“Severus, I need your assistance, dear,” Pomona Sprout said quietly one afternoon in mid-September, shortly after the school year had started.

Severus Snape looked curiously over his potions manual at his colleague. Rarely had any of them attempted to approach the surly potion’s master this early in the year, especially as it was a known fact that the beginning of the year was an extremely busy time in his schedule. Outside of the obvious of teaching classes and grading summer work, he also had to continue restocking potions for the hospital wing, performing his Head of House duties, and evaluating his incoming Slytherins. The latter of which greatly influenced the amount of potions he was required to produce, and this year was no exception.

The younger and more fanatical of the Death Eaters all seemed to produce offspring around the same time and the standard pureblood discipline practices were…

There were a lot of healing potions which were required this year. More so than normal.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Pomona continued, wringing her hands in worry. “I know your house is keeping you busy, but …”

“It is not a problem, Pomona,” Severus interrupted surprisingly gently to the obviously distressed woman. “What kind of assistance do you require?”

“I’m concerned about one of my firsties,” Pomona said, continuing to wring her hands and sway worriedly.

Severus’s mind was racing as he thought through the roster of first years who had been sorted into Hufflepuff. None of them stood out as obviously in need of his … expertise… but then again he wasn’t seeing them every day. Or perhaps that expertise wasn’t what she needed. Perhaps a healing potion of some sort? “What sorts of concerns?”

“I think that … one of them… may have some elf blood in them,” Pomona said quietly so as to not draw attention to their conversation. “Maybe I’m wrong, but… oh, Severus. I don’t know what to do!”

Severus frowned and shook his head. “Are they not coping with the diet change? I’m sure the house elves would be more than happy to assist in providing them with proper foods.”

“No, Severus.” Pomona shook her head. Nutrition was certainly one of the things she would need to discuss with the child if she was right, but as it was there was a more pressing issue. “I’m sorry, I just … I’m not used to dealing with this. My ‘Puffs are usually so kind and happy… but this one… Something is very off.”

Severus frowned at the implication. “Start from the beginning. What are you seeing.”

“Okay,” Pomona said, taking a deep breath. “At the sorting ceremony, they were dressed strictly as one of the boys but their hair was slightly longer than most of the other boys in the group. Honestly, I thought it was just a fashion, but it was strange.”

Severus’s frown deepened as Pomona’s eyes began to fill with tears. Who was it she was speaking about? Typically the more human members of the Seelie and Unseelie courts remained quite androgenous until their majority, though they may present more traits of one gender than another. Typically, this was of no concern: the house elves were able to place them in an appropriate dorm and if they required switching to the opposite gender’s dorm it was made with no fuss.

“They flinched pretty badly when Minerva put the hat on their head and they were immediately worried about how their hair was lying when the hat was pulled off,” Pomona said wistfully. “I saw Tabby loading food on their plate throughout the meal and the poor child tried to eat as much of it as they could.”

“Including meats?” Severus pondered, his mind whirling. How had he missed a student like that in the crowd of children? It wasn’t like there were that many first years to keep track of.

Pomona nodded and continued her story. “The poor baby was so sick that night, I honestly thought I should bring them to the Hospital Wing. They said they were fine and the sickness let up after a few hours, but… oh, Severus… they are so small. I’ve had a few of the Seelie in my house before, but none of them were as thin as this poor little one. And they’re usually so outgoing, but this little one is so shy and jumpy.

“It didn’t even occur to me that they may be a member of the Seelie court at first; neither of their parents were obvious members, after all. But, their ears...”

Severus slowly closed his book. He hadn’t even thought about that until she mentioned it. None of the first years had the tell-tale ears of the elves. Appearance wise, all of the students had been normal this year; no obvious creature features. There had also been no announcement of a creature in attendance at the school. Had one fallen so far through the cracks they had been completely missed?

