of them had never particularly gotten along, so of course Harry had been wary and defensive in his presence. Why wouldn’t he be? True, he’d never gone home except for the summer break, but he was hardly the only one who remained at the castle. And around his friends he’d always seemed fine—well, noisy and irritating, like most of the students are—but then children his own age were hardly likely to instill terror. Minerva, Hagrid, Albus, even the werewolf, they would have been in much better positions to diagnose the abuse, but….

Would any of them have known what to look for? Abuse, physical abuse, at least, wasn’t all that common in the Wizarding world. And generally the children who did come from abusive households ended up in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin—they buried themselves in their own private worlds or became masters in the art of self-preservation. Once in his teaching career there had been a case in Hufflepuff, a girl who’d learned to diffuse anger to protect her younger siblings, but never had he seen signs of anything of the sort in one of the Gryffindor brats. And Flitwick, who’d spotted the Hufflepuff girl, had enough to do managing his own students…after all, everyone else was keeping an eye on the Golden Boy. Is it possible that we all overlooked this? Albus, at least, should have caught it, but then…he occasionally sees only what he’d like to see. Not often, but this would hardly be the first time he’s been blindsided by a Gryffindor. I’d best find Potter. Harry. Severus picked up the boy’s wand from where he’d left it on the bedside table and held out his own. “Point me—”

A crackling sound from the fire drew his attention before he could complete the spell. “Not now. Not now.” Of course, it would be now, when he had an upset child to find, that the best attempt at a cure for wyrsa poison he’d found to data would be ready for testing. And he could hardly put the solution aside and expect it to retain its potency…if he left, it would take at least another day to recreate the mixture and test it. And a day after that to make another batch for the hunter to use…perhaps a day more than the man had left. It had been nearly a day and a half since he’d been scratched…. “Damn it all, can nothing ever be simple?” But there was no choice…Potter wasn’t likely to leave the village, no matter how panicked he was, and Severus couldn’t justify the possible exchange of a man’s life for a conversation that could just as easily be held an hour later. Perhaps it is just as well…giving him time to calm himself might prove beneficial. Certainly Severus didn’t know what he’d do if he found the child in hysterics…slapping him to bring him out of it was hardly a viable option at this point. Severus wasn’t sure what he’d do when he found the child period, honestly…at Hogwarts, when he discovered an abuse case even among his Slytherins he was able to hand it off fairly quickly to Pomfrey or one of the more sympathetic teachers.

Setting up the potion for testing helped to calm his own nerves somewhat; due mostly to the control over his breathing and emotions that he’d learned to maintain while working with some of the more volatile substances available. And the initial results, at least, looked promising. When he finished everything he needed to do—and a few things he hadn’t really needed to do, but they did give him an excuse to put off his search for the boy—he stood and moved away from the fire. As he’d calmed he’d found himself reflecting on his own actions this evening and found them…impulsive, at best. Vicious being a better term. Granted the brat had absolutely no right to invade his mind after agreeing not to, but…there hadn’t been any defensiveness or deceitfulness in his mind when Severus had forced his way in the last time. So it was possible—barely possible—that it had been an honest accident. In which case…I detest apologies. Particularly well-deserved ones. Finding one of his more cherished opinions had been wrong and now being required to apologize…it had not been his night. I was doing better when we were still lost in the jungle. Still, there was no point in putting it off any longer; there was the matter of the boy’s uncle to investigate as well. He held out his wand again. “Point me Harry Potter.”

It spun, and this time he was able to follow in the direction it indicated without distraction. “Potter? Harry?” He kept his voice down as he called, unwilling to disturb the village residents. When the wand shifted abruptly to point upwards as he approached the edge of the village, he sighed and stared up into the massive trees. “Mr. Potter, haven’t we spent enough time in these things in the past few days?” He debated Accio’ing the boy to him, but the way things had been going a limb was bound to be broken in the fall. Probably one of mine. “Onwards and upwards, I suppose. Lumos.” Climbing with his wand in his teeth was an interesting experience, but at least it gave him enough light to find handholds. He assumed that he’d have to wander along the branches for some time before he managed to find the child—reaching the level of the first branches and finding a figure curled against the trunk watching him was a bit of a shock. “Mr. Potter.”

