Albus taps his finger against his desk, leaning back, his eyebrows furrowed as he stares at Severus and Poppy. Severus looks over at him, then at Minerva who took her place sitting beside the Headmaster. Both of them don solemn expressions, having been told what this emergency meeting would be about. 

Once Poppy looks over to see them both ready for the report, she takes a deep breath before she begins speaking matter-of-factly. “Harry J. Potter was examined earlier today, with Severus Snape as witness and assistant, during which Potter received the mandatory diagnosis spell to document his injuries throughout his life. This spell revealed things that gave cause for suspicion of abuse.”

Severus nods. “Due to the numerous injuries- which Poppy will tell you about in-depth shortly- and his panic and hysteria at the idea of being returned to his family after overhearing us say that we needed to report this, we decided to administer calming draught mixed in with a mild truth serum to properly continue the assessment and ask him questions about his home life.” He pulls out the transcripts of the interview, handing the copies to the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress, placing the extra copies onto the table. Albus and Minerva stare back at him with eyes full of raw emotion, anger being the most powerful one, followed by horror and sorrow before they look down at the transcript and begin to read it.

The temperature in the room drops quickly, causing Poppy to give Severus a look. They’ve been in this position before, of course. Slytherin usually has a few cases every year, and though there are cases in other houses, nobody would disagree that Slytherin has the most cases of abuse in general. 

It doesn’t get easier, though, to see children who have been failed by adults. It doesn’t get easier to discuss injuries, both mental and physical. It doesn’t get easier and when things so delicate and tragic are being discussed, magic is bound to get a bit out of control.

“Oh, Harry,” Minerva exclaims, reading the transcript. “Severus Snape: Why do you wish to be a student at Hogwarts? Harry Potter: I like having a bed, and food, and I want to go to school so I can be free and not need to live in a cupboard anymore.”

“He was beside himself with terror at the mere idea of being sent back to his relatives, and even proposed to give up his bed and food in exchange for being allowed to remain a student here,” Severus says evenly though the words make something cold and vile claw at his insides.

Minerva looks ready to have a heart attack or fly into a rage. Severus silently muses to himself that both of those seem equally likely. “I warned you about those Muggles, Albus,” Minerva said through gritted teeth. “Not an ounce of good in them, I said. You told me I was just worrying too much.” 

Albus looks up from the transcript, his crescent glasses dropping down his nose. Clearing his throat, the man says, “What became of the physical assessment?” he asks.

“He has broken numerous bones, some of which never healed properly. Sprained his right ankle twice. Had three concussions throughout his life. Suffered from strep throat twice and pneumonia once- he didn’t receive medical care for those. The bruises and welts, of course, are the result of his uncle’s idea for discipline, which is a regular occurrence as can be proven by the sudden spikes of contusions and welts every few weeks.” Poppy hands them a copy of the medical report and photographs of the injuries still on the boy’s body, still holding the parchment upon which Potter’s medical history was written. “I’ve already taken the necessary photographs of the boy’s body when the assessment took place, then healed him of all that I could.”

“I trusted them,” Albus responds so quietly that Severus almost misses it. Louder, he addresses Poppy. “Is that all of it?”

“He also has terrible eyesight that isn’t properly corrected by his glasses, and he is, of course, at risk of certain… behavioral and mental issues, given his upbringing. Post-traumatic stress is something he seems to suffer from, as is. The intense scarring on his back is something I’m unsure if potions or magic can fix, given how old some of them are. I worry that some of them may be with him permanently, as well as the cigarette burn on his hand.”

“You said that it was his uncle who did all of this?” Albus asks, voice low and dangerous, no trace of the frail old man persona on his face or in his posture. 

Not Dumbledore the Headmaster, Severus thinks, Albus Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore the Grand Sorcerer. Supreme Mugwump.

Wielder of the Elder Wand.

Poppy nods. “According to his own statement, his Uncle was the abuser. His Aunt, per his report, seems to have also been helpless in the situation, and was occasionally the receiver of the man’s ire but never reported it for fear of her son being taken away from her.”

Albus tsks under his breath. “And their son? Was he also a victim of abuse?”

“He is deeply loved by his father, but he suffers from behavioral issues due to the tense environment of the household which manifests through violence and anger.”

Minerva’s face twists for a moment before she schools her expression and voices her question. “You’ve addressed physical abuse. What other kinds of abuse did the boy face?”

It is Severus who answers for Poppy. “He’s been abused in almost every manner, from physical to emotional. His Uncle would physically harm the boy for his infractions, be they real or imagined, as well as withhold food for extended periods, and gave him a long list of chores that were physically taxing. His small stature might be, in part, due to being made to sleep in a cupboard since early childhood, as well as being malnourished and having certain deficiencies in his diet.

