”I can’t believe my Duddy is big enough to start school! Seems like only yesterday he was in diapers …” aunt Petunia sniffed sentimentally.

Harry resisted the urge to point out that it wasn’t really that long ago since Dudley had stopped wearing diapers at night.

“That’s my boy! Going to take everybody by storm, aren’t you, Dudley?” uncle Vernon agreed with his wife.

Aunt Petunia was hugging Dudley, looking like she was going to cry. Uncle Vernon was somewhat less emotional but held a camera in his hands, with which he snapped photos of Dudley in his school uniform.

Harry stood silently next to the car, watching his family. Not a word was said about it being his first day at school too. It hurt a little, somewhere in his chest, to realize that they really didn’t care about him. All that mattered were Dudley and his accomplishments.

Even so he had hoped that perhaps they would be a little bit happy for him when he started school. Aunt Petunia had even brought him his own school uniform! She had complained about how expensive it was and what a waste of money it was to spend them on Harry, but she had bought two sets of the uniform none the less.

Of course, for Dudley she had bought a lot more. Not only five sets of the school uniform but also two pairs of new, shiny black shoes to go with them, a new book bag to carry his new books and pencils in, a new lunch box with some cartoon Dudley liked and plenty of other things. For some reason Dudley starting school had also warranted a bunch of new toys as well.

“Time to get going, Petunia dear. Won’t do for Dudders to be late for his first day of school,” uncle Vernon cautioned.

“Aw, my big Dudders …”

Now aunt Petunia really was crying as she hugged Dudley tightly. Harry made a face and looked away. He often wished that his aunt would love him like she loved Dudley, but sometimes he almost felt sorry for his cousin. Like now.

Finally uncle Vernon managed to get everyone into the car. Harry sat quietly in the back seat, chewing on his bottom lip. He was a big boy now, starting school and everything, but if he were to be honest with himself he was a bit frightened too. What if the other kids didn’t like him? What if Harry got lost? What if the teachers didn’t like him? What if everyone thought Harry was stupid, just like his relatives so often told him he was?

“My little boy is starting school!” aunt Petunia exclaimed, not for the first time, with tears in her eyes.

“’m not little mom!” Dudley complained.

“Of course not. Silly me. You’re a big boy Dudley. Starting school already …” She sniffed to herself, wiping away a few tears.

“A big boy he is,” uncle Vernon agreed. “Dudley will make us proud for sure! Show everyone what a wonderful and bright little boy he is!”

“An’ Piers will be there too!” Dudley added excitedly.

“And you’ll make many other friends too, son!” uncle Vernon agreed.

Harry shifted a little in his seat, trying to discretely wipe some dirt off of his shoes. They had been Dudleys before they became Harry’s, just like most of Harry’s belongings. The only reason he had gotten a new school uniform was because Dudley did not have an old one of those. Though Harry suspected that eventually he would be given Dudleys old, outgrown uniforms rather than getting new ones.

What if he didn’t like school after all? What if he really was stupid and the teacher decided that Harry was too dumb to go to school?

“Here we are,” uncle Vernon said as he made a turn into the school parking lot. Already there were plenty of other parents and children there.

A new fear struck Harry when he saw all of the other children. There were so many of them, and most were bigger than Harry or even Dudley. Suddenly he was convinced that it was a mistake for him to start school. Everyone would hate him. Not even his aunt and uncle liked him, why would any of these people like him? No, Harry ought to stay at home in his cupboard instead. His stomach ached a little and he suddenly felt like throwing up.

Uncle Vernon dropped them off before driving to work. Aunt Petunia would follow Dudley all the way to the classroom and stay with him for the first hour or so. Dudley held onto his mother’s hand as they made their way towards the classroom, apparently growing a bit uncertain at seeing all of the other children. Then he spotted Piers.

“Piers!” he shouted, waving to the other boy. “Piers, over here!”

Piers came running, his mother following a little behind.

“Dudley! Thought you’d be late!”

“Mom was crying!”

Harry backed away a little, in case the two boys would decide they wanted start the day off by hunting Harry around the school. Luckily the school bell rang just then and they all hurried towards the classroom.

