Severus Snape sat behind his imposing desk, his dark eyes burning with frustration and concern. His fingers intertwined, his forehead resting against them as he tried to fight off the throbbing pain in his skull. Even the strongest headache potion couldn't alleviate the tension that was building inside him. It was only the second day of the new term, and already he was facing a new dilemma. But this time, it was different. This time, it was personal.

His mind raced, replaying the scene from last night's feast over and over again. The way Potter had flinched when someone had approached him, the way he had barely touched his food, the way he had lost weight...it all pointed to something being wrong. Severus couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss, that there was more to this than met the eye. His instincts were telling him that he needed to investigate further.

But his rational side told him to let it go. After all, it was just Potter, the golden boy of Gryffindor. What could be wrong with him? Surely, he was just seeking attention, trying to gain sympathy from his peers. But deep down, Severus knew that this wasn't the case. Something about Potter's behavior had changed, and it was alarming.

Severus knew that he had to tread carefully. He couldn't afford to be seen as sympathetic or concerned for Potter's well-being. That would only raise suspicion and draw unwanted attention to himself. Instead, he would have to rely on his cunning and his spy skills to get to the bottom of this mystery.

As the throbbing in his head subsided, Severus Snape couldn't help but think about Harry Potter and his recent actions. The boy seemed to have a knack for stirring up trouble, and Snape couldn't shake off the feeling that something was not quite right. He tried to push the thought aside, determined to focus on his day ahead, but the nagging feeling persisted.

With a deep sigh, Snape rose from his desk and began to prepare for his first class of the day - Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. He couldn't help but curse the Headmaster under his breath for his decision to pair house rivals together. Was he trying to drive Snape insane with the impossible task of keeping them from killing each other? It seemed like the only logical explanation, other than the fact that the old man was losing his mind in his old age.

As he looked over his schedule, Snape realized with relief that he wouldn't have to face Potter until the end of the day. Too many Gryffindor students in one day was enough to drive him up the wall, but he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was off. Why did he have to develop a conscience now of all times? Oh yes, because Potter was the child of the woman he loved - Lily Potter.

While Snape was stewing in his brooding thoughts down in the dungeon, a small figure was slowly waking up in a tower. Harry Potter despised the start of term, not because he hated learning or school, but because he was forced to hide.

Harry had become a master of disguise, hiding his emotional turmoil from those around him. He had constructed an invisible barrier to shield himself from the cruel words and actions of others, but only time could tell when he felt comfortable enough to lower it.

As the new school year commenced, Harry's friends and teachers were greeted with a version of him that was cold and detached. He knew it was the only way to protect himself, to keep his guard up until he felt safe enough to reveal his true self.

Yet, the facade was not perfect. Harry had to lie to his friends, telling them he was fine and trying to ignore their concerned looks. But the weight of their worry and pity was almost too much to bear. He despised making them fret over him, but his pain was too much to conceal completely. It seeped through the cracks in his facade, like a wounded animal struggling to survive.

Despite his attempts to hide his wounds, both physical and emotional, they were still present. They were a constant reminder of the abuse he endured, both inside and out. It was a heavy burden to carry, and sometimes Harry wondered if he could bear it any longer.

With a deep exhale, Harry carefully eased himself out of bed, wincing at the pain that coursed through his body. His injuries were still fresh and raw, and every movement reminded him of the violence he had endured. It was still early, and his dorm mates were still asleep, which meant he could make his way to the showers without drawing attention to himself.

As he tiptoed across the room, Harry gathered the clothes he had picked out the night before, along with a towel. He couldn't afford to be caught unprepared, not when he needed to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to himself. The last thing he wanted was for someone to see the extent of his injuries.

The journey to the showers felt endless, each step a painful reminder of the bruises and cuts that littered his body. When he finally reached the stall, Harry hesitated for a moment before placing his clothes and towel on the rack. He turned the water on to warm up, the sound soothing to his frayed nerves.

With a deep breath, Harry began to peel his pajamas away from his skin, revealing the extent of the damage. His skin was raw and tender, an angry red that seemed to pulse with pain. Blood soaked into the fabric of his pajamas, staining them a dark red that made him feel sick.

He tried not to think about the house elves who would have to wash them, hoping that they wouldn't notice the stains. It was a small worry, but it was one he couldn't help. In this moment, all he could focus on was the pain that seemed to consume him.

With a heavy sigh, Harry wearily made his way to the shower stall, already anticipating the sweet relief of the warm water on his aching body. The past few days had been grueling, and he felt every single bruise and cut that marred his skin. As he undressed, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension at the thought of someone walking in on him. He didn't want to have to make up a story or try to hide his injuries from prying eyes. It was exhausting enough to pretend that everything was okay.

But once he stepped into the shower and the hot water hit his back, Harry felt all of his anxiety and fear slip away. It was just him and the soothing water, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could truly relax. This was one of the few moments where he could forget about all of his problems, even if it was just temporary.

As he washed himself, Harry couldn't help but appreciate how much he cherished these hot showers. They were a luxury that he had never experienced before coming to Hogwarts. At the Dursleys', he was lucky to even get a cold shower once a week. But here, he could indulge in the warmth and comfort of the water, at least when no one else was around.

