The whole matter had rather spun into a terrible affair. Dumbledore had so far kept things quiet outside of Hogwarts but the students’ whispers, their talks, the looks and overall the frigid and painful atmosphere in every classroom meant that the Headmaster's efforts would soon be in vain.

Of course the source of the matter had to be Harry Potter. Severus Snape thought the universe would be appalled if some other acne covered teen took such drastic steps to gain even a little, and most certainly negative, attention. Bloody Potter was of course the source.

However, despite the age old sensation of seeing Potter once again make a desperate grab for whatever kind of fame he could, the matter was of a serious nature, he could at least tell that much from the way Pomona's eyes were red with crying, Filius’ usually perfect posture slumped, McGonagall’s lips pursed so tightly that they were a mere slash of pale flesh across her face. Every teacher who knew of the matter looked aged, one would think a student had died, but no, surely not. That, Severus would have known of.

The rest of the staff were in attendance, either curious or somber or even a few being bored.

“I'm afraid the matter at hand has drawn everyone away from the few minutes of respite you have during the day,” Albus started the meeting, voice low with grief.

Severus watched him intently. Surely a student hadn't died. No one said anything, even Sinistra didn’t grumble out a sarcastic comment as she was often wont to do.

Albus’ garb was a midnight blue with small silver pinpricks scattered across the fabric, for some reason it had a melancholy feel. Standing before staff, sequestered away from the students and grandeur of the great hall, Albus looked very old.

“I'm afraid an incident has occurred of a very grave nature, I wish to assure before speaking further on it that little is known aside from the words of a student, our priorities will be to settle the matter as discreetly as possible. I hope you will all stay focused on the important thing in the matter, a discovery of the truth.”

Albus paused again and Severus withheld a derisive sneer. The man was dragging it out, if he would just get on with it.

“One of our sixth years, Mr. Potter, has come under a very serious allegation. Mr. Zabini has accused Mr. Potter of making unwanted sexual advances on a first year student.”

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room. It was deathly silent. Severus realized why exactly Albus was so intent on discretion.

Potter had not amounted to what anyone had expected, from the first year he had been quiet and tremulous, as time went by he grew into a loner with poor social skills and held in derision by many of his classmates. He was initially appalling at all spell casting despite being a studious child, and it was only since the third year that the boy had started to do well at wand work.
Bullied, poorly dressed and seemingly perpetually distressed, by his sixth year the boy had no friends apart from another odd student by the name of Lovegood. Severus blamed the child, he was just like his father with the key difference being that the students of this generation no longer lauded the traits that had gotten the elder Potter friendship and school glory. The younger Potter was merely reaping the seeds he'd sown.

It didn't explain his stutter when yelled at, or his apparent meekness, it didn't explain his fear of teachers and the lack of social skills. Severus however was too prejudiced to see past the weak facade he'd conjured to obscure the boy’s true nature.

“We will be conducting an internal investigation until something conclusive can be determined.”

There was silence another moment.

“The ministry should be informed,” Slughorn stated, his sleepy morality roused but only enough for him to wish to sweep the problem away for someone else to answer to.

No one else supported the suggestion. Last year's imbroglio with the ministry and the eventual fall out had soured nearly every staff members’ desire to convene or draw aid from the ministry, last year though was precluded by frequent events where government meddling at the school had caused heartache and misery, from using it as a safety deposit box for the philosopher’s stone to posting dementors as watchguards, the ministry had indeed only created or aggravated problems.

“Mr. Zabini isn’t a first year though, and what evidence does he have?” Professor Burbage spoke up.

“I’m afraid the matter is too serious for us to disclaim his statement, also, I believe Mr. Zabini has proved himself an intelligent boy and one who has no past behavior of making such claims out of possible enmity.”

No, no indeed, Severus knew Blaise Zabini well enough to know that the boy would never say something of this nature unless it were true or if he were under great duress of emotion. Albus was quite right in his statement.

“Potter is a, strange, boy,” Filius said, hesitating on the word ‘strange’.

