He had made a mistake. A grave error. Inexcusable. How could he mess up this badly? How could he screw up again? This would be the second - no third- time this week he had done it. Why could he not get it right?

Why could he not flip an egg without breaking the yolk?

It was a simple task. He should have been able to do it. But instead, the yolk broke again. And Dudley wanted to be the one to break it.

It was his fault the plate broke really. If he hadn’t been such a screw up, such a freak, maybe he could’ve figured out how to flip the damn egg properly. Then Dudley wouldn’t have had to throw the plate at his head. His fault. Always his fault.

Stupid. Stupid freak. Lazy. Good for nothing. Pathetic.

His hands shook as he thought about when Vernon got home. He was going to get it. It had been a new plate Dudley had thrown at him. He broke a new plate, one Petunia had bought to celebrate Vernon’s promotion. And now it was in the trash.

He was going to be in the trash next.

He shuddered as he heard the door open and the heavy steps of his uncle walk in. It was going to happen now. Would he survive this time?

He pressed himself as far into the corner of the cupboard as he could, desperately trying to hide under the small, ripped blanket he had. One corner of the blanket found its way into his mouth as it always did. It gave him a sense of comfort and didn’t hurt as much as biting himself did, though that always helped make his pain better. Either one muffled his screams.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He had started rocking again, anxiety filling every part of him. Hands grabbing his hair as he kept his head protected. Vernon would open the cupboard soon and rain down hell on him. If he was lucky, he’d lose consciousness quickly.

Tears leaked out of his eyes as his rocking intensified.

Why hadn’t Vernon opened the door yet?

There was nowhere to run. Hiding was not an option either. Vernon would surely kill him this time.

Suddenly he heard the cupboard door unlatch. A primal moan of fear made its way out of his throat. It was time to die.

Why? Why was he so stupid? Why could he never do anything right?

His legs were going numb from being balled up so tight in the cupboard for so long, but that was fine. If they were numb, he wouldn’t be able to feel it as much when Vernon would begin the beating.

There was a small amount of light coming in through the crack in the door. Why hadn’t Vernon drug him out yet? What was going on?

He didn’t understand. It was so confusing. His hyperventilating wasn’t making his mind think much clearer, but he couldn’t calm down. The last time Vernon had beat him, he was unable to move without immediately blacking out from the pain and blood loss. Weeks of healing. Weeks of maggots. Weeks of starving.

There were some muffled voices, then suddenly he felt as though something cool had entered his stomach.

His mind started to haze over.

No! He had to stay awake. He had to protect himself!

His eyes began to flutter as his muscles lost tension. His breathing slowed to hiccups before finally slowing more.

He struggled to sit up. He had to be ready to move!

Move where? Where was he? What was going on?

---

“Uncle Sev!” Draco Malfoy nearly screamed, pounding on the door to the man’s personal quarters. “Please, sir. Please help!”

Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house and potions professor, threw open the door. “What is it, Draco?”

He was shocked at the state of the boy. Draco had been raised from a young age to always hold himself in a proper manner no matter what was going on. But now, he looked as though he had run the entire way from the common room.

“It’s Potter. Something’s wrong. Really, really wrong.”

“Explain,” Professor Snape said as he began walking towards the Slytherin common room.

Potter being sorted into Slytherin had been the biggest surprise of his career. The boy looked exactly like his father despite having his mother’s eyes, but his demeanor was unlike either of his late parents. He was quiet, jumpy, and seemed extremely unsure of himself. Severus immediately felt his stomach twist into knots when he looked into the boys green eyes and noticed the fading bruises surrounding them.

Something was definitely not right.

“We were playing Exploding Snap in the dormitory and he was sitting in the corner of the room away from the rest of us. But then Nott accidentally broke a water glass and Potter lost it!”

“Lost it how?”

“His eyes looked glazed over and he started hyperventilating and shaking and he climbed into Crabbe’s wardrobe. We tried to get him out, Zabini even grabbed a prefect, but he just keeps rocking and moaning.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Professor Snape said as they strode into the Slytherin common room.