“I’m tired, Professor.”

“As it is a disturbingly early hour of the morning, I would assume so,” Severus returned. “However, I need to speak to you, and as we are both fully conscious I see no reason not to commence.” The boy didn’t look particularly pleased with that pronouncement, but he shifted enough to allow Severus up onto the branch.

“I’m sorry I went in your head, Professor.”

His voice was dull, a fact which disturbed Severus rather more than he thought that it should. “I was under the impression that it was an accident.”

“It’s not like you’ll believe me either way.”

Severus suppressed a sigh. You will not make this easy on me, will you child? “I may, perhaps, have been…hasty…in my judgments, previously.” He caught a flash of green as the boy’s eyes widened. “And my reaction was…extreme, regardless.” The eyes watching him widened a bit farther and he gritted his teeth. “For that I apologize.”

The boy’s jaw actually dropped a bit before he remembered himself. “I….”

“Articulate as ever, Mr. Potter,” Severus observed.

“I just…I don’t know what I expected, but not…that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say sorry for anything.” He was silent again, and then one shoulder hitched. “I guess it was probably a pretty big shock when we ended up in your memories…I’d probably be angry too if that happened and I wasn’t expecting it. But I didn’t break my word—I didn’t do it on purpose.” He glared. “And you didn’t have to hurt me.”

“I believe that I have already apologized for that.” And Merlin be damned if you think I’ll do so again. Fortunately—for Potter—the boy didn’t seem to expect anything of the sort. They sat, silent again, while Severus tried to determine how best to phrase his next question. “Does he beat you often?”

“What!”

Perhaps the direct approach had not been the way to go. Too late now. “I am neither blind nor stupid, Mr. Potter. For how long has that muggle been mistreating you?”

The boy dropped his gaze. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor.”

“Indeed. I suppose that you believe it is normal for a grown man to choke a child and repeatedly slam him into a wall?”

“I…it’s not like it happens a lot. Just when he gets mad or annoyed.”

“And you believe that makes it acceptable?” The boy just shrugged, and he sighed. Why couldn’t this have come to light back at Hogwarts? This is supposed to be Poppy’s job, or Albus’ or Minerva’s. My own students consider my cold, and now I’m supposed to…help…this child? I’m not even certain where to start. “Harry, I assure you I’m annoyed with you on a nearly daily basis and generally angry at least once a week, and yet somehow I’ve managed to refrain from doing grievous bodily harm. Why hasn’t your uncle managed the same?”

“He hates magic,” Harry muttered. “So he hates me. They all do. Anything bad that happens… well, it must be magic-related and it must be my fault.”

“Have you ever told anyone how they treat you?”

“I told Dumbledore they don’t like me.” The boy’s voice was defensive. “Every summer I ask if I can stay at the Weasleys’ or somewhere else.”

“I believe you are intelligent enough to know that ‘they don’t like me’ is considerably different than ‘they are hurting me,’” Severus pointed out, keeping his voice as calm as he could. We can hardly rectify the situation if we don’t know about it.

“Well, it’s not like he doesn’t already know. My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs—my first thousand letters or so, since my uncle kept burning them so I’d never find out about Hogwarts.”

“Excuse me?”

“He burned all my letters, and when they kept coming he took us all away so they couldn’t find us. If Hagrid hadn’t come to get me, I’d never have gone to Hogwarts.”

That would have made my life simpler, Severus couldn’t help thinking, but…well, the little brat was the Wizarding world’s best hope against the Dark Lord. And better he is with us than those…muggles. Harry had been one of the scrawniest of the first years if Severus remembered correctly and still wasn’t among the largest in his age group…certainly no match for a man the size of which he’d seen in that vision. “These letters were addressed to a cupboard?”

“It was my room, up until the summer between first and second year. Then they moved me to Dudley’s second bedroom and put bars on the window—Ron and Fred and George had to break me out.”

Potter was right—abuse could be hidden, unfortunately, but bars were certainly something the headmaster should have known about. Particularly when I know the Order has a spy on the house. Arabella may be a bit…distracted, at the best of times, but she’s hardly blind. Damnit, Albus, for all our sakes, I hope you have an explanation. Something howled in the distance, disrupting his chain of thought. “This is not the place to be having this conversation. Here is your wand.” Severus waved his own, intending to levitate the two of them to the ground below.