With his eyes closed and head tilted back, Harry allowed the water to drench his hair and spread down his body. The shampoo lathered in his hands as he massaged it into his scalp, and for a moment, he forgot about everything else. It was just him and the water, and nothing else mattered. But as much as he wanted to stay there, he knew he couldn't. His dorm mates would be waking soon, and he had to hurry if he didn't want to risk being seen.

After finishing his shower, Harry was cautious while dressing himself. The wounds on his back were still tender and he didn't want to cause any further damage. He had learned the hard way that even the slightest wrong move could cause immense pain and a longer healing time.

Once dressed, Harry walked over to Ron's bed and gently shook him awake. He couldn't help but feel guilty about lying to his friend, especially after all the support and kindness Ron had shown him. Harry remembered how Ron and his brothers had tried to rescue him from the Dursleys' clutches with their father's flying car. It had been a valiant effort, but unfortunately, it had all been in vain.

Harry was still bitter about how the Minister of Magic had come to take him back to Privet Drive. Ron, his brothers, and even his own parents had all tried to argue on his behalf, but it was all for naught.

The Minister seemed disinterested, and Ron's parents thought they were just trying to stir up trouble. How could they understand what he had been through? No one would believe that the famous "Boy Who Lived" had been living in a tiny room with barred windows, a door with ten locks, and a tiny flap in the door that allowed for minimal food to be passed through. Harry felt trapped and alone, even in the presence of his closest friends.

As Harry gently shook Ron's shoulder, he couldn't help but feel guilty for lying to his best friend. Ron had been nothing but kind and supportive of him since they met on the Hogwarts Express, and yet Harry continued to keep his secrets hidden. But he couldn't bring himself to burden Ron with his problems, not when he already had so much on his plate.

Finally, Ron grumbled and stirred awake, and Harry breathed a small sigh of relief. He knew that Ron was not a morning person and could sleep through almost anything. As Ron mumbled under his breath and rolled over, Harry leaned down close to his ear.

"If you sleep any longer, you're going to miss breakfast."

Those words did the trick, and Ron's eyes shot open. Harry watched as his friend looked around the room with a sleepy yet frantic expression, searching for food. It was a routine they had developed over the years, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the familiarity of it all.

As Ron's gaze turned to him, Harry knew that he had successfully diverted his friend's attention. Ron recognized the unspoken signal and donned a small smile.

"Did you really have to resort to food to wake me up?"

Harry returned the smile with a mischievous glint in his eye. "It always works, doesn't it? And besides, we wouldn't want to miss out on the delicious Hogwarts breakfast now, would we?"

As Ron groggily roused from his slumber, he wearily swung his legs over the edge of the bed and onto the cold, stone floor. The faintest hint of sunlight crept through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. He then placed a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder, who flinched involuntarily, failing to mask his surprise.

In an instant, Ron's playful demeanor vanished as he studied Harry's face with deep concern. "You okay there, Mate?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Harry forced a smile, attempting to reassure his friend. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ron. Just caught me off guard."

Still, Ron looked at him skeptically, refusing to be placated. "You know, Harry, I'm here for you, always. If you ever need to talk about anything."

Harry nodded solemnly, meeting Ron's gaze. "I appreciate that, Ron. Thank you."

But in reality, Harry knew he could never confide in his friends about the horrors he had endured over the summer, or anything that had happened at the hands of the Dursleys. The shame and humiliation he felt were too great, and he dreaded the thought of incurring Uncle Vernon's wrath once again. He knew that if he breathed a word of it to anyone and it got back to his uncle, he would be swiftly whisked away from Hogwarts, never to see his beloved school again. Hogwarts was his sanctuary, his home, and he would do anything to protect it.

As Ron's gaze lingered on Harry, he could sense that something was not quite right. Harry's forced smile failed to mask the unease that was evident in his eyes. "Really Ron, I'm fine," Harry insisted, trying to quell his friend's growing concern. "Just a bit jumpy, okay?"

Ron nodded, but his expression was one of deep worry. "I would still feel better if you came with me to the hospital wing," he suggested gently. "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey wouldn't ask too many questions if you didn't want to answer any."

Harry shook his head resolutely. "Please Ron, no."

Sensing that Harry was on the verge of panic, Ron reached out and placed a comforting hand on his friend's arm. "Okay, Harry. It was just a suggestion. You don't have to go to the hospital wing, although I wish you would talk to someone. I'm your best mate, and I can tell when you're hurt."

"Please, just drop it, Ron," Harry implored, his voice barely above a whisper.

Acknowledging his defeat, Ron held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, Harry. Let me get dressed and we'll head down to the Great Hall for some food."

Harry gave a small nod of thanks and watched as Ron dressed for the day. He knew that Ron meant well, but the constant prodding was starting to grate on his nerves. He wished his friend would just let it go, but he suspected that Ron would bring it up again later. For now, Harry would simply have to tolerate his friend's good intentions, even if they were a bit overbearing at times.

Ron's smile was infectious, and Harry couldn't help but feel a small measure of relief. Maybe today would be a good day after all. Together, the two friends made their way down the stairs and into the Gryffindor common room. However, their progress was halted when Ron spotted his twin brothers across the room.

"Hey, Harry, I just remembered I forgot something. I'll meet you in the Great Hall, okay?" Ron said, making an excuse to leave.