Much to Harry’s surprise the day passed by with relative ease. By the time his aunt left most of the fear was gone and Harry was eagerly looking forward to school. Ms. Summers, the teacher, seemed very nice and so did the other children in his class. There were a lot of children of course, almost thirty, but most were looking nervous like Harry and smiling shyly. Perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

At recess Harry became nervous again, but another boy approached him and wondered if Harry wanted to play on the swings with him. Harry was happy, until Dudley and Piers came and chased them away. Dudley even pushed Harry away so roughly that he fell into some bushes and tore his new trousers. The tear was not very big but Harry knew that his aunt would be furious when she noticed.

By the end of the day aunt Petunia was waiting outside to walk them home. Harry was grateful, even if his aunt hadn’t so much as smiled at him. Secretly he had been a little afraid that they wouldn’t bother to pick him up after school. It was stupid of course, as Dudley was in the same class as Harry, but they never had made much of a secret of how much they disliked Harry.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

As it turned out, Harry’s fear of the other kids disliking him was unfounded. During the following weeks he began to befriend several of his classmates, even as he was shy and hesitant to approach the other children for play.

No, the real problem was Dudley. For five years Dudley had been the centre of the universe, as far as his parents were concerned. Everything Dudley wanted he got, without fail. Sometimes it took some time but in the end he always got what he wanted. And he never had to share with anyone.

Harry on the other hand rarely got anything, and whenever he got something it was probably Dudley’s hand me downs when Dudley had gotten new and better things. To Dudley, this were how things were supposed to be. His freaky cousin were not supposed to get anything that Dudley wanted or didn’t have.

So when Harry slowly started to befriend new children Dudley didn’t like it.

Being the biggest and strongest boy in class Dudley had initially been the target of some mean comments. However being the biggest and strongest had its advantages too and Dudley had soon made a reputation for himself as someone not to be messed with. Vernon Dursley was terribly proud of this, of course, even as they got several calls from the school about Dudley’s unruly behaviour.

“Youthful energy,” aunt Petunia called it

“Boy’s will be boys,” uncle Vernon agreed.

They both agreed that it was the school that was at fault, for not being able to understand that their Dudders needed an outlet for his energy. Their son was shaping up to be a leader, and the school was complaining about it!

Harry had started out shy and not very outspoken, but as the days and weeks wore on he became braver and more comfortable in his new surroundings. It was not unusual for him to spend recess alone, simply forgotten by his classmates, but neither was it unusual for one of them to spot him sitting on his own and come ask him to join them in some game. This was what Dudley found unnatural and wrong; that the freak would have friends to play with.  So he set about correcting that.

If Harry were playing on the swings Dudley would come there and chase him and the other children away, so that he and his little gang of boys could play there instead. When Harry and some other children were playing ball Dudley and his gang would come steal the ball and then refuse to give it back.

Harry accepted all this, because he was used to Dudley ruining any fun Harry had. It was still nice to have friends that wanted to play with him, even if their playing kept being interrupted. The best thing was that not everyone was frightened enough to stop wanting to play with him either.

At least, that was the case until one day in mid-October.

Harry and a few other children were playing on the climbing frame. There was a slide too, which Harry particularly enjoyed. He almost felt like he was flying whenever he went down it.

“Move! This is ours now!” Dudley suddenly said, interrupting their playing.

Behind him stood the group of boys that had become Dudley’s friends; Piers, Dennis, Gordon and Malcom. They were all either strong or big, or a combination thereof, which was enough reason to obey their command, as far as Harry was concerned. However, apparently one of the other boys did not agree.

“It’s a climbing frame,” a boy named Philip argued back. “It’s for everyone, you can’t say it’s yours!”

Harry stopped mid-step, having already begun to move away.

“Can too!” Piers was quick to reply.

“Yeah, I just did,” Dudley added.

“But it’s not fair!” another boy stated.

“Yeah, I’m going to tell the teacher!” Philip said.

Harry, having lived with Dudley for the past four years, knew immediately that it was a mistake to threaten Dudley.