“Emotionally, the boy seems to have low self-esteem and little trust in adults, given his experience with them. He considers himself a ‘freak’ due to a title allotted to him by his loving Uncle, is of the belief that his existence isn’t worth much, and grew up convinced that all the suffering his family endured at the hands of Vernon Dursley was his fault.”

If possible, the room temperature drops even lower. Severus suppresses a shiver as he gazes into the cold blue eyes of his mentor who looks so entrenched in anger that Severus remembers red eyes with the same expression. “And sexually?” Dumbledore asks quietly, but Severus recognizes it as the demand for answers that it is.

It takes Severus a moment to shake himself of the sudden ice in his veins from the expression before he shakes his head. “There is no evidence of any sexual abuse occurring, and nothing from his statement to hint at it. We cannot rule it out without questioning him on the matter, but I do not think it occurred.”

For a moment nobody speaks, filling the silence with nothing but mourning and anger for a boy horribly wronged.

“I’ve given them compensation, agreed to their terms of staying away, and still that vile, horrible man would dare to harm the boy he swore to care for. As if the boy hadn’t lost enough, he would treat him as a house-elf rather than family,” Albus says bitterly. 

After a few moments Poppy asks quietly, “What do we do with the boy now?”

At the question, Albus pauses, taking several breaths. After a few seconds, he deflates and the room stops being so frigid. Severus remembers to breathe, glad that he’s never been on the receiving end of the Headmaster’s wrath. Albus looks up at the two of them. “If it is as grave as you’ve said, we have no other choice but to revoke their guardianship of Harry. We cannot send Harry back to such a place. And by taking Harry out of the equation, I feel like we’d be giving Petunia the freedom to flee the situation as well.”

Severus, for all his thoughts about the woman, has to agree that such an outcome would be best. Nobody deserves to live in such a household. Petunia, for all her faults, had done her best to shelter her son and nephew from her husband’s abusive nature, though she was also targeted for her efforts.

“I have the required documents to go through the Muggle channels, as well as Wizarding Child Protection Services if you decide to do it that way,” Poppy says. 

Severus sighs and lets himself take a seat, watching as Poppy does the same now that they’re no longer reporting. “Should it be decided that the Dursley’s are punished through the Wizarding law system, I’m quite certain that Malfoy could ensure that this is expedited and doesn’t need to be prolonged for longer than absolutely necessary.”

Albus considers it, nodding. “I see.” He picks up the files, straightening them. “Through Muggle channels, we risk the case being publicized and Death Eaters finding out about his family and possibly risk Petunia and Dudley Dursley’s lives. As for through Wizarding Child Protective Services, there’s no guarantee for objectivity, and it would tarnish young Potter’s name until adulthood, should he choose to live among wizards.”

Severus sees the calculation behind the Headmaster’s cold eyes and knows immediately that there will be no investigation nor trial.

“He’s branded as a victim, giving him another reason to stand out, and not for a good reason. It also gives Death Eater’s intimate information on him, given how public that affair would be,” Minerva murmurs. 

Severus nods after a moment. “It would also be a traumatizing event for an eleven-year-old to know that the World that foolishly idolizes and borderline worships them as the hero of this era would be privy to such information. Everyone he encounters in our World would know about it, even his enemies. He’d never be free from those memories so long as his fans and reporters bring it up.”

“But we need justice for Harry! After what that loathsome man has done to him, to imagine that he’d go free…” Poppy says, her eyes burning something fierce. 

“He’ll be receiving his dues,” Albus says with authority dripping from every syllable. “Rest assured, Vernon Dursley will be punished.”

Severus muses that had Albus made some different choices in his life, he would have made a formidable Dark Lord. Those piercing blue eyes, after all, are calculating and ruthless and filled with the same call to war as many Dark Wizards who grew mad in their quest for power.

Poppy, ever the Hufflepuff, looks at Albus for a second, confused. “But you just said that-”

“Severus and I will visit the Dursley residence to gather his belongings. Lucius Malfoy will be writing up the necessary forms to revoke their guardianship of Harry and they will be signing it. I will handle Vernon personally.”

It takes a second for Minerva and Poppy to catch his drift but neither of them questions it. 

Minerva sighs, waving a hand to summon tea and biscuits. “I guess now we know why he was placed into Slytherin,” she says casually, taking a sip of her tea. 

Severus bristles at the words, turning around and scowling at her. Unfortunately, the effect of his glare doesn’t work on the woman who was his teacher when he was young and is his senior by at least 30 years. 