Strange was a good description, especially since the boy’s fourth year when Barty Crouch Jr., under the guise of Alastor Moody and with the distraction of the Triwizard tournament had fostered a relationship with the boy before ultimately torturing him extensively and handing him over to the Dark Lord. The boy had been changed from the event, and became even more withdrawn. No one was sure about how he escaped the graveyard where the event took place and it had taken a bottle of veritaserum to drag the truth from his lips.

Luckily little had been said, Viktor Krum had won the Triwizard tournament and Harry, unwilling to come forward in any way, had left the wizarding world in the dark. Few had been aware of Voldemort’s return until he’d made a decisive and devastating attack on the Ministry of Magic the year prior. Hundreds were killed and a statement of intent given. For being a Gryffindor, the Potter boy seemed to ultimately be a coward.

“That’s not fair, Filius,” Pomona broke in, one of the few teachers who continually tried to reach out to the boy.

“Yes, Professor Sprout is correct, strange is in no way a condemning trait,” Albus said.

A murmur grew among the staff members, but it died as Albus spoke again.

“I must ask Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey to aid me in the investigation. I would ask you all to help me keep this from becoming another tragedy. We’ve had far too many in these few years at Hogwarts and subject matter such as this can quickly become poisonous on a level unequal to the truth. Please remember, the most important thing is to determine the truth and provide aid to any who have been victims in this matter.”

Albus dismissed them after that, those he mentioned lingered.

“Ah, thank you so for your cooperation and help, this is not a trivial matter. I’m sure I don’t have to emphasize the importance of the task, if the events should take a certain turn all of you may be called as witnesses in a formal trial. I greatly hope that that is not the case.”

“Of course, Professor,” Poppy replied.

McGonagall dipped her head while Severus said nothing.

“I must ask you Poppy to conduct a physical and magical exam on Ms. Jemima Bell, the event is purported to have occurred yesterday and the sooner an exam is conducted the sooner we can come to a better understanding of the events. Ms. Bell will be waiting for you in the infirmary, she’ll be accompanied by her older sister Katie.”

Poppy gave a nod and left. There remained Severus and Minerva.

“Minerva, Mr. Potter is your student, and I was hoping you could keep an eye on him. He will need to be interviewed, a task I leave to Severus, but I wish you to be particularly vigilant.”

“Headmaster, this business, do you think there is any truth in Mr. Zabini’s claim?” Minerva’s voice was tight and struggling.

“I do not believe Harry capable of this, but every precaution must be taken and every possibility considered.”

Minerva managed a rough nod before turning and leaving.

“Severus,” Albus said, a great sigh issuing forth and the man looking sorely grieved.

“I will have you question all three students, consecutively, Mr. Zabini is available now. Mr. Potter right after and Ms. Bell as soon as Poppy has finished with her.”

Albus grew quiet, eyes wandering. Severus could feel though that his presence was still desired. He waited as patiently as he could in silence. Finally Albus turned to look at him. Severus was shocked to see the tears on the man’s face.

“I have neglected the boy, I’m afraid,” Albus grew silent, gaze more distant than ever, “I’ve let him suffer long enough that this might not be a mere trifle.”

Severus wondered, Albus was confessing in some small way. What had he let the boy suffer? It also shocked Severus that Albus actually thought that Potter could be capable of such a deed. Maybe the cruciatus under Crouch’s hand for so many hours had truly addled the boy’s mind. Severus grit his teeth and allowed a curt nod.

“I will interview Mr. Zabini,” he said.

Another moment passed.

“If Mr. Potter has done anything, I’m afraid I will not be able to speak for my reactions. Ms. Bell is my student,” Severus let the warning into his voice.

If Mr. Potter had done anything to Ms. Bell, Severus would more than kill the teenager.

“Severus,” Albus said half-heartedly, his remonstration useless as Severus was already leaving.


XxX


Blaise Zabini was fidgeting. Severus knew the boy as being poised and graceful, he rarely fidgeted. Good, the sixteen year old was uncomfortable.

“Mr. Zabini, this interview will be as long as necessary. I expect you to tell the whole truth and, because you are nearly of age and certain laws allow it, if you are willing to consent to the use of veritaserum I have it on hand. The use of veritaserum will be noted in the interview and it will help to strengthen the veracity of your statement.”