“Oh yeah?” Dudley asked, stepping up to the smaller boy. “You going to tell on me? Like a little mama’s boy?”

With that he shoved the other boy backwards. Philip stumbled and fell on his back, to the laughter of Dudley and his friends.

“Go!” Malcom ordered. “We are playing here now!”

“You can’t do that!” Philip objected, getting up and facing Dudley again.

Privately Harry thought Philip must be crazy, though he was also a little impressed by the other boy’s courage. Harry rarely stood up to Dudley, and only when he thought he might get away with it, which was even rarer.

“Can too!” Dudley objected loudly, raising his hands as if to push the other boy again.

“No you can’t!”

“Can too!”

With that Dudley, again, pushed the smaller boy. This time Philip fell and hit his head on the ground. Even so Dudley looked like he might move to kick the other boy too. Harry couldn’t help what he did next.

“Stop it!” he shouted, getting between Dudley and Philip.

“You stop it freak!” Dudley immediately replied, pushing Harry too.

Harry stumbled backwards and fell over Philip.

“What is going on here?”

Abruptly Dudley stepped away as Ms. Summers came up to them, not looking very pleased with what she had seen.

“Dudley’s being mean!” Philip immediately told their teacher. “He’s not letting us play at the climbing frame.”

“No I wasn’t!” Dudley defended himself. “We were just playing. Right guys?”

Malcolm, Dennis, Piers and Gordon immediately agreed, nodding innocently.

“Right Harry?” Piers added.

His breath caught in his throat as he was suddenly the target of both Dudley’s and Piers’ glares. Their eyes promised revenge later if he did not agree with them. But Philip was looking at him too, clearly expecting him to tell the truth about what had happened. And Harry had never had friends before.

“No,” he whispered. “We were playing, until Dudley and the others came and pushed Philip.”

Ms. Summers scolded Dudley and his friends, telling them that they had to share and be nice on the playground, before she took Harry and Philip to the nurse.  Philip got a patch for the bump in his head. Harry had gotten a few bruises on his arms when he fell but nothing serious, so the nurse just sent him away with an admonishment to be careful the next time.

All in all it might not have been so bad, had Dudley not told his parents. Aunt Petunia was furious with Harry and sent him straight to his cupboard when they got home. That in itself might have been just as well, because that meant Dudley couldn’t get to him either. The worst part came when uncle Vernon came home and found out about what had happened.

As punishment for what he had done Harry was not given any dinner for the rest of the week and had to help out at the house, doing chores.

The next day at school Dudley and his friends spent recess hunting Harry. When they finally caught him they proceeded to drag him into the bathroom and dip his head into the toilet. They thought it was immensely fun and appropriate for having told on them the previous day.

What was perhaps worse though was that they started going after the other children too, whenever they played with Harry. Dudley got in some trouble of course, for bullying his classmates, but in the end he got what he wanted. No one wanted to play with Harry any longer. Why bother, when doing so meant subjecting themselves to name-calling, being pushed around or even get their head dipped in the toilet?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Amanda Summers sighed as she stopped in front the seat that belonged to Harry Potter. The boy, always a shy one, had grown increasingly quiet the past few months. She knew of course of the bullying, and she had tried to talk to his guardians about it but they kept waving it all away.

“Your homework, Harry?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t have it. Sorry.”

Always the “sorry”. It sounded sincere enough but this was the fifth time the boy had not turned in his homework. Something was wrong. She could feel it, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Was he simply lazy and didn’t care to do the work? Or was there something else going on, which she did not see?

“Stay after class, please,” she told him.

After he had nodded his understanding she moved on, collecting the remaining sheets of homework. She noticed, as the class continued, that the boy fidgeted nervously in his chair. His cousin was more unruly than usual too, hardly focusing at the work at all. Perhaps the two were somehow connected? If so, she would have to have another talk with the Dursleys about their nephew.

“Harry,” she called him up to her desk when class ended and the other students hurried out to their awaiting parents.

Quietly he came to stand before her, looking so entirely miserable that she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Sit down,” she said, bringing a chair out for him to sit on. “How are you, Harry?”