“Abused children can be placed anywhere,” Severus counters, defensive of his House after so long of being told that Slytherin is only for the Dark or the broken. 

“It’s not an insult,” his colleague says tiredly, placing a pacifying hand on his arm. “I merely meant that of course, he would be Slytherin, what with him needing to be resourceful and shrewd to survive living with that oaf of a man. Nobody is more ambitious than a child wrapping their bleeding hands around a star and shaping their own destiny with it.”

Severus doesn’t admit that he, too, can see why Potter’s a Slytherin now. He lets out a noncommittal hum to acknowledge her words. 

“Hm. The boy had made an awful attempt at manipulation when we were interviewing him. Potter was willing to make a gambit and put his life in my hands to remain a student here rather than be returned to his poor excuse of a family. I cannot comprehend why he deliberately singled me out specifically, given I’ve barely interacted enough with him for him to think of me as the horrible bat of the dungeons yet.

“Though as it stands, he does need to learn proper manipulation and perhaps some subtlety to go along with it. I can forgive him for it for the time being, given I’m sure he was in the throes of panic and hasn’t learned yet from his peers or my training, but in time, I’m sure he can improve his skills.”

Poppy slaps his arm. “Severus, be serious about these things,” she chides. 

Severus raises an eyebrow and frowns at her words. “I train all the students under my house to recognize and combat manipulation. I train them to use persuasion and intimidation to give them an upper hand in dire situations where they’re outnumbered or outmatched- life is rarely fair, so it’ll happen sooner rather than later. A stuttering or hesitating child may well become a dead one if they’re standing in front of the Dark Lord unable to meet his demands. Harry will learn the soft skills of grace and charisma and cunning, as all my students must.” 

“That doesn’t seem… right,” Minerva says with a frown of her own.

He scowls. “He wasn’t placed in my house because green complements his eye color. He was placed in it because Slytherin is the house that will help him develop the skills he has and learn the skills he doesn’t. If he were placed under your House, I wouldn’t insist on him learning, but as it is, he’s my student, and he will learn.”

Albus clears his throat, returning to the original conversation, “Teaching methods aside, I think Harry’s decision to appeal to you rather than Poppy might be, at least in part, because you’re a man in a position of authority over him. And from his own words, it seems like his uncle is the one who abuses him. I imagine that trusting men will be hard for him. He has to learn that his life living in such conditions is over and that he’s safe now.”

Severus wants to growl at the words. “Most abuse victims don’t know it’s over for a long time,” he replies, causing Poppy to give him a look of sympathy.

“Where would Harry go?” Minerva asks. “There’s a lot of people who would love to take him in, but few who would really be a good fit for tending to such a young and hurting boy.”

Poppy gives Severus a look that he thoroughly ignores, not caring to see her expressive eyes looking back at him as if he’s still a child of 14 staggering into her quarters late at night for healing. 

Albus gives Severus a look. “As Harry’s Head of House, I think Severus would be the primary candidate. Unless, of course, you have any objections?” Severus shakes his head. “Severus will be granted temporary guardianship to give him and Harry a chance to see how things go before making it into a permanent arrangement. Should they not work out, I’m sure many will be willing to take on the boy’s guardianship.”

With that out of the way, Severus takes his cold tea into his hands and listens with half an ear as the conversation moves forward, discussing more legalities and notes about Potter. After another half hour, the two witches take their leave, retiring to their own quarters. Severus gives Poppy a nod before he turns to look at Albus to see the man already observing him.

Severus hates these moments, these silences between him and Albus. He hates how the man can look at him and make him feel like a lost schoolboy wandering the halls in need of something that he doesn’t yet know. 

Severus doesn’t move from his spot, holding his cup of tea and regarding Albus. Albus doesn’t question him, letting the silence stretch on until Severus can barely bear it.

Severus isn’t soft. He’s all hard edges and bloody teeth and burning anger and a heart that refuses to stop beating purely out of spite for those that want it to. He’s the keeper of the dungeons, guardian of his snakes, the Dark Lord’s esteemed Potion Master.

He’s done so many things worthy of awe and fear alike.

But something in Albus always draws out the vulnerable keening part of him, the sorrowful teenager who spoke barely above a whisper when spoken to, the lost young man who was desperate for any kind of validation and acceptance.

“Did you know?” he asks and his voice comes out more monotonous than he was planning, his wrists itching with the urge to clench his hands into fists but anger doesn’t come. The grief is more painful than anger, burns worse, and more voraciously. Albus looks at him with genuine eyes full of sadness, silent as he regards the Potions Master. Severus merely stares at the shelves of trinkets, but as he sits in his mentor’s presence, the desperate need for answers only grows stronger by the second. 