Harry nodded, not suspecting a thing, and Ron quickly made his way over to his brothers. The three of them huddled in a quiet corner, speaking in low whispers.

As soon as the twins saw the determined look in Ron's eyes, they knew that something was wrong. It was not often that their little brother sought them out for help, so they knew that the situation must be serious. The twins exchanged a silent look, wordlessly agreeing to lend their assistance to their younger brother.

As they turned the corner, Ron's heart sank. The sight of Harry, writhing in agony, was enough to break even the toughest of souls. For Ron, it was unbearable. The twelve-year-old boy had never felt so helpless before. All his attempts to help his friend had gone in vain, and he couldn't bear to see Harry suffer like this anymore.

The tears came pouring out of his eyes, and he tried to hold them back, but they were too strong. Ron's body shook with sobs, and he felt like he was drowning in his own sorrow. He had never felt so alone in his life. He knew he had to do something to help Harry, but he didn't know what. He had gone to teachers before, but they had all dismissed his concerns as childish fears.

George, saw the tears streaming down his brother's face and immediately knew something was wrong. He drew Ron into a tight embrace, trying to comfort him as best he could. He looked into his twin's eyes and silently communicated that they needed to help Harry, no matter what.

Gently pulling Ron away from his chest, George looked into his brother's eyes and asked, "What's wrong, little bro? Talk to us. We're here for you."

Ron drew in a deep, shuddering breath, as he spoke. "It's Harry," he murmured, his voice tight with concern. "He's hurt, and it's bad. But he's refusing to go to the hospital wing, and I don't know what else to do. If I go to a Professor Harry will never speak to me again." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fear, as he gazed imploringly at his listener, silently pleading for guidance.

With a determined nod, both twins fixed their gazes on Ron, their expressions serious but resolute. "We'll do what we can, Ron," Fred declared firmly, his tone unwavering. "We'll try to talk to him after breakfast and see whether we can reason with him. "

Ron watched as his brothers shared a silent exchange, their eyes flickering with a silent understanding. It was Fred who spoke next, his voice low and serious. "If all else fails, there's one last person who might be able to help," he said, his words heavy with meaning. "And by the looks he was throwing Harry's way last night, I'd say he already knows something is wrong."

As the weight of his brother's words sank in, Ron felt a cold shiver race down his spine. Who could they possibly be talking about? The only person he could remember looking at Harry during the feast was Snape, and Snape hated Harry. The idea of Snape helping anyone, let alone Harry, seemed utterly ludicrous.

As if sensing his thoughts, George fixed Ron with a serious look. "You know, Ron," he began, his tone measured, "not everyone is who they seem to be. Snape might not be as much of a git as he seems, and in fact, he can be quite...kind. Just don't tell him we said that."

Ron's brows furrowed in confusion as he peered at his twin brothers. "Hold on a sec... You guys are George and Fred Weasley, right?"

The mischievous duo let out a hearty laugh before flashing Ron a smile. It was no secret that Ron could be a bit clueless at times, but that only added to his charm. Fred motioned towards a nearby chair, leading Ron over to take a seat. Meanwhile, George rested a reassuring hand on his little brother's shoulder.

"Listen, Ron," George began in a hushed tone. "We've got a story for you, but you have to promise not to tell a soul, okay?"

Ron's eyes widened with curiosity. "Okay, I promise. What's the story?"

Ron gave a slight nod, his curiosity piqued by his brothers' secretive conversation. George continued, "You know that we send potions home to Mum so she can save money, right?"

Ron nodded again, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Fred interjected, "Well, there's a bit more to the story than that."

As his brothers began to recount their tale, Ron listened intently, his eyes widening with each passing detail. In their first year at Hogwarts, George and Fred had attempted to brew potions in the third floor girls' bathroom, and things had quickly gone awry. One of the potions had exploded, leaving Fred with a painful burn on his leg.

"We were terrified," George said, "We didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey because we were afraid she'd find out what we were doing and stop us."

"But Snape noticed something was off the next day in class," Fred chimed in, "He had us stay after and asked what happened. After healing my leg and scolding us for brewing unsupervised, he offered to help us,"

George continued. "He thought it was noble that we were trying to help Mum by sending her potions, so he helps us brew and sends them off every Wednesday night."

Ron looked at his brothers with skepticism as he asked if they were talking about the same Snape, to which the twins responded with smiles on their faces, assuring him that there was only one Snape.

Fiddling with the ends of his robes, Ron then looked down at his lap before asking hopefully, "So, you think he would help Harry?" He was just relieved that someone was willing to help his friend.

Both Fred and George nodded and helped Ron to his feet. Fred then placed a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder and said, "If we can't get Harry to go to someone tonight, we'll talk to Snape tomorrow when we brew, okay?"

Ron nodded, and the trio made their way to the Great Hall to meet Harry for breakfast. However, it was a somber affair, as Harry barely ate anything, much to his friends' displeasure. As the glances from Professor Snape at the head table became more frequent, the Professor to his right placed a hand on his shoulder, and when Snape looked up, he saw concern in the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"What is it, Severus?" the Headmaster asked.

Severus let out a deep sigh and berated himself for being so obvious. He was a spy, for Merlin's sake! "It's nothing, Albus. I'm just...worried."

