Severus felt like he was becoming a stalker. During the days he was keeping an abnormally close eye on the house next door. Potter it turned out did live there, but the only time he saw him come out of the house in daylight was to mow the lawn, take out the trash, wash windows or pull weeds. After Vernon Dursley came home he frequently heard loud thuds and shouting coming from next door, and at the cafe, which he was now a regular at every night in the disguise of an old man, he watched Harry come in with new bruises and also looking more and more tired and hungry each day. Perhaps the only food the boy got was the leftover pastries at the end of the day that Addy gave him. From what he gathered from snippets of conversation between Potter and Addy, he was working for money to buy food and she was convinced, as Severus was becoming, that the boy's own relatives were giving him a good thrashing every night. Yes, Severus was gathering evidence, but not the kind he had initially hoped for.

On his fourth night observing Potter, another night with no leftover pastries and Potter digging through the trash, Severus in ‘notice-me-not' form approached him once again, this time with a plan. Albus would not approve of taking Harry away from the protection of the Dursley house, and until he could prove to the old man that Potter was being abused and neglected then he'd have to stay put. The man did have legal guardianship over the boy in the wizarding world after all, and Albus Dumbledore was not a man to be trifled with in legal matters, not with his many friends on the wizengamot.

"Why don't you go to the orphanage?" the disguised Severus asked Harry on the street just after the nasty woman from the other cafe had shouted obscenities at him yet again. It seemed to be a ritual between the two of them.

Harry looked up from his trash can. "I'm not an orphan," he said adamantly.

"Then why do you dig for food in the trash?"

Harry mumbled something, turning his back to the old man, but Severus heard after a moment, "Not an orphan," again.

"The orphanage has beds and food."

Harry looked up at that. "I have a family," he said.

"It's just two streets over," Severus persisted and Harry turned to glare at him.

"I have a mom and a dad," he said, and just for good measure it seemed, he added, "and a brother and a bunch of sisters."

"Couldn't hurt to ask for some food, could it?" Severus said, leaning on the cane he had conjured to add to his disguise.

Harry thought about it. He was hungry. He didn't suppose he could just go knocking on the door in the middle of the night though, could he? He would get paid tomorrow and could get some food then.

"I get paid tomorrow," he said. "I'll get to eat then."

"And when was the last time you ate a real meal?"

"Doesn't matter," Harry said. He turned to walk away but Severus had plenty of potion this time and followed him at a slow gait with his cane.

"What, don't follow me," Harry said. "I know you have money for coffee, so I'm not going to give you what I find in the bins."

"Answer my question and I'll leave you alone."

"What question?"

"When you ate a real meal?"

Hands on his hips and looking irritated, Harry snapped, "At school."

"If you have to work tomorrow night then why not go to the orphanage to ask for a meal before then?"

"What do you want? Do you work for the orphanage or something? I told you, I have a family. I don't need to be put in an orphanage."

"A mother and father and brother," Severus repeated.

"And five sisters," Harry reminded him, having a specific number now.

"A big family to feed," Severus said.

Feeling like the line of questioning was going too far and knowing the old man didn't believe him, Harry suddenly felt creeped out and turned and walked away, though the next morning when he woke with his stomach grumbling, the old man's words rang in his ears, 'what could it hurt to go ask for food?'

Well he supposed it couldn't hurt anything, but he couldn't go over there until after dinner anyway. The Dursleys would notice if he left in the middle of the day.

Stomach aching all day, Harry knew that after he got paid it would be another full day until he could spend his money somewhere on food. So it was that at eight o'clock, after the dishes were done and the floors scrubbed, and Dudley's room vacuumed, Harry hurried through the neighborhood and towards the street he thought the old man had been talking about. He didn't know what he'd say when he got there, but he was already looking forward to something to eat, anything at all. He didn't know that the old man was already down the street from the orphanage waiting to see if he'd show up.

Harry found an aging wooden sign that read, "Swanage Boy's Orphanage - 1924" in front of a four story stone building with boys of varying ages out front sitting on the half wall and playing games. Some watched him curiously as he walked up to the front door and knocked, and others paid him no attention whatsoever.

After a few moments, the large wooden door swung open and Harry took a step back, because one of the teenage boys with the bikes stood there staring at him with a smirk on his face.