As they entered the 1st Year’s dormitory, Severus found the other boys standing in a semi-circle around the 5th year prefect who was gently trying to coax the boy to open the wardrobe.

Severus quickly dismissed the boy, who then stood back to watch. He then summoned a strong calming draught. If he couldn’t convince the boy to drink it, he could spell it into the child’s stomach at the very least.

Potter’s magic was fighting him as he tried to unlock the wardrobe door. Severus could hear the sound of the child hyperventilating and the soft moans of panic coming from the child. There was no way the child would be able or willing to swallow a calming draught in this state. Spelling it into his stomach was the only option, but that required getting the door open.

Finally, after many attempts to unlock the door both magically and manually, the lock gave and the door opened a crack. The quiet moans were immediately replaced by a primal crooning. The boy’s magic immediately latched onto the door and tried to pull it shut once more, but Severus quickly conjured a wedge to prevent the door from shutting all the way.

Peering through the small crack in the door, he glimpsed the child balled up in the corner. He had put a corner of a cloak in his mouth as though trying to prevent himself from making sounds and was biting down on it so hard he was likely to tear the fabric. His hands were tangled in his hair and he was rocking back and forth.

Severus quickly spelled the calming draught into the child’s stomach and watched as he fought valiantly to stay awake. When he finally lost the battle and collapsed over, Severus opened the door and levitated the child out and onto a conjured stretcher to be taken to the infirmary.

“Mr. Harlow,” he said to the prefect. “I shall be returning shortly and would like to speak with you. First years, go to bed. I will speak with each of you individually tomorrow.”

There was a flurry of movement as each of the newest students began to ready themselves for bed. Severus turned and quickly strode out of the dormitories and into the castle proper heading for the hospital wing.

Panic attack. Potter had had a panic attack over a broken cup. One that he himself hadn’t even broken, if the quick version of the story Draco had told him was correct. That in conjunction with the bruising Severus had seen even during the sorting and he had a bad feeling the child would likely not be allowed to leave the hospital wing for several days at the very least.

Poppy liked to make sure abuse cases were well documented and physically well enough to attend classes. There was very little she could do for the mind, however, other than prescribing a regiment of antianxiety draughts. If the child required more than that, he would likely have to go to St. Mungo’s for mind healers to work with him.

The thought of Lily’s child having to go to St. Mungo’s was enough to make Severus feel ill himself.

“Severus? Already?” Poppy said sadly as he blew into the infirmary with a child on a stretcher.

Normally Severus had at least one or two students he would bring in for an abuse evaluation. Sadly, this was far more common in Slytherin house than in any of the others. Generally, though, it wasn’t until he did intake interviews to evaluate his students that these cases would be brought up.

“Harry Potter. Panic attack. 3 drams of Elixir of Peace given approximately 5 minutes ago. He had locked himself in a cupboard following on set per student report,” Severus said, keeping his report simple.

Poppy’s eyes widened and she immediately transferred him to a waiting hospital bed. The boy blearily looked around at the movement and moaned once more before falling back to sleep.

“I’ll have a full report for you in the morning,” Poppy said, flicking her wand and attempting to transfigure the boy’s uniform into a hospital gown only to find it wasn’t a uniform but rather horribly ratty clothing transfigured into a uniform.

Severus looked at the clothing the child had on in horror. These weren’t even rags worth giving a house elf. They were terribly oversized, stained, torn and soiled with any number of fluids.

“Severus, go. I’ll do the documentation. If I need a second person, I’ll wake you,” Poppy said sternly.

Severus nodded tiredly. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

---

“Mr. Malfoy, please explain in detail everything you know of Mr. Potter. Please refrain from telling me known information of his fame.”

Severus sat in his office, an additional chair sitting across from him. He had excused all of his first years from their classes in 20 minute increments. He wanted to interview each of his students individually to see if they could lend some more information as to what triggered the boy’s panic attack the night before.