The ears of the elves were one of their most notable features. Large and floppy at birth, they required special care and cleaning until their teen years when the ears would finally begin to perk up into their upright positions. In combination with the wide eyes, these ears led to many of the more human-appearing elven children being compared with puppies. An apt comparison as both tended to be extremely curious and full of unbridled energy until they weren’t and would fall asleep most anywhere for an impromptu nap.

The ears alone should have been a dead giveaway that this child, whoever they were, was an elf. Again, none of the first years had had the ears, floppy or not.

“What about their ears?” Severus said quietly, watching as Pomona began to cry in earnest. “What happened?”

“They’re cropped,” Pomona wailed. “Someone cropped their ears!”

Severus’s heart sank as he put his book on the table. “Do they need the exam?” he asked softly.

Pomona nodded miserably. The poor child had been struggling to fit into the friendly house; the typical signs of friendship causing them to react in fear. It was a good thing they had found their way to the house of the badgers; they needed that camaraderie. They needed to learn that camaraderie. But two weeks into the school year and the poor child was still so unsure of their standing. They were trying so hard to be a member of the house and make friends but any physical interaction and they would immediately shut down.

The prefects were exceedingly gentle with the child, always making sure they were comfortable and cared for. It was as though they had never had been treated well in their life.

“Get them to Poppy, I’ll let her know a student is coming,” Severus said, rising from the armchair he was sitting in and heading for the door.

“Severus, one more thing,” Pomona called to him before he made it out of the door.

“What is it?” he said, turning back quickly.

“The student is Harry Potter.”

---

Harry was on edge, his stomach roiled constantly as the other students meandered around the house.

He had immediately felt at home in the house of the badger, it's sunny yellow walls and multitude of plants making him feel as though he were outside and in the garden. The smell of earth and greenery brought him peace when he feared there would be none. Some of the plants in the common room were taller than he was, reaching up and running along the ceiling. It made him feel as though he were a fairy…

No, boys aren’t fairies. Uncle Vernon would be so angry if he knew Harry had thought that.

He was such a freak.

Harry pulled himself more into a ball, back to the corner of the room, and tried to continue studying herbology. It was hard to focus though, the other students were constantly milling around and carrying on about who knows what. It would have been nice to have friend’s like that, but Harry doubted that would ever happen for him. No one liked being around a freak for too long.

“Hey, Bug,” one of the prefects said quietly on his right. “How’s it going?”

Harry startled violently at the sound, tucking his head down between his shoulders and pulling his arms in around his chest. He didn’t think they would hurt him here, but he was a freak and they had only known him for a short couple of weeks. It wouldn’t surprise him if they changed their mind.

“Are you working on herbology?” the prefect murmured, brushing her long brown hair behind her ear.

Harry nodded slightly, looking at her suspiciously before pointing at the book. A shiver worked its way up his spine as he nestled more closely to the stone wall. The clothing he had under his robes was certainly not adequate for the coolness of the castle, much less the humidity of the Hufflepuff dorms, but it was all he had.

“Here, Bug,” the prefect said, summoning a quilt from a nearby sofa and wrapping it over the boy’s shoulders, being careful not to touch the child’s head. He had not tolerated having his head touched even the slightest. Even a friendly hair ruffle had sent the poor boy into a panic. “Are you hungry?”

Harry thought about it for a moment then shook his head. He had hardly managed to eat anything for breakfast before his stomach started to revolt. The eggs had tasted lovely, but they did not sit well in his stomach. Nor had the milk. The tomatoes had been ok, but there was something off about them as well. They seemed almost greasy and the feeling had coated his mouth, making him gag. At least at the Dursleys he hadn’t been expected to eat much. Here, however, he was almost expected to eat three meals and snacks. He had tried to avoid the heavier things after the disaster of the first night, but even still his stomach was just not used to eating.

The door to the common room suddenly opened and a happy chorus of “good afternoon, Professor” was heard from the students. Even the students in the dorms could be heard calling greetings to their head of house.

“Good afternoon, my lovely badgers!” Professor Sprout said, a smile growing on her face though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Has anyone seen Harry?”