“I think I’ll stay out here for awhile.”

“You most certainly will not.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to think better of it as he caught sight of Severus’ expression. “We will continue this discussion in more hospitable surroundings.”

“Did you find a cure?” the child asked with a nod to the cauldrons as they entered the hut.

“Perhaps.” Severus wasn’t willing to be put off now that he had the boy talking—the potion wouldn’t be ready for examination for another few hours at the earliest. He nodded for the boy to take a seat. “I believe I asked you how often those—incidents—with your uncle occur?”

“Not…not like that, not very often. Two or three times a year, maybe. He stopped when I first started at Hogwarts—I think he was afraid I’d turn him into something—but then he found out about the ban on underage magic, and….” Potter shrugged. “Mostly he just cuffs me around…assuming he even notices me. He’s at work during the day and at night as long as I don’t screw up supper I’m not really worth the time.”

“And your aunt and cousin?”

“She screams at me a lot and doesn’t let me eat, and sometimes goads my uncle into stuff, but she never really hits me herself, at least not hard enough to do anything. And Dudley is an idiot—if he wasn’t three times my size he wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

Unfortunately, he is three times your size, and somehow I don’t think you can always get away from him. And withholding food from a child is hardly acceptable behavior either. However, your uncle is clearly the most dangerous of the lot…. “The particular incident that I viewed?”

“He got mad and he hit me.”

Severus stared for a moment, but it was obvious that the child didn’t plan to offer any more information. Not without prompting, anyway. “Why do they dislike magic? Surely your aunt, at least, would be proud of her sister’s heroics.” Mentioning Lily’s accomplishments was somewhat less irritating than mentioning Potter’s, at least.”

“She hated my mom—they said my parents died in a car crash. Hagrid told me the truth when he came to get me.”

Damn it. “Some muggles are less than understanding,” Severus acknowledged after a moment. “They fear what they cannot understand—what they cannot hope to do. It is not your fault.”

“I thought you thought that everything that happens to me is my fault.”

“Oh, you’re no doubt an insufferable brat who couldn’t stay out of mischief if his life depended on it,” Severus assured him, rather relieved at the spark of insolence returning to the boy’s tone as loath as he was to admit it. “However, you’re hardly old enough to be responsible for the existence of all magic-hating muggles.” They were silent for a moment, and he debated how best to prompt the child into speaking. “I assume you have no desire to return to your relatives?”

“Of course not!”

“Then I am going to need slightly more information from you about your treatment at their hands.” The memories he now shared would be more than enough for anyone at Hogwarts, but if that idiot Fudge or his lackeys from the Ministry got involved they would need the full story. Potter, however still did not seem convinced, and Severus considered his next move. Unfortunately, the last few days notwithstanding, the two of them did not have the most pleasant history together, and while he had a one idea that stood a fair chance of getting the child to open up, he was by nature a private person. So help me, if he ever repeats any of this and I find out about it…. “I believe that the majority of the problems with my father stemmed from accidental magic.”

“Huh?”

“Mr. Potter, have you ever considered speech lessons?”

The boy rolled his eyes, but seemed to be considering Severus’ words. “But…your father was a wizard, right?”

“No. My mother was a witch, my father…there was some debate over whether the appropriate term was muggle or squib since there had been some magic in his family line, but he was most certainly nonmagical himself.”

“He didn’t like that you were?”

“Not particularly. He insisted that my mother refrain from using magic and wasn’t pleased when I couldn’t always do the same.”

“Kind of like Bewitched.”

“Pardon me?”

“A muggle television show…American. Was about a witch—well, she wasn’t a real witch—who kept trying not to use her powers. And then there was a season where they had a kid, she was magical too, and they kept trying to keep her from using it.” He shrugged. “It used to show at night sometimes. My aunt and uncle had a fit every time they saw it on.”

“Somehow I doubt the storyline was the same as that my parents followed.”