The report from Poppy had come in early in the morning and was… horrifying. Open wounds. Burns. Broken bones. Brain damage. Malnutrition. And the list of problems, old and current, went on and on. Severus was thankful there hadn’t been any evidence of sexual abuse. If there had been, he would have been heading to Azkaban for the second time and even Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to get him acquitted.

Malfoy was the first of the first years he would be interviewing. All of them had been there when Potter had started his panic attack, but what Severus was after was any behaviours which were unnoticed by the staff.

“I first saw him in Diagon Alley,” Malfoy started, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t know who he was at the time, but he was being escorted around by Hagrid. Hagrid had brought him to Madam Malcolm’s to get fitted for his uniform. I remember wondering about his limp. Hagrid left him at the shop while he got fitted. I tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he didn’t say anything. Never even looked me in the eye. I left before Hagrid came back.”

“Did he have any injuries you could see?” Professor Snape asked, making some notes of what Draco said.

Draco thought about it for a moment, “I think he had some bruising on his arms? Maybe? I don’t really remember well.”

“That's fine, continue please.”

“The next time I saw him was when we were on the train. He was already sitting in the train and looked like he had been crying. He didn’t have anything with him other than his wand. I would have sat with him, but … I couldn’t take the smell. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in weeks. I think he sat alone on the entire ride because of the smell.”

Draco paused for a moment so Professor Snape could catch up.

“When we got to the station, I saw him again. He hadn’t changed clothing and one of the prefects from Gryffindor ended up transfiguring his clothing into a uniform. One of the other prefects knew a deodorizing spell and cast that on him too before they got in the carriages. He looked really lost and he kept walking stupidly close to us.But he kept jumping and looking over his shoulder like someone was going to sneak up on him.”

Severus tapped the feathered tip of his quill on his chin in thought. He had hoped the boy had inherited Lily’s vision, but this seemed to not be the case. The child needed glasses, badly from the sounds of it.

“I think he was in the same boat as Nott and Crabbe. I kind of lost track of him from when we got in the boats up until we got sorted. I had no idea he was Harry Potter! Then we went down to the dorms and he could hardly keep up. After you gave your speech, we went to the dorms and I got unpacked and started playing Exploding Snap with the rest of the boys. He didn’t say anything, and just sat in the corner by the wardrobes. Then Teddy dropped the water glass and he started freaking out.

“He stayed out of the floor for a while but then Zabini realized something wasn’t right and tried to talk to him and he dove into the wardrobe.”

“And that was the point you notified me, correct?”

Draco nodded, thankful he wasn’t being interrogated. The professor seemed utterly murderous, but it wasn’t directed at Draco.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Please send Mr. Nott when you get to class. The professors all know I am doing my interviews, please do not delay.”

Draco nodded, taking the slip of parchment proffered by his head of house and running out of the dungeons to Charms class.

Severus sat back and steepled his fingers. The evidence of abuse at the hands of his relatives was extreme. Wizarding Child Services was already contacted, he knew that for a fact. Poppy hadn’t even completed her initial exam when she sent him the notification that WCS was being notified. A representative of the office would be coming for a visit in the afternoon.

Severus sighed and pulled out a vial from his desk. He would need to keep a pensieved record of all of the interviews with students. He also needed to find the Gryffindor prefect who transfigured the boy’s clothing. There were rarely abused students in Gryffindor, so Severus doubted they had received the same training he gave his own prefects and he hadn’t been notified by any of the other professors that there was a possibly neglected student identified on the train. A little education on what to do in such cases wouldn’t go amiss for prefects in all houses, especially since it did cause a delay in the identification of Mr. Potter as a student of concern.

Severus removed the copied memory of Draco’s interview and placed it in the vial and labeled it just as Theodore Nott entered the room and sat down.

“Thank you for your haste, Mr. Nott,” Professor Snape said.