Harry bit his lip and looked around sadly as all eyes turned towards him. This was it. He had done something unforgivable. He’d tried so hard to behave in class. Maybe they had found out he had though living here made him feel like he was a … no, he wouldn’t think it again. Maybe if he managed to stop they’d let him stay?

“Come on dearie, it’s alright,” Professor Sprout said, beckoning him forward and out of his corner. “You can bring the blanket, love.”

Harry blinked and rubbed his nose. He could bring the blanket? Why? If they were kicking him out, it made no sense to let him take it. Bundling himself in the blanket, he slowly climbed out of the corner, worrying his lower lip as he moved.

So far, his stay at Hogwarts had been beyond his wildest dreams. Food every day, not having to worry about getting his chores done on top of doing his homework, even a comfortable bed which was all his own. The teachers were fairly kind, save Professor Snape, and were quite accommodating to his failures. The other students seemed to have a moderate amount of problems when it came to performing spell casting, so he tried his hardest to remain at the same level as the rest of his classmates.

He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go back to working in his aunt's garden with all of the chemicals. He didn’t want to be shoved into the cupboard again. He didn’t like being his cousin’s punching bag. He liked it here.

Wrapping himself in the blanket and sniffling, trying in vain to keep the tears in because boys don’t cry, he cautiously followed Professor Sprout out of the dorm and up several flights of stairs. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but he was certain he was done for.

“It’s ok, dearie,” Professor Sprout said softly. “Madam Pomfrey isn’t scary.”

“Who’s she?” Harry whispered as they came to a large set of double doors. She wasn’t the headmistress, nor was she the deputy. In fact, he was rather certain he had never heard her name before.

“She’s our school nurse,” Professor Sprout said, pushing the door and ushering him in.

Harry paled instantly as he entered. He had only ever been to the doctor once that he knew of and that was when he was much younger and his ears had gotten infected again even after Uncle Vernon had fixed them. He had needed shots and drops and ointment. The doctor had been rough with him and had pulled on his ears really hard as he looked into the ear canals.

Uncle Vernon had done the same thing for weeks as he shoved the drops into his ears. He had grabbed his hair and pulled him over his knee, forcing him to remain still while he dripped the burning drops into his ears and slathered the painful ointment over the raw tips. But it had been worth it, he didn’t look as much like a freak.

Looking around the wing, he was surprised at how at home he felt despite his fear. The architecture was beautiful, catching the light in just the right way and flowing as though nature itself had built the room. Whoever had carved the stone had done so so seamlessly that Harry swore he was in the most beautiful house amongst the trees ever. Even the large windows on the far wall were designed to catch the most light and bring it into the wing. The Hufflepuff common room was beautiful in its own right, what with all of the plants growing everywhere, but this room was gorgeous and peaceful in ways he could not explain.

Harry heard a set of footsteps behind him and immediately felt his hackles raise. He didn’t recognize the sound of the footsteps behind him, but whoever it was walked with a determination and force which was rather off putting. The clack of their shoes on the hard cobbles brought memories of Aunt Petunia dragging him down the hall of the school by his collar to the forefront of his mind.

Whipping around, he was rather surprised to find a kindly looking woman in a red gown and white apron and hat approaching from an office behind him.

“This is Madam Pomfrey, Harry,” Professor Sprout said as she gently led him to one of the many beds in the ward. “We just want to make sure you’re settling in ok.”

Harry looked confusedly between the two women as he kicked off his trainers and sat crosslegged on the nearest bed. Why would they want to make sure he was settling in ok? Why would he need to go to the school nurse for that? Maybe he was supposed to be able to eat a certain amount and they were going to send him home for not eating. He knew it would be a struggle, but he would just have to try harder. He had to try harder.