Potter considered him for a moment. “He hurt you.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Severus acknowledged the words with a flick of his fingers. “I was fortunate…my mother and I left him and moved in with her parents when I was perhaps ten.” In many ways their treatment of him had been worse—they had not been pleased when their only child had chosen to marry a muggle, and the fact that the only magical abilities her son possessed at the age of ten involved potions did little but make the situation worse. Even those teachings she’d only been able to give him under the guise of cooking lessons so they hadn’t been as complete as his grandparents had expected…. But there was no need to tell Harry that. Certainly if we hadn’t gone to live with them I would never have had the chance to attend Hogwarts. And it wasn’t as though I was unable to pick up their lessons quickly. Not that he’d had a choice in the matter; not when they were used him as the target for some of the more painful dark curses when he made mistakes…. He shook his head. His grandparents were long since dead, and those memories had no place here. “I assume your relatives had issues with accidental magic as well?”

Potter stared at him for a moment longer and finally nodded. “I told you about the time I apparated myself to the roof when Dudley and Piers and Aaron were after me, right?”

“Yes. I believe you said that everyone was under the impression that you climbed onto the roof?”

“They were. Up until Dudley and I got home and he went screaming to my aunt that I’d been a freak at school that day, anyway. My bad luck, I guess…my uncle was home early from work. I think something must have gone wrong there because he was mad even before Dudley started yelling, but after he finished….” The boy pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs. “I think that’s the first time he really hit me—hit me, hit me, not just cuffing me around or throwing me in my cupboard or whatever.”

Severus was quite certain that he was supposed to offer some form of comfort at this point …and equally certain that he had no idea how to go about doing so. He’d never attempted to speak of his father’s mistreatment to anyone other than his mother, who’d been there with him, and as for the rest…well, Albus had certainly suspected, but he’d never confirmed or denied it. Fortunately, before he was forced to actually do anything, Harry continued with his story.

“I wasn’t sure what was happening at first…he slapped me pretty hard and then he started dragging me upstairs. I didn’t really go up there much unless I was supposed to be cleaning something—I was in Dudley’s rooms a lot. But he took me into his room….” Potter shook his head. “I…it didn’t make any sense. He was yelling…kept calling me a freak over and over, but I don’t think he even knew what I’d done. And then he took it out of the closet…he just kept hitting me over and over and over. My arms and my back and my legs…most of the time they’re careful not to leave marks—they don’t want the neighbors to ask questions—but he was so mad…”

“What did he hit you with?” Severus prompted.

“A belt. Except it’s real heavy and it has those little metal spike things on it—studs. They hurt so bad. I…as long as they hit on my clothes they don’t cut, but the bruises last for a long time. I don’t even know where he got it—it’s way too short to be his or Dudley’s and it’s not something my aunt would wear. But he keeps it up there, and when he gets really mad….” He trailed off with a shiver. “He just keeps hitting and hitting…most of the time I don’t even notice when he finishes until he’s dragging me back downstairs.”

A whisper of Legilimancy that went unnoticed by the child confirmed that being dragged back downstairs actually meant being thrown back in a cupboard—which was apparently the small dark space he’d found himself in during one of Harry’s first attempts at Occlumency. He didn’t attempt to pry farther. “How often did accidental magic put you into these situations?”

“I think only twice more because of accidental magic…unless it was something major that kept my chores from getting done or Dudley was around to tattle they didn’t usually notice anything I did. But every couple months he’d get mad about something…like I said, they usually didn’t leave marks on me, but when it happened…I was supposed to tell people that I fell if anyone asked. They were always telling people how clumsy and stupid I was anyway.”

“What happened to incite the incident I observed?”

“I really am tired, Professor, can we please talk about this tomorrow?”

Severus nodded reluctantly—it would probably be wiser to keep him talking, but it was late, and perhaps these memories would be best examined in the light. “I suppose. But I expect you to remain here tomorrow morning rather than disappearing all day with your new friends, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, then. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Professor.”

Somehow, when muted cries and muttering from the bed next to him woke him a scant few hours later, Severus wasn’t surprised. Relieved that it wasn’t the earsplitting screams that heralded a vision from the Dark Lord, but not surprised. “Potter. Harry. Wake up.” He stood, moving to the other cot and sitting on the edge. “Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” The words didn’t do much, but a quick shake of the nearest shoulder brought the child upright so fast that he nearly cracked his head on Severus’ chin.