"Well well, the fancy rich boy who goes to private school here on our doorstep. The ‘beggar' from the alley. Whatch you want beggar?"

"Kirk!" A woman called from inside, and the teen dropped his smirk and took a step back to let her through to the front door.

"Well, what is it then? I don't have much time." She took in his bruised face and Harry cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very thirsty.

"Can I have something to eat?" he asked, hating how needy he felt.

"Don't have anything to spare," she said. "This home is for orphans." She had a look of pity on her face though, and Harry thought maybe that if he kept asking, she would give him something. He felt weak and dizzy as he had for weeks now and if he wasn't due for a paycheck tonight he would have told her right there that he had no place to stay either.

"Can I have some water then?" Harry asked.

She put her hands on her hips. "Fine fine, stay here." She hurried inside, and Kirk leaned on the doorframe smirking as his other two friends came up behind him in the hall. "Spit licker," one of them said, and Harry turned away.

"Here," the woman said, coming back with an old scratched up plastic cup. Harry really was very thirsty or he might have complained that it was the bottom half of a sippy cup. He took it and drank greedily before handing it back to her. "Thank you," he said, and turned to walk away.

"This is an orphanage," she said to his back. "Remember that."

He turned briefly but she was already calling the other boys inside for the night, and he walked to work, still hungry and rattled over the teens who were apparently just like him, and didn't notice the old man following him once again.

Severus didn't follow Harry into the cafe this time, feeling like he'd seem too suspicious if he showed up everywhere that Harry went, but he did wait outside, and was surprised when Harry came out looking upset less than five minutes later. He kicked an ashtray on the sidewalk and the front door to the cafe opened again to let Addy out.

"I'm so sorry Harry! I had no idea he'd do that!"

"I worked for two weeks and I don't even get paid!" Harry was almost in tears as he threw his arms up into the air. "How is that fair?"

"He's such a jerk, I know. I had no idea he'd back charge you for the pastries."

"I barely had any!" Harry was taking deep breaths now. "I've barely had anything to eat in weeks!"

"Harry I'm so sorry. Let me try to talk to him again. I'll make this right, I promise."

"No." Harry turned and hurried off down the street, Addy still calling after him. If he could have run, Severus thought he would have.

After getting shouted at again by the waitress from the other diner, Harry went into the alley in the back of it and proceeded to kick over every trash can he could find, making sure that every piece of garbage from the diner was scattered about. Severus was fuming as well, not over Harry's outburst, but at the idiocy of others. He had been sure the orphanage would have given the boy something to eat, and as for Addy's brother, the manager of the cafe, what he had done was just wrong.

Severus followed Potter all the way back to his house where he was distraught enough not to notice Severus following him and watching him slip through the basement window in the back on his stomach in the darkness.

Harry cried himself to sleep that night. He was so weak he could barely stand it and thought to die right there on his cot. If he snuck upstairs to take food, the Dursleys would know. He'd snuck food once last summer only to get thrashed because Aunt Petunia had started counting food, down to every egg and piece of bread, down to every cracker.

The orphanage came to mind again, but he knew he wouldn't be safe there with the other boys. He'd be fed, and maybe have a real bed to sleep in, but at what price? He supposed he'd risk getting hurt no matter where he went. Trying to get back to London and back to Hogwarts was sounding better all the time.

In the morning he felt like he'd barely slept at all as Uncle Vernon shouted at him to get upstairs and take out the trash before breakfast.

Harry trudged up the wooden steps and opened the door to the entryway. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were all sitting around the table eating scrambled eggs, bacon, and bangers and his mouth watered as he moved past them to sack the trash and take it out.

He could still smell the warm food as he made his way outside to the trash can. As he lifted the lid and dropped the bag inside, he caught the sight of something out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at it. On top of the neighbor's trash can was a takeout container.

Stomach grumbling painfully, Harry looked up and down the street and back to the front door. Nobody was around, and it couldn't hurt to hop the low garden fence to see what was in that container, could it? It could have been empty, or he supposed it could very well be poison left by one of Voldemort's followers, but at this point he didn't really care. All he wanted was something in his stomach, even if it was cold.