Good boys always ate all of their food and didn’t sick up. That was what Aunt Petunia was always saying, and Dudley was a good boy. Dudley was going to grow up to be a strong man like Uncle Vernon. Dudley could eat all of his dinner and then some. Dudley always got his sweets after a meal. Harry never did. He was a failure of a boy, but Uncle Vernon was trying to teach him to be a good lad.

He just needed a bit more of a heavy hand.

“Good Evening, Harry,” Madam Pomfrey said with a small, sad smile. “How are you feeling?”

Harry looked to Professor Sprout for permission to speak. That was an important rule: do not speak without permission. He had learned that one the hard way many times. Now it was as though he couldn’t speak at all without permission. Or it was hard to at least.

“Go on, dearie,” Professor Sprout said, conjuring a wooden chair from a handkerchief and sitting herself next to his bed. “It’s ok to talk to her.”

Harry nodded slightly and shuddered, wrapping the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. Was that good enough for permission? He hoped it was, otherwise his throat would be sore for days if he talked too much. It probably would be sore anyways as he was out of practice speaking, but he was certain the soreness would be nearly unbearable without proper permission. It had been like that for years.

“I’m ok, ma’am,” Harry said, voice barely a whisper.

“Are you having any pain anywhere right now?” the school nurse said, pulling her wand out slowly so as to not spook the child who was staring at her with wide, uncertain eyes.

“No, ma’am,” Harry lied. His bones hurt all the time for some reason, but he could manage that. Good boys didn’t cry about a little bit of joint pain. If he were ever to be a strong man, he would have to be able to get over it and not cry.

“Alright, I need to cast a few spells on you. They may tingle a bit, but they won’t hurt,” Madam Pomfrey said, noticing with dismay that he didn’t seem to want to talk. Something was certainly amiss with the poor child. “Are you ok if I do that?”

Harry blinked in confusion before nodding. Why was she asking for his permission? No one had ever asked for his permission to do anything to him, they just did it whether he wanted them to or not.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over him once, casting a basic diagnostic spell and tutting softly to herself as the results came back. This was not going to be good. Not at all. The poor child was extremely underweight, showing signs of chronic malnutrition as well as a few easily treatable (yet untreated) other ailments. Ailments which should have been dealt with long ago had they been totally human and should never have occurred due to their elven blood. And they were definitely fae.

With vision that poor, she was certain the poor child had been struggling in classes with just seeing the board and was certain they could hardly read some of the required textbooks. Their joints were inflamed due to improper nutrition, their bones were weak and showed signs of repeated fracture, and their skin was extremely dry. Already, this was not looking good.

Lips drawn into a thin line, Madam Pomfrey continued with her exam, casting yet another diagnostic spell over the child. Repeated damage to internal organs, evidence of repeated beatings, and the missing ear tips. No, this was not shaping up to be good. In fact, she would be rather surprised if the child didn’t have any evidence of transforming into an Unseelie at this rate. There was too much evidence of abuse for them not to be in the process of transforming from light to dark. If anything, the transformation would keep the child safe from their abusers.

Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and cast the last of the diagnostic spells and gasped at what she found. Despite all the child had gone through, they had very little dark magic within them. However, where another child would have lashed out, Harry’s magic had seemingly turned inward. Despite having not been around other magical beings prior to attending Hogwarts, there was evidence of multiple compulsion spells on the child, seemingly self inflicted. She dreaded to know what the child was forcing himself to do, but the spells were not unlike those seen in House Elves owned by some of the more dark families.

“Thank you, Harry,” Madam Pomfrey said softly, sitting softly on the bed directly in front of the small child. “I have a few questions for you, and I want you to answer as truthfully as you are able, alright?”

Harry frowned but nodded. Did she not know the rules? Were the rules different here? They couldn’t be that different could they?

“Do you find it difficult to do some things? Like there is something physically stopping you from doing them?” Madam Pomfrey asked gently, prepared to spell a calming draught into the boy should she accidentally trigger any of the compulsion spells.

