Sometimes, Harry wished he had never been born.

As soon as that kind of thought flickered across his mind, he immediately felt bad. After all, he was the sole survivor of a fatal car crash, escaping with nothing more than a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Even if his parents had been at fault for the crash as they had been driving drunk, he imagined that they would have appreciated surviving it. Unlike Harry, who was an unappreciative little brat.

But it was just that sometimes it seemed like the whole afterlife thing would be better than living at #4 Privet Drive.

Well, if you were Harry Potter, anyway. If you were, say, Dudley Dursley, life at #4 was a blast. Nothing to worry about but what video game level you needed to beat that day, or just hanging out with your gang and beating up your cousin.

Being said cousin was a task far more difficult. Chores, endless chores. How many meals did he have to cook and not eat? How many times did he have to prune the rose bushes before Aunt Petunia was satisfied that she would win the Little Whinging garden club award?

On the rare occasion that Harry did have free time to do as he pleased, he found that there wasn’t really anything pleasing to do. He certainly wasn’t going to be playing board games with Dudley anytime soon, and it wasn’t as though he had any friends of his own. It wasn’t as though his aunt and uncle would allow him to hang about the house with nothing to do, either, and he would find himself with a new list of chores to complete before sundown.

So, when he could get away from #4, he did. He wandered around the boring streets of Little Whinging, taking the long way to the neighborhood park. Up Privet Drive, across Wisteria Walk, through Magnolia Crescent, down Magnolia Road. He’d sit alone on a park bench, watching wistfully as children jumped around on the playground, running to their caring guardians after scraping their knees falling off the swings, and they would receive band-aids and hugs for their trouble.

Yes, Harry thought, it was a pretty miserable existence. It was probably okay to wish he had never been born, sometimes.

One humid June day as Harry was walking back from the park, passing through Magnolia Crescent, he was stopped by someone calling his name. Well, not his name exactly, but Harry was referred to as “boy” more often than his actual name, so it practically was.

He looked up at the house where the voice was coming from. It was a house just like any of the others in Little Whinging, average and noncommittal, nothing spectacular. But the owner of this particular house was waving him over.

Harry wouldn’t describe the man as tall exactly, but being an adult (and presumably a well-nourished one), he was of course much taller than Harry. He had sandy blond hair, sporting a coral-colored t-shirt that seemed to bring out his blue eyes.

He looked exactly like the kind of person that people would trust to babysit their children, there was just a very friendly vibe about him, nothing creepy or concerning and so after only a moment of hesitation, Harry went over to him.

“Sir?” Harry inquired, still keeping just a bit of distance between them as he did know a little something about stranger danger, even if Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never given such vital lessons to him personally. He could often overhear their talks with Dudley, and well, maybe they did that on purpose so that he would know how to stay safe as well. Maybe.

Still, it was 1990 and a safe neighborhood, so Harry likely had nothing to worry about.

The man gave him a slight smile, and Harry absently thought that it was one of the very few times that he could remember an adult looking at him and smiling. The sight of Harry normally just didn’t bring forth feelings worthy of a smile, more often a scowl or a sneer.

Harry was what one would refer to as a problem child and he was aware of it. He wasn’t quite sure what his problem was exactly, just that he had a problem.

“I’ve seen you walking through here on your own quite a bit. Where are your parents?” the man asked.

Harry looked at him blankly for a moment before responding. “Dead,” he said drily.

The man’s eyes widened a bit and a tinge of red spotted his cheeks. “Oh, uh sorry, kid. What about your guardians, surely someone is looking after you?”

If anyone was looking after Harry, it was Harry himself. Well, sometimes Aunt Petunia did watch as he weeded the flowerbeds, but that didn’t really count. The man was probably just asking who Harry lived with, anyway. The people who would sign his school permission slips if it meant they could get rid of him for a few extra hours, if it didn’t cost anything.

The Dursleys spent too much of their hard-earned money on taking care of Harry as it was.

“I live with my aunt and uncle,” Harry said.

“Well, where are they, then?”

“On Privet Drive.”

The man rolled his eyes slightly, but he was still smiling. “Surely they don’t allow you to wander around on your own like this? You can’t be more than seven or eight, can you?”

Harry scowled. “I’m nearly ten.” He hated when people assumed his age. He couldn’t help being small.

“Okay, okay,” the man laughed lightly, holding his hands up in the air. “I meant no offense. You’re a scrawny little thing, aren’t you?”

Harry continued to scowl.

The man chuckled. “Fine, I’ll shut up about that. Still, nine seems a bit young to be out on your own.”

“Nearly ten,” Harry said again, still feeling annoyed. What business was it of this guy whether he had permission to walk to the park or not? No one ever cared about his safety before, so what was the big deal now?

The man sighed, smiling slipping just slightly. “Yes, nearly ten. Look kid, I’ve just been a bit concerned seeing you out here on your own, it can be a dangerous world you know.”

Harry shrugged once he had cooled down a bit. “My relatives don’t mind,” he said casually. More like they don’t care, he thought to himself. He felt a bit of a stinging sensation in his chest, because as much as he told himself that he didn’t care, either, he knew that it just wasn’t true. He cared too much, actually.

“Hmm,” the man hummed as if he didn’t believe him but was humoring him. Harry hated when people did that, but he supposed it was a bit better than calling him a liar and a nasty boy straight to his face like his relatives so often did.

“It’s very hot out today, would you like to come in and have something to drink?” he asked suddenly. Harry looked up at him, feeling a sense of foreboding.

“I don’t even know your name and you’re inviting me into your house to give me something to drink?” This really was the picture-perfect scene for child abduction and as bad as the Dursleys could be, Harry really just didn’t feel like having his picture on the side of a milk carton. That was assuming anyone would report him as missing, though.

The man smiled again. “Smart kid. My name is Gary. And yours?”

“It’s rude to call adults by their first name, Mr. Gary,” Harry said, ignoring the question of his own name. The man’s smile turned into a bit of a smirk.

“It’s Gary Weatherman, but please, just call me Gary. It’s not rude if I give you permission to call me by my first name,” he said, eyes turning just a bit serious as if being referred to as “mister” would secure his plot in the graveyard.

This guy couldn’t be any more than thirty, He was still young enough for the first name treatment, Harry supposed. He nodded slowly.

“Fine, Gary. Still, you can’t call me over here to talk about stranger danger and then expect me to come inside for a drink.”

Gary chuckled again. “Fair point. Maybe another time, then.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.” They looked at each other for a moment longer before Harry turned to go. As he walked down the driveway, Gary called after him.

“At least tell me your name?”

Harry threw his head back over his shoulder, looking the man up and down once more. He seemed innocent enough. It was just his name, after all. They were neighbors. No harm in it.

“It’s Harry,” he said finally. “Harry Potter.”

Harry found himself being able to escape to the park many times that summer, and being stopped at Gary’s house more than once. Did the man not have a job? He always seemed to be home. If he had been married then Harry might have assumed him to be a househusband as Aunt Petunia was a housewife. While Uncle Vernon was at work, she was to clean the house, tend to the garden, cook the meals, that sort of thing. Kind of strange that Harry was usually the one who actually did those things. Did that make him like a housenephew or something?

Gary wasn’t married, though. Harry was pretty sure he lived alone, anyway. No one else was ever around and he seemed to have plenty of time to spend talking to Harry.

Harry was a little bit annoyed about this at first, but Gary was… nice. To him. Harry. Harry had met plenty of nice people before, but they certainly hadn’t been nice to him. It was a bit strange to meet someone who didn’t immediately assume him to be a juvenile delinquent in the making.

Gary also seemed extremely concerned that Harry would soon fall over any moment from dehydration, (as if Harry wasn’t an expert at managing without food or water for long periods of time) and so eventually Harry came inside the house for that drink.