The boy merely shrugged. Amanda remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Fine,” he mumbled at last.

“Do you like school?” she asked then, when he did not say anything else.

“Yeah, ‘course I do.” The reply was quick and honest.

“Then why don’t you turn in our homework?”

This time she just got a shrug. She supressed a sigh and decided to change her approach a little.

“Is it too hard for you? The work, I mean? Do you need more help with it?”

“No,” Harry shook his head.

“Do you have somewhere at home where you can sit down in peace and quiet and just focus on your homework? Does your aunt and uncle help you when you need it?”

A shrug. Not a yes and not a no. Amanda hummed to herself, thinking. Something didn’t feel right about this boy. She knew of course that his parents were dead and that he lived with his aunt and uncle, but there was something more to it than that. And she was starting to get a bad feeling in her chest, an unfounded and hard-to-identify fear growing within her.

“How are things at home, Harry?”

Yet another shrug. Harry refused to meet her eyes.

“Do your cousin bully you at home too?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Harry shook his head. He still didn’t meet her eyes though, and his posture suggested that it wasn’t entirely true.

“Do you want me to talk to your aunt and uncle? About your cousin?”

“No!” The reply was immediate and without hesitation. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just not used to school yet, that’s all.”

She wasn’t convinced but she had no proof, not even any real idea of what was wrong exactly, so she chose to let it pass. This time.

“Alright. Do try and turn in your homework the next time though, ok?”

“I will.”

“Alright then. You may leave.”

“Thank you, Ms. Summers.”

Obviously relieved to be allowed to leave he went for his book bag. Amanda sighed to herself. It could just be as he said, that he still wasn’t used to school. For some children it took more time to settle into the new routine and surroundings than for others. Or it could be something else. For the time being she would just have to wait and watch.

Speaking of watching …

“Harry?” she called out, just as he was about to leave the room.

“Yes, Ms. Summers?” the boy turned around in the door, looking questioningly at his teacher.

“Did you hurt your foot?”

“What? No, Ms. Summers. I didn’t.”

Amanda stood, looking closer on the once again nervous boy. She was certain she had seen him limp. Nothing very obvious, but still.

“Take a few steps forward for me, will you?” she asked him.

He looked like he wanted to say no but hesitated instead, before finally taking a few steps back into the room. Indeed there was a slight limp to his left foot.

“You did hurt your foot!” she exclaimed.

“’s not so bad,” he objected.

“Have you been to a doctor?” she wondered. “Or the school nurse?”

The boy shook his head, lowering his gaze.

“I’m not angry with you Harry,” she exclaimed gently. “Just worried.”

Before she let him leave that day she brought him to the nurse’s office. After a quick examination the ankle turned out to be lightly sprained. The nurse wrapped it up in an elastic wrap and cautioned the boy to take it easy for a couple of days, until the pain was gone.

All in all it was nothing exceptional, nothing that clearly stood out with Harry Potter. Amanda had seen children struggle to get accustomed to school, especially when they were being bullied, and little boys did tend to get small injuries every once in a while. Even so she kept a careful eye on the little boy from then on.

Which was why she noticed that he sometimes came to school with bruises on his arms or his legs; bruises that may or may not be from roughhousing with his playmates, if he had any, or just bumping into something. When asked about it Harry always had an excuse; he fell, he bumped into something, he was tired and clumsy in the mornings so he often had little accidents and he tended to bruise easily. All plausible explanations.

Even so, she wrote down the dates every time she noticed a new bruise hiding underneath the school uniform, and the given excuse too. In case it was something more. Her list continued to grow with worrying speed.

Strangely enough it was not until after she had noticed the bruises that she started noticing other things too. Like how Dudley Dursley always wore the simple, black shoes recommended by the school, while Harry wore far more worn trainers. Or how Harry’s uniform quickly started looking more worn than Dudley’s. The bad feeling in her stomach grew as she noticed these things.

Then there were the lunches. How she had not noticed immediately was something she would never figure out, but when she did notice the bad feeling in her stomach grew into a big, heavy lump. Dudley had a lunchbox with pictures of superheroes on it, and it always contained plenty of food and snacks. Harry’s on the other hand was plain white and always contained a single sandwich. No snacks, no fruits, not even anything to drink. Harry would usually have a cup of water from the tap with his sandwich.