Albus followed the Potions Master's gaze and was taken aback. Not only by who Severus was worried about, but also by what he saw. Harry Potter, looking thin and jittery. The Headmaster turned to Severus and asked, "Do you know what's happened to him?"

Severus shook his head. "I'm guessing I'm not overreacting, then?"

Shaking his head, Albus looked down at his plate with a mournful expression. "Do you think his relatives are involved?"

"I don't know, Headmaster. I was planning to make an excuse to talk to the boy later to find out what's going on."

Severus was being truthful. He didn't know anymore. This morning, he had convinced himself that he was just overthinking things and that Potter was seeking attention. But now, seeing the boy again, he knew there was more to the situation. The way Harry winced whenever something touched him or how he looked ill after just a few bites of food spoke volumes.

Albus nodded sadly in response. "If there is anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask. And keep me informed of any developments."

"I will," Severus replied before standing up from the table and making his way back down to the dungeons. He needed to think things over, especially how he would approach Harry. He had to be careful, or he risked ruining his reputation or scaring the boy into silence.

Once he was back in his office, Severus sat down at his desk and rubbed his temples. He wondered why he even bothered getting out of bed that morning. It was going to be a long and challenging day, that much was clear.

Severus felt a sense of relief that Harry's last class of the day was with him, as it gave him the opportunity to attend to the boy's injury right away. Throughout the class, Severus had been keeping a watchful eye on Harry, and his conviction grew stronger as he observed that the boy was clearly hurt.

"Mr. Potter, could you please stay after class for a moment?" Severus addressed Harry once the other students had left. Ron gave Harry an understanding look before leaving with the others.

Harry didn't know why his professor had asked him to stay. He couldn't recall doing anything wrong. Before he could worry too much, Severus was by his side, his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Put your arm around my waist, and I'll help you walk into my office. Lift your right leg so you don't put any more pressure on your ankle."

Following his Professor's instructions, Harry obeyed but gazed at him in bewilderment. This man despised him, so how did he learn about his broken ankle? Not even Ron or Hermione had detected it. Did he limp while walking? As he pondered, his Professor nudged him forward tenderly, indicating that he had been lost in thought for a while.

"Come on, Potter, cooperate with me. Once we reach my office, I will examine your ankle and try to mend it. Just a few more steps," he urged Harry.

With the Professor's assistance, Harry lifted his left leg cautiously and progressed slowly. They eventually reached Severus's office, where the latter gently seated Harry on a plush sofa. He then placed a stool beside him and gingerly elevated the injured leg, setting it gently on the cushion.

Throughout Severus's attention to Harry's ankle, the boy seemed to be in a trance. Initially, he thought it was a dream. It was all too strange to be real. A teacher, particularly Snape, was concerned about Harry's well-being. That had never occurred before, despite him having endured much worse.

Gradually, Harry realized, in his dream-like state, that Snape was kneeling in front of him and saying something. He reckoned he should listen attentively to avoid further complications. As he raised his head from staring at his lap, he saw something that perplexed him even further.

The dour man's countenance displayed an unfamiliar emotion - a blend of sorrow and apprehension. Snape, of all people, never thought he would witness such an expression. Harry realized that the man was questioning him and awaiting his response.

"I'm sorry, sir..." he murmured.

Severus grew increasingly concerned about the young boy before him. This wasn't the Harry Potter he had known the previous year. The boy didn't exhibit his usual bold or arrogant demeanor, only confusion and...fear.

He repeated his inquiry about Harry's foot and inquired if he could remove his shoe, trying not to startle the boy. He wanted to be transparent with his actions, even if it meant removing a shoe and sock. He was unsure of the extent of the boy's maltreatment and didn't want to deal with a panicking child.

Today, during class, he noticed something alarming. The boy was moving with an unusual caution, almost as if he were trying to hide an injury. Severus observed how Harry nursed his back, limped slightly, and his handwriting had deteriorated from the previous year. These were telltale signs of abuse that only someone who had been through it or dealt with it could recognize.

When Harry looked up at him, Severus could not help but feel a sense of protectiveness and concern for the boy. Harry was Lily's child, and he knew that the boy had been hurt by those who were supposed to care for him. It made Severus regret not fighting harder for Harry's placement as a baby. He knew how cruel Petunia could be, and he could only imagine the pain Harry had endured.

Shaking off those thoughts, Severus tried to keep his focus on the present moment. He gently asked Harry, "What are you sorry for?"

Harry's response was barely a whisper. "I...I...just am..."

Severus couldn't bear to see Harry like this, so lost and afraid. He leaned in closer and said softly, "Look at me, Harry."

As Harry gazed up at the imposing figure of Professor Snape, his heart raced with apprehension. He had always feared the man, with his cold demeanor and cutting remarks. But now, as he looked into the dark eyes that seemed to bore into his soul, he felt a different kind of fear - the fear of rejection and scorn.

Perhaps, he thought, Snape had finally seen him for the freak that he was, and was now going to unleash all his pent-up frustration on him. The thought made Harry's stomach churn with anxiety, and he shrank back slightly, expecting the worst.

But then, to his surprise, Snape reached out and laid a gentle hand on his trembling one. Harry flinched at the unexpected touch, but Snape did not move away. Instead, he spoke in a low, soothing voice that sent shivers down Harry's spine.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Potter. Nothing at all. I can see that you are hurt, and I want to help heal you."