It was a house just like any other in Little Whinging, though he did notice the absence of a cupboard under the stairs. That automatically made Gary’s house much nicer than the Dursley’s, in Harry’s opinion.

He had been a little concerned that the drink would be a drink drink, which he wasn’t sure if he would like to try or not, but he didn’t have to worry about the choice for long as he was handed a Strawberry Kiwi flavored Capri-Sun.

“Do you often have ten year olds visit?” Harry asked as he unwrapped the straw and poked it in the hole. He and Gary both sat on stools at the kitchen island.

Gary glanced at him, a bit of surprise evident on his features. “No, why?”

“Because you have kid drinks in the fridge,” Harry said, raising the Capri-Sun pouch up in the air. Gary laughed.

“Actually, I tend to like Capri-Suns myself, even if they are considered a ‘kid drink’,” he said, taking another out of the fridge for himself. For as much as he may have liked them, though, he seemed to struggle with the straw.

“Here, let me,” Harry said, taking it and maneuvering the straw through the hole. He had done as much for Dudley many times. This was one of the few times he had actually tasted the drink for himself, though, and the first for this particular flavor, and he found that he quite liked it.

“Why, thank you!” Gary said, smiling. Harry smiled back.

Gary slurped from the straw, but he didn’t seem to be very good at that, either, as juice sprayed everywhere. Harry couldn’t help himself, he giggled at the sight.

Gary glared at him playfully. “Okay, okay, maybe I don’t drink them all that often.”

Harry pulled a paper towel off the rack sitting on the counter and handed it to Gary. “Sorry,” he said, biting his lip. “I guess it’s not that funny.”

Gary shrugged, wiping the juice off himself. “It’s fine. You don’t seem like the kind of kid that laughs very often, anyway.”

“I suppose not… but it’s still not nice to laugh at people.”

“You sound as though you have experience in that department?”

“I guess.”

“You know, Harry,” Gary said, resting his arms on the counter and looking at Harry intently. “It sometimes helps to talk about things.”

“Does it?” Harry asked absently, glancing around the kitchen. It wasn’t anything special, really, but still it was somehow nicer than the Dursleys. Maybe it was simply the absence of the Dursleys themselves.

“It does. When I find myself troubled by something-”

“What’s there to talk about?” Harry asked defensively, suddenly catching up with the conversation.

Gary held up his hands. “All I mean is, it just seems like you may be a bit underappreciated by your family.”

Harry scoffed. “I think one’s presence has to be appreciated at least a little bit in order to be underappreciated.”

“You don’t get along?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, feeling self-conscious with this line of conversation. But he’d never made any attempt to lie about the Dursleys before, (then again, no one had ever cared enough to ask before) and there was no reason to sugarcoat it now. “I dunno. I mean, they don’t like me. At all. They… Well, they say that I’m a bad kid. Like, really bad.”

“That’s an awful thing to say, especially since it isn’t true. I think you’re a good kid, Harry.”

“Really?” Harry asked, hating how small and pathetic his voice sounded just then.

“Really,” Gary confirmed.

A good kid. Harry couldn’t remember a time in his life where anyone had said such a thing to him. He was a nasty boy, a delinquent, not a good kid, never a good kid.

But Gary thought he was a good kid. Despite his relatives, someone thought that he wasn’t so bad. Good, even.

I’m a good kid, I’m a good kid, the idiom echoed through his mind. He just barely prevented himself from repeating it outloud. Instead, he smiled at his host and went back to sipping his Capri-Sun, feeling fairly good about himself.

***

“Your birthday present,” Aunt Petunia sniffed in her typical snooty fashion, handing Harry a coat hanger. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expected to do with it, but he accepted it anyway. It was one of his better birthday presents, after all. Last year it had been an old pair of Uncle Vernon’s socks.

Harry thought that he would prefer for them not to acknowledge his birthday at all.

But, at least he was also granted the courtesy of being left alone for the better part of the day. After he had finished washing the breakfast dishes, he went outside and headed towards his usual destination. But it was officially the hottest day of the year, and he found himself slowing his pace once he’d reached Gary’s house. He was sweating already and didn’t really feel like spending his birthday at the park. But he had only been inside the house once, and that was by invitation. Who was to say that Gary actually wanted some kid around now? Still, he seemed to enjoy Harry’s company and Harry had enjoyed being there…

He hesitated only a moment longer before knocking on the door. It opened almost instantly.

“Hey, kid!” Gary greeted him with a grin. “What’s up?”

Harry shrugged. “Nothin’ much.”

“Well, come on in,” said Gary, still smiling. He led Harry into the sitting room and gestured for him to sit on the couch.

He handed him the television remote before going into the kitchen for something to drink. “I don’t have cable, but I pick up Children’s BBC,” he threw over his shoulder. “Although I think Danger Mouse is on ITV right now.”

Harry just looked at the buttons on the remote for a moment before slowly pressing the red power button. He’d never used the telly much, only on a few rare occasions when his aunt and uncle left him home alone when they went out to do something even more fun than usual with Dudley, something that would surely be spoiled should Harry be allowed to come along. He was left with strict instructions not to use the television of course, but well, Harry had never been all that great with following the rules.

He flipped through the channels, having no idea what number CBBC or ITV was. He stopped when he saw a white mouse with an eye patch. He’d never watched this one before as Dudley didn’t like it, but he’d seen some kids at school wearing t-shirts with the mouse on it.

Gary came back into the room and handed him a Capri-Sun before leaving again. Harry thanked him and unwrapped the straw. He took a few sips before setting it down and laying his head down on the armrest, watching the weird mouse on the telly. His eyes were just starting to flutter when he sensed Gary sitting down beside him.

"You seem upset,” the man observed. “What’s got you down?” Harry half-shrugged with the shoulder facing away from the armrest.

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that,” Gary said, pushing him lightly in the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Well…” Harry started slowly, “today is my birthday.”

“Oh? And that makes you sad?”

Harry sighed and sat up. “Not really. Kind of. I don’t know, it doesn’t really matter to me. Or to my aunt and uncle, obviously. It doesn’t bother me that much, but… it would be kind of nice if they acknowledged it. I mean, with more than a pair of old socks or a coat hanger, anyway.”

“That’s what they gave you for your birthday?” asked Gary, sounding horrified.

Harry nodded. “Well, the socks were last year. Just a coat hanger this year.”

“That is… deplorable. I’m sorry they treat you like that, bud.”

“It’s fine…”

“It’s really not. Actually, I was hoping you would mention your birthday sometime. You said that you were nearly ten, which with some kids that could mean November, honestly, but I took a chance and got you something.” He stood up and went beyond the door Harry assumed to be his bedroom for a moment, returning with a box wrapped in blue paper. Harry stared at it, dumbstruck.

“You… you got me a present?”

“It’s nothing special, don’t get too excited,” Gary laughed, holding it out towards him.

Harry had never had a real birthday gift, not that he could remember, anyway, so he didn’t have very high expectations for this not to be some kind of joke. But… just the idea that someone, someone who barely knew him at that, had gotten him a gift… it was more than his guardians had ever done for him.

He reached out for the box, and with trembling fingers, began to gently unwrap it. He lifted up the bits of tape, being careful not to rip the paper and not even sure as to why. Dudley would have had the paper torn to pieces and thrown across the room by now, and the gift inside destroyed, stored away in his second bedroom in the time it took Harry just to get to the brown box. He opened the box to reveal a teddy bear.

He admired the plush toy, transfixed by it’s soft brown fur, tiny button nose and eyes. He thought that this might should feel weird, but it was… it was everything he had ever wanted. Not literally, but… he simply could not remember a time in his life where someone had cared about him enough to get him something so basic and so unnecessary and so precious. It wasn’t a destroyed hand-me-down, a leftover from a child before him… it had been purchased with him and only him in mind.