“Professor?” He blinked, one hand reaching back for his glasses. “I…sorry, Professor, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“A nightmare, I presume?”

Potter nodded. “Just a normal one.”

“The basilisk?”

“The third task.”

Severus sighed. When they got back and told Albus about the situation with Potter’s relatives, they were going to need to find the child a foster family. While the Weasleys would no doubt be the first to volunteer, he was going to recommend finding a competent therapist—perhaps more than one—and sending the child to live with them for a few months first. Merlin help us if he somehow ends up living with the werewolf or that mutt…he’ll be a raving lunatic before he comes of age. “What happened in that graveyard was not your fault.”

Harry shook his head. “Maybe not what Volde—the Dark Lord—did, but Cedric shouldn’t have been there at all. I got to the cup first. It should just have been me. But he helped me…I said we should take it together. And then the thing was a portkey. ‘Kill the spare.’ That’s what he said. And then Cedric was dead. I saw him, you know, after, when our wands connected. Voldemort’s and mine. Saw my parents too. But Cedric asked me to take him back with him…take his body back….”

His words had gotten quicker as he’d gone on, voice rising higher in pitch, and for a moment Severus feared that he was going to have to either strike or stun him to prevent the onset of hysteria. But eventually the words came to an abrupt halt, and the child sat breathing heavily on the edge of the bunk. “And you did as he asked. Very…Gryffindor of you. Not particularly intelligent as I suspect it resulted in more danger for yourself, but I can’t say I’ve ever heard anyone accuse you of being overly smart. And as for suggesting that you take the cup together…it’s the same bloody nobility as well, I suppose. Fair play and such nonsense.” Severus took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. “Perhaps if you hadn’t made the suggestion he wouldn’t have ended up in that graveyard with you, but there is no way to know what would have happened to him then. Crouch, Jr. would hardly have wanted the alarm spread about the Golden Boy’s disappearance…it’s quite possible that he would have died anyway. And there is no guarantee that he wouldn’t have ended up in the graveyard even without your suggestion. He couldn’t have been that far from the cup—he might have grabbed for the thing himself and ended up there alone. You’re hardly large enough or strong enough to have stopped him.”

“At least then the Dark Lord would still be gone.”

“You believe you would have been safe in the middle of that maze? Nonsense. If Diggory had been the one taken instead of you, he would still have ended up dead and Crouch would have kept coming after you until he got you.”

Potter glared. “What, so you’re saying that it’s better both things happened at once?”

Why me? Surely someone should have thought to sit down and have this conversation with him immediately after the event. But with the mess surrounding Diggory’s death and the Ministry’s denial of the Dark Lord’s return…yet another thing regarding the brat that has been overlooked. Brilliant. “I am saying that his death was not your fault. It was regrettable, but once you were entered in that tournament you had no choice but to participate, and with Crouch’s maneuvering you were bound to find yourself facing that portkey. That he happened to be with you….” Severus sighed. The other child’s death had been needless and pointless, like so much of the Dark Lord’s maneuvering, and nothing he said was going to change that. “It was not your fault. Understood?”

The boy’s glare held steady for a moment, and then he dropped his head. “Understood.”

“Then I suggest you lie down and attempt to go back to sleep.”

“I never—”

“Go back to sleep after nightmares, I believe you mentioned that. Lie down anyway.”

“I’m not tired anymore, Professor.”

Severus frowned. “Well, then, you will assist me in testing the antidote I have been working on.”

“It’s ready?”

“It will be, momentarily…the spell I put on it would have awakened me even if you had not. Go fill those two cauldrons with water. And be quiet about it—there is no reason to awaken the entire village.”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus set out the ingredients he would need to test the potion. The mixtures that he had set up last night—this night—whenever the occlumency lesson had ended—had confirmed that the substance was definitely an antidote to the venom in the wyrsa’s claws. However, it would do little good if it was toxic in and of itself…and Severus had mixed more than a few ingredients that would be lethal if given individually into the mix. So today’s experiments would determine whether the liquid was safe enough for human consumption or if it would simply kill the man more quickly.

“Is this enough, Professor?”