Harry looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Did Snape really mean what he said? Or was this just another ploy to catch him off guard?

"But...but...why?" Harry stammered, his mind reeling with confusion. "You hate me. You've always hated me."

At this, Snape closed his eyes briefly, as if in pain. He knew he had a lot to answer for, and it was not going to be easy. He was utterly unprepared for this conversation all he had wanted to do was heal the boy.

"Potter, your question is quite complex. However, I'll do my best to address it later. But first, I'd like to ensure your well-being. May I take off your shoe and sock to examine and heal your ankle?"

Harry simply gazed at his Professor in disbelief. He couldn't believe that his Professor had nearly promised to divulge something he had been curious about for the entirety of the previous year. As the shock gradually subsided, Harry gave a hesitant nod.

With caution and deliberation, Severus removed Harry's shoe, taking note that it was not fastened in the usual manner but rather a tangle of knots. He made a mental note to inquire with the boy later about whether he actually knew how to tie his shoes.

Severus let out a deep sigh as he began the task of removing Harry's sock and gently rolling up the boy's pant leg. As soon as Severus saw the grotesquely swollen limb, he looked up at Harry with concern etched on his face. He needed to assess the severity of the injury.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his lap, feeling ashamed and embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

"A...a few weeks?" he stammered, barely audible.

Severus let out another sigh, and his expression became more serious.

"This is a very severe break, Potter," he said gravely, "one that I am not very comfortable healing myself. I will have to call Madam Pomfrey to help, but before I do, I have to ask: how did this happen, and why did your relatives not take you to have it set?"

Harry's eyes welled up with tears, and he held his right hand in his left, a nervous habit that Severus noticed. Seeing Harry's distress, Severus got up from where he was kneeling and sat on the couch next to the boy.

"Gently now," he said softly, placing a hand on both of Harry's and carefully prying the injured hand from the other. "Come on, let me see, Potter."

With delicate precision, Severus assessed Harry's hand and wrist for any hidden injuries. He felt each knuckle, gently probing for any fractures or dislocations. After a few moments of careful examination, he placed Harry's hand back on his lap and looked back up at the nervous boy.

"It seems all your knuckles are crushed. You know Po... Harry, I am your Professor and you can tell me anything. Even if it's something about your home life."

Harry looked up at Severus, his eyes brimming with tears. "I... I know Fred and George talked to me earlier. They said I could trust you."

Severus arched an eyebrow, impressed that the mischievous Weasley twins had vouched for him. He made a mental note to thank them for their recommendation.

"I did indeed help the twins, and I can help you too if you let me," Severus replied in a reassuring voice.

Harry's gaze fell back to his lap as he asked, "How?"

Severus took a deep breath before responding. "Why don't we get you all healed up, and then we can sit down and talk about what happened over the summer?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he was ready to open up. But he gave a small nod, and Severus gently took hold of Harry's injured hand.

"I'm going to heal your knuckles now. This will sting a bit, but afterward, you will feel a lot better. Are you ready?"

Severus placed his other hand on top of Harry's when he saw him nod. With both hands encircling the child's hand, he chanted slowly and quietly, surrounded by warm, yellow light, while Harry grimaced in pain. But as soon as Severus began, he stopped, and Harry's hand immediately felt better. He then gently placed Harry's hand back in his lap.

Harry looked up at his Professor with gratitude. "Thank you, sir."

Severus gave a small nod to show acceptance, though he felt the thanks were unnecessary. He asked, "Are you hurt anywhere else, Harry?"

Harry appeared to struggle with the question, prompting Severus to give a silent sigh and nod to himself, seeming to understand the problem. "Do you want me to run a diagnostic scan on you, Harry, instead of telling me?"

Harry immediately nodded with relief, grateful that his teacher had given him a way out. He could finally receive healing without breaking Uncle Vernon's rules - at least, not until later. Harry knew that Snape would demand to know what had happened, but for now, he would focus on the present and what his professor was telling him.

When Severus saw Harry come out of his pensive state, he began to explain the diagnostic scan again in a gentle manner. "I'm going to wave my wand over you, Harry, and a parchment and quill will appear next to me. The quill will write down all of your injuries, past and present. You won't feel any pain, but you might experience a few tingles as my magic washes over you. There's nothing to be scared of."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded, preparing himself for the spell. The Potion Master then lifted his wand and gently flicked it over Harry's head. Harry felt the slight tingle of magic, but he was ready for it. What he wasn't ready for was the gasp that escaped Snape's lips when the sheet of paper grew beyond three feet long. Ashamed, Harry continued to look down at his lap, and to his horror, he felt tears prick the back of his eyes.

When the quill stopped writing, Severus grabbed the parchment and stared at it in disbelief. How could anyone treat a child like this? He was horrified at what those people had done. He looked up at Harry, who was still sitting next to him. Although Harry was good at hiding his emotions, he couldn't conceal the few traitorous tears that escaped his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

Some might say that Severus Snape had a cold heart and could not love anything, but that was far from the truth. As soon as Severus saw those tears, he pulled the boy close to his side and ignored the flinch that came with touch. He wrapped his arms around the abused boy's shoulders as gently as he could and pressed Harry's head tenderly onto his shoulder, providing as much comfort as he could.

