When Snape entered the hospital wing on the following afternoon, he found that Potter and Pomfrey were not alone. Draco and Granger were sitting on the boy’s bed, Draco leaning lazily against the footboard while Granger sat cross-legged between the two Slytherins. The girl had her wand out and waved it in an elegant circle, obviously demonstrating.

“Swish and flick, see? Professor Flitwick said it’s all about coordinating the words and the movement, so when you say “Wingardium” you need to do the swish, and start with “Leviosa” halfway through the flick, like this-”

She pointed her wand at a piece of parchment on the bed between them. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The parchment soared up as if carried by a sudden breeze. Granger watched it, beaming, before she turned to Potter. “See? It’s really easy. Professor Flitwick said we should start with small objects and then move on to things like bottles and hats when we’ve got better at it.”

There was a snort from Draco’s side of the bed. “Potter’s not going to waste his time doing homework, is he?”

Granger gave him a reproving look. “Harry doesn’t want to fall behind in class, right, Harry? Of course he’s going to practice!”

Potter looked from Granger to Draco, torn between listening to the girl and not losing face in front of the other boy.

“Besides,” Granger continued, pulling out a bag of sweets in a seemingly casual way, “I thought we could play a game. We levitate a chocolate frog each, and the person whose frog touches the ceiling first wins, and they get the other two frogs as well.”

Potter and Draco suddenly looked a lot more interested, and Snape found himself impressed with the girl’s cunning.

“But that’s not fair,” Draco complained. “You’re going to win anyway, Granger!”

“They’re her chocolate frogs,” Potter pointed out, and Granger smiled at him.

“If Draco doesn’t want to play, we can-”

“I’m playing,” Draco gave her an offended glare. “Give me one of those!”

Snape watched as the three children placed their chocolate frogs on the bed and tried to levitate them. Potter’s first attempts were rather unsuccessful; his chocolate frog kept rolling over instead of becoming airborne. Finally the boy lost his patience, snatched up the frog and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Harry!” Granger exclaimed. “That’s against the rules!”

“That one was too heavy,” Potter explained, quite unrepentant. “I’ll try another one.”

Shooting him a dirty look, Granger nevertheless placed another chocolate frog in front of the boy. “Like this,” she demonstrated the wand movement again. “Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa!”

The frog soared up, higher and higher, racing Draco’s frog and overtaking it a second or two before it touched the ceiling.

Draco pulled a face. “Told you, it’s not fair,” he muttered as Granger caught the two chocolate frogs on their way down.

“Let’s try again,” Granger said, unperturbed.

To Snape’s surprise, the two boys did as she said, and kept levitating their chocolate frogs until Draco’s finally reached the ceiling a second before Granger’s.

“Yes!” shouted Draco, punching the air. “Yes, I did it! I win!”

He grabbed the three frogs and stuffed them in his mouth. Granger watched him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, while Potter looked sulky.

“I’m never gonna win with you two playing,” he said. “It’s a stupid spell, anyway.”

Snape expected Granger to launch into a lecture at once, but she didn’t. “Why don’t you and Draco play a few rounds,” she suggested. “I’ll be right back.”

She slid off the bed and headed towards the bathroom in the back of the infirmary. The two Slytherin boys placed two new frogs on the bed and raised their wands at the same time.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

This time, Potter’s frog soared up quite easily, gaining speed until it was level with Draco’s.

“Eat my dust, Potter,” Draco grinned, speeding up his frog, but it was only a second before Potter’s frog caught up with it again.

“You wish, Malfoy.”

The two frogs became faster and faster, racing side by side until they both collided with the ceiling and exploded. A rain of chocolate crumbs came down on the bed, sprinkling the two boys, who stared at the ceiling and then at each other. There was a moment’s silence before they both broke into laughter. Snape could not remember seeing Potter laugh before.

“Honestly,” said Granger, who had just returned from the loo. “Boys.”

Snape noticed that she looked quite satisfied.

Abandoning their game, the children began to share the chocolate frogs between them, and Snape thought it was safe to make his presence known. Clearing his throat, he moved away from the door and stepped towards Potter’s bed.

“Professor!” Granger quickly gathered up the chocolate frogs. “We… we were practicing Wingardium Leviosa, and…”

“No explanations are required, Miss Granger,” Snape said, taking pity on the girl. “I asked you to keep Mr. Potter updated on class work, did I not?”

“Y-yes, sir,” she said. “Harry’s been doing great.”

“So I see,” Snape replied, narrowing his eyes at Potter, who was in the process of slipping a chocolate frog under his pillow. “Mr. Potter, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey won’t appreciate chocolate stains all over her bed linen.”

Potter blushed and retrieved the chocolate frog. Snape sighed. This was a child who had fended for himself from a very young age. It would be hard work to convince the boy that his survival strategies were no longer needed.

“I levitated my frog even faster than Hermione, Uncle Sev,” Draco boasted. Snape noticed that it was ‘Hermione’ now, no longer ‘Granger’ or ‘Mudblood’. Chocolate frogs worked wonders on an eleven-year-old’s attitude. “I’ll so beat the Gryffindorks in Charms class next week.”

