Green eyes blinked open although their owner did not make any great movement right away. Instead, the child looked about the large room in wonder burgeoning on fear. Where was he? How did he get here? The last he remembered-

Then, the child was in motion, slipping from the bed and running to the large double doors. Grasping a handle, the boy gave a tug, but the door didn't budge. He tried the other with the same result. In frustrated determination, the eight-year-old attempted to force it open in vain, stilling when a sound drew his wide-eyed attention towards a room at the far end of the open ward.

By the time Poppy emerged from her office a minute later, there was no sign of the child. The mediwitch gave a quiet sigh. She might have been more concerned had she not noticed the door to the linen cabinet was slightly ajar.

But a moment more had passed before the infirmary door had opened from the outside to admit the black-robed form of Severus Snape. The young man carried a small crate with him, carrying vials of a nutrient potion he'd spent the bulk of the morning brewing. Noticing the mediwitch standing in the middle of the ward, Severus' pace slowed a bit as he cast his gaze around the room.

“The boy?” he questioned, turning back to the woman with a raised brow.

Poppy reached out to accept the crate, nodding towards the cabinet. “He woke a bit sooner than any of us anticipated,” she answered.

“I see,” said the man.

Quietly, though careful to allow his steps to make some noise, the Potions Master walked over to the cabinet in question. At a glance, nothing within the cabinet had been disturbed, but upon second look, one of the stacks of blankets on the bottom shelf were a bit crooked. The boy must have removed the stack and then pulled it in after him. Crouching down, Severus rested a hand against the floor as he lowered his head down enough to determine that he could, in fact, see the child's knee between the stacks of linen.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus spoke in a quiet tone. Grabbing the stack of blankets, he pulled it from the cabinet and put it aside. He barely saw the child's feet disappearing behind the other stack. Giving a sigh, he continued, trying to make his voice sound soothing and inviting like the wolf's. “Mr. Potter, Harry, I know that you are in there. If you would be so kind as to come out, the medi – that is to say, the nurse would like to ensure that all your injuries have been healed.”

Harry had trembled fearfully when he heard the footsteps drawing close to his hiding spot, barely suppressing a gasp when the stack of linens had been pulled out. It took him a moment to realize that he recognized the voice. It was the one that belonged to the first man who had looked into his cupboard with a torch or some other light before the other man spoke to him. Remus, the second man had said his name was.

At the mention of his injuries, the little boy gingerly brought a hand to his left eye and was surprised that the area was no longer tender to the touch. A careful patting down revealed that his ribs felt better, as well. In fact, now that he thought of it, leaning his back against the wall didn't bother him, either.

“Lose something, Snape?”

Harry started, having missed somebody else entering the room outside of his hiding place.

“What do you think, Lupin?” the man who had had the torch drawled to the newcomer. The child imagined he could hear him rolling his eyes.

“Harry?” Remus' voice said his name.

Harry liked the way the man said his name, soft, like he was being careful with it. And he had known Harry's parents. Not that that was necessarily a good thing. His parents had been drunken good-for-nothings, after all. Besides, just because someone sounded nice, didn't mean that they were. His aunt had sometimes used a nice voice to get Harry to come to her, only to punish him when he did.

“It's okay to come out,” Remus continued. “No one is mad at you.”

The boy started for a different reason, eyes growing wide. How had he known?

“Remember that I promised we were bringing you to a safe place? This is it. You're in a place called Hogwarts. No one will hurt you here.” Remus couldn't see the funny face Harry made at the strange-sounding name. “Won't you please come out, Harry?”

Severus had stood to his feet again as Remus began talking to the boy. No need to be crouching without reason, after all. A small part of him felt resentful. He had little doubt that the wolf with his mellow tones would succeed in coaxing the child from his hiding place. Why would any child come to him when they could go to Remus bloody Lupin, instead?

Sure enough, there was movement from within the linen cabinet before a tousled black head of hair peeked out. “Very good, Harry,” Remus greeted the child with a smile, holding out a hand towards him. Green eyes gazed uncertainly at him before flitting to first Severus, then Poppy.

“Come, Mr. Potter,” Severus said when the boy made no further move. The child's attention snapped back to him. “Come sit on the bed so Madame Pomfrey can have another look at you, and then, I do believe there is breakfast to be found in the Great Hall.”

Remus let his hand fall to his side and gave the dark-haired man a look. No doubt, he felt the Potions Master was being too impatient. Well, Severus was not a patient man, now, was he? He certainly had no desire to spend the rest of the time until lunch trying to coax the child from a closet.

Finally, Harry emerged from the cabinet entirely and slowly stood to his feet. The hospital pajamas that had been put on him, spelled to fit by Poppy, somehow made him look even smaller than the over-sized garments they'd found him in. When he didn't move to sit on the bed, however, the dark-clothed man made an impatient sound and Harry tensed, but the man only held out his arms towards him.

Oh. Harry lifted his own arms to allow the man – Snape, he'd been called – to pick him up. The boy wondered that these people didn't seem to have any problem with touching him. Weren't they afraid his freakiness might rub off on them? Although, after the way they had disappeared from his relatives' house and reappeared somewhere else, maybe they were freaks, too.