“You’re welcome sir. Will Potter be alright?” Theodore asked, looking uninterested. Severus could see the concern hidden under his blank visage.

“With any luck, yes,” Severus said. “Now, if you will, please tell me everything you know about Mr. Potter. Any interactions you may have had with the boy.”

“I didn’t meet him until after the train ride. I remember Draco saying there was a very smelly kid near the middle of the train, but I don’t know if that was him or not. When we were walking down to the docks, he kept tripping over everything and would have fallen multiple times. He was walking so close to me, I was afraid he would trip and fall into me. I would have helped him, but he smelled so bad even though someone had cast a deodorizing spell on him I couldn’t bring myself to touch him.”

“Was he wearing a school uniform at this time?” Severus asked, wanting to verify Draco’s timeline.

“Yeah, but it didn’t look quite right. It looked like it had been transfigured rather poorly from something else,” Theodore said, thinking back on the poor quality fabric the robes the boy was wearing seemed to be made of. They were atrocious! No self respecting wizard would wear them.

“Mr. Malfoy stated you and Mr. Potter rode the same boat together, is that correct?”

“Yes. Crabbe and I sat in the front of the boat and he sat in the back. He was hanging on to the seat so hard his knuckles were white. He was silent for the ride though. Didn’t even react to seeing Hogwarts for the first time.

“He sat next to me during dinner. Didn’t eat anything though. I think he may have pocketed an apple or a roll, though. Definitely something round. He kept looking around at everyone eating as though he wanted some but wasn’t allowed to have any. He did drink some water though.”

“Did he make any attempts to speak to you or anyone else around you?’ Severus asked. So far, the child hadn’t said a word in anyone’s stories.

“No. I tried to talk to him, but he would only nod yes or no.”

“And the glass, what happened with that?”

Theodore blushed, he hadn’t meant to be so clumsy. And then for his clumsiness to have such horrifying consequences? He shuddered.

“I was just wanting to take a sip of water but there was so much condensation on the glass it slipped out of my hand. We didn’t even think anything of it, we just spelled it away and went on playing. Blaise was the one to notice Potter making noises. He thought it was funny at first; we all did. We thought he was just scared of being a Slytherin, but when he didn’t stop and jumped into the wardrobe we realized things were wrong.”

Severus nodded. Self isolating, hair-trigger reaction times. None of this was surprising. But why wasn’t the boy speaking? Even in his panicked state, he did nothing more than moan or cry out.

“Thank you, Mr. Nott. Please send in Mr. Crabbe.”

---

Severus sighed and rubbed his face. He was never one for drinking, memories of his own father drinking himself into a stupor being the primary reason for this. But right now, whiskey sounded really nice. It had taken hours to finish all of the interviews, then find the prefects behind the transfiguration and interview them. Severus had ended up cancelling two of his potions classes for the day in order to complete the interviews and compile the memories in a semblance of order.

Then there was the visit from the WCS officer. Albus had been rather frustrated that Severus had not notified him that WCS were going to be visiting. Severus was shocked at Albus’s assurances that the child was safe in that house and that WCS was not necessary. It had taken the entirety of the massive mound of evidence and some threats from Minerva to convince the man otherwise.

She had been livid. Severus had never seen Minerva in such a state. She had sat there and screamed bloody murder at the man. Apparently she had warned the headmaster the day Potter was left on the muggles doorstep that they were unfit guardians.

Albus finally relented to allowing the WCS agent to do their job. None of this argument would be known to WCS staff, but Severus kept a pensieved copy of the argument in case it was necessary for future references or trials.

Shortly after WCS completed their evaluation of the situation, the decision was made by Poppy and the agent that Potter would be temporarily removed from school and sent to St Mungo’s for treatment. His behaviour was beyond what a school infirmary would be able to handle. He had had another panic attack immediately upon waking in an unfamiliar environment and, upon receiving a calming draught, began to chew on his hand as a way to self-soothe. When Madam Pomfrey had attempted to stop him, he had lashed out at her physically and magically and had required sedation to keep calm.