Severus took a deep breath and spoke with a tenderness that he only used with his snakes. "It's okay to cry, Harry," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "I know I haven't been there for you in the past, and I may have treated you coldly, but I'm here for you now. I want to help you heal, both physically and emotionally."

As the weight of Severus's words hit Harry, he felt a wave of emotion wash over him. For so long, he had felt alone and neglected, but in that moment, he realized that someone cared. Tears began to flow down his face, and he clung to Severus's shoulder as he sobbed.

Severus held Harry tightly, taking care not to hurt him further. He had never been particularly skilled at comforting children, but in that moment, he knew he had to try. He rubbed gentle circles on Harry's back, his touch soft and comforting. He cradled Harry's long fingers through his hair, the gesture meant to convey a sense of safety and protection.

"Shhh, everything will be okay, Harry," Severus whispered, his voice gentle and reassuring. "I'll call Madam Pomfrey, and she can help me heal your ankle. Then, I'll brew some potions to help your back heal, and she can stay with you for a little while."

But to Severus's surprise, Harry shook his head vigorously and began to cry even harder. Confused and concerned, Severus knelt down and looked into Harry's tear-filled eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong, Harry," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "What did I say that upset you?"

At first, Harry struggled to speak, his sobs wracking his small frame. But then, in a small voice, he whispered, "Pom... Pomfrey..."

Severus nodded, understanding dawning on him. He knew that Harry had been through a lot of trauma, and the idea of being alone with a healer, no matter how kind, was too much for him to bear.

"I see," he said, his voice gentle. "You don't want to be alone. Would you like someone else to sit with you? Maybe Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry nodded, and though he was not thrilled about sitting with the Headmaster, he knew it was better than being alone. He trusted Professor Dumbledore, and he knew that he would be safe with him.

"Okay, Harry," Severus said, his voice filled with compassion. "I'll go fetch Professor Dumbledore. He'll sit with you while we wait for Madam Pomfrey. You're going to be okay, I promise."

Gradually, Harry's sobs subsided, and he began to calm down. The tears slowed to a trickle, and finally, he wiped them away with the back of his hand. For a few minutes, the two of them sat in silence, Harry recovering from his emotional outburst and Severus lost in thought.

After a while, Severus gently drew away from Harry and shifted him so that his head rested on a soft pillow instead of his shoulder. He got up from the couch and kneeled down in front of Harry, looking straight into his eyes.

"I'm going to floo Madam Pomfrey so she can heal your ankle," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "I'll be here the entire time, and I won't leave you alone."

Harry gave a small nod, and Severus got up and walked into the next room, where his floo was located. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process everything that had happened in the last hour. He couldn't quite believe the turn of events.

Severus took a breath to prepare himself, then reached for a jar of green floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace, calling out the name of the nurse. When her face flickered into view, she appeared visibly concerned and muttered something under her breath about yet another injured student.

"Severus, step back so I can come through. Do I need to bring any supplies?" she asked, looking at him through the flames.

"Whatever you need to heal a severely broken limb," he replied.

With a resigned sigh, Poppy nodded and disappeared from view, only to reappear a moment later in the midst of a flurry of green flames. She was holding several cloths and jars of thick paste.

"Where is the child, Severus, and who is it?" she asked, wasting no time.

Severus sighed heavily and looked at her intently. "He's in my office, but before you go in there, I must warn you that he is quite injured."

Poppy cut him off. "I am a nurse, Severus. I can handle injured people."

"I know, Poppy, but this child has been through a lot," Severus said, trying to control his emotions. "I ran a diagnostic charm, and his back is severely damaged. I wasn't prepared for such a serious injury this close to the start of term, so I don't have the proper potions and salves to heal him. I need time to brew some."

Poppy seemed to sense where he was going with this and interrupted him before he could ask the question. "Don't worry, I will sit with him, Severus."

Severus shook his head. "I'm sorry, Poppy, but I'm going to have to ask Albus. Harry is quite afraid of medical personnel, and he doesn't want to be alone with you."

Poppy looked hurt, and Severus quickly tried to reassure her. "It's not personal, Poppy. He's just scared right now, and he may be remembering someone from his past."

Poppy nodded understandingly. "I know, Severus. I'll never get used to these situations, though. So who is the child?"

Severus let out a deep sigh. "Harry Potter."

Poppy's shoulders sagged with a heavy sigh as she looked up at Severus. The gravity of the situation was not lost on her, and she couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. "He was in the hospital wing almost half the year last year. How could I not..." she trailed off, the weight of her thoughts heavy on her mind.

Severus was quick to interrupt her train of thought, his voice firm but gentle. "I know Poppy, I was just as shocked as you are. But we can't dwell on what's already happened. We need to focus on taking care of him now."

Poppy took a deep breath and nodded, steeling herself for the task at hand. "Alright, Severus. Show me to the boy and let's get him all fixed up."

Severus led Poppy into the next room, the atmosphere tense and heavy with anticipation. Harry's injuries were serious, and they both knew that they had to act fast to provide the best possible care.

As soon as they entered the room, Harry seemed to recoil, sinking deeper into the couch as if to protect himself. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, his whole body tense with fear and pain.