Severus of course omitted that it was not a foolproof potion and that though it might add some legitimacy to the boy’s formal statement, it wasn’t much. In truth Severus wished to ease his own mind, there was little chance that the boy had any natural resistance to the potion, it would clear a few things up while also adding pressure on the child. If he was lying he might hesitate to continue and might even possibly retract his statement.

“Of course professor, if it’s necessary, I’ll do it.”

Severus blinked. Blaise was very sure, the nervousness clarifying slightly so Snape saw it as an overwhelming resolve. Whatever the boy told him, it would be the truth.

“Then let us begin,” Severus said, flourishing his wand.

A paper appeared, a formal tool of documentation which would ensure Severus was unable to tamper with it, alongside it was a quill and a small curious device. All floated in midair to the left of the two.

“I will refrain from asking too many questions to avoid the possibility of biasing the witness’ statement, I will give little prompting in order to remain as unbiased as possible. The only thing I ask is that you give as detailed an account as possible. Do you swear that all statements you will make are in no way influenced by anything other than your desire to give witness?”

“Yes professor,” Blaise replied.

The quill was scratching away, recording.

“And you are here of your own free will, uninfluenced by any spell or other magical influence, and are you willing to submit yourself to testing to insure this is true?”

“Yes,” Blaise rubbed his hands anxiously on his pants.

Severus raised his wand to the device and it whirred before letting out a bright flash. Blaise blinked to regain his sight.

“I, Severus Snape, acting as overseer of this interview submit to all the entailed responsibilities of this position and acknowledge that I will be held in contempt of the law should I breach any conduct.”

The device let out another whir before continuing to hover sedately.

“And do you, Mr. Zabini, submit to the use of veritaserum for the whole of the interview?”

Blaise nodded, “yes.”

Severus summoned the small bottle before conjuring a small glass of water. He added three drops to it and handed it to the teenager. The boy drank it quickly and Severus vanished the cup.

“Please begin, Mr. Zabini.”

Blaise adjusted his position in the chair, took in a breath and began.

“I was on my way from Divination to Charms, this was yesterday October 3rd, maybe about two o’clock in the afternoon. Professor Trelawney let us out a little later than usual and we were holding class on the grounds so I took a shortcut so I wouldn’t be late.”

Blaise readjusted himself again, looking uncomfortable.

“I was on the second floor, passing the closed bathroom, you know, Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I heard crying and at first I thought it was just the ghost, crying like she usually does, but it sounded different. I-I went in and I saw Potter, with Bell, and I couldn’t see them very well but she was sitting down and he was crouched over her. She was crying, saying she didn’t want to do it and he was saying something but I couldn’t hear.”

Blaise fell silent, gaze dropping with shame from his professor’s.

“I-I would’ve done something, but I wasn’t sure. And then Bell got up after a little bit, Potter helped her and she was pulling her tights back up and when Potter saw me he got real pale and Bell blushed and, and,” Blaise stopped short.

“Bell left and I followed her, to make sure she was alright, but she didn’t want to talk to me and Potter looked so scared and worried.”

Blaise was finished.

Severus felt enraged, a cold fury circumventing his usual calm.

“Thank you, Mr. Zabini, you are free to go.”

Blaise stood up, rubbed his palms one final time on his pants and then stepped out of the room. Severus said nothing, fists clenched. He knew Potter was lazy, idle, useless, so many things, but he had never thought the boy so depraved.

Severus waved his wand, stilling the quill which was taking time as well. He did not banish it though since Mr. Potter would be entering soon enough.

Several minutes later there was a soft knock on the door.

“Enter,” Severus managed to spit out, still feeling as if he would explode.

Potter entered, bumbling, hands trembling and his eyes, as they ever were, wide with fear. The boy approached but he stopped a few feet away and said nothing.

“Sit,” Severus said, voice a low hiss.

The boy flinched, before nodding vigorously in assent and scrambling to the chair. He sat there, fingers clinging to the chair sides and the balls of his feet on the floor. The boy was hunched over like a frightened animal. The scene disgusted Severus.