Then came the event that finally convinced her that something was definitely wrong in the Dursley household and she had better alert the authorities.

By then it was almost December and she was once again gathering in the homework. She came to a halt in front of Harry’s desk, noticing that he was not meeting her eyes.

“Harry?” she asked. “Do you have your homework?”

“No Ms. Summers. I’m sorry.”

She sighed. She had lost count of how many times this had happened. And whenever he did turn his homework in it was not very good, looking like it had been done in a haste or without really understanding anything.

“Alright then. Maybe next week.”

She moved on, collecting homework sheets, until she reached Dudley Dursley’s seat. The boy was smiling widely and looking very pleased with himself.

“Your homework, Dudley?”

“Here.”

She glanced down on the paper he handed her. It didn’t take her many seconds to recognise the wobbly, uncertain hand writing.

“Is this yours, Dudley?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, beaming with pride.

“You did this all by yourself?” she clarified.

“Yeah, ‘course I did!”

It was time she had a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Amanda decided.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

“I’m so glad you could come, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,” Amanda greeted the couple with a smile, shaking their hands.

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Dursley replied, looking like he would rather be at work than at his son’s and nephew’s school at the moment.

“What did you want to talk to us about?” Mrs. Dursley inquired.

“Please do sit down.”

Mrs. Dursley gracefully sank down in one of the small student chairs, while her husband eyed his chair suspiciously and then went to get a full-sized one. Once they both were seated Amanda finally started speaking, a smile plastered to her face.

“You have two very promising boys,” she began.

Seeing their facial expressions change was almost comical had the situation not been so serious, she thought to herself. First there were pride, of course, before the expressions changed to weariness and then horror before melting into polite, guarded smiles.

“We are very proud of our Dudley,” Mrs. Dursley agreed. “And Harry too, of course, even if he isn’t really ours.”

“You should be proud of them,” Amanda agreed. “And I think it is safe to call Harry yours too, considering how long he has been living with you. He came to you after his parents died when he was just one, if I’m not mistaken?”

Both Dursleys looked like they had just tasted a lemon but were trying to hide it.

“Yes. They died in a car crash; were driving while drunk,” Mr. Dursley said.

“So Harry is basically your son too then,” Amanda smiled, pretending not to notice how bothered the assumption made them both look. “Which makes me wonder, how do they get along at home?”

The Dursleys glanced at each other before Petunia Dursley took the lead, smiling innocently.

“Well, they roughhouse and have fights like all boys of course, but I’d say they get along just fine.”

A lie, judging from what Amanda had seen of the boys at school.

“I see. Do they help each other out with homework and such?”

Mrs. Dursley hesitated briefly while her husband looked like he wanted to make some scathing remark.

“Well, sometimes. Though I have to say that Harry never does appear very interested in doing his homework. I try to encourage him of course but he can be very challenging sometimes, you know.”

Excuses. Even an attempt at blaming Harry. Amanda supressed a sigh. How had she not seen all of this before?

“Why do you ask?” Mr. Dursley wanted to know.

“Because Harry has often failed to turn in his homework; last time was just earlier this week. And Dudley tried to turn this in as his homework.”

Amanda placed Dudley’s latest homework on the table on front of them. The Dursley’s eyed it questioningly.

“What’s is the problem?” Mrs. Dursley asked.

“Looks perfectly fine if you ask me,” Mr. Dursley added.

“Oh, it’s nothing particularly especial about the homework in itself. Just that it’s written in Harry’s handwriting, not Dudley’s.”

Once again the Durseys glanced at each other.

“Well, as I said, sometimes they do their homework together,” Mrs. Dursley tried to explain. “And children that age, isn’t it hard to tell one boy’s hand writing from another one’s?”

