Calamity by MellarkandArt
Summary: A visit to The Burrow from a frustrated Arabella Figg brings about a series of events that causes a paradigm shift for both Harry Potter and Professor Severus Snape.
Categories: Healer Snape, Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Arthur, Dumbledore, Molly, Ron
Snape Flavour: Snape is Angry, Snape Comforts, Snape is Kind, Snape is Loving, Snape is Stern
Genres: Angst, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Abuse Recovery
Takes Place: 3rd summer
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Emotional Abuse, Neglect, Physical Abuse, Profanity
Prompts: A day to remember
Challenges: A day to remember
Series: None
Chapters: 15 Completed: Yes Word count: 41497 Read: 50753 Published: 08 May 2021 Updated: 01 Aug 2021
Paroxysm by MellarkandArt
Author's Notes:
this was first posted as part of chapter one, but it was originally written as the second chapter. I thought that it would be better to combine them but it just didn't flow right, especially with the addition of chapter 3.
Harry Potter was somewhat known for getting himself into sticky situations, but he really didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble found him. Honestly!

But perhaps he could have been more careful when dealing with an angry Uncle Vernon.

He would easily admit that it had been completely idiotic to backtalk his uncle, right after blowing up his sister but in the moment he had had every intention of storming out of the house with his wand and his owl and never looking back.

One could dream.

But no, of course Uncle Vernon had to catch Harry’s wrist and twist it roughly before he could open the cupboard door. Of course The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had to show up and pull him to the side for questioning before he could make a run for it. And of course after Aunt Marge had been deflated and obliviated, everything had calmed down and the wizards had left Harry alone with a very pissed off Vernon Dursley.

He really didn’t understand why his uncle was one of the few muggles who wouldn’t have to be obliviated after such a violent outburst of accidental magic. Harry’s life would certainly be much easier if he was.

This morning he had been lying on his bed in pain, cursing his miserable existence. The night before had been one of the more memorable experiences with Uncle Vernon’s temper. Harry ached in places he didn’t know he could ache in. Vernon had always been harsh with his nephew but this was just a bit much. It wasn’t as though Harry could control accidental magic but try explaining that to his relatives.

Never before had Harry actually considered getting help for his injuries, but it was becoming more and more clear with each harsh intake of breath that he was in serious need of medical treatment if he wanted to live to see tomorrow.

As it was, he wasn’t so sure if he really cared about seeing tomorrow.

But, after surviving three encounters with a dark lord, battling a bloody basilisk and nearly dying just two months ago when its venomous fang collided with his shoulder and yet still living to tell the tale, he thought that dying because of a fractured rib puncturing his lung due to his uncle’s bad attitude and lack of a sense of humor would be a really lame way to go out.

And so he sat up, wincing at the pain in his- well, everywhere. He felt dizzy for a moment and waited for it to pass before he stood up and stumbled his way to the door, thanking all things good and pure that for once, it was not locked. Uncle Vernon must have really overexerted himself last night if he had forgotten this favorite ritual of locking Harry in.

More likely he had figured that Harry wouldn’t manage to get out of bed for a while.

Harry crept slowly down the stairs. It was about 11:30 in the morning on a Saturday, and since Aunt Petunia insisted on mommy and me time with Dudley, they were likely at the movies, to be followed by lunch at McDonald’s and a trip to the video store and a stop at the drugstore for some candy, only a five pound bag or so.

Just a quick and inexpensive little outing for precious Diddykins.

The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had said that Aunt Marge would likely sleep for a day or so, the trauma of suddenly becoming a balloon and being deflated and obliviated and weighing 500 pounds could do that to a person.

Harry just prayed that Uncle Vernon would be having his pre-rugby watching nap in the living room. A deep, eating-a-pound-of-greasy-bacon-for-breakfast induced sleep.

He treaded lightly on the last couple of stairs, peeking hesitantly into the living room doorway to see that yes, Vernon was sprawled out on the couch, a bag of crisps laying on his stomach, dead to the world.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief, which nearly made him cough loudly and ruin the whole venture. He tiptoed quietly on the carpet leading into the kitchen and over to the phone hanging on the wall. He hadn’t used the telephone once in the two years since he had left for Hogwarts and not many times before that, but he felt that he understood the gist of it. He flipped through the phone book and found a cab company. He didn’t have any money, but he was in so much pain he didn’t think he could walk all the way to the hospital on his own. He dialed the number. He’d just have to figure something out.

After quietly requesting that a cab be sent to #4 Privet Drive, Harry crept over to the cupboard under the stairs. He was certain last night that it would just open when he touched the doorknob with his accidental magic flowing so wildly, but he didn’t make it in time and he didn’t have that advantage now. But he wasn’t interested in leaving the house without his wand so he picked up the hairpin he had “accidently” dropped on the floor around the small doorway awhile back and attempted the lock picking skill that Fred and George Weasley graciously taught him after last summer. He wasn’t very good at it so it took a few minutes of frustration until he heard the lock click and he once again had access to his magical belongings.

He sifted through his trunk but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take anything besides his wand as he was venturing out into the muggle world. He slipped his wand into the pocket of his jeans and sighed looking at the only things that really belonged to him in this world. He didn’t really know how things would go after the hospital, he just knew he needed help. All these things could be burned to ashes by the time he got back, if he came back… he had sent Hedwig out last night and told her to go ahead to Hogwarts owlery so he didn’t have to worry about her at least.

