As Severus Snape stood in the Headmaster's office, waiting for the other perpetrators of the assault on Potter to make their way up the winding stone staircase, he realized he was still utterly and entirely furious.

Slytherin students had been assaulted before, of course, this was nothing new. He'd dealt with countless black eyes, bloody noses, and even the occasional broken bone. He knew how the rest of the school felt about his Snakes.

Potter, however...Severus shook his head. The look on his face still terrified Weasley, who gulped and sank lower in his chair, his hair still a particularly noxious green hue.

If Severus had not stumbled across the boy on his way back to his quarters, the first year would have died. Of that, Severus had no doubt. He'd been a broken mess, lying there in a small puddle of his own blood, his breath choked and laborious. His skin had been ice cold to the touch. The dungeons were chilly even in the height of summer.

Severus's dark eyes touched upon the quivering Weasley boy once more, and another spark of anger uncoiled in his stomach. How terrible for you, he thought in as scathing a way as he could muster, nearly throwing up when you had the gall to participate in assaulting another student.

Even Minerva still looked furious and Severus had no doubt that she'd be contacting Weasley's parents herself. That was bound to be an interesting conversation, he thought and mentally snorted. Minerva was a terror when she wanted to be. Of course, then again, so was Molly Weasley, even if she did have an irrational soft spot for her two youngest children.

Severus didn't like Potter. He'd been fully prepared to hate the boy when he'd first realized that this was the year the Boy Who Lived came to Hogwarts. He'd expected the boy would end up in Gryffindor, just like his parents, and essentially be a carbon copy of his father. When Potter had been Sorted into his House instead, he'd nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. James Potter must be rolling over in his grave.

But as time passed, Severus slowly began to realize that Harry was nothing like his father. Granted, he wasn't all that much like his mother, either, much as it pained him to realize it. He was quiet. Almost sullen at times, but those moments were so brief, the Potions Master wasn't sure if he'd imagined them or not. Smart, too, the boy was definitely smart. He had a surprisingly hard core of strength tucked inside that scrawny body. He'd need it, Severus reflected, considering he was the Boy Who Lived. If the Headmaster was correct (and although it pained him, he had to admit the man usually was), Voldemort would be back. And when he was...well, there was no way he would be leaving Potter alone.

And apparently, there were those kept within the walls of Hogwarts who believed Potter should be as dead as their erstwhile master. That slow burn of fury both concerned and delighted Severus. He had no doubt Albus would disapprove, but then again...Dumbledore looked almost as furious as he did. That twinkle in his eyes almost never went out and when it did, well, you wanted to get out of the way as quickly as possible. Not for nothing was Albus the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared, after all.

A hesitant knock sounded on the door and Severus straightened properly, letting his anger show through. The first of the miscreants had arrived. His smile was vicious. This would be...very interesting.

Harry was more confused than he'd ever been in his life. All of his year mates refused to leave him alone, clustering around him even in the dormitories and glaring fiercely at any upper year who so much as looked in his direction. His mind was strangely cloudy, and it felt like someone had turned the radio up in there too loud and left it on a crush of static. He couldn't understand any of his own thoughts.

From the low buzz of conversation around him, he deduced that Ronald Weasley had been in on the attack earlier in the year. That hurt. It made his stomach ache and churn, and it made the backs of his eyes want to fill up with tears. He didn't let them fall though. He wasn't a baby. Still. He'd known Ron didn't like him anymore. Especially after he'd said such mean things in the Great Hall. But he didn't think the boy would hurt him. Would almost kill him. That was far too much to comprehend and so for the time being, Harry didn't even try. He just sat there, surrounded by Blaise and Draco and Teddy Nott and Pansy and Millie, and tried to finish his Potions homework. It was extremely slow going.

Some interminable time later, their Head of House appeared in the common room with a flourish of his robes. He looked even more somber than usual, and Harry felt his stomach lurch as the professor's dark eyes locked with his own.

"As we are all well aware, considering the events of lunch, the conspirators who assaulted Harry Potter earlier in the month have been caught," Professor Snape announced. "With the exception of Ronald Weasley, they have all been expelled."