“This is an interview, you will tell the complete and absolute truth, Mr. Potter, and you will omit no detail.”

The boy quivered under the oppressive tone. He was not a particularly tall boy, but he was painstakingly thin, hair unkempt and at times oily and unclean. His dress was always ragged unless he was in school uniform, clothing ill fitting, worn, and generally too big. He was always clutching his bag or his books to his chest, and if nothing was there to clutch, he kept his arms wrapped around his middle. The boy had a round face, but his skin seemed stretched tight over the bones and it gave him garish lines of contour which made him look hauntingly sick. Cowering like a dog he made a rather unimpressive figure.

“I have veritaserum which you may consent to using to help validate your statement.”

Severus levelled Potter with a condescending glare, one filled with malice and anger.

“Do you consent, Potter?” Severus bit out impatiently.

The boy startled, then shook his head ‘no’, looking afraid that his refusal would incite Severus to violence.

It nearly did. The refusal to use the veritaserum was surely a sign of the boy’s guilt. Severus’ stomach turned and he felt his hate for the boy, for the first time in six years, validated by a real crime.

“Very well,” Severus said, voice soft and deadly.

He proceeded to ask the necessary questions, waving his wand to start the interview process. Potter answered the questions, stuttering as he did. Finally the bulk of the interview started.

“You may begin your account, Potter,” Severus said.

Potter nodded.

“I w-was visiting, going to see, she ge-gets so lonely sometimes, I just,” Potter was floundering, fingers growing ever tighter on the chair.

He brought them up and began wrenching at them in agitation.

“She gets lonely, Myrtle, I just visit, sometimes, it’s not bad, is it? But she wasn’t there, there was a girl, a little one, she was crying and I was going to leave, I really was, I wouldn’t have bothered her if I’d known, but she was crying and I didn’t want her to,” Potter was blabbering.

“Potter,” Severus snapped, “continue.”

Potter’s mouth shut, he winced in pain as if he’d bit his tongue before moving from the abuse of his fingers to twisting at his robes. The boy was guilty, Severus knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

“She’d fallen and her hands, they were all ragged like when you trip and scuff them, and her knees were as well, and I felt so bad, there was a little blood and she was crying, I didn’t want her to cry. So, so I asked if she’d let me fix her knees and her hands, but she cried about her stockings being ripped so I said I could fix them and she didn’t believe me, that’s okay though, and I showed her I could, so she let me fix her stockings. And-and I fixed her hands and knees then, a boy was there but he left and I did too, I didn’t hurt her, I promise, I wouldn’t’ve, I wouldn’t,” Harry was once again blabbering and Severus saw no reason to continue to listen to this outrageous lie.

“That is all, Potter,” he said.

Waving his wand, he stopped the quill and then dispersed of them.

“I know you’re lying Potter, and I swear, I will not let you get away with what you’ve done to that girl,” Severus all but hissed.

Potter grew very pale, a look of confusion passing his face. Severus stood, towering over the teenager and relishing the apparent terror the boy was exuding.

“I’ve always known you were an inept, lazy being, incapable of most things, but this is the act of a monster, a depraved creature blighting the world. You are a worthless excuse of a wizard, Mr. Potter. Know that you will suffer.”

With that, Severus drew back. The boy scrambled from the seat in absolute fear, fleeing the room. Severus only felt a small bit of satisfaction as the door shut. He still needed to interview Ms. Bell and it was not something he believed he would be able to stomach.


XxX


Severus went to the Hospital Wing intent on speaking with Ms. Bell and finishing his duty in all of this to Albus. When it was over he had every intention of making sure that Potter saw the inside of Azkaban, that or he would be disposed of, to hell with You-Know-Who and the prophecy. If Potter was capable of a crime such as this than he was no good as a savior.

He entered to find Madame Pomfrey spelling one of the beds clean.

“Professor Snape,” she said in greeting.

Severus nodded to her.

“Where is Ms. Bell? I needed to conduct my interview with her.”

