As the returning students filed into the Great Hall, Severus noticed two things.  Firstly, Draco Malfoy was surrounded by a group of Slytherins who were laughing uproariously as he pretended to swoon.  The second thing, much more irritating than the first, was that one-third of the Golden Trio was missing.  A scowl knit his features as he glared down at the bushy- and red-haired Gryffindors.  He realized a moment later that McGonagall had disappeared as well, which could only mean one thing.  Only Potter could get into trouble this early in the term.  He smirked slightly at the idea; clearly, last year’s misadventures had not quelled the brat’s troublemaking tendencies.  For a moment, he toyed with the idea of going to see what had happened, but before he could decide, Minerva reappeared and headed outside to collect the first years.  Severus Snape was nothing if not patient; he’d interrogate the infernal women during the feast.

Harry let out a relieved breath when Madame Pomfrey stepped back, disapproval the dominant expression on her face.  If she had noticed anything, she’d be a whole lot more upset.  He had tried to talk his way out of getting a checkup at all, which hadn’t worked, but at least his reassurances that he’d already gotten chocolate from the new Defense professor had convinced her to do only a quick, cursory check, which hadn’t showed any of his more embarrassing injuries.  The last thing he needed was for someone to see what he was hiding.  

He walked down the hall, a bit quicker than normal, until he could turn a corner and be free of the mediwitch’s piercing gaze.  He ducked into a bathroom, took a quick look around, and let the glamours fall.  Even he couldn’t help but grimace at the sight:  both eyes blackened, a gash in his left cheek, bruises mottling every visible inch of skin, all on top of a skeletal, emaciated frame.  I really do look like a freak now.  He sighed, pointing his wand towards his face.  Harry tried not to think about what Hermione would say.  Okay, so hiding the signs wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was better than letting people know.  How would everyone feel if they knew that the Boy Who Lived, the boy who defeated the world’s most powerful Dark wizard as a baby, couldn’t even protect himself from an obese Muggle?  Harry nodded firmly to himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before casting the Concealment Charm, much more thoroughly than the one before.  He glanced over the new image of himself.  It still wasn’t perfect - the colors were a bit too bright, a common mistake in those types of spells - but at least the bruises didn’t show and his bones weren’t sticking out.  He was too tired to try again, so it would have to do.  With one final check his reflection, half expecting the glamour not to stay up for a moment, he hurried down the halls, determined not to miss the Welcoming Feast for the second year in a row.

If there was one thing Severus did well, it was notice the small details.  So when the Brat who Lived ducked into the Great Hall, his eyes narrowed at the sight of an admittedly somewhat competent Concealment Charm covering the boy, leaving him wondering at the cause.  Did Prince Potter have a bad hair day?  Oh wait, he sneered mentally, that's an everyday occurence.  Just like his father.  He put it out of his mind, instead turning to McGonagall.  

“So, care to explain why Mr. Potter was late for the feast?” he asked slyly, just as the boy slid in next to his redheaded friend.

Minerva gave him a look that was oddly reminiscent of the one he had sent her way earlier that day.  “The boy had a run-in with the Dementors when they searched the train, not that I can see how it matters to you,” she said coolly, turning back to her food.  

Severus hid his somewhat sarcastic astonishment - what, no broken rules yet this year? - with a sneer aimed directly at the boy in question.  Mr. Weasley glanced up at that moment and, noticing the unwelcome eyes on them, elbowed Potter in the side to get his attention.  Potter jumped and stared up at the Potions professor, but turned away after a few moments and returned to picking at his food.  Severus hid his smirk behind his goblet as he took a drink.  He was in a rather better mood already.

It took all of Harry’s self-control not to cry out when Ron’s elbow jarred his broken rib, and glanced up at his friend before dully staring at the sneering git who was watching them.  He didn’t have the strength to maintain the look for long, though, and continued pushing the food around his plate.  He had eaten nothing but a piece of bread and a few mouthfuls of various other dishes, and already he felt a bit ill; as usual, it would take a few weeks of eating properly before he could finish a full plate.  

“Look at the greasy git,” Ron was still complaining.  “We haven’t even done anything wrong and he’s watching us like a hawk.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong yet,” Hermione remarked, a bit teasingly.  Ron reddened and stuffed his mouth with food to avoid having to respond, and Harry chuckled, but stopped himself after a moment; laughing hurt his ribs.  

Hermione then turned to Harry, smiling.  “So, how was your summer?”  

“Um...”

“Yeah, how was it?  Were your relatives being gits like last year?”

Harry shook his head, a bit frantically.  “Nah, everything was cool this year.  Nothing really happened.  What about you, Hermione?  Did you travel or anything?”

Hermione gave him an odd look, but then her eyes lit up as she began telling the two boys about her summer.  Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief.  That was a bit too close for comfort.  Okay, way too close.  Please don't ask again, Hermione, please... 