“Hermione’s still better than you,” Potter said. “She wins all the time.”

Draco scowled. “So? I can always practice, can’t I?”

“Excellence in wandwork and humility before his peers are the signs of a great wizard, Draco,” Snape admonished lightly.

“Rowena Ravenclaw said that,” Granger added.

Snape inclined his head. “Indeed, Miss Granger. Two points to Ravenclaw. And Mr. Potter, five points to Slytherin for mastering the levitation spell.”

Draco gave Potter an appreciative grin, while Granger smiled happily. Pretending not to notice either, Snape glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, I believe study time is about to begin. Draco, Miss Granger, I suggest you go collect your books now. You don’t want to be late.”

“But Uncle Sev-”

“You were planning to practice for Charms class, weren’t you, Draco?”

His godson pulled a face. “Yeah, but-”

“But nothing. You may visit Mr. Potter after dinner.”

“Professor…” Potter began, fiddling with his blankets. “Can… can Draco and Hermione come to Hogsmeade with us?”

“Hogsmeade?” Snape repeated, momentarily puzzled.

“You promised,” Potter said, looking up at him. “You said if I let you do that Extro moria spell you’d take me to see Hogsmeade.”

Snape sighed, remembering his promise to the boy. Of course Harry wouldn’t forget about it. He noticed Draco and the girl watching him breathlessly. By asking him in their presence, Potter gave Snape little choice but to agree. A very Slytherin maneuver, proving once again that James Potter’s son had been Sorted into the right House.

“It’s Extraho memoriam,” Snape corrected, then wished he hadn’t when he saw the look on Granger’s face. No doubt the girl would go straight to the library to look up the spell. “And yes, Potter, I suppose Draco and Miss Granger may come along – on the condition that you’ll be on your best behavior,” he added sternly, mainly to his two snakes. He wasn’t really worried about the little Ravenclaw.

Draco whooped. “We get to go to Hogsmeade! I’ll write to Father for extra pocket money-”

“Thanks, Harry,” Granger smiled at her friend. “I’d love to see Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade: A History says it’s the only all-wizarding settlement in Britain, and-”

“Can we go to Zonko’s, Uncle Sev?” Draco asked. “And the Shrieking Shack? You don’t have to if you’re scared,” he added to Granger, who scowled at him.

“I’m not scared! Just because I’m a girl-”

Snape held up a hand, and both children fell silent. “I believe I told you to not to be late for study time, and it is now two minutes to four o’clock. I don’t think taking tardy students on a trip outside the castle would set the right example-”

He watched with a smirk as the two first-years dashed for the door, nearly tripping over their robes in their haste not to be late.

“See you, Potter!” – “Bye, Harry!”

Both Snape and Harry winced as the door slammed shut behind them.

“Sometimes I believe a permanent Silencing Charm on all first-year students would be a great relief for the rest of us,” he muttered, and noticed that Potter seemed to torn between smiling and scowling.

“We’re not that loud.”

“Believe me, Mr. Potter, a dormitory full of sugar-hyped first-years is capable of producing sounds similar to a flock of banshees.”

At this, Potter did smile. “Then why do you go into the dormitories, sir?” For a moment, he seemed taken aback by his own daring, giving his professor a nervous look.

Snape smirked. “Because, Mr. Potter, I’d rather bear the unholy noise every now and then rather than know that my students’ quarters are slowly turning into a pigsty.”

Potter looked guilty at that, and Snape knew that he was thinking of the surprise inspection last week, when he and his four roommates had received a lecture for not picking up after themselves.

Which reminded Snape of the reason why he had come here. Potter was not going to take this well.

He sat down on the chair next to the boy’s bed. “Mr. Potter… there are some arrangements we need to discuss.”

Potter hung his head. “I know,” he said softly.

Snape frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re kicking me out, aren’t you?” It was said with quiet resignation. “I thought you would. Now that you… now that you know about Him.”

“Potter… Harry.” Snape sighed. “Headmaster Dumbledore has no intention of expelling you because of what we learned. Nor would I approve of such a decision. It is not your fault.”

“But I’m… dangerous,” the boy whispered. “You saw what I did… to Dudley. He needed five stitches.”

“Tell me, Harry…” Snape leaned forward, waiting until the boy had looked up again. “Did your family ever take you to a doctor after you went to see that… man?”

Potter understood immediately what he was referring to; Snape could see it in his face. The boy looked away, his lips trembling. “I… no…”

“Were you treated at all? You sustained severe injuries that day. Did anyone make sure your wounds were seen to?” Perhaps it wasn’t the most gentle way to address the issue, but the time for beating around the bush was past. This boy needed help, and he needed it now.

Potter swallowed. “A-aunt Petunia… she put some… some cream on my back…”

“Were you sick?” Snape pressed on.

“I… kind of… I don’t remember… I think so…”

Snape didn’t need to hear the details. He could imagine very well what had happened, after the Dursleys had decided that a visit to the hospital would arouse too many suspicions. He could see the boy on his cot in the cupboard, feverish and sick, with nothing to relieve the pain from the infected burns. If not for a wizarding child’s innate healing magic, Harry would have died, more likely than not. And then? They wouldn’t have taken the boy’s abused body to an undertaker. Would Lily’s son have ended up buried next to the garden shed like some deceased pet?