“I know that it’s a bit of a childish gift, but… I thought that you might like it,” Gary said softly, sitting down on the couch next to him again. “Harry, I know that things aren’t great for you at home, and I want you to know that you’re welcome here anytime.”

Weird, Harry had never been welcome anywhere before. He wasn’t even welcome where he lived. He couldn’t even be considered a guest, because guests were at least invited. He nodded silently, not knowing the words to vocalize even if he had the confidence that he was still able to open his mouth and speak them.

Gary stood and ruffled his hair before going into the kitchen to prepare something for lunch, he said.

A real gift and something to eat, Harry thought absently. Kind of like a normal birthday for a normal kid.

***

It wasn’t too difficult to smuggle the birthday gift into his cupboard without being noticed, as he tucked it into the top of his trousers and hid it under his shirt. Sometimes having oversized clothes was a good thing.

He stuffed the teddy bear under his cot. He was way too old for such a thing. What did it matter if it was something he had always wanted? Ha, how pathetic was it that his first real birthday present came from his neighbor that he barely even knew…

He lay down on the cot and stared at the bottom of the steps. God, how he hated those steps. Dudley made a point of stomping on them while Harry was locked in during a punishment, knocking dust down into his eyes. Normal kids didn’t have to deal with that sort of thing. Normal kids had bedrooms above the stairs, with dust-free ceilings they didn’t hit their head on when they sat up in bed. Normal kids were afraid of the dark, not accustomed to it. Normal kids had families who cared about their wellbeing.

Normal kids probably didn’t receive gifts from near strangers and have it be the most valuable thing they’d ever owned.

Harry rolled over onto his side and grabbed the teddy bear out from under the cot, resting its head under his chin and back against his chest. So what if it was a little weird? Harry’s entire existence was weird. Having one little thing to call his own could hardly be considered a bad thing.

It was strange how quickly strange became normal.

Well, not really. Strange things were always happening around Harry so that itself was pretty normal. But it was a little weird now to think about how his first encounters with Gary had been a bit uncomfortable, and he had been so concerned about stranger danger, as they now fell into a comfortable pattern.

Harry had never experienced the feeling of an adult caring about him in the slightest, and it was a feeling that he found himself searching for time and time again. It was wrong and selfish maybe, to go to Gary’s when he was upset with something that had happened at the Dursleys, and to have him ruffle his hair and tell him it would all be okay. But Gary was always there to do that, so Harry kept going back.

So it was very out of the ordinary when one day Harry knocked on Gary’s door and he did not immediately answer.

School had started back up a couple of weeks ago, and Harry coming by for a little while after classes was a bit of a routine. Harry had never come by when he wasn’t home, but even if he needed to go out for something, why wouldn’t he have waited for Harry to come by first, or left him a note on the door or something?

Just as Harry was thinking about how incredibly selfish and irrational that thought was, the door opened.

“Hey, kid- I’m afraid that I’m a little busy today, could you come by tomorrow?” Gary looked a bit disheveled and distracted, which was so incredibly out of character for him it totally threw Harry for a loop.

His question didn’t even register at first, and when it did Harry simply stared at him for a moment, wondering where the hell he was supposed to go at 4 pm after school if not Gary’s.

Finally, he gathered his bearings and shook his head out of the clouds. “I- yeah, sure. That’s fine. I’ll just see you tomorrow, then.”

But the next day was the same. And every day after that for the remainder of the week. It was a different excuse every day, but the end result was the same. It wasn’t until Saturday when the pattern changed.

Harry wasn’t even going to Gary’s place, he was instead heading for the park like he used to do to get away from the Dursleys before Gary interrupted his perfectly fine habits. If he didn’t want him around, then, fine. Harry should have known better than to trust an adult to care.

But as he passed the house, staring straight ahead, he heard a voice call his name just like that day months ago, only the voice was familiar now.

Harry turned around, arms crossed against his chest. “What?”

“Harry, I’m sorry I was so rude to you this week, really. I had a lot going on with work and it distracted me from what really matters. I’m sorry.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t know you worked.”

Gary laughed. “Of course I work, Harry. How else could I afford to live in such a nice neighborhood?”

“I dunno,” said Harry, honestly never having thought about it much. “It’s not a very nice neighborhood, in my opinion.”

“Ah, perspective… Come on in and I’ll tell you about my job.”

Harry hesitated only a moment before following Gary into the house. He apparently had lost all sense of self-preservation, only a moment ago he was willing to never speak to Gary again, and now here he was crawling right back into the lion’s den.

But it wasn’t the lion’s den. It was nice and homey and Harry wished that…

He shook his head. No, that line of thought was no good. It would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment. Like everything else in life. In his life.

He sat down on his usual spot on the couch, next to the right armrest. He looked at Gary expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” Gary grinned, sitting down beside him. “Okay, so, you and I get along pretty well, right?”

“Yeah, I guess…” said Harry, not sure where this was going.

“That’s probably because I’m used to being around kids. I work with them, that is. I’m a photographer for child models, for clothing for catalogs and advertisements. I work mostly from home, editing the photos, though I do have a room here for the photoshoots.”

Oh,” Harry said. “That’s… cool, I guess. For a job.”

Gary laughed. “Well, yes, jobs aren’t very cool in general. But I’m pretty satisfied with mine.”

“That’s good,” Harry smiled tentatively. He liked hanging out with Gary, he did, but he was always a bit lost with the more adult conversation topics. “So, um… how come I’ve never seen any other kids here?”

“It’s a tough business,” said Gary. “There are a lot of photographers in the field for magazines to choose from. And most prefer to use their own studios, which usually involves travel to London. So I mostly edit the photos, help design the catalogs, that sort of thing.”

“Mmm,” Harry hummed, not catching much of that. London was only an hour away, what was the big deal in traveling there for work every once in a while? Aunt Petunia and Dudley went there all of the time just for shopping.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking. How would you like to model for me?”

Harry looked at him incredulously. “Maybe you haven’t noticed yet, but I’m a boy.”

Gary laughed again. “Modeling isn’t just for girls, boys appear in catalogs too!”

“Erm… I dunno, it just seems weird.”

“It’s not, I promise. Actually, a lot of boys your age feel the same way, which is why it’s so difficult to find models for the clothing catalogs. You’d really be doing me a favor here.”

Hary shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I… I really just don’t want to do that. I’m sorry.”

Harry hated the look of disappointment he often saw on his relatives' faces, but it stung three times as bad to see it on Gary’s. He desperately wanted to make the situation better, but he just couldn’t imagine himself modeling.

“You uh… you could ask my cousin. I’m sure Aunt Petunia would be thrilled to have him appear in a catalog.”

Gary shook his head, looking downcast. “No, Harry. He just doesn’t fit the vibe I’m looking for. You’re perfect.”

Harry was a lot of things, but perfect wasn’t one of them. He shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I- it makes me uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Gary said shortly, picking up a file off the coffee table and leafing through it.

Harry looked down at his hands, feeling horrible. This man had been so very kind to him, and Harry wouldn’t do this one damn thing for him in return.

They sat in silence for a long while, and not the comfortable silence that Harry had grown accustomed to in recent weeks, but a terrible, deafening silence. He looked down at his watch (Dudley’s watch that Dudley had broken and Harry had repaired) and stood up.

“It’s getting late, I better get back to the Dursleys,” Harry said softly. Gary nodded in response but said no words to him.

Harry walked slowly out of the sitting room and showed himself out of the house.

***

Harry didn’t go out on Sunday, hoping that if he allowed Gary a day of peace he would forgive Harry for being such a nuisance in his life. But Monday, after school, he showed up at his door as always. He knocked softly but received no response, so he knocked a little harder. Still nothing.