Finally, the dishes cleared, and the students began to clear out of the hall.  Severus stood, mentally preparing himself to give his usual speech to the new first years, and swept out of the Great Hall, letting his robes billow a bit more than normal.  He could feel the eyes of the other teachers and the last few students on him, and he smirked; wouldn’t they like to know how he did it!  Not that he’d ever let anyone know that it was just the cut of his robes.  That would ruin all the fun.

“Harry, what’s the matter?”

“You alright, mate?”

“Ron, I think you should go get Madame Pomfrey--”

“No,” Harry gasped, gritting his teeth.  “It’s, uh, just a headache.  It’ll pass, don’t worry about it.”  He bit back a curse; there was no way anybody could be stupid enough to fall for that clumsy excuse after he collapsed against a wall, grabbing his side and hissing in pain.  

Ron hesitated, but then nodded and turned away, though he kept watching his friend.

Hermione looked irritated, and Harry, whose heart had risen a bit at the idea that at least Ron believed the lie, visibly deflated.  “Funny, I could’ve sworn you were clutching your side, Harry.”  

“Just forget it!”  Harry stormed ahead, leaving behind his friends, who stared after him, concern etched into both their faces.  When he had almost made it to Gryffindor Tower, he hesitated, then headed in another direction, unwilling to face his Housemates after what Ron and Hermione had just witnessed.  He eventually found his way to an unused classroom and sat down in a corner on the floor inside.  

It wasn't as if he had completely lied to his friends, he told himself; he did have a headache, even if most of his pain was in his ribs.  Harry stretched out a bit, wincing in pain, trying to ease the agony.  Funny, he hadn’t felt this tired after the Feast, though he’d been nearly ready to pass out while he was eating.  Adrenaline, maybe?  He didn’t have much time to consider that, though, as the room seemed to spin around him and he instinctively closed his eyes to steady himself, which made it worse, so he opened them again.  He shook his head to clear it, but only succeeded in making himself dizzier.  His vision began to fade, and he swore silently.  No, no falling asleep, gotta stay awake, gotta get back to the Tower...

Severus stalked out of the Slytherin Common Room, rather pleased with how it had gone.  He had only seen two first-year students who looked like they might need to see Madame Pomfrey within the next day or so, and he had given the prefects specific instructions to help a few of the younger students catch up with the work they would miss in their extended stays in the Hospital Wing.  He felt a fierce surge of pride for his Snakes; they were the strongest house, they were united, they--

“Severus!”

They have to deal with idiots like you.  Sneering, he turned to face a flushed McGonagall.  “Yes, Minerva?” he drawled.  

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mr. Potter, have you?”  The look on her face told him that she’d rather be asking anyone but him, which amused Severus greatly.

“Potter causing trouble already, hm?”  He scowled, but more for show than anything; he’d love to catch the Gryffindor Golden Boy in the middle of some mischief and give him detention on his first day back.  

“I don’t know,” she replied, her lips thinning with displeasure at having to admit such a thing to him.  “Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger simply informed me that he had gone off on his own and that he wasn’t in the tower.  Filius and Pomona haven’t seen him.”  She glared at Severus, who let out a long-suffering sigh that was only partially due to having to look for the brat.  Note to self:  Don’t glare at her so often.  She’s getting too good at mimicking my looks.  Those are my trademark glares!  Even in his own mind, he sounded a bit like a petulant child.

“Very well,” he drawled, forcing more sarcasm than most people would think possible into those two words.  “I’ll look for the brat.”  While he did have important things to do for his Slytherins, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to catch Potter up to no good.  He turned and billowed away, smirking as he imagined her expression.  

As he headed up the stairs out of the dungeons, he pulled out his wand and laid it on his hand.  Really, Minerva, this would be so much simpler if you had an ounce of intelligence.  

“Point me Harry Potter,” he muttered to his wand, which immediately spun to point down the hall to the left.  He repeated the spell at every junction, until finally, the wand pointed him back the way he had come.  He walked slowly back the way he’d come, opening each door along the way.  He poked his head into one near the middle of the hallway and glanced around, almost missing the figure collapsed in the corner.  Severus started to leave, then what he had seen registered in his mind.  He set his face in his most threatening scowl and slammed the door open, storming inside.  

“Potter!”

But the boy didn’t react at all, not to the sound of his Professor’s voice or the door smacking against the wall.  He stalked furiously over to where Potter seemed to be asleep and shook him roughly.  “Wake up, boy,” he spat venomously, but there was still no apparent response.  Suddenly, he recalled his earlier observations, and a thought struck him like a lightning bolt-- but surely it couldn’t be...

He looked down at the unconscious Boy-Who-Lived for a few more seconds before holding out his wand.

“Finite Incantatem.”