Harry heaved himself up over the low stone wall and stumbled on the other side in the bushes, and after another look around, went to the takeout container. It felt warm and he opened it to find fried eggs, blood pudding, and a piece of buttered toast. Why would someone throw out a warm breakfast like this?

He listened carefully to see if he could hear anyone moving around in the neighbor's house since the trash bin was right up against the outer wall, but he couldn't hear anything. He sank down beside the bin, hopefully out of sight of anyone on the street, and dug into the food unceremoniously. There were no utensils so he used his hands. It was the best food he'd ever tasted, maybe just because he was so hungry and the food was warm.

He had to stop several times because his stomach wanted to rebel at the foreign feel of food after eating so little for so long, but he got it all down in the end and was satisfied when it stayed down as he climbed back over the wall. He didn't know who had thrown the food out or why, but he was grateful, and he felt some of his energy come back as he went about his chores that day.

That night as Harry took the trash out again, he couldn't believe his luck to see another container sitting atop the neighbor's rubbish bin. Were they crazy? How could anyone be so careless? They must have been rich.

Trying not to get his hopes up too high that there was actually food inside again, he climbed over the wall and sank down next to the bin with the take out container. There was a cold sandwich inside this time, and a bottle of apple juice. Harry ate it quickly because he knew he was due back inside to do the dinner dishes. Maybe he would make it through the summer after all.

* * *

Harry lay on the cold basement floor, aching from head to toe. Uncle Vernon had noticed his increase in energy over the last few days and thrashed him, saying he must have stolen their food. "You're taking food right out of your cousin's mouth!" he'd shouted as Aunt Petunia hurried to count every last piece of food in the pantry. "That's my hard earned money you're consuming boy! I know you've got a job! One of my coworkers saw you working downtown. You can pay for your own bloody food."

It didn't matter what Harry had said at that point about not getting paid. There was nothing that could stop Uncle Vernon from thrashing him when he was that angry, even though Aunt Petunia had proclaimed that all food was accounted for.

A single tear rolled down his cheek and he was glad he was alone then. It wasn't good to show weakness like that in front of people who would use it against you.

Like always his broom was locked up in a closet with his other school things, so he couldn't just ride it to London to search for the train tracks that would take him to Hogwarts. He didn't have the money to take a bus either and had been warned not to use the Knight Bus with death eaters on the loose and Voldemort coming back into power.

Maybe the orphanage wasn't so bad after all. He'd be away from Uncle Vernon anyhow, and he bet if he was getting fed three meals a day he could actually outrun the other boys or just stick by the woman that ran the orphanage and be out of harm's way.

He rolled gingerly onto his side and pushed himself up off the concrete floor. It was the middle of the day and Vernon was at work. With any luck he could sneak out the front door (he was too injured to attempt climbing out the small window), and Aunt Petunia and Dudley wouldn't even notice.

Outside, his eyes darted automatically to the trash can, but there was nothing there. There was never any lunch, just breakfast and dinner. He was still curious as to why good food was being thrown out (and still hadn't ruled out the possibility of a slow acting poison).

Holding tightly to his ribs with one arm, Harry made his way as gently as possible to the orphanage and suspected that it was nearing dinner when he got there. As with the time before there were boys mulling about, the younger ones playing catch with a ratty old ball and the older ones sitting on a stone wall in front of the building or on the steps or curb.

"Look who's back," Bike Thief said from the wall.

"She aint gonna feed you," another boy said, though his tone didn't sound bitter or angry like Bike Thief's did.

Harry ignored them and knocked on the large door anyway.

This time a young boy opened it and stood there staring up at him.

"Maam," he called when Harry didn't say anything. He didn't really know what to say to him, and he still wasn't sure when the woman came to the door.

"I don't have food to spare," she said when she saw him.

Harry swallowed hard. He never thought he'd be begging to be let into an orphanage.

"I don't eat much," he said quietly. "And- and I'll clean." He swallowed again.

"The city only gives me so much money. I can't let you work for the food."

He looked away and his voice got quieter. "I'll sleep on the floor if you don't have any spare beds."

There was silence and Harry didn't look up.

"You don't have a place to stay?"

He shook his head.

"Kirk said you live on the bay."

"No maam," Harry said. "I don't have any parents."