It took a few more days of this for Harry to come to the realization that Gary was ignoring him, and that was only when he noticed his silhouette in the window, sitting in front of the telly.

He walked home slowly, although it felt like he was leaving home. Which was ridiculous. So what if Gary had been nice to Harry when literally no one else had before? So what if he had given him his first real birthday present? So what if he fed him and let him come over at any time just to hang out when no one else wanted him around?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t.

But it did.

Harry drifted through the remainder of the week, feeling lonely and broken. Feelings that he had no right to feel. It was his fault, really. He had pushed Gary away all because he wouldn’t do one measly little thing for him.

***

It was the emptiness that finally got to him.

Harry was used to feeling nothing for the most part, but after experiencing something, he simply didn’t want to be empty anymore. He had never been great at slow torture, he much preferred the times when Uncle Vernon would simply backhand him to being locked in the cupboard for a couple of days. Even with the occasional meal and a couple of bathroom breaks, the isolation nearly did him in every time.

Harry pushed open the door to his cupboard, breathing shallowly. It was the middle of the night, everyone else was asleep and he prayed that they would stay that way. Grabbing his teddy bear as an afterthought, he slipped out of the small space and tiptoed to the front door. So, so fucking grateful that the Dursleys did not have a home security system like a couple of the neighbors did, he made his exit.

Harry pulled the top of his oversized hoodie over his head and clutched the stuffed bear close to his chest. He was being pathetic, absolutely ridiculous, there was no reason to bring the bear, there was no reason that this couldn’t wait until morning...

But he felt somehow braver in the darkness of the night, the streetlamps being the only light to help guide him to his destination. He knew that if he didn’t do this now, he never would. If he didn’t bang on Gary’s door and wake him up in the middle of the night to beg for forgiveness, how could he possibly expect to do it in the daytime?

He stopped in front of the driveway, shallow breaths long gone. He was now panting like an overheated bulldog. Sometimes Aunt Marge’s dog Ripper could make himself sick with panting after chasing Harry up a tree. He worked to steady his breathing before slowly making his way up the driveway.

He stood in front of the door for a long time, vividly reminded of the times when he would stand in front of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s door after a nightmare, wondering if he were to knock if they would welcome him with open arms. Imagining them coaxing him back to sleep as they did for Dudley. Debating if it was worth the risk.

It never was.

He reached out a hand and knocked on Gary’s door. The image of himself banging on the door was fading fast, and he knew that the chances of Gary actually hearing his pitiful knock were next to none. He looked to the side for a doorbell and wondered why he had never thought of it before. There was one, and he pressed on it firmly.

It was strange, how human emotions worked, or maybe it just went to show how messed up Harry was. But as soon as he heard the doorbell ring in the silence of the night, something inside him broke and he started sobbing like the paltry little baby he was.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder and he flinched back in surprise, looking up to see the door had opened and Gary stood in the threshold.

“Harry- what’s wrong?” Gary asked worriedly, taking in his tear-stained face and mangled hair.

“I- I’m sorry. I thought about it and I… I’m sorry. I’ll do it, whatever you want, just… don’t ignore me, please,” Harry whimpered. Gary’s eyes softened.

“Harry… I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve been ignoring you. I’ve just been really busy with work. I never meant to neglect you- and God, with the way your relatives have treated you… I’m sorry. We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I’ll love you either way, kiddo.”

Gary opened his arms wide and Harry fell into them, the teddy bear squished between them. “No, no, we can do it, I… I just want you to be happy. I’ll do anything for you, please, just don’t leave me.”

“Anything?” asked Gary, his arms tight around Harry’s torso.

Harry nodded eagerly against his chest. “Anything.”

“Okay, okay,” Gary murmured, lips brushing against the top of Harry’s head. “Whatever you want to do.”

“Harry, where are you spending all of your time these days?”

The boy in question looked up sharply, greatly surprised by the gentle use of his first name coming out of his wretched aunt’s mouth. He narrowed his eyes, confused. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes assessed him strangely, her face not displaying the usual signs of disgust when she normally looked at him. It made him uncomfortable.

“Dudley says you don’t visit the park anymore, but you are going out for long periods of time… where are you going?”

Harry immediately felt defensive. “What does it matter? I’m not doing anything bad!”

“Harry…” She used his name without scorn again and Harry felt his nerves fraying.

“I’m not mad at you,” she continued. Well, that was a first. “It.. it occurs to me that I’ve never really talked to you about stranger danger,” she murmured.

“Yeah, well save it,” Harry snapped. “I can take care of myself.”

Aunt Petunia sighed. “Fine. I was just concerned, that's all.”

“Why? You’ve never cared before,” Harry stated dully.

She looked slightly guilty and just a bit stricken for about a second before lifting her nose up in the air. “You’re right, I don’t.”

Harry felt that annoying little sting in his heart again but turned back to the dishes. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t.

“But,” Aunt Petunia interrupted his melancholy moment, apparently not finished with bothering him just yet, “if you’re going to keep coming home with stains on your clothing, you’re going to need to take over laundry duty. I have no patience to deal with such things.”

Harry paused in his scrubbing, feeling his cheeks heating up. He resumed his task after a moment and made an effort not to look up from the sink until he heard his aunt exit the room.

He stopped moving the sponge again, leaning heavily against the countertop as he stared at the kitchen tiles. She knew, then. She knew and didn’t care. Not really.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. It wasn’t as though the… the situation bothered him. It had been uncomfortable at first, sure, but… he only wanted to make Gary happy, and he had adjusted to the changes in their relationship fairly easily. It was fine. Really. It was. Because Gary cared about him, and it was fine.

It had started with the photos all those months ago, and then it just…

Harry turned back to his scrubbing. The dishes certainly weren’t going to do themselves. Although, a few times before they had done just that but that was beside the point.

It was July again, and Harry was nearing eleven. Gary had promised to bake him a cake for the oh so special day and he should be really happy about it. And he was. Really, he was.

He just wondered why he had to try so hard to convince himself of things, lately.

***

Harry drug the wet clothes out of the washer and heaved them into the dryer. Geez, wet clothes could be heavy. He turned the knobs on the dryer and remained there for a moment, watching and listening as the clothes were thrown around inside the machine. He would have to keep an eye on it as he preferred to fold the clothes when they were fresh out of the dryer, warm, though still a bit staticky…

“Boy!” Harry jumped at the sound of his uncle’s voice bellowing. “Get the mail!”

Harry sighed and walked out of the washroom, going over to the front door and bending down to collect the mail that had been pushed through the slot. It was the usual, bills, coupons and junk, a magazine and a letter. A letter addressed to Harry?

He stared down at it. There was no mistaking it, for the address was very precise. Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey… strange, very strange. How many people knew where he slept, and would address a letter there? And who would send him a letter in any case?

Oh, God, Harry hoped Gary hadn’t been foolish enough to send him something… surely he couldn’t be that stupid. He knew how the Dursleys were…

Still… Harry slid it through the crack in his cupboard door. He would read it later in private, just in case.

All throughout cooking dinner, Harry thought about the letter. As he grated the cheese and chopped the onions, he wondered who it was from and why…

Once he was finally done with the cooking and had been sent to his cupboard for the night, he made a grab for the letter. He stared at the wax seal. Such a dramatic flair for this day and age, he thought to himself… He peeled it up slowly and opened the envelope, taking out very thick paper.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

School of witchcraft and wizardry? What on earth? Such things like that did not exist, everybody knew that. Harry rolled his eyes at the weird sort of prank but continued on with reading the parchment.