Severus could not have said what had possessed him to pick up the child. He could have steered the boy towards the bed, or better yet, let the wolf deal with the brat. But, no. He had to go and pick up the bloody child and now found himself disconcerted by how little he weighed. In three strides, he reached the hospital bed, where he set the boy down again, staying near to keep him from falling – or jumping – off.

“Hello, Harry,” the mediwitch greeted the child with a smile, approaching him slowly. “Now, you won't remember me, but I was the one who healed your injuries when you were brought in last night. You may call me Poppy, or Madame. Are you feeling better than you did before, Harry?”

The child gazed at the woman for a moment before giving a wary nod. At this, the two men glanced at each other, sharing the same thought: the boy hadn't uttered a word since they'd found him.

“That's good. I'm glad to hear that,” Poppy told the boy, voice warm. If she had noticed the look exchanged between her colleagues, she gave it no acknowledgment just then. “Now, Harry, I would like to perform a brief exam on you, but I wish to do so in a way you might not be familiar with.”

Harry, who certainly had noticed the wordless exchange between the two wizards, returned his cautious gaze back to the woman in front of him, although his eyes remained diverted from her own. She seemed to have paused for some sort of response from him, so he gave another nod, his fingers playing with the hem of his pajama top. It looked new. Why had they given him new clothes to wear? Didn't they know freaks didn't deserve nice things?

Slowly, so that the boy could easily watch her movements, the mediwitch drew out her wand and held it out on her palms. The child flinched upon seeing the length of wood, and the three adults frowned at the implications. Nevertheless, the matron's tone remained unaffected as she continued.

“You see, Harry, this is my wand. I am a witch, so I am going to use magic to examine you, as I used magic to heal you...” She had intended to ask if the boy knew about magic, that he had it as well, but the child's eyes had grown wide in alarm and his breathing immediately sped up.

It was a trick, a trap! It had to be. He wasn't allowed to say that word, not even to think it. He knew it. He just knew he couldn't trust when adults used nice voices!

Not about to to just sit still when the woman clearly intended to use that stick to hit him, Harry scrambled back to escape over the far side of the bed. The dark-clothed man caught him before he could get very far, however, pinning Harry's arms to his sides as he struggled.

“Mr. Potter, I must insist that you calm yourself,” Severus addressed the boy. He shot a warning sneer at Remus when it seemed the other man was about to try and interfere. “Allow me to make a guess, Harry,” he went on, tone gentling, “your relatives didn't like that word, did they? Magic. You were punished if they even caught you thinking it. And anytime... Anytime something they couldn't explain happened, they blamed you. Is that right?”

Harry had stopped struggling as the man spoke, although he remained very tense. Turning his head, he stared at the man in surprise. It was as though the man knew exactly it was like with his relatives, although he had never seen him before the previous night.

“A response, if you would, Mr. Potter,” the Potions Master prompted. The boy hurriedly gave a jerky nod, which only made the man close his eyes. “And your words, Mr. Potter? You... You are able to speak, aren't you?”

There was a long silence in which everyone seemed to hold their breath.

“Y-yes,” Harry whispered, swallowing hard. “Yes, sir, it's just that-” He broke off, eyes fixing upon his hands.

Remus had let out an audible sigh of relief, as did Poppy, though hers was much quieter. Severus had opened his eyes again.

“It is just that what, Harry?” he asked, tone managing to sound kind in a way that would have left his students dumbstruck.

“It's better for freaks not to be seen or heard,” Harry murmured. The man's hands tightened on his arms, but not in a mean way. It was almost like he was trying to make him feel better. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it.

Severus drew in a slow breath and let it back out, recognizing the phrase the child had just quoted. If Petunia weren't already dead... “No freaks here, Mr. Potter,” he said. “Just us wizards and witches.” The child's head shot up in alarm, once more, and he gave his shoulders another comforting squeeze. “I am going to let you go, now. Please do not try to run again.”

Harry started to nod, then remembered the man's earlier directive to use his words. “Yes, sir.” As promised, he was then released. The boy shrugged his shoulders a few times, clearly having been a bit less than comfortable with the prolonged contact.

“Now, as I was saying, Harry,” Poppy picked up where she'd left off before inadvertently frightening the child. “I am going to use my wand to examine you. I will use it on Remus first, shall I?” She turned her wand upon Remus and cast the examination spell.

“I didn't feel a thing,” Remus declared with a reassuring smile once she was finished.

“Is it all right if I use the spell on you, now, Harry?” the mediwitch asked the child.

Harry chewed on his lip. He peered uncertainly up at her through his fringe while he picked at his fingers. Finally, he gave a small assenting nod. Then he shot a look over at the man called Snape, who still stood next to where he sat. “Yes, ma'am,” he spoke softly. The man gave him a nod and Remus smiled at him.

“Thank you, Harry,” Poppy said with a smile of her own. “This won't hurt a bit.” Lifting the funny stick – her wand – she waved it at him.

They had told him the truth. He didn't feel a thing.