Severus was quick to approach Harry, sitting down next to him with a gentle ease. "It's just me and Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Nothing to be afraid of. Come on, look up and see," he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

Slowly, Harry lifted his head, his red, puffy eyes filled with tears. The memories of his past were still fresh in his mind, and the squeaking sound of the door opening had triggered a flashback. But as soon as he saw Severus's face, the panic began to dissipate, replaced with a glimmer of hope.

Poppy approached him with a kind smile, her hand reaching out to touch his injured ankle. "I'll have this fixed up in no time, okay Harry?" she said, her voice soothing and gentle.

Harry looked up at her, giving a small, shy nod. He looked back down at his lap, fidgeting with the blanket that Severus had placed over him.

Poppy was fretting over Harry's swollen ankle, her wand emitting a steady stream of healing spells to alleviate the pain. She was relieved when Severus, the stoic Potions Master, placed a reassuring hand on Harry's fidgeting fingers, calming him down.

"Relax, Harry," Severus murmured. "Take deep breaths. I'm here for you."

Poppy worked her magic, the spells working quickly to reduce the swelling and realign the bone. When the damage was repaired, she deftly wrapped the soft cloth around Harry's ankle, securing it tightly. With a wave of her wand, the cloth hardened into a cast. She looked up and saw the serene expression on Harry's face, thanks to the calming presence of Severus.

"You're all set, Harry," Poppy said with a smile. "But please be careful when you walk, the cast is magical."

Harry nodded, and Severus gave his hand a gentle squeeze before rising from the couch.

"Madam Pomfrey, let me escort you back to the floo," Severus offered. "I'll also ask the Headmaster to come by and check on Harry, okay?"

Harry gave another nod, his expression wary but tired. Severus rose from the couch, his own expression calculating.

"You care about him, Severus," Madam Pomfrey stated softly when they reached the other room, breaking the silence.

The Potions Master's eyes flickered to meet hers for a moment, before quickly darting away. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I'm simply doing my duty as a teacher," he replied tersely.

"Of course you are," she replied, her tone gentle. "But don't underestimate the power of caring, Severus. It can make all the difference in the world."

As Poppy Pomfrey left, Severus felt a knot in his stomach. He knew what he had to do next. He turned to the fireplace and tossed in some green floo powder, calling out "Albus Dumbledore's office!"

Moments later, the familiar face of the Headmaster appeared in the flames.

"I'm guessing that Harry is there with you?" Albus asked, his voice full of concern.

Severus nodded. "Yes, he is. How did you know?"

"I asked Minerva where he was earlier and she asked his friends. They told her that you had asked him to stay after class. I take it that since he hasn't returned to his dorm, something is wrong?"

Severus nodded gravely. "Yes, I would appreciate it if you could come and keep Harry company while I work on brewing the necessary potions to aid in his healing."

Albus's expression grew more somber. "I understand. Is it truly that dire?"

Severus nodded again. "Unfortunately, yes. It seems Harry's time with his relatives has come to an end. He will never be able to return to them."

Albus's heart sank at the news and sighed. "Oh dear. Harry has no other family..."

Severus interrupted Albus before he could finish and said, "Albus, if necessary, I will take care of him.

He cannot go back."

Albus nodded and replied, "All right, Severus. Please step back, and I'll come through."

Severus obeyed the Headmaster's request and stepped back. In a cloud of soot, the Headmaster appeared before him, and Albus enveloped him in a hug, asking, "How is he doing?"

Severus attempted to break free from the Headmaster's grasp, but was unsuccessful until the Headmaster finally released him. "He's frightened and injured," Severus reported.

Albus closed his eyes and let out a sigh of his own. "How long do you need to brew the necessary potions?"

"About an hour or two. In the meantime, could you try to get him to rest? I suspect he hasn't been sleeping well. If that's not possible, perhaps you could teach him how to tie his shoes?" Severus suggested.

Albus simply nodded in agreement.

Severus quietly opened the door to his office as they re-entered, careful to make as little noise as possible. Harry glanced up and then down at his lap upon seeing Albus with them.

Before Albus could make a move, however, Severus sat beside Harry and lifted his chin to meet his eyes. "I'll be in the other room," he said, gesturing to the door. "If you need anything, just call for me. I'll be here as soon as possible."

Harry gave a slight nod, and as Severus left, Albus took his place next to the boy. Giving Severus a silent nod, Albus gently brushed his fingers through Harry's hair and asked, "How are you feeling, Harry?"

Harry slumped on the couch, his shoulders hunched and his face etched with pain. As he attempted to shrug off Albus's concern, a sharp pain shot through his back, causing him to wince.

"Easy there, Harry," Albus cautioned. "Why don't you lie down and try to rest for a while?"

With a weary nod, Harry complied. Albus rose from his seat, gently lowering Harry's elevated leg onto the floor before helping him lie on his side so that his back didn't touch the couch. The boy closed his eyes slowly, giving in to the weight of his exhaustion.

Albus placed a comforting hand on Harry's forehead, brushing away the locks of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "My dear child," he murmured, his voice laced with regret. "I am so sorry for what I've put you through. If only I had known. But you practically begged me last year, didn't you? I should have listened to you, not only to the words you spoke but also to the unspoken pain in your voice."

As he watched Harry's chest rise and fall with each breath, Albus felt a wave of remorse wash over him. How could he have been so blind? How could he have ignored the signs of distress that were so evident in Harry's behavior? The weight of his guilt felt crushing, but he resolved to make amends, no matter what it took.