“I’ve sent her back to class, there isn’t much time left in the day. I told her to be back tomorrow to have the interview with you.”

Severus gave a nod, anger still bubbling in him.

“And the results?” He asked, already resigned to what they would say.

“Nothing, she is a healthy little girl and there were no signs of anything,” Poppy answered, adjusting a small flower pot next to the bedside.

In the wizarding world sexual abuse had a very adverse effect on a person’s magical core, research had been conducted by a Mrs. Kinneman Coor which showed that even cases of lesser severity had a serious and traceable impact. Poppy’s response that Ms. Bell had no change in her magical core took Severus by surprise.

“No binding spells, nothing?” Severus asked, a tad too intensely.

Poppy eyed him with a strange look.

“No, nothing at all. The only magic that had been done on her around that time was a healing spell on her hands and knees.”

Severus felt his anger knocked into by a terrible sense of confusion and self doubt. He dispelled it. Most likely Potter had beguiled the child, tricked her and somehow covered it up. Sweeping from the hospital wing he ignored Poppy’s parting words.


XxX


He heard the commotion before he saw it. There was screaming, students letting out small cries and the sound of what was inevitably a duel. He could also hear a girl’s voice spitting venom.

“I’ll kill you!”

Severus couldn’t place the voice but the girl’s conviction was so readily heard that he stormed forward with greater energy.

The scene he came upon was a gruesome one. A ring of students had gathered around two figures, but one figure was on the ground, too much blood staining them and the floor. The other figure was being held back by three other students. Severus’ recognized them both.

“I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!” The girl screamed, thrashing against her friends who were holding her back.

It was the elder Ms. Bell, a Gryffindor quidditch player in her seventh year and sister to Ms. Jemima Bell. Tears were coursing down her face and her wand was still in her hand.

It was Potter on the floor, adorned with blood and curled into a ball. His wand was not out and Ms. Bell had not been injured. Severus hesitated a moment too long and Katie had thrown her friends off, storming towards Potter. The cruciatus curse slipped from her lips and Severus responded just a moment too late.

Potter screamed, the curse lasting even as Severus violently disarmed the girl with a spell and quickly stunned her. It was McGonagall who arrived next, Potter’s screams piercing the air and so haunting and terrifying that some of the students paled or fled the scene.

Severus waved his wand, countering the curse which had been spoken with so much vehemence and emotion that it had lasted after the caster had been stunned.

“Severus,” McGonagall breathed, staring at the scene with wide eyes.

“If you would, Minerva,” Severus grit out gesturing at Katie Bell before brushing past her to see to Potter.

The boy was convulsing, overexposure to the cruciatus during his fourth year made him susceptible to worse symptoms. There was a deep gash across his chest and another across his thighs. He’d lost a lot of blood already and Severus feared for the boy’s life. Not if he had anything to say about it. The boy would answer for his crimes, but not like this.

Severus stopped the blood flow and cast the spell levicorpus. Potter’s body was suspended in air, arms askew and eyes blown wide. He was shaking, but seemed to be lost in his mind. It was a gruesome and shocking sight which affected everyone. One student, a second year, threw up.

Severus ignored the gawks and whispers as he swiftly headed for the Hospital Wing. Poppy had Ms. Bell there and was chatting amiably with the child. Both looked up at Severus. Poppy, as soon as she saw the body, stood up and flourished her wand. The curtains around the bed Ms. Bell was sitting on closed.

“Set him down here,” she said, escorting Severus to a private ward.

“Cruciatus and malignant, but non specific magic. Ms. Bell was intent,” Severus said as explanation.

A flash of sorrow and horror came over Poppy but it was quickly gone.

“Jemima is on the bed, if you'd be so kind to conduct your interview and escort her out. I've to see to Harry.”

Severus gave a nod of his head and left.

He approached the bed to find Jemima kicking her feet back and forth looking a bit anxious.

“Did someone get hurt in quidditch, it wasn't Katie was it?” She asked, looking worried.

“It was not your sister,” Severus assured.

Severus took a seat across from the girl.

“I need to ask you a few questions Ms. Bell.”