Dear Mr. Potter, it read,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Oh, this was beyond ridiculous. Well thought out, maybe, as the prankster really did include a list of school supplies, but the items it listed only made the whole thing even more unbelievable. Robes, dragon hide gloves, a pointed hat, books he had never heard of, a cauldron, a wand. It even mentioned that first years were not allowed their own broomstick.

Who on earth would fall for such a thing? And who was the mysterious sender? He looked at the envelope again. No return address, but also no stamp. It was likely Dudley, then. He could have easily slid in the mail slot just after the post had been delivered.

Stupid, immature Dudley, Harry thought, huffing. He slid the letter under his bed, intending to throw it away in the morning. M-word did not exist. Even stupid people like Dudley knew that, mostly because it had been drilled into both his and Harry’s minds their whole lives. There was absolutely nothing in the world Uncle Vernon hated more than imagination, (well, other than perhaps Harry) as it could lead to dangerous ideas. Like the belief in the existence of schools for witchcraft and wizardry.

Did Dudley expect him to go running to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and ask them if he could go to a school for m-word? He was likely to give Aunt Petunia a heart attack. Harry almost wanted to tattle on his cousin, but he knew the blame would come back to him as always, so the next morning he ripped the letter up into tiny little pieces and threw it away in the trash bin, forgetting it.

There was no school for witchcraft and wizardry, and even if there were, Harry Potter certainly wouldn’t be attending it.

***

“Did he hit you?”

Harry’s cheek stung painfully and looked absolutely horrid to match. Uncle Vernon had rarely hit him, and had never left such a visible mark before. He had no way to hide it short of applying makeup and Aunt Petunia wasn’t in the sharing mood.

Harry had wondered why he was so worried about it, anyway. It’s not like anyone would care. Except for Gary, maybe. But then… maybe he would see it and decide to take Harry away from his relatives? Could he do that? Would he do that?

Couldn’t hurt. And so that was why he had walked over to Magnolia Crescent to see Gary, who was holding his chin in a grasp so tender that it almost hurt in a completely different way than he had ever experienced before.

Harry nodded, tears in his eyes. Maybe he was milking it just a bit, but maybe it would work.

“That oaf!” Gary exclaimed, pulling Harry into a hug. “I’m so sorry, bud, you don’t deserve that.”

Harry nodded against his chest. He knew that he didn’t deserve it, really. He wasn’t even sure what he had done this time to make his uncle believe that he did deserve it, but he knew that it wasn’t warranted. The question was what was Gary going to do about it?

“Gary,” Harry started, “can… couldn’t I just live with you?” He felt Gary’s body stiffen and his heart dropped to his stomach.

Gary pulled back a bit and looked him in the eye. “Harry… it’s not that I wouldn’t want you to…”

Harry shrugged out of his grasp, feeling far more let down than he had a right to. “It’s alright. I understand.”

Gary ruffled his hair. “Maybe someday.”

Harry held onto that small flicker of hope. Someday, maybe.

***

A few days later, Harry was walking back from Gary’s house, feeling exhausted. He wanted to make Gary happy, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he enjoyed it. He didn’t understand what all the fuss was about, really.

But it was his birthday, and the cake had been nice. He hadn’t had much cake before, besides Mrs. Figg stale offerings, and he had never had one baked with just him in mind. He was at risk of becoming spoiled at this point.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up to see a tall dark figure standing in the Dursley’s drive.

He stared at the stranger for a moment, wondering if he should just turn around and go back to Gary’s, when the man spotted him and his eyes narrowed.

Harry’s eyes widened in turn and he wanted to make a run for it but as the stranger approached Harry found that he couldn’t seem to get his limbs to move.

“Harry Potter?” the silky voice stated more than asked and Harry found himself slowly nodding in response to his inquiry.

The man looked him up and down, still narrowed eyes accessing him before speaking again. “May I ask why you decided not to respond to your acceptance letter?”

“A-uh-acceptance letter?” Harry asked dumbly. The man glared.

“Yes, your acceptance letter. To Hogwarts, I’m sure you’ve heard of it?”

Harry shook his head, although he had seen the name on that letter once a few weeks ago, but surely that had been a joke!

The man stared. “You have not heard of Hogwarts?”

Harry shook his head again. “I, I, I got a letter a few weeks ago but I, I thought it was a prank, I, I mean, m-ma,” Harry swallowed thickly as he struggled to say the forbidden word out loud. “M-magic isn’t real,” he whispered.

The man’s eyes were no longer narrowed, they couldn’t be described as wide exactly but he definitely did look surprised. “Magic is-” he stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose and asking instead, “Where are your relatives?”

“Erm,” Harry tried to remember where they had said they were going this time. He wasn’t invited to come along so it’s not as though he cared where they decided to travel without him. “They’re on vacation, somewhere.”

His eyebrows drew together. “They went on vacation, leaving their ten-year-old nephew alone at home?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, they’ve done it before. Mrs. Figg, my neighbor, checks up on me when she remembers. And I’m eleven,” he added as an afterthought, a bit proudly as any child on their birthday might.

The man closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. It is your birthday, isn’t it? They left you alone to go on vacation without you on your birthday,” he muttered.

Harry shrugged again. It really wasn’t a big deal. He was rather glad they were gone, honestly. He’d much rather spent his birthday with Gary, anyway.

The man became quiet, seemingly lost in thought. Harry spoke up after a few moments.

“Sir?” he began tentatively, continuing when he looked down at him, “are you saying that m-magic… that magic is real?”

The man sighed, running a hand through greasy hair. “I never,” he muttered before shaking his head. “Yes, child, magic is most certainly real. Not only that, but you happen to possess it. You are a wizard.”

Harry stared before shaking his head in denial. “No, I… I can’t be a wizard. I’m Harry. Just Harry…”

The man smiled a sad kind of smile. “I assure you, you are not just Harry in any world…”

“But…” Harry licked his lips. “How do you know?”

The man snorted. “Everybody knows.” At Harry’s confused look, he rolled his eyes. “Tell me, has it ever seemed like odd things just happen around you? Particularly when your emotions are out of the normal range of control?”

Harry nodded vehemently. Odd things happened around him all the time.

The man smirked. “That is called accidental magic. It is triggered by your emotions. You are most certainly a wizard.”

“Oh,” Harry said quietly, sitting down on the front stoop as he suddenly felt very dizzy. After a moment the man sat down beside him.

“I must say, I am quite surprised you are unaware of your heritage.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not as though there have been any wizards around to tell me! And the weird things happening just made my aunt and uncle upset. But maybe if they’d known it was an accident...”

The man frowned. “Your aunt knows all about this.”

“She does?” Harry asked, feeling a bit hurt by this although he had promised himself that he would stop feeling hurt by anything Aunt Petunia threw at him. Figuratively and literally.

The man nodded. “Your mother was a witch, so of course she knew it was likely for you to be a wizard. I suppose I shouldn’t be so shocked, however, I remember that your aunt was not a very nice little girl…”

Harry's breath caught in his throat. “You know my aunt? You- you knew my mother?” he asked softly.

A flash of something Harry easily recognized as pain flickered across the man’s expression. It was a moment before he responded. “Yes, I knew your mother. And your dreadful aunt,” he sneered.

Before Harry could ask if his mother was truly dreadful as well, the man stood and changed the subject. “I was tasked to take you to Diagon Alley to shop for your school supplies but I did not foresee this change in events and it is getting late. We will go tomorrow if you are amenable.”

Harry had no clue what he meant by taking him diagonally, but he understood “school supplies” well enough. “You mean… I’ve really been accepted into a magic school?”

The man smiled just a bit, not quite as sad as the last one but still not something one would describe as happy. “Yes, you have.” He glanced at the house. “Despite your oh so responsible relative’s consent, I do not feel comfortable leaving an eleven-year-old home alone, left to his own devices. Is there a neighbor you can stay with for the night?”