No, it wasn’t. Dudley’s writing was large and sloppy, Harry’s was smaller and more focused. Naturally both of them were still learning their letters and as such neither were very steady at their hands, but there was still a noticeable difference. Not to mention that the name at the top of the homework was clearly written in another hand than the rest of the homework, which would have made her suspicious even if she hadn’t recognized Harry’s writing.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,” Amanda said, putting on a serious face. “Your son tried to turn in Harry’s homework as his own. That’s cheating. Furthermore he often disturbs the class and bothers the other children at recess.”

“Youthful energy!” Mr. Dursley exclaimed. “Our Dudley has a lot of it, that’s all!”

“Dudders would never harm anyone!” Mrs. Dursley agreed.

Amanda could feel a headache building.

“He tried to cheat. This is first grade homework! Don’t you see how serious this is?”

“So he gets into some mischief once in a while, what’s wrong with that?” Mr. Dursley asked. “Boys will be boys, and all that.”

“What about Harry then, who probably worked hard on his homework?”

“It’s all bickering between the two, Dudley would never do anything to actually harm anyone,” Mrs. Dursley defended her son. “Harry, on the other hand, can be downright mean sometimes, I’ll tell you. Now just the other day he ruined my potted plants that I keep in the parlour! Just for the sake of it he did it!”

That afternoon, after she had said a polite but not very genuine goodbye to the Dursleys, Amanda Summers made a call to social services. The knot in her stomach had grown unbearably heavy and she wondered to herself why she had not told anyone about her suspicions earlier. Her heart ached when she thought about little Harry Potter, having to live with those people who was obviously delusional and neglecting him, if not to say abusing him.

The following morning Harry did not show up for school. Amanda asked Dudley about it, but he just claimed that his cousin was ill. Amanda then made a 999-call, fearing the worst.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry did not like having to stay home from school but he was nonetheless immensely grateful that he got to do just that. He didn’t think that he’d be able to sit down in class anyway, not after last night. Uncle Vernon had been so very, very angry at him after talking to Ms. Summers. It was the first time his uncle had used the belt on him.

Of course, that was not the primary reason that he got to stay at home. No, that would be the bruises in his face. When they came home from the meeting at school uncle Vernon had immediately slapped Harry across the side of his head. Harry had not been prepared and had fallen and hit his eye, thus the black eye he was sporting.

Before uncle Vernon had been able to do something more though aunt Petunia had hissed something about how “that awful woman” already suspected something. Harry wasn’t sure what that meant but apparently uncle Vernon did, because he removed the belt from his pants and proceeded to give Harry the worst beating he had ever had. On his back and tights, where they would be easy to hide beneath his trousers.

So once Dudley had left for school Harry laid face down on his cot in the cupboard. Aunt Petunia had locked him in while she followed Dudley to school and had not bothered to unlock the door when she got home again. Harry supposed he would have to ask her to eventually, when he needed to use the bathroom. For now he was just grateful to get some rest.

He thought it was sometime just before lunch when there was a knock on the door. Not his door, of course, but the front door of the house. Harry startled awake, having almost fallen asleep where he lay. He could hear his aunt pass by as she went to answer the door.

“Yes?” he could hear her say. “Is there something I could help you with?”

“Good day ma’am, we’re from the police, and this is Ms. Robson from social services, department of children’s welfare. May we come in for a bit?”

The police was at the door? Suddenly Harry definitely felt like throwing up. Had he been so bad the Dursleys had decided to have the police arrest him and throw him in jail, just like they had threatened to so many times before? He didn’t even know what he had done!

“Of course. Is there a problem?”

“We received a tip that a Harry Potter was not at school today and might not be faring well in this home.”

“That’s outrageous! Who said something like that?”

“That is not important right now. If you contact the station they’ll be happy to give you all information we have.”

“I have the right to know who’s making up such outrageous lies about me!”

Harry winced and quietly sat up on his knees. Aunt Petunia would not be happy about this. No doubt Harry would get blamed, once again, like he usually was.

“Yes you do,” the police-voice agreed. “If you contact the station they will be happy to help you out, as I don’t have all the information at hand.”

“I will! I won’t stand for people spreading lies about me!”

“That is understandable. Now, is the boy in question at home?”