Snape pushed the morbid thought aside. There would be time to dwell on these things later, perhaps discuss them with Dumbledore when the moment had come to deal with the Dursleys. As for now, he needed to concentrate on the boy.

“Listen to me, Mr. Potter,” he said, waiting until the boy had looked up again before he continued. “It is true that your… condition carries certain risks, but the Headmaster and I are fully capable of dealing with them. As for your relatives, they had no right to treat you like they did. It is a crime both in their and our world to abuse and neglect a child.”

“But… I’m…” Potter looked away.

“You’re what?”

“You know.” The boy’s voice was nearly inaudible.

“No, I do not,” Snape said rather sharply. “I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me.”

“Evil,” Potter whispered. “Because of my, you know. My magic.”

He said the word as if referring to something filthy. Snape closed his eyes and sighed. Never underestimate a good brain-washing. After almost two months at Hogwarts, the boy still firmly believed the idiocies his relatives had drilled into him. And of course, no one had noticed that the Boy-Who-Lived feared his own kind… who he was.

“Potter,” Snape said. “Am I evil?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “N-no, sir.”

“I am a powerful wizard,” Snape continued. “Headmaster Dumbledore is the greatest wizard alive. Professor McGonagall is approached from witches and wizards all over the country to share her knowledge of transfiguration magic. Your friend Hermione Granger is probably the most gifted young witch to attend Hogwarts in a decade. Tell me, if your magic makes you evil, what does it make us?”

“But…” Potter shook his head, desperately trying to make sense of a world suddenly turned on its head.

“What would that priest have done to your friend Hermione, had she been taken to his place by her family?”

Potter stared at him, utterly shocked.

“Would you approve of such a thing? Would you say it’s acceptable to torture her because of her magic?”

“No!” The boy’s voice took on a firmer tone, almost angry. “Hermione’s… she’s… you wouldn’t let them do that to her!”

Snape blinked. That had been unexpected. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I would not allow such a thing to be done to Miss Granger. Nor will I allow you to be hurt in such a manner ever again. You did not deserve what they did to you.”

The boy said nothing, merely looked at Snape.

“Do you understand, Harry? You are not evil. It was not your fault.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Well, it was a start. Snape sighed, wishing Albus were here. Now was the time to hug the boy, tell him that it would be alright, but Snape did not, as a habit, hug his students. Then again, Harry was not the kind of child craving hugs and cuddles; he was far too distrustful of adults to want that kind of physical closeness. Yes, he had allowed Pomfrey to comfort him, but he had disentangled himself fairly quickly, putting a secure distance between himself and the woman.

Security. It seemed a key concept in dealing with the boy; the very thing that might allow Harry to build some sort of trust with an adult. Security and consistency. Far more than hugs and cuddles, these were things Snape could actually provide.

“As I mentioned before, there are some arrangements we need to discuss,” he said. “The Headmaster and I feel that it would not be prudent for you to remain in your dormitory until we’ve found a way to… address your condition.”

Harry frowned. “You mean, so He doesn’t hurt Draco and the others?”

“Yes,” Snape said simply. “And you should be with an adult so He does not harm you.”

“So where am I going to stay? Here?” Harry didn’t seem very keen on the prospect.

Snape sighed. Here we go. “No. We decided that it would be best for you to stay in my quarters for the time being.”

He had expected many things – protests, tears, tantrums, sulky acceptance – anything but the simple nod he got from the boy. “Yes sir.”

“You may use your common room during the day and eat with your classmates at the House Table, as well as attend lessons. At curfew, I expect you to come down to my quarters and remain there until the following morning, do you understand?”

Harry nodded, plucking at his sheets. “Sir…”

“Yes?”

“What about… what if He comes back? What if He hurts you?”

Snape looked at the boy. Another unexpected question, but then, perhaps it shouldn’t have been. “You need not concern yourself about my safety. I assure you I’m fully capable of defending myself, and Professor Dumbledore has made sure I’ll have backup if there’s an… incident.”

It seemed ludicrous, taking safety measures against an eleven-year-old boy; but then, of course, it wasn’t Harry that he would need to be protected from.

The boy glanced up, looking suddenly concerned. Snape tensed; perhaps the prospect of living with his Head of House had only just sunk in, and there would be teary protests, after all.

“Sir?”

“What is it, Potter?”

“Can – can Hedwig come, too? She’ll be real quiet, I promise.”

Trust a first-year to prioritize having their pet around right after questions of life and death. “I suppose so.”

“Thank you, sir.” With that, Harry grabbed the left-over chocolate frog from his bedside table, settled back on his pillow and began to unwrap his sweet. “I bet Hogsmeade’s really cool,” he said with a seemingly nonchalant air. “Isn’t it, sir?”

“Yes, yes, Potter, I haven’t forgotten about our agreement. You may stop dropping not-so-subtle hints.”

Harry smiled.