The mind healers of St. Mungo’s had accepted him immediately after evaluation, much to Poppy’s relief. While the initial outlook was grim, they were determined to try and get him at least functional. They were concerned by the residual Dark Magic from the killing curse residing in the boy's brain that they had detected. They were hopeful, however, and that was what mattered.

The Dursleys were to be prosecuted under both Muggle and Wizarding law. Fame and stability be damned, justice was what was needed.

So it was with heavy heart that Severus began penning his report of the events that lead to the discovery of the abuse of Harry Potter. The guilt of not being there for Lily’s child was great, but the drive to make things right was greater.

Harry Potter had been cleared to return to Hogwarts.

The potions list the healers had given Poppy was long with differing doses and timing to be taken throughout the day. It would be an arduous task to keep some of them stocked if the boy was requiring some of the ‘as needed’ doses on a regular basis. But it was a task Severus was willing and happy to complete.

He had always prided himself on keeping the students in his house healthy and safe no matter what the outside world threw at them, and Po- Harry was no exception. The boy had been through hell for years and was now getting a life back.

The Dursley’s had been arrested as planned and the fall-out had been massive. The muggle news had been all over the case for weeks. Then the wizarding world got a hold of them. The young Dursley boy had been removed from his parent’s care by the muggles and did not have to stand trial, though word was he had already been placed in a group home after failing foster placement several times in a month due to his violent outbursts. Harry’s aunt and uncle, on the other hand, had to stand trial.

It had been no surprise when they received a life sentence in Azkaban. It was even less surprising when both Dursley’s were found dead in their cells within a week of being there. The bite wounds on the uncle’s neck which appeared to be made by a dog were shocking, but no one really cared what happened to the man.

As the trial of the Dursley’s in the magical world commenced, Dumbledore’s power and control over the school began to be called into question. If he had been so complacent to this child’s problems, were there others similar he had neglected to assist? While all evidence of his hand in placing Harry with his relatives was deemed circumstantial, the Wizengamot and the Board of Directors made the decision that it would be in the best interests of the students of Hogwarts to force the man into retirement.

Albus had gone willingly and taken the stone he had chosen to hide in the school with him. Why the man had decided to booby trap an entire wing of the school rather than properly deal with an artifact as important as the Philosopher’s Stone, he would never know. The presence of these traps was just the nail in the coffin for Albus’s tenure as headmaster.

Shortly after Albus left with the stone and Minerva took up the role of Headmistress, the body of Quirinus Quirrell was found in his office with the back half of his head missing. It was a grisly sight to behold for those who saw it. This, however, left a glaring gap in the teaching roster. Minerva struggled for several months to fill the spot, but eventually found a replacement in Remus Lupin. She had initially tried to get Horace Slughorn to come out of retirement so she could give the position to Severus, but without the promise of a famous student for his “collection” he had refused.

Severus had begrudgingly admitted that Lupin was a competent teacher, particularly in terms of teaching about the magical creatures of the wizarding world. Having him on staff was a great relief to all of the other professors as well as they had been having to divide up their time to help Minerva with the Transfiguration classes and filling in the gap left by Quirrell’s death.

It had taken several months to iron out many of these details, but by winter holidays staffing issues were rarely a problem and everyone was breathing a sigh of relief.

Having Mr. Potter back in the school felt as though the final piece of a puzzle had been found and put into its rightful place. While he was not “whole,” “fixed,” or “perfect” by any stretch of the imagination, he was back.

The Slytherin first year dorm had felt oddly out of sorts with one bed perpetually empty. Severus had debated removing the bed to give the other boys more room, but felt it was more important for them to remember their missing housemate. And remember they did.

It had started as small things: leaving an extra space for him at the dinner table, making sure there was an extra stool available in Potions class (though they often kept it in the corner so to not draw attention to it), and always leaving a spot in their ranks for an extra person. Somewhere along the lines, a few of the boys started writing letters to the boy. Severus would proofread each before it was sent to make sure they were benign in nature and had found himself surprised with the short letters of encouragement the boys would wish to send.