Jemima, reassured that her sister was safe from quidditch, smiled and gave a nod. She was a bright little first year, ambitious to no end as a Slytherin was likely to be, but her aspirations were noble, she was to be minister of magic someday and she wanted to save all the unicorns.

“It's about Mr. Potter,” Severus said, carefully watching Jemima.

She cocked her head, innocently expressing ignorance.

“Who's that?” She asked.

“The boy, Harry Potter, the one you met in the bathroom,” Severus prompted.

Jemima frowned in thought before her face lit up with remembrance.

“Oh! You mean Batty, that's what everyone calls him, Batty boy, or nutso, or weirdo, why do you want to know about him?” Jemima said, frowning.

“I just need to know what happened in the bathroom,” Severus said, trying to keep his tone even and not let the impatience he was feeling show.

“Oh, I was in there,” Jemima ducked her head, “hiding from Clara, she was chasing me and I'd fallen but then I remembered that no one uses that bathroom because of the weird ghost.”

Already Jemima was back to kicking her feet as if nothing was amiss.

“But Potter, why was he in there, what did he do?” Severus couldn't help the slight frustration which entered his tone.

“He fixed my hands and knees, and he fixed my favorite stockings, I had to take them off though, I didn't want him messing it up.”

Severus blinked, disbelieving. This couldn't be so. Thinking quickly, Severus considered a way to know for sure, a method which Potter most definitely wouldn't have the means of tampering with.

“Ms. Bell, would you do something for me?”

“Yes, Professor Snape?” Jemima said, a bright smile on her face.

“Think hard of that memory, right now, and think only of it. I'll do something with my wand but all I need you to do is think about that memory in the bathroom. Can you do that?” Severus put as much kindness and patience into his tone as he possibly could.

“Of course Professor!” Jemima agreed.

Severus watched the girl clench her eyes shut and apparently start to think of the memory. Drawing his wand, Severus placed his wand against her temple. A clear substance was pulled out, wispy and like liquid. Severus held it suspended with his wand until he was able to pull a vial from his coat. Setting the memory carefully inside he stoppered it.

“That will be all, Ms. Bell,” Severus said, “you should make your way to lunch now.”

Jemima nodded emphatically, jumping from the bed and skipping from the Hospital Wing. Staring at the little bottle, Severus felt his curiosity baying within him. Mind settled, he headed to his own private chambers.

XxX

It had been a long time since Severus had used the shallow, much less extravagant, pensieve in his office. It was an expensive item and had been procured second hand from an artefacts shop.

Opening the bottle, he emptied the contents of Ms. Bell’s memory into the pensieve. Without hesitation he plunged into the bowl.



He was in the second floor bathroom, water scattered on the floor in puddles from the ever wailing ghost who saw fit to make a mess in the bathroom every day crying over her death. It was empty as of right now.

A second later the door burst open and a crying Jemima Bell came flying into the room. She reached the center, and in a melodramatic huff, sank to the floor, knees to her chest and face buried in her hands. She was facing away from the door.

Then she proceeded to start howling fiercely with sobs. Severus’ lip curled in disgust.

Jemima cried a few minutes. The bathroom door opened and Jemima, not noticing kept crying. Potter peeped through, his demeanor for the first time in Severus’ recollection not fearful or cowering. He was frowning just a bit and when he saw Jemima a look of empathy and worry crossed it. Quietly entering, Potter softly approached the child. His manner was exceedingly gentle and considering.

“Are you alright?” Potter’s voice was kind.

Jemima jumped looking frightened until she saw Potter.

“You’re that Batty boy,” Jemima said, sounding surprised and intrigued.

Potter cringed at the name as if she’d dealt him a blow, but he pushed it to the side rather quickly, resuming his kind manner.

“Are you alright?” Potter again gently asked.

Jemima seemed to consider herself, a little pout forming and tears returning.

“I fell and ruined my favorite stockings,” she bemoaned.

Potter’s face scrunched up with genuine dismay, as if her pain was his.

“I’m sorry, I could fix them if you’d like?”

Jemima blinked as if she hadn’t thought of that.