Harry’s thoughts immediately went to Gary, but he thought that he probably shouldn’t mention that option, for some reason. He sighed. “Uh, yeah, I stay with Mrs. Figg sometimes. She’d probably be okay with it.”

“Go grab your things, then.”

Harry ran into the house, taking note of the man trailing behind him. He probably shouldn’t let near-strangers who talked of wizards and witches and magic come into the house, but well. Things happened.

Harry went into the kitchen first and grabbed a plastic bag from the supermarket out of a cabinet before going to his cupboard to retrieve some clothing. He was rifling through his things when the man bent down below the door frame. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I’m just getting my things like you said, sir,” Harry responded, and the man looked around the space for a moment before saying anything more.

“Oh, you can not be serious,” he muttered. Harry looked at him, confused.

“What?”

“You sleep in a cupboard?”

“Oh,” Harry said, flushing. “Erm, yeah.”

He rubbed his eyes wearily. “This is… I can’t even…”

Harry giggled, he had only met the man a few minutes ago but somehow he got the feeling that he rarely became flustered like this.

The man glared. “Surely you don’t find child abuse humorous-”

Now it was Harry’s turn to glare. “It’s hardly child abuse. I like my cupboard!” he defended. For the most part, anyway. He didn’t like the stairs being the ceiling, and he really didn’t like being locked in it. But when he was free to come and go as he pleased, it wasn’t so bad. Really.

The man just stared at him before shaking his head. “This is… just get your things,” he sighed.

“I was planning on it,” Harry muttered under his breath. He stuffed his teddy bear from Gary in with his clothing before exiting the cupboard.

The man narrowed his eyes on his bag but turned and beckoned Harry to follow him out of the house and down Little Whinging, seemingly knowing where Mrs. Figg lived without directions.

Harry was skipping a bit along the way, thinking about all the wonderful spells he was going to learn at this magic school. Spells were probably real, right? If magic was real, then it was presumable that a lot of things he hadn’t believed in before were likely to exist as well.

“Surely you can’t like living there, in a cupboard,” his companion said suddenly, and Harry noticed that he seemed to be studying his bouncing.

Harry slowed his steps, feeling deflated. “No... I guess not. I used to want more than anything for someone to just take me away from the Dursleys, but I’m not a baby anymore. I know nobody will come.” Even Gary wouldn’t really come to his rescue. He was supportive, but he made no attempt to help Harry out of his situation.

The man was quiet for a while before responding. “You never know. I plan to speak to the headmaster of Hogwarts about it.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “What does the headmaster have to do with it? Isn’t it like a social worker thing?”

“Unfortunately, no. The headmaster is your guardian of sorts in the magical world and has control over where you live and with whom you live.”

“If he’s my guardian, why haven’t I ever met him?”

The man sighed. “For that, Mr. Potter, I have no answer.”

Harry was about to ask another question when they reached Mrs. Figg’s house. The man knocked on her door and explained the situation. The complete situation. She didn’t seem surprised about Harry being left alone or Harry being a wizard, much less by the man explaining these things.

“You knew I was a wizard?” Harry asked.

Mrs. Figg nodded. “Yes, dear, I knew. I was under strict orders not to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to know just as much as you. Now, come on in and put your things away. You have a big day ahead of you in Diagon Alley tomorrow.”

Harry stepped over the threshold and the man turned to go, that weird cloak-like thing billowing beneath him.

“Wait!” said Harry. The man turned back around, eyebrows raised.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked. “You never said.”

The man paused a moment before answering. “Professor Snape. Severus Snape.”

Harry smiled, waving a little as he called, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor Snape!”

Professor Snape nodded before seemingly disappearing into thin air. Who knew, maybe he did. Magic was real, after all.

“Wear this hat to cover up your scar.”

Harry frowned. “Why?”

“Because I said so, mostly.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Do you have your list of school supplies?”

“Er… no, I threw that away.”

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Of course you did. Well, we’ll simply have to muddle through. The stores usually have their own list of school supplies, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t you know what I need, sir?” Harry asked. “I mean, you are a professor and all.”

“I am a potions professor who focuses on his own classroom, not on first years needs for every class.”

“Oh,” said Harry. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“For throwing the list away.”

Professor Snape sighed again. “I can hardly blame you for believing it to be a prank as you had no knowledge of the existence of magic. That fault lies with your relatives.”

Harry shrugged, though the professor didn’t see it as he was walking ahead of him. Where they were going, Harry wasn’t quite sure, but he trailed behind the man regardless.

They came to a halt in a deserted alleyway and Harry felt just a bit of apprehension as the professor took his arm (albeit a bit grudgingly) and warned him to brace himself. What followed was an absolutely horrid sensation, Harry felt as though he was turning inside out and what must have only been a matter of seconds felt like hours.

“Here,” Professor Snape’s voice came as Harry was swaying on the grounds of who knows where, “drink this.” He handed him some sort of glass container and after he had swallowed it Harry supposed that it went to show just how gullible he was to accept a drink from a practical stranger who had informed him of the existence of magic.

He thought idly of how he had believed him quite easily even as he had yet to see magic, but then he looked up as the nausea faded away and found himself in a world so abnormal that it couldn’t be anything but magical. The streets were made of cobblestone and the buildings were so, so… strange. Some of them certainly couldn’t have kept themselves held together without the existence of magic. The colors were so very vibrant and surely wouldn’t be acceptable in a world that hosted simplistic neighborhoods such as Little Whinging.

Harry felt very nervous all of a sudden, realizing just how out of his depth he was in this new world. He understood the non-magical world well enough, he wasn’t welcomed in it for the most part, and he desperately wanted to be welcome and accepted in this world but he didn’t even know where to start. It seemed as though it could only end in disaster.

He shuffled a bit closer to Professor Snape, perhaps hoping to gain some form of comfort from him. The man sighed (did he ever stop doing that?) and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, steering him in the direction of a tall building that seemed to sway at the top, labeled Gringotts Bank.

***

“Your aunt and uncle called, they should be back tomorrow afternoon,” Mrs. Figg said as they arrived back at her house and Professor Snape was unshrinking Harry’s purchases. There were so many things needed to begin a wizarding education, Harry didn’t know where on earth he would even begin, or how he could possibly be expected to catch up with his peers who had had their whole entire lives to learn what they would consider to be the basics.

Harry nodded glumly. What a rotten way to end an otherwise nice day. Well, at least he would only have to spend one more month with the Dursleys before school started. That also meant he would be away from Gary, though…

“Thank you for taking me shopping today, Professor,” Harry said, regarding Professor Snape. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again come September.”

Professor Snape seemed to be a bit conflicted about something. “Actually… I thought that it might be more… prudent, if you were to come to visit Hogwarts with me this afternoon.”

“Prudent?” Mrs. Figg snorted. “Severus, really…”

Professor Snape sent her a glare. “Yes, prudent. I’m sure that the headmaster would enjoy seeing you again, Mr. Potter.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Why? He could have visited me here anytime.”

The professor blew out a breath. “Yes, well, the headmaster is a very busy man. Come.”

Harry glanced at Mrs. Figg as if asking for permission and she only smiled humorously, so he followed Professor Snape for another glorious round of a- apear- apparating. He gripped his hand perhaps a bit more forcibly than necessary, and they did that terrible thing again. They landed in a shopping district again, but this time it was not Diagon Alley with its brightly colored shops, but a snowy little village that a sign announced as Hogsmeade.

Harry shivered a little in his t-shirt. “How is it snowing here in August?”

“While I imagine that ‘magic’ would serve as a sufficient enough answer for you,” the man said, picking up a stick and with a wave of his wand turning it into a cloak(!?), “the factual answer would be that Hogsmeade is above the snow line. It snows here 365 days of the year.”