Harry thought about it for a moment and nodded. If Uncle Vernon said not to do something, he would not be able to do it until Uncle Vernon said to do it, but there were always consequences for disobeying Uncle Vernon. And if Harry wanted to be a good boy, he needed to obey what Uncle Vernon said. Uncle Vernon was just trying to help him not be a freak.

“Do you find it difficult to speak about certain things?” Madam Pomfrey continued, already knowing the answer. “Difficult as though something is preventing you from saying things?”

Harry nodded vehemently for a moment before stopping up short. Nodding like that was childish. He needed to grow up. He needed to act like a man, not a pansy of a child. He needed to be more boy-like and this wasn’t it. He didn’t need them knowing how much of a freak he was.

“Two more questions and we’ll move on to something else, ok Harry?” Madam Pomfrey said softly, noting painfully how Harry’s eyes had darted around fearfully after nodding and how quickly his nodding had halted. “Do you feel as though someone is watching you or listening to your thoughts?”

Harry thought about it for a moment before looking around the hospital wing suspiciously. Surely Uncle Vernon wouldn’t know if he told them about the rules. Uncle Vernon would always know how much of a freak he was. He always knew what Harry did.

“One more question, Harry dear,” Professor Sprout said, looking pointedly at Madam Pomfrey who shook her head. The answer to the last question was obvious.

“Harry, is speaking in general one of the things you find difficult?” Madam Pomfrey asked softly.

Harry’s head shot up bewildered. How had she known about that? Was it that obvious? Surely they would now send him back. Now they knew how much of a freak he was! Uncle Vernon was going to be so mad when he came home early. Now they were going to have to send him to Stonewall High and he was going to have to wear the grey uniform that Aunt Petunia had been dying for him. It had been such a waste of dye and he was sure that he would break out in a rash as soon as he wore it but he could do it. He would have to put up with it.

“Harry… Harry? Focus on me lovie,” Professor Sprout said, gently rubbing his hand. “There we go. It’s ok dear, we just needed to know. How about we get you a nice snack before we continue. How’s that sound?”

Harry’s stomach roiled at the thought but he nodded. He needed something to eat but was afraid he would sick up again. He had already done that once already today. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get his stomach to man up and take the food he was giving it. He had no idea what was wrong with it, but Uncle Vernon always called it a ‘symptom of his freakishness.’

“Do you need something to soothe your tummy, dear?” Professor Sprout said, noting the green tinge to the child’s face. “Do you have stomach soothers, Poppy?”

Madam Pomfrey shook her head but looked at the fireplace intently. She and Severus had long ago set up a system of assessment for some of the more… difficult cases. She would do her assessment of them and he had a parchment which mirrored her findings. As soon as the assessment began, he would begin crafting the potions the child most needed. Thankfully, many of the more pressing ones she would have on hand: blood replenishers, bruise balms, and the like. Even then, there were a few potions many of the children needed which were easily crafted in under thirty minutes and stomach soothers and calming draughts were certainly high on that list.

“Severus ought to be here soon with some, though,” she said softly, knowing how on edge the poor child was about the whole situation. “Potions with no animal products do take a bit longer to craft.”

Professor Sprout nodded as Harry looked frantically between the two women. Who was ‘Severus?’ He felt he recognized the name vaguely, but wasn’t sure who they were referring to. But he had a vague idea as to who it could possibly be: the potion’s master Professor Snape. And Professor Snape hated … no, loathed him.

It made sense that he would be the one making the potions, he was the potion’s master of Hogwarts after all. But for him to be making special potions for Harry? Why would he ever want to do something like that? Harry was a freak after all. That was why they pulled him in here, wasn’t it?

“How about a bit of juice,” Professor Sprout said, smiling lightly at the boy sitting in front of her. “Does peach juice sound ok to you?”

Harry blinked several times, still adjusting to being asked what he wanted as opposed to being told, before nodding. Peach juice sounded lovely, especially this late in the afternoon with the sun beginning to set and the white walls of the infirmary turning their own peachy color. And fruit juice never set off his stomach like milk or broth did.