Once upon a time, he’d knelt in front of those shelves, begging for the Headmaster to save him from his own stupid mistakes. 

Albus had pulled him into an embrace as he knelt at the man’s feet, offering everything- life, body, and service- just so his best friend would be safe. And Severus had trembled and trembled like a weak lamb, offering his arm for marking before Albus shook his head and made him a promise that the man wasn’t able to keep.

“Severus?” Albus responds cautiously.

“Did you know, Headmaster?” 

“Arabella told me the boy was rather quiet for a boy his age, would have the odd bruise here or there, but I never imagined, I never would have thought…” The man falls silent, staring at Severus over his steepled fingers. “No, Severus. I didn’t know the boy was being abused.”

“Was it part of your plan?” Severus hisses through his teeth, “To have him live in that kind of environment so he could be trained to become the boy who lived?”

Albus turns to look at him, a flash of hurt going through his eyes. “Of course not,” he responds in a tone just as quietly. When Severus meets his eyes, there is only honesty there, and Severus doesn’t need to cast a spell to know that he means it. “Did you think it was?”

Severus pauses, analyzing the Headmaster, dark eyes staring up at his mentor. “No. Of course not, I didn’t intend to insinuate that you did. It’s just-” He exhales, jaw clenching. By Merlin, these conversations have no right to be so difficult.

Why didn’t you let me see him? I could have taken him in, Severus wants to ask, to demand answers from the man about his best friend’s child, but he doesn’t, biting his tongue and looking away so that he doesn’t lose his job.

“Say what you want to say,” Albus says calmly, “I am not Him, Severus.”

Severus doesn’t say, You’re my master just as much as He was. 

It’s a conversation they’ve already had, and he doesn’t feel like being on the receiving end of one of Albus’s sad lectures or allegories like he’s some first year in need for comfort or explanation.

“You assured me that he would be safe,” Severus says, the words tumbling from his lips, “You swore to me! You forbade me from visiting him, saying that I would only compromise his location, that I would only end up complicating things for the boy. He lived in a cupboard, Headmaster. I trusted you to keep him safe and you never even checked up on him!”

Albus stares at him for a few seconds and Severus doesn’t avert his eyes. “I did what I thought was best for the boy. I was trying to give him time to prepare him for when it’s time for him to take his place as the herald that leads us all into a new era.”

“But...” Severus doesn’t know the words to insist that that isn’t enough. So many words in the English language, but none of them can properly encapsulate that he’d trusted this man, had placed all faith in him- and for someone like Severus, that has weight, has meaning. Spies aren’t meant to trust, but he had. He had, and that’s what makes this entire situation hurt worse. 

Because the Headmaster had failed Potter, and by doing so, failed all of those who care for him. People like Lily. Like Minerva.

Like Severus.

“I do not have the answers you want, my boy,” Albus quiets him, placing a hand on his left forearm. “I’m truly sorry. Both to him for his suffering, and to you. I am not as omnipotent or all-powerful as you would like to believe, Severus. I trusted the Dursley’s to care for him as one of their own, and I was wrong in my decision to do so.”

You’re not supposed to make mistakes, Severus wants to snarl back, especially not when that mistake involves a child’s life. 

Not when it’s Lily’s child.

“He’s only a boy,” Severus says instead, the anger leaving his chest as he utters the words, leaving only tiredness as the words sink into his bones. “He’s too young to be brought to the table of adults, to have this war hanging over him like a guillotine.” 

He’s too young to be hurt so much.

“I know, Severus,” Albus affirms quietly.

The silence resumes. Albus sips his tea, unafraid to lean into the silence and let it take over. Severus finishes his own tea, reciting the ingredients to Wolfsbane Potion until he can take a breath in without it burning. Albus, bless his soul, reads over some paperwork in the meantime so as to give him the privacy he needs.

After composing himself, Severus straightens his back, assuming his role as Snape. His impassive and harsh facade falls into place the same moment that his occlumency walls become solid.

“What kind of justice do you plan for Dursley?” Severus asks, “I assume nothing less than death awaits him?”

Albus merely gives him a smile, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Sometimes, my boy, death is not the worst punishment one can receive. But we shall see.”

The words do not match his amused expression at all. Were Severus anyone else, he would be deeply unsettled. Fortunately for Albus and unfortunately for Vernon, Severus is used to dealing with the mad. “So what do you have in mind?”

 “You won’t be able to take it where you’re going, will you?” Severus asks. Petunia freezes where she’s standing, still half-way up a step. “You’re going to escape the moment you can.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Petunia responds.