“That will be fine, M—Harry. Take a seat, and I want you to add ingredients to that cauldron—slowly—as I add them to this one. Please note, they are laid out in order, so there is no need to go making random guesses as to what is what.” I almost wish the Granger brat was here…. They worked in silence for a bit—the first set of ingredients needed to be added before the water truly heated. Severus was pleasantly surprised that the boy was able to maintain control of his cauldron and ingredients when he had reason to try.

“It was because of Dobby.”

“Excuse me?” He vaguely remembered Lucius referring to a house elf by that name—he actually hadn’t seen the creature for some time, now that he thought about it—but what the Malfoys’ servant had to do with Harry….

“What happened in that memory you saw. It was because of Dobby. He came to warn me not to go back to Hogwarts that year. The year they opened the Chamber. M-my uncle was having a dinner party that night for some very important people…when I wouldn’t promise not to go back Dobby started making trouble. I mean, I knew I was in for it when he made all that racket and my uncle had to come upstairs—this was after they’d moved me into Dudley’s second bedroom—but then Dobby went downstairs and saw the pudding. I knew what he was going to do as soon as I saw the look on his face, but I couldn’t stop him. It made a horrible mess, and then Hedwig—she didn’t get out, but she made such an awful racket…. The guests left immediately.” The boy paused, staring into the cauldron but clearly not seeing it. “Then it came—the notice about the ban on underage magic. My uncle hadn’t known…he didn’t do anything to me earlier for fear I’d turn him into a toad or something. But after it came, he knew I couldn’t fight back, and….” Harry trailed off with a shake of his head. “You saw the rest. He locked me in the cupboard after it was done, and when they finally let me out it was to drag me upstairs and throw me in Dudley’s second bedroom. Except now there were all kinds of locks, and when I looked out the window I saw the bars...when my uncle was putting in the last screws he said I’d never be allowed to go back to Hogwarts again.”

“And that’s when the Weasleys saved you?”

“A couple days later.”

Severus sighed. It must have been the Malfoys’ elf…no one else could have known that Lucius planned to slip the damn diary to the Weasley girl. He hadn’t known until after Potter had foiled the plot, and even then only because Dumbledore had mentioned it. “Unfortunate timing, I’m afraid.”

“Very.” Harry studied the cauldron for a moment longer before glancing up at his teacher. “Did anything like that ever happen to you?”

Severus frowned for a moment. I will not let this become a ‘who’s childhood was worse?’ discussion. But…at least the boy was talking. And showing him that he was not alone couldn’t hurt…as long as he had the sense not to repeat anything he heard. Somehow Severus didn't think that would be an issue. “Not quite the same thing—I did do what I was punished for, but I didn’t know it was wrong at the time. My mother…when my magic began to manifest itself, she hid it fairly well. And like your uncle, my father was not always around during the day. But one week she’d gone to visit a friend—I think the woman may have been ill. Regardless, Mother had never been away for so long, and Father wasn’t one to play. I was perhaps five at the time and got quite bored. And then I found that I could activate the electronics in the house with only a wave if I concentrated very hard.”

“Uh-oh,” Harry muttered.

“Unfortunately so. Mother used to say that my tricks were secrets between us, but I forgot, I suppose. Young children have an unfortunate tendency to do that. My father had several coworkers over that night to watch some muggle sporting event, and I decided to show off what I could do…something along the lines of blinking the screen multiple times and calling ‘Look, no switches!’ as I recall. Father was not amused—he made a rather unconvincing excuse about the power lines to his friends and as soon as they left broke several of another kind of switch across my backside.”

“When you were five? Bastard!”

Severus smirked at that. For once, Mr. Potter, you I find ourselves in complete agreement. “Unfortunately, some muggles are simply not willing to tolerate what they cannot fully understand. Now, let me see the ruin you’ve made of your potion.”

“It looks like yours,” Harry protested.

“Hm. Acceptable, I suppose. Divide the potions between the four vials there while I fetch the antidote—kindly avoid spilling them, if you will.” In one of the four he planned to test an undiluted antidote…it would almost certainly fail. Between the other three he hoped to find a concentration that would negate the effects of the venom in a relatively short span of time while not eating away the man’s body from the inside. He gave a cursory glance at the last few cauldrons still simmering by the fire—more antidote possibilities if this one did not work out. With a bit of luck he wouldn’t need them.