“Wow,” Harry said as the professor draped the cloak around his shoulders, “that’s like, every day of the year, isn’t it?”

Professor Snape made some sort of weird choking noise in his throat but eventually informed him that yes, there were 365 days in a year (excluding leap year).

They started down a long winding path, where it gradually became less snowy as they walked. Harry was a bit sad to see the snow go, but he was still chilly even with the cloak so it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t too terribly long before he could see a great castle appearing in the distance.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, unable to prevent himself from stopping to stare. “It- it’s a castle.”

“Did I not mention that?” Professor Snape asked, taking him gently by the elbow and guiding him through the remainder of the path. Harry shook his head. The view only became more breathtaking as they journeyed closer to the castle, and Harry struggled not to trip over his own two feet.

“You’ll have plenty of time to admire the castle throughout your seven year residence here, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape. “Do try to refrain from using your mouth as a fly trap.”

Harry clamped his mouth shut with an audible snap. It was really difficult not to gawk, though. He’d never seen anything like Hogwarts before, and it was even better on the inside. Long corridors, great halls, talking portraits. He could hardly manage to wrap his head around any of this before they reached a large and ugly gargoyle. Professor Snape murmured something that Harry didn’t quite catch and the gargoyle moved aside, like magic.

Harry had really better get used to all of this magic business before school started.

They then stepped onto a circular stone staircase that moved, and Harry wondered absently if that was magic too or something along the lines of an elevator or escalator like at the mall. When the staircase reached the top they stepped off of it and into what Harry presumed to be the headmaster’s office. It was quite spectacular, really, though there did seem to be an absence of a headmaster as far as Harry could tell.

Professor Snape led Harry over to sit in a chair in front of the desk as he waved his wand in some random motion. Harry realized that he hadn’t once heard him utter a single spell while the wizards and witches in Diagon Alley were constantly spewing off strange words as they waved their wands around.

It was only a moment or two later when a very old man with a long white beard came into the room. He wore bright purple robes decorated with stars and Harry could have sworn that his eyes twinkled. If there ever was a time where Harry had imagined what a wizard looked like, this man was the perfect representation.

“Severus!” the man greeted joyfully. “And do my eyes deceive me, or is this Mister Harry Potter?”

“Heaven only knows what your eyes perceive, but they are correct in the assumption that this is Harry Potter, yes,” Professor Snape drawled with an air of drama that even Aunt Petunia couldn’t manage in her most delicate of moments.

The old man only grinned maniacally at this as he came over to shake Harry’s hand. “Harry! It is such a pleasure to see you again. I haven’t seen you since you were an infant.”

“Hullo, sir,” Harry greeted, returning the handshake. “Forgive me, but I’m afraid that I don’t quite remember making your acquaintance before.”

The man laughed while Professor Snape rolled his eyes. “Mr. Potter, this is the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore.”

Professor Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk and offered Harry a lemon drop, which he accepted easily.

“You shouldn’t accept candy from strangers,” Professor Snape practically reprimanded. Harry shrugged.

“He’s not a stranger, sir, he’s the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore.”

Professor Snape only sighed while Professor Dumbledore laughed again. “Ah, it seems like our Harry is a bit of a quipster. Much like his mother, yes?”

The question was directed at Professor Snape who suddenly looked quite pained, but Harry jumped on the mention of his mother.

“Really? Did you know my mum? What was she like? Was she pretty? Did she-”

“Mr. Potter, really,” Professor Snape interrupted him. “Enough with the vexatious questions. This isn’t an interview.”

“Yes, well, may I ask what this is then, Severus?” questioned Professor Dumbledore. “As far as I know, Harry here isn’t due to arrive at Hogwarts for another month yet, with his classmates.”

“As you well know, you sent me to take the boy to Diagon Alley.”

“Yes, and that was yesterday, I do believe.”

“I was unable to take the boy yesterday as by the time he arrived back home, it was quite late.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, sir,” he murmured.

Professor Snape shook his head. “His relatives were not home. They have not been home for who knows how long. They went on vacation and left a ten-year-old child to fend for himself.”

“Eleven. And they’ve only been gone for a week or so,” Harry offered. He felt as though he fended for himself most of the time whether the Dursleys were home or not, anyway.

Professor Dumbledore frowned. “Where were you before returning home yesterday, Harry?”

“Erm, a friend’s house.” It wasn’t a lie, really. Gary was a friend.

“Well, not completely alone, then?”

“I hardly think that a fellow pre-adolescent would act as suitable supervision,” Professor Snape said, sounding annoyed.

“Surely there was an adult at this friend’s house, Harry?”

Harry hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding. He hadn’t been asked if his friend was the adult, after all.

“And this adult is so responsible that they did not have him stay there or even walk the boy to his empty home? I was a stranger and he blindly trusted me when I informed him of the existence of magic. Which, by the way, he did not know that he was a wizard or that wizards were even real.”

Harry flushed. “I did not blindly trust you…”

“Yes, you did. You may have hesitated for thirty seconds,” said Professor Snape. “You did not know me, and I could have easily been a danger to you.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, you weren’t!”

“That is beside the point-”

“Severus,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted their argument, “is the situation really so dire? You know how valuable the protection he receives from the Dursleys is.”

Professor Snape seemed uncomfortable. “Headmaster, it’s… the boy sleeps in a cupboard. He’s skin and bones. He isn’t even staying with them at the moment as they left him alone to go out of town, so the question of protection is irrelevant at this point. It is an unsuitable home situation.”

The headmaster gazed at Professor Snape intently. “I trust your judgment, Severus. But what exactly are you proposing? Someone has to look after the child.”

“Surely Minerva would welcome him-”

“She is quite busy with her start of term duties, I don’t believe that she has the time nor the patience to look after a child, even one as well behaved as Mr. Potter.”

“Filius or Pomona, then.”

“They are out of the country until school is back in session.”

“Rubeus, surely!

“As much as I trust Hagrid, I hardly believe him to be suitable to look after a child for any long period of time.”

The child in question was beginning to feel just a bit annoyed. They were speaking as though he weren’t even there! “Can’t I just stay with Professor Snape? I mean, he’s really nice.”

Professor Snape looked as though he had smelt something foul in the air and Headmaster Dumbledore seemed to be struggling not to burst out in laughter. “Ah, he is very nice, isn’t he, my boy? Well, Severus, what do you think?”

Professor Snape glared at the headmaster. “What I think wouldn’t be suitable for a child’s ears, Headmaster.”

“It’s okay, Professor,” said Harry, “Uncle Vernon says a lot of bad words around me, and my ears are fine.”

Professor Snape rested his head in his hands while Professor Dumbledore stopped his attempts to reign in his laughter.

“See, Severus, the boy would be fine in your care, even if you manage to allow a few unsavory words to slip out from time to time.”

“I hardly wish to be considered on the same page as Uncle Vernon,” Professor Snape sneered.

“Oh, no, sir, I didn’t mean to be rude,” Harry assured. “You’re nothing like Uncle Vernon, really. I mean for starters, you probably weigh at least 20 stone less than him, and he has this weird and ugly mustache thing going on while you seem like the kind of guy who shaves every day, and-”

“I think I get the picture, Mr. Potter, thank you.”

“Of course, Professor,” Harry smiled.

“Well, Severus?” Professor Dumbledore said, beaming.

As usual, Professor Snape sighed.

***

For someone who obviously didn’t want Harry around, Professor Snape was very accommodating with his quarters. Then again, Harry had grown up in a cupboard, so he didn’t have very high expectations in that department.