Oh, no. Aunt Petunia had let him stay at home because she did not want others to see him like this. She would not be pleased at all if the police demanded to see him. Perhaps her anger would even warrant another spanking. Harry didn’t think he could take another one right now. The mere thought of it made him want to cry.

“He’s resting. Wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

“May we see him please?”

“No, you may not. As I said, he’s resting.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to insist, ma’am.”

Harry could almost feel his aunt’s anger, despite the door that separated him from the hallway where she and the unwelcome visitors were standing.

“Very well,” aunt Petunia finally said, her voice clipped and short in a way that meant she was very displeased but trying to control herself. “Please wait in the parlour while I wake him up.”

“Thank you ma’am, but we’re fine as we are. Please just bring the boy here, or bring us to him if he’s too weak to get out of bed.”

He could barely breathe for the tension in the air. Aunt Petunia was very, very, very displeased, which did not bode well for Harry later when the police had left. He fervently wished that he would just wake up and find that this was just a bad dream.

“Fine. He’s right here.”

With those words the lock was undone and the door to Harry’s cupboard was undone. His aunt gave him one look and he knew immediately that he had been wrong about his aunt’s mood. She was not just displeased, she was furious!

Slowly Harry stood up and got out, turning to face the visitors. There were two male constables in uniform and a woman in grey suit.

“Hello Harry,” the woman greeted him. “Why were you in the cupboard?”

“He likes it in there,” aunt Petunia immediately answered. “Thinks it’s cosy or something.”

“I see. Would you mind if I talked to Harry alone for a moment?”

“Yes I would! I’m his guardian!”

“If you don’t mind ma’am, we have some questions we’d like to ask as well. Perhaps in the kitchen?” one of the constables interjected.

Reluctantly aunt Petunia allowed herself to be led into the kitchen while Harry was taken by the hand and led into the parlour. The woman sat down with him on the sofa and smiled kindly at him. Harry could not help but wince as his but made contact with the sofa, never mind how soft it was.

“My name is Jane Robson. What’s yours?” she asked.

Harry thought this was a strange question as she had already referred to him by his name earlier. Then again, this whole situation was strange. Aunt Petunia was very angry and it didn’t seem like she was very happy about the police being there. Perhaps they weren’t there to arrest Harry.

“I’m Harry,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Harry!” she shook his hand, which felt strange but made Harry smile a little none the less.

“I work with social services, at the department for children’s welfare. Do you know what that mean?”

“No,” Harry admitted, shaking his head.

“Well, basically it’s my job to make sure that mummies and daddies treat their children nicely.”

“I don’t have a mom or dad,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, so I heard. You live with your aunt and uncle, right?”

“Yeah.”

 “And are they nice to you?” Jane Robson wondered.

“Yeah,” Harry lied, well aware that his aunt was in the other room. He could even hear her raising her voice as she became more and more upset with the constables. 

“They never hit you or make you go to bed hungry or anything like that?” Ms. Robson continued. 

“No,” Harry shook his head.

“Are you sure? They never do things to you that you don’t like?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Alright. Would you mind telling me how you got those bruises?”

Not knowing what to say to that Harry just shrugged. He was pretty sure that he could not tell her the truth, or his aunt and uncle would be terribly angry with him. Harry didn’t want to make them even angrier than they were.

“How did you hurt your eye?”

“I fell.”

“Tell me about it, please.”

Since Harry didn’t know what his aunt and uncle wanted him to say he just shrugged, not planning on saying anything more. However Ms. Robson just remained silent, looking at Harry with kind, gentle eyes.

“I was running an’ I stumbled on the carpet,” he lied, at last.

“I see. Do you often stumble on the carpet?”

“Sometimes,” Harry shrugged again. “I’m clumsy.”

“Are you sure about that, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry lied again, his voice growing smaller. He didn’t like lying.

From the kitchen he could hear aunt Petunia yelling at the constables. Words like “lies” and “ungrateful freak” were repeated several times.

“Harry,” Ms. Robson said. “Would you mind coming to the doctor with me?”

Even though it sounded like a question Harry got the feeling that it really wasn’t. Adults tended to make decisions anyway, without bothering to ask him.