It had taken almost until Christmas break for Harry to respond with a simple “thank you,” but it spurred the boys on to continue to write to him. Eventually they started getting more complex letters back, which were shared amongst the boys. Any letter Severus received brought an air of excitement to the Slytherin table as it was likely from their hospitalized classmate.

The news Harry Potter was coming back had all of the boys scrambling to clean the dorm room. Some of the boys (namely Malfoy) had no clue how to clean, but were putting in a valiant effort to at least make their things look more organized.

Severus only hoped this enthusiasm would continue when the boy finally arrived.

---

Snow lay in thick blankets on the grounds, making it difficult for any student to walk around on the grounds. The chill made its way into the castle as well, leading many a student to be found huddling around the many fireplaces and furnaces throughout the school.

Despite the freezing temperatures, Severus found himself waiting patiently on the front stairs of the castle watching as the thestral drawn carriage made its way up the winding path from Hogsmeade, a large school trunk strapped to the back.

Severus nodded to the driver as the carriage pulled to a stop. The driver dismounted the carriage and opened the door to assist the occupants of the carriage out. Once the youngest of the trio had disembarked, the driver flicked his wand and sent the trunk into the castle where the house elves would take it to its proper room.

Severus looked at the young boy standing before him. In another life, he would have felt angry just at the sight of the child. The dark hair, round rim glasses, and ski slope nose looked exactly like the boy’s father’s. However, the eyes stood out starkly against the boy's pale skin, giving him an almost elvan appearance.

Slowly, the boy alighted the stairs, taking each step one at a time. One of the women with him held his arm to help steady him as he walked while the other carried a pair of crutches in one hand and steadied his other side with her free hand. There was a steady click as the boy walked from the metal brace steadying his left ankle.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, the woman carrying the crutches handed them back to the boy, who nodded his head in thanks.

Severus felt himself smile. His heart had always been hardened from years of torture and abuse of his own, some of which by his own hand, but he could always feel it warm slightly watching his most at risk students come back in better shape than they left. And Potter was no exception.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter.”

Harry looked him in the eyes and smiled slightly.

The mediwitch and her assistant helped the boy to the door before giving him a brief hug and assuring him they would keep in touch. They then turned to Severus and said much the same thing, but as more of a threat. When they finally left, Severus turned and flicked his wand to open the massive doors to the great hall and ushered Harry inside.

The walk down to the dungeons was a quiet affair punctuated only by the sound of Harry’s crutches and braced leg. Severus was pleasantly surprised at how well the boy was managing the stairs and other various obstacles Hogwarts provided.

On arriving at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, Harry stopped.

“Sir?” He asked quietly. “Why did you do it?”

Severus stopped. There were many things in his life that question could be applied to.

“What do you mean?”

“Help me. Why did you help me?”

Severus stood for a moment longer as he processed the question. Duty. Righteousness. Honor. All of those words came to mind, but they did not represent why Harry Potter had been taken to St. Mungo’s or why he would now never be going back to their house.

“Help will always be given at Hogwarts, Harry, to those who ask for it. You made your way here, to safety, from horrors many will find unimaginable. You used all of your cunning and skill to get here. You needed and deserved any and all the help you could get.”

Harry stood there in shock, tears in his eyes. The mind healers told him he was deserving of assistance, but he had honestly thought they were lying to him so he would take his potions. To hear it from someone else's mouth was a shock. A good shock.

“Thank you sir,” Harry nearly whispered.

“Come,” Severus said, walking over to the entrance and giving the password. “You have friends to meet, books to read, and games to play.”

Harry smiled as he limped forward. He would finally get to meet his friends properly and not through letters. Physically, he was not perfect. Mentally even less so. But he was here, and he was alive, and he could tell his tale. And he felt safe to do so.

And in the end, that was all that truly mattered.