“Would you?” She asked.

Potter gave a nod, smiling sweetly. He walked towards her and crouched down.

“Here, let me see,” he said softly.

Jemima pointed at her knee torn stockings.

“See?” She said.

“Can you fix it?”

Potter gave a warm nod.

“Of course,” he reassured.

Looking a little closer, he let out a small gasp.

“Your hands,” he said, brow once again scrunching up empathetically.

Jemima gave a courageous nod, enjoying the commiseration.

“Let me fix them,” Potter said, taking her little hands with the utmost care.

With a soft murmur and the wave of his wand her raw little hands were fixed.

“Oh lovely!” Jemima cried, inspecting her now unblemished palms.

Potter smiled with joy at the girl’s joy.

“Now my stocking,” Jemima demanded.

Potter nodded, waving his wand again and this time fixing her skinned knees, just as he finished Jemima threw a hand up.

“Wait! Wait! Let me take them off, that way you don’t make a mistake. My sister Katie once accidently stuck my cousin Marcie’s socks to her feet, we had to wait for mum to get back so she could fix it. She couldn’t take her socks off for hours.”

Potter frowned.

“It’ll be okay, I’ve fixed little cuts when my shirt is over me,” Harry smiled reassuringly.

“No, I don’t want to,” Jemima huffed, tears once again threatening.

“But it’ll be alright, it wouldn’t hurt at all and I promise I wouldn’t stick your stockings to your legs,” Potter tried to keep the floodworks at bay, voice still tender and gentle but now worried.

“No, I don’t want to,” Jemima repeated, a few tears escaping.

“Okay, we can do it your way,” Potter softly conceded.

Jemima had her stockings off in moments. Potter waved his wand and the holes were gone. It was at this point that Blaise Zabini stormed in. Severus had nearly forgotten the boy had been witness to all of this.

Potter’s demeanor reverted to the one Severus was familiar with, that of a kicked dog afraid of its master. Jemima, guileless and absolutely oblivious to the implications of the situation, pulled on her stockings, ears pink with shame at having been caught talking to the Batty boy.


The memory was over, Severus back in his office. He stood stunned. Potter was innocent, only guilty of being too kind and patient. He’d been nearly killed today over a misunderstanding. Severus recalled the words he’d thrown at the boy and some sense of guilt washed over him.

Severus bottled the memory, knowing it would be the final and conclusive piece of evidence, Ms. Bell’s statement notwithstanding. Some internal moral compass, battered though it was, stirred. He’d said horrible things to the boy. Without much contemplating it, Severus proceeded to the Hospital Wing.

Poppy was with Potter in the private room. Severus entered.

“Severus?” Poppy said in surprise, looking at Severus in confusion.

Potter flinched from where he was sitting up on his bed, eyes meeting Severus’ for a moment before skittering away.

“Don’t move your legs, Potter, you’ll undo all our hard work,” Poppy reprimanded the boy who was attempting to draw his legs up to his chest in a defensive position.

Potter immediately obeyed, shrinking back. Severus waited patiently for Poppy to finish and leave. Once she had, Potter, who was already shaking from the after effects of the cruciatus, seemed to be practically vibrating with fear.

“I’ve come to speak with you about Ms. Bell,” Severus said gravely.

Severus intended on apologizing, something he rarely did.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t know,” Potter softly spoke, a pleading quality to his voice.

“You did not injure Ms. Bell,” Severus spoke sharply, the little patience he’d summoned breaking under the boy’s words.

Potter looked up appearing relieved.

“She’s okay?” He said, absolutely incredulous.

“Yes, why wouldn’t she be?” Severus snapped.

Potter shrank again, shoulders hunching.

“You said I’d hurt her,” Potter replied, “I do that, Professor Moody, he said-”

Severus was silent, as was Potter.

“I apologize, I acted under incorrect knowledge.”

Potter stared at him, eyes round with disbelief. A spasm caused the boy’s hand to jerk. Severus knew it to be damage from the cruciatus. Once again the foreign feeling of remorse toward the Potter boy filled him.

Standing, he left the Hospital Wing.