“Ok,” Harry agreed, assuming that this was one of those times when he didn’t really have a choice.

Judging from how loud his aunt was getting anything would be better than staying at home, even if they did end up throwing him in jail afterwards. Besides, Ms. Robson didn’t look like she was going to let Harry go to jail.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

“ … I got a call from social services in Surrey. They said they’d removed Harry from his aunt’s care and now they wondered if I was able to take him in,” Joseph Evans explained. “Turns out my daughter hadn’t taken very well care of him.”

He turned the tap off and reached for the brush, starting to clean the plates. Severus watched man’s back, noticing how stiff it was.

“A teacher had gotten suspicious about it all and alerted the authorities. By the time they came to see the boy he had been badly beaten. They took him to a doctor of course but there really wasn’t any doubt about it. They took him away the same day, and two days later he came to live with me. I couldn’t very well refuse, could I?”

The plates were done and put away to dry, so he moved on to the glasses and the cutlery they had used. A soft clinking sound filled the kitchen.

“Of course, I should have noticed that something was wrong. But with Daisy being ill all the time we didn’t really have the opportunity to visit Petunia and her husband. And they in turn were of course busy raising the boys. So I didn’t think very much about it. Not until I got that call.”

It was obvious that talking about it pained the old man, but Severus thought he might also detect a tone of relief at being able to talk to someone about it.

“Of course, now afterwards there are a thousand little things that I have thought of that should have stood out to me then. But I never would have believed that my little girl could do something like that.”

He sighed, letting the water out of the sink and drying his hands on a nearby towel before he turned to face Severus.

“I ask myself every day what I did wrong. I tried to be a fair father, I loved my daughters equally, but the situation was just so strange! Lily was a witch and Petunia wasn’t, and we had to see one of our little girls go off to boarding school to learn magic while the other remained here with us.”

He sat down at the table with Severus, looking old and tired like never before.

“I don’t think Petunia ever got over that. She wanted so badly to be a witch too. We tried to show her that we loved her just as much as we loved Lily but I don’t think she was ever quite convinced. And as a result she was never able to love or even care much for Harry.”

“I don’t think you ought to blame yourself for what happened,” Severus pointed out. “Petunia is an adult and made her own choices.”

Although she had not been very pleasant even as a child, from what little Severus had seen, she very well could have changed and become a better person as an adult. But instead she appeared to have focused on the bitterness of her childhood and let her frustrations go out over a young child.

Not quite unlike what Severus had done, he thought to himself. After the break up with Lily things had really started going wrong for him, although he hadn’t realised so at the time. No, he had chosen to dive headfirst into the unknown waters, longing to find a new purpose with his life. Instead it had led to Lily’s death and her son becoming an orphan.

“Perhaps not,” Joseph agreed, “but I can’t really help it either. I try to make up for it by taking care of Harry to the best of my abilities.”

Atonement, Severus thought to himself. That was something he thought he understood. When he found out exactly how wrong his decisions had led him he had turned to Dumbledore and done everything in his power to make things right again. It hadn’t been enough. Lily had still died. And here her father was, making atonement for a situation that was a consequence of Severus’ mistakes.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly.

“No problem.”

Perhaps it was that he was feeling sentimental, being in this place that had once seemed like heaven to him, or perhaps it had something to do with finding an unexpected connection between himself and Harry Potter, but before he knew it Severus found himself saying;

“If there is anything I can do, just let me know.”

“Thank you, Severus, but I expect you have enough to deal with at the moment anyway.”

“How so?”

“I heard about your father’s death and I assumed you were in town to take care of the house.”

Once again, Joseph had apparently read Severus like an open book. He wondered vaguely how the man did that. Not even Dumbledore could read him that easily, and he was one of the most powerful wizards alive.

“I know that your father was far from perfect, Severus, but I am sorry about your loss. He was your father after all.”

From anyone else Severus would have waved the words aside but coming from Joseph, who knew at least partially of what had been going on in the Snape household, the words held more meaning than that.

“Thank you,” Severus said, meaning it.

Soon thereafter he left the house, heading back towards his childhood home with his mind full of thoughts.