Albus sat in the comfortable armchair beside the couch, his keen eyes fixed on the young boy's peaceful face. As he sat there, the minutes turned into hours, and time seemed to slip away unnoticed.

Just as Albus was beginning to feel the ache in his own back from sitting for so long, Severus emerged from his potion's lab, a collection of jars cradled in his capable hands. As the potions master caught sight of the boy resting comfortably on the couch, he nodded gratefully to Albus.

"Thank you for watching him. Would you mind lending me a hand while I attend to his injuries?"

Albus rose from his chair immediately, eager to be of assistance. "Of course, Severus. Should I wake him?"

Severus motioned for Albus to stay where he was, gesturing for him to continue keeping watch over the sleeping boy. "No need to disturb him, Albus. In fact, it's best if he remains asleep for this."

Severus approached the boy on the couch and set the jars down on the nearby table with a gentle clink. His eyes fell upon the young boy's back and noticed how the material was pressed against his back and sighed.

"It seems as though I'll have to cut off his shirt rather than using magic to remove it. It'll be too painful for him otherwise," Severus explained, his tone brimming with concern.

Albus nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. He watched as Severus summoned a pair of scissors, the sharp glint of the blades illuminating the dimly lit room. With meticulous care, Severus sat down beside Harry on the edge of the couch and began to slice away at the bloodstained fabric.

Suddenly, Severus handed the shredded shirt to Albus, who caught it deftly. He felt a wave of revulsion as he saw the extent of the damage - the shirt was soaked through with blood and pus, and was beyond repair.

Without a second thought, Albus banished the ruined garment with a flick of his wand. His attention then turned back to Severus, who was gently rubbing a soothing cream into Harry's battered and bruised back.

As Harry slumbered, he began to whimper softly in his sleep. It was likely due to the tender touch of Severus as he tended to his injured back. Albus was surprised at how gentle and caring Severus was being. He had witnessed him caring for wounded children before, but this was different. There was a connection between Severus and Harry that was palpable. Albus approached and placed a comforting hand on Severus's shoulder. The man looked up at Albus with a sorrowful smile.

"Would you like me to draw up the paperwork for you to become his legal guardian?" Albus asked, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Severus brushed Harry's hair away from his face and then resumed his task of healing the boy. "Yes, please," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Albus nodded in response. "Do you require any further assistance from me, or would you like me to handle the paperwork?" he inquired, willing to lend a hand.

"I'm fine here, Albus. Thank you," Severus replied with a grateful expression.

Albus left the room with a reassuring squeeze to Severus's shoulder. As he walked down the hallway, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Severus. The man had come a long way from the days when he was a bitter and resentful potions master. Albus knew that Harry would be in good hands under Severus's care.

everus was grateful that Albus had left the room. He knew that the wounds he needed to heal next were sensitive and Harry wouldn't appreciate many people seeing them. Slowly and carefully, he unbuttoned Harry's trousers and quickly took them down, along with the boy's underwear. Gently, he rubbed the creams into Harry's sore bottom and upper thighs. These injuries were worse than the ones on his back, and Severus felt a deep sense of anger and sorrow that anyone could inflict such harm on a child.

Once he had finished, he summoned a set of black silk pajamas and shrank them down to Harry's size. With great tenderness, he dressed the boy in the new clothes, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance. "Everything will be okay, Harry. Everything will be fine."

Severus carefully adjusted Harry so that he was lying on his back on the couch and placed a soft blanket over the sleeping boy. He then slumped heavily into the chair next to the couch, placing his head in his hands. He didn't know what he had gotten himself into. He was going to have a son – Harry Potter, the biological son of his enemy and best friend, would now become his son. How the hell did this happen?

As he looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms, Severus felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn't experienced in a long time. He knew then that he would do whatever it takes to help this child, to give him the love and care he deserved after all the pain he had suffered.

Summoning a house elf, he asked her if she could expand and decorate another room in his quarters for a young Gryffindor. The elf nodded and popped away, returning half an hour later to inform him that the room was ready.

Severus gently lifted Harry, still wrapped in his blanket, and carried him to the new room. He carefully laid the boy on the bed, not wanting to disturb his slumber. Brushing Harry's hair away from his face, he whispered a quiet "sleep well" before leaving the room and turning off the lights.

As he brushed Harry's hair out of his face one final time, he softly whispered "sleep well" before leaving the room and switching off the lights. Leaning his head against the door after closing it, he closed his eyes and saw what he assumed to be a hallucination - a bright light and a solitary figure with long red hair approaching him.

"Lily?"

As the figure drew nearer and offered him a warm smile, Severus questioned, "I'm so sorry Lily; I failed you! I should have seen it sooner, I am so so sorry!"

Lily placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and replied, "There's no need to apologize to me, Severus. In fact, I've come to thank you. Thank you for saving my son, Severus."

Severus still seemed distressed. "But Lily..."

"No 'buts', Severus. You saved my son's life and soul, and for that, I am grateful."

She then kissed Severus on the cheek before saying, "I have to go now. I know you'll take good care of Harry. Please tell him that James and I love him, and he must stop blaming himself for our deaths."

Upon opening his eyes, Severus stared ahead, incredulous at what he had just experienced. It had been a peculiar day, to say the least. He needed a firewhiskey.