He had asked, well, sort of begged the headmaster not to send him home for the summer, but Dumbledore had said this was the safest place for Harry. Ha. Well, he couldn’t really think of any excuses to tell the people at the hospital, somehow “I fell out of a tree” didn’t sound quite as plausible as it once did so it could soon be out of the headmaster’s hands anyway. Harry felt kind of like he was doing something wrong, it felt like going behind Dumbledore’s back somehow but Harry didn’t have all that many options. He simply needed medical care and he would have to endeavor to receive it.

He closed the lid of his trunk and slowly backed out of the cupboard, locking the door handle as he shut it softly. He glanced back at the living room and saw that his uncle was still sound asleep. He leaned against the wall and brought himself to feet, silently shuffling to the front door. He tugged it open as quietly as he could and stepped outside to wait on the front stoop for his cab. It showed up just a few minutes later and Harry almost felt like running to it, but knew how painful and incredibly stupid that would be so he stumbled his way to the door beside the passenger and collapsed onto the seat. The cab driver only glanced at him briefly at first and then did a double take. “Damn kid, you look like shit. Hospital?”

Harry nodded, thankful as he could not find the words to vocalize his need. He leaned his head against the window and watched in a daze as Little Whinging faded out of sight.

***

And so there he was slumped in an uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting room, looking up at the worried face of his best friend’s father.

“What has happened to you, kiddo?” the man had questioned and Harry had no words to answer his question with, kind of like with the cab driver but only a hundred million times worse.

He had felt that he was desperate enough for help to go to strangers for it, strangers who didn’t know him or care about him one way or the other, who counted him as just another statistic.

He had not planned on running into anyone he knew, especially not anyone from the wizarding world (not that he knew many people from outside of it) and now despite how much his body was aching just then, he was regretting this whole thing quite a bit.

Mr. Weasley must have sensed his discomfort about the situation (since it had only been two whole minutes since he asked Harry a question and didn’t receive an answer) as he hesitantly reached out to squeeze Harry’s hand and sent him a warm, if wary, smile.

“I think this muggle stuff is pretty interesting myself, but there’s a lot of people who claim that muggle medicine can be really bad for wizards and witches, including my wife! I’d hate for you to become a test subject… why don’t you come back to The Burrow with me? We’ll get you all fixed up quickly and with a lot less pain.”

Oh, God. Not just Mr. Weasley, but Mrs. Weasley and all the kids seeing him looking like this… it sounded like something out of his nightmares. What would Ron say if he saw him like this!?

At Harry’s horrified look Mr. Weasley chuckled lightly and told him that the children weren’t supposed to be home for most of the day and if they happened to be there he would make certain that they minded their own business. Slowly, Harry nodded. Mrs. Weasley was still a threat but he supposed he could handle that, he did like her a lot. But now he knew the “fell out of a tree” bit definitely wasn’t going to work. Mr. Weasley smiled again and gently guided him outside the hospital.

Once they found a spot free of muggles, Mr. Weasley warned him about the shock of side along apparition but seeing as there weren’t any known fireplaces connected to the floo network around, it was kind of their only option. Harry held on tightly to Arthur’s arm and after a long few seconds of feeling like he was being sucked through a tube and thinking that perhaps this would be a slightly less lame way to die than his fractured rib puncturing his lung, they arrived at The Burrow. At which point Harry proceeded to throw up on Mr. Weasley’s shoes and struggle to breathe while desperately trying to apologize. Mr. Weasley spelled the mess away and tried to get Harry to breathe again. It took a few moments but he finally calmed. Thankfully his injuries didn’t feel too much worse than they did before the apparition.

Mr. Weasley guided him into the house where Mrs. Weasley looked ready to pounce on him and shower him with hugs and kisses but she managed to restrain herself and lead him to the living room couch. “Harry dear, are you okay? I’ve been so worried!” She wrapped a blanket around him even though he wasn’t the least bit cold and took in all of his visible bruises.

“Where does it hurt, darling?” she asked him while trying to assess the damage herself.

“Everywhere,” Harry admitted quietly, grimacing at pain that would come and go.

Molly frowned at the gasp of pain Harry let out when she lightly touched his wrist. “Oh, Arthur, this doesn’t look good at all… I think we need to call a healer, I can’t mend bones!”

Arthur nodded quickly and went over to the floo to call for the healer whose services the Weasley family often were in need of. Healer wasn’t the man’s main endeavor but he did have a great deal of experience in the field, and there weren’t many other people Arthur trusted to heal his children’s many ailments. Despite all that the man tried to portray, he was actually a very decent person. If one managed to look past his constant sneering and merciless jabs.

It only took a few moments for the dour wizard to come through the floo, dusting off his robes and sporting his signature look of disdain.

Harry had nearly dozed off but when he heard the floo go off he glanced up to see who the healer was that Mr. Weasley sent for.

‘This is worse than when Lockhart tried to heal my broken arm’ Harry thought as Hogwarts’ most hated professor strode towards him. If Harry had been in a stronger physical state he would have let out an audible groan.

What a crappy day.
The End.


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