The knock on his door came at 6:06pm.

“You’re late,” Snape said.

Potter met his gaze with an angry one of his own.

“Your defiance is useless, Potter,” Snape murmured, leaning forward over his desk, “unless you wish to gain more detentions, in which case, be my guest. I have several potions that are nearing their expiration date and need testing to see if they are still potent.”

Snape flicked his wand and shut the door behind Potter, effectively locking out the world beyond his office. He watched as the boy stood rigid before him, traveling cloak in hand, awaiting instruction.

Snape studied him a moment, before deciding that a direct course of action would be best. “I’m going to give you three choices, Potter. You will choose one. You will NOT interrupt me. Is that understood?”

He waited for the boy’s slight nod of acknowledgement before continuing.

“Your first option,” Snape said, “is to accompany me, in disguise, to St. Mungo’s, where you will be fully examined by a… “

“I don’t need…”

“Do. Not. Interrupt.” Snape glared at Harry, who was suddenly looking panicky.

“Where you will be fully examined by a healer,” Snape continued. “Your second option is to be examined by Madam Pomfrey.”

When Snape did not continue, Harry asked in a strained voice, “And my third option?”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your third option is to be examined by me.”

Harry startled at that, and Snape smirked coldly at him.

“What will it be, Potter?”

Harry hesitated. “What did you mean about St. Mungo’s when you said I’d be ‘in disguise’ ?”

“Your appearance will be altered and your name will be withheld,” Snape replied. “In other words, Potter, your precious privacy will be guarded at all costs.”

When Harry did not respond, Snape said, “Am I to assume, then, that you prefer the first option?”

Harry met the professor’s gaze, one of several arguments brewing in those bright green eyes.

Snape almost flinched. It was an expression he’d seen in Lily’s eyes so many times… But then Potter closed his eyes, and the image was gone.

Harry nodded once.

The choice had been made.

Harry’s mind raced. He hated Snape even more for forcing him to do this. The thought of anyone examining him after what had happened was beyond humiliating. Snape’s words cut across his bitter thoughts.

“Take this to the Owlery,” Snape said, holding out a piece of parchment. “Send it to the attention of Healer Thompson, St. Mungo’s. Then return here.” Snape paused. “No detours, Potter.”

Harry wended his way through the castle in search of an alcove where he could hide long enough to steal a peak at the missive that Snape had penned before taking it to the Owlery.

Healer Thompson:

At approximately 7pm this evening, I will be bringing a Hogwarts student to you for evaluation. He has been the unfortunate recipient of indecent attentions from a group of Muggle teenagers over the summer. Due to the delicate nature of this matter, I request that you refrain from asking him any unnecessary questions.

S. Snape

Harry let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the tremble in his hands lessening slightly.

“Find a suitable substitute for your appearance,” Snape said, throwing a magazine on the desk in front of Harry. 

Harry looked at the unmoving picture of a teenage girl on the front cover—a Muggle magazine, then. Gingerly, he picked it up, thumbing through it quickly in search of a teen about his age. He chose the first one he could find, a scowling young man with blond hair and dark eyes, holding a sword and shield, and dressed for some cinematic medieval battle.

Harry watched as Snape tapped the picture once and waved his wand while repeating an indecipherable incantation. Harry felt the air around him thicken and his vision distort momentarily. Then all was calm. Harry reached up tentatively and touched his scar—it was still there. Panicked, he looked at Snape.

“Certainly you know the difference between charms and potions, Potter,” Snape drawled. “Unlike polyjuice potion, a charm does not alter your physical appearance. It merely makes others see something that is not real.”

With a look of impatience, Snape conjured a mirror. Harry saw the face of the brooding Muggle actor from the magazine looking back at him. Relief swept through him.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace, followed promptly by Snape, into a private sitting room. In mere moments, a tall, portly wizard arrived. His gray hair was long and wavy, his face lined with age, a gold hoop dangling carelessly from one oversized earlobe. Yet for all of that, the man exuded a self-assuredness and competency that was both comforting and reassuring.

“Professor Snape,” the man said with an Australian accent.

“Healer Thompson,” Snape replied with a nod.

Harry stilled as Snape turned his gaze to him, raking him with a sardonic look. “I will wait here for you.”

At that, Harry followed the Healer through a door he hadn’t noticed before. Attached to the sitting room was another room. The furnishings were sparse; a desk, a couple of overstuffed chairs, and a window pane charmed to portray a starry night.

Harry looked around, distinctly uncomfortable and unsure of what would happen next.

“Have a seat, mate,” the healer said, a gentle smile on his face. Instead of sitting across from Harry at the desk, the healer chose the chair next to him. “I hear you’ve fallen into a bit of scuffle,” he remarked.

Harry nodded.

“Well, I must say, this isn’t the first time your head of house has brought students in your situation to my attention.”

Harry’s awareness sharpened. Beyond the fact that the healer thought he belonged to Slytherin house, Harry found it disturbing, and oddly comforting, that he was not alone in his predicament.

“So, here’s what we’ll do,” the Healer continued. “We can either get on with the examination straight away, or I can give you a potion we call Twilight Sleep.” The healer leaned forward, his expression open. “Am I correct in assuming that if you fell afoul of some Muggles, that you have some Muggle background?”

Harry nodded.

“Then you might compare this potion to one in which those Muggle dentists use when Muggles get their teeth pulled. You’ll still be awake, though groggy, and you’ll be able to follow basic directions, but you won’t remember any of it. Some people find that a comfort.”

Harry gnawed his lower lip. He had been dreading the examination since the moment Snape brought it up. The chance to avoid the degradation and humiliation of it was a huge weight off his chest.

“I’ll take the potion.”

“Good choice, mate.” The healer’s kind smile and knowing eyes put Harry at ease. He drank the proffered potion in one long swallow and waited for oblivion to claim his senses.