"Where have you been staying then?"

"On the beach on the bay."

He heard a sigh and finally looked up. She was sizing him up. "It looks like you've been picking fights."

He stared at her and didn't answer. There was nothing he could say to make her believe he hadn't been, because everyone here had assumed he'd been fighting and since he'd already said he was homeless, he couldn't tell her that Uncle Vernon had done it.

"Inside then," she said. "And heaven help me if I've taken in a runaway. That's against the law you know."

"Yes maam," Harry said. He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him.

Boys were everywhere in the house. There was a large room to the left off the entryway with four worn couches and a tiny old telly that younger boys sat watching. She lead him past this room and into an ancient looking kitchen.

"Sit on the stool there so I can have a look at your injuries." Harry did as he was told and hung his head. He startled a few moments later when she tried to lift his shirt off of him.

"I'm not going to do you any harm," she admonished when he pulled back, and he relaxed just long enough for her to take his shirt off and stare at his black and blue chest.

"There aren't a lot of homeless boys in this neighborhood," she said critically. "They all live here. Are you going to tell me which one of them did this?"

"No maam." It was all he wanted to say.

"We have rules here. You'll have to live by them. The very first one is no fighting. The second is no lying to me, and the third is to do your chores. You've already broken the first two."

"I won't break the third," he said, and it was a promise.

"Um hm." She clearly didn't believe him. She pulled out a cardboard box that looked as though it had seen better days from under the sink and set it on the counter. After rummaging around in it for a few moments she pulled out a worn looking ace bandage and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"What's your name? I'll have to enter it into the records so we can get paid for you."

"Don't know," Harry lied. "I've always just gone by Harry."

"And do you have a last name you've always gone by?"

Thinking fast, Harry threw out the first name that wasn't his that came to mind. "Weasley," he said.

"And how did you come to be in Swanage Mr. Harry Weasley?"

He shrugged, though it hurt him to do so. "Came from London."

"From which orphanage?"

He stared at her and didn't know what to say. She assumed he'd run away from another orphanage.

"Rather not say."

"It doesn't surprise me. Some of the orphanages there are rough. I've three other boys from London orphanages. All young ones too. I'm glad I got them while they were young, before they learned to fight."

"Here, you can put your shirt back on, I'm done wrapping your ribs. The doctor comes once a month to see to all the boys. You'll have to wait two weeks before he comes back."

Harry put his shirt back on and though his ribs still hurt, they felt slightly better and more secure being wrapped. Without missing a beat she started tending to the few cuts on his face with the stinging rubbing alcohol and a clean rag.

"The older boys sleep on the first floor across the hall. I'd rather you not go out at night, but I know you'll disobey anyway and I'd rather you go out the first floor window than the second or third or Heaven forbid the fourth. Each boy gets his own towel and rag for cleaning, and his own toothbrush and hair brush. I'll bring yours to your bed when we're done here. You also get two shirts and a pair of pants."

"Yes maam," he said as she finished up with his face.

"You wash your clothes every other day by hand in the downstairs bathroom sink, and you take a shower on your clothes washing day. If you miss a day you miss out. I can tell you though, the other boys won't take kindly to someone stinking up their room."

She showed him to the bathroom and gave him what she'd promised, and then took him to a locked hallway closet and held shirts and pants up to him to see what would fit and gave him a thin white t-shirt and a slightly thicker blue t-shirt and pair of jeans. Finally she showed him to his bed in one of the downstairs bedrooms.

"I gather you don't get along with Kirk, so you're not in his room," she said, and Harry felt more than grateful to know someone had his best interests in mind.

"That's it then. There's just one more thing." Harry turned to show he was listening.

"Every two weeks there's an open house for parents looking to adopt children. I suggest you be on your best behavior if you have hope of finding yourself a family. It also helps to wear clean clothes and have a hair cut." Her eyes traveled up to his tangle of hair. "I don't cut hair but one of the other boys, Peter, does. He sleeps in the bed next to the window. He won't bother you." And then she left, probably back to the kitchen to cook dinner for the house.

Harry sat on his bed. What would the Dursleys think when he didn't show up for evening chores? Would they throw his school things out? Burn his broom? He didn't know, but he did know that for now, he was safe.