The buzz of shock that went around the room made Harry's ears burn as he hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. Expelled? They'd all been expelled? That sounded horribly harsh, and yet...it was right, wasn't it? Considering what had happened? Madam Pomfrey still dragged him into the Hospital Wing for another check-up every time she saw him, because of that night. Half the professors regarded him like he might break at any moment. Because of that night. He'd almost died and the worst part was, he still hadn't the slightest what would make anybody attack him like that. After all, well, he was the Boy Who Lived, he supposed, but he was a first year. He didn't even know how he'd defeated Voldemort, although he still thought it had all been a horrible mistake. His parents had probably been the ones to do it, not him. What could a baby do against the worst Dark Lord since Grindelwald?

"Potter, come with me," Snape commanded and Harry realized that the Potions Master's speech was over. He stumbled to his feet, gathering up his things, and shambling his way over. Snape's eyes raked over him, probably checking him once more for injuries, and he followed.

This time, Snape did not take him back to his office, perhaps because of what had occurred in the corridor so close by. Instead, he took the boy to a small, rather crowded room deeper in the dungeons. It had a warm, cozy feel though that Harry rather liked. It was a nice sort of room. Although he wouldn't want to have to dust it, he thought, standing in the doorway and looking around at all the knick knacks that cluttered each surface. It would be hell to dust.

"Sit, Potter," Snape invited. His voice was not precisely warm, but it wasn't as cold as it usually was, either, something Harry found odd. He perched nervously on an over-stuffed green velvet chair, feeling a bit like he'd been placed in a giant dollhouse. His feet didn't touch the floor.

"I wanted to explain why Weasley has not been expelled privately," Snape said. He kept folding and re-folding his hands, a nervous gesture that Harry found himself focusing on. Could a professor be nervous? "Because he is a first year and did not stay to assist in all of it, the Headmaster believes that he can be reformed. He has, however, been suspended for two weeks and upon return, will have four months' of detention. He is very lucky he is not also facing sanction from the Ministry of Magic, or a trip to Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Harry asked, his voice squeaking. He hadn't meant to talk, but the unfamiliar word made him blurt out the question before he could stop it.

"It's the wizarding prison, Potter," Snape explained, surprisingly patient. "It is a highly unpleasant place, mostly due to the dementors who guard it, and before you ask, Potter, they are a type of magical creature that feeds on positive emotions. It is the reason Azkaban is so isolated. Three of your ex-classmates are now on their way to Azkaban as we speak, to be held there before trial. You may be asked to speak there, but because you are a child, it is more likely that I and Madam Pomfrey will be speaking about your injuries instead. Still, on the off chance, I and the Headmaster will be preparing you for what happens in a wizarding court."

Harry blinked and nodded, feeling too dazed to take it all in. Dementors? Wizard prison? A trial?

"Do-do they have to go there?" he asked, his stammer making him flush bright red. "I mean...it sounds awful, sir."

"Your concern is touching, Potter, but yes, it is standard procedure, particularly considering their age," Snape replied. "They will not face the Dementor's Kiss for this, but a few years in Azkaban will-be of assistance to them later in life, when it comes to following idiotic, criminal plans."

"The Dementor's Kiss?" Harry slouched down lower in his seat, biting his bottom lip anxiously at all the questions that kept spilling out. Granted, so far, Professor Snape didn't look angry at those questions. But he knew more than most how looks could be deceiving.

"It is the highest penalty paid, and as such, it is rarely used," Snape informed him. "It is called so because a dementor is capable of sucking a person's soul out through their mouth. The person will still be alive, but they are nothing but a husk. There is no recovery from the Dementor's Kiss."

Harry felt like he'd been plunged into a bucket of ice water. His skin kept crawling. There was a thing that coul suck out people's souls? For a moment, he envisioned this happening to Dudley, but he couldn't keep that up for long. Nasty as Dudley might be, he didn't deserve that. Harry wasn't sure anyone did, but he didn't want to speak up and disagree with the professor again.

"We will be having twice weekly sessions until the trial," Professor Snape continued, making Harry gawp at him. For a moment, the static in his head cleared and as clear as day, he heard, We have to see the git twice a week?! I don't get paid enough for that!

You don't get paid at all, Jay, stop that, an unfamiliar, slightly higher voice responded. Harry felt sick again. He'd thought the voices stopped a while ago. Apparently the stress was getting to him more than he thought, although he didn't dare confess any of this to his Head of House.

"Do you understand, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, suddenly frantic to get away in any way he could. It felt like the walls were closing in on him. Somehow, Professor Snape didn't notice any of his internal panic, and the meeting ended on a quite agreeable note.

Harry rushed out and was immediately sick in the nearest loo.