He had his very own room (well, guest room, but he was still allowed to sleep in it unlike with the one at the Dursleys), was allowed to read anything within reach on the bookshelves (Harry didn’t really like to think about what the books on the higher shelves were about), and Professor Snape had instructed him that he would be eating three square meals a day, no exceptions. It was weird, and it was made even weirder with how awkward Professor Snape behaved at times. It was like he was aware that he was responsible for Harry but didn’t want to spend much time around him outside of making sure he was fed and went to bed at a decent time. He stayed in his potions lab for the most part, one of the two places Harry had been forbidden to enter in the quarters (the other being Professor Snape’s bedroom, which Harry had no desire to enter, anyway).

Harry wasn’t all that sure how he felt about the situation himself. A few days ago, he’d had no idea that magic actually existed and even after learning that, would have never expected to find himself living with a wizard in a school for magic.

For the most part, he felt that he liked it. He was still a bit worried about leaving Little Whinging so abruptly, though. Professor Snape had quickly retrieved his school supplies and things from Mrs. Figg and brought them back to the dungeons (which was where the professor lived, by choice!), but he hadn’t even had a chance to tell Gary goodbye or where he was going.

Maybe he could write him a letter? Harry had gotten an owl in Diagon Alley and he hadn’t seen her much since the as Professor Snape had insisted she be kept in the owlery rather than the dark dungeons without any windows, but he could use her to send a letter!

He supposed that he should ask Professor Snape for permission first, though, so he went over to the door of his potions lab and knocked. The man appeared a moment later, looking a bit disheveled.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding more than a little annoyed. Harry swallowed.

“Um, sir, I was just wondering, if I could send a letter to my friend? Explaining to him where I’ve gone? He’s likely a bit worried about me as I sort of just disappeared…”

Professor Snape frowned. “I suppose that is a valid concern, but you can’t tell him where you are or anything about being a wizard. Muggles aren’t to know about such things.”

“Muggles, sir?”

Professor Snape let out a heavy breath and stepped completely out of his lab, closing the door behind him. He went over to the living room and Harry sat down on the couch beside him. Professor Snape was probably trying to be subtle as he shifted away from him, but Harry noticed him doing so anyway.

“A muggle is someone without magic. Someone such as your friend, and your relatives. Likely most of the people you’ve met have been Muggles. We have laws in the wizarding world to prevent Muggles from learning of our existence. It’s best for everyone involved to keep it a secret.”

“Oh,” Harry said, digesting this. “Alright. But if magical and non-magical people are separated, how come I lived with Muggles? And how come my mum was a witch while her sister is a Muggle?”

“I suppose that is another thing you will need to know. Not all wizards and witches have magical parents, in fact, a large portion of the population does not. Your mother’s parents, your grandparents, were Muggles.”

“What about my dad?” asked Harry.

A muscle twitched in Professor Snape’s jaw. “Your father was a Pureblood.”

“Pureblood? Like a dog?” Aunt Marge was always going on about her pureblooded pups. He rather thought that a dog was a dog. And he wasn’t fond of dogs. Bulldogs in particular.

Professor Snape snorted. “Yes, I suppose so. Do keep in mind that this is all nonsense, but I will explain it to you regardless so that you are not lost in conversations with your classmates who did not grow up with Muggles as you did. In general, there are three categories for the blood status of wizards and witches. Pureblood, Half-Blood and Muggleborn. Some will refer to the last one as a Mudblood, which is a foul word you would do best to never utter, especially in my presence. Understood?”

Harry nodded fervently.

“Good. Now,” Professor Snape continued, “the wizarding world can be very prejudiced, and many will judge your worth based on your blood status. Your mother was a Muggleborn, your father came from a line of wizards and witches which made him a Pureblood, and that makes you a Half-Blood.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it is not. It does not matter. But as I said, many will make biased assumptions because of it. Purebloods tend to believe that they rank high above the rest of us and will make an effort to associate only with fellow Purebloods. Purebloods that do not follow that path are considered blood traitors. Half-Bloods are considered to be of only slightly more importance than Muggleborns, which are viewed very badly in these circles. As I said, it’s all a bunch of nonsense and you would do best not to pay any mind to it.”

“Yes, sir,” agreed Harry. “It sounds like a form of racism to me.”

Professor Snape nodded. “That’s exactly what it is.”

“What’s your blood status, sir? If I may ask?”

“Just as I said, it’s not of importance,” said Professor Snape. “But I am a Half-Blood like yourself.”

“Oh, that’s so cool!” said Harry. “We’re in the same cata- category.”

Professor Snape grimaced a bit but nodded again. “So it would seem. Now, back to the original topic. When writing to your Muggle friend, you will have to tell him that you have been accepted into a private boarding school for the gifted or something along those lines. You will have to use the return address of a post office with your name, and then the post office will send it to you. You can address the letter going to him as normally, the owl will deliver it just as one did with your Hogwarts letter. Just make up some sort of plausible excuse to explain your absence, do not mention magic in any way.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Professor Snape summoned a notebook and pen. “You will be expected to learn how to write with a quill on parchment during your time at Hogwarts, but for now I think it would be best if your letter to a Muggle looked as Mugglish as possible,” he said, handing the items to Harry. “When you’re finished, there’s some envelopes and stamps on my desk.

Harry grinned as he slid off the couch and placed the notebook on the coffee table to start writing in. “Thank you, Professor!”

Professor Snape went back to his lab and Harry began to write his letter.

He really hadn’t thought this whole thing through.

Severus Snape was a very cold person. Everyone who knew him knew that he hated children with a passion and that he was completely justified in that. Especially when it came to the Potter brat who turned out not to be a total brat.

But he had looked at the little boy who seemed to be drowning even in the smallest of robes that had been tailored made for him, whose (almost) infectious smile had faded at the mention of his relatives returning home. Relatives who had abandoned him to go on vacation without him…

Somehow, Severus just couldn’t bring himself to leave Potter with those people. He had seen a child hurting and his traitorous heart had acted without his consent yet again. But why he had thought to bring him back to Hogwarts with him…

Perhaps he had expected Albus to say no. Perhaps he had hoped… To have the knowledge that he would have tried his best but it would be out of his hands, out of his conscience.

Now he had taken in an eleven-year-old boy and he was at a loss as to what to do with him.

He hated the first years. Not only because of their sheer incompetence and general stupidity, but simply because they were such children… Severus didn’t do well with children. He didn’t know how to. They simply existed and he tried to prevent them from killing themselves and ending that existence, but there wasn’t much he could offer outside of that.

It was one of the few areas, the only, really, that Severus did not experience any shame in admitting his lack of perfection. Though it was a rather ridiculous thought, he was a head of house and didn’t even know how to properly deal with children…

To top it all off, the boy truly thought that he, Severus, was nice. Not just nice, but really nice.

It was concerning.

“This is where you shall sleep,” he had told the boy a few days prior, feeling a bit clumsy as he showed him into the guest bedroom. It was nothing, really, but the boy acted as though it was the most gracious thing ever offered to him.

Probably was. A cupboard, for Merlin’s sake…

The boy spent a lot of time in the room while Severus tried to stay in his potions lab. No, he was not hiding… he simply had a lot of important things to tend to, potions to brew, research to do…

Potter really wasn’t a bother, loath as Severus was to admit it. The only time the boy had sought him out in his lab was to ask him about writing a letter to his Muggle friend, and then Severus had to take a few minutes to explain blood status to him as though he were a Muggleborn.

Even then, it hadn’t really been bothersome. It was a good idea to steer the young mind in the right direction. The last thing they needed was the Boy Who Lived to live to become a blood purist Death Eater.

Severus stepped out of his laboratory a bit earlier than usual and took note that the coffee table had been cleared and the guest bedroom door was closed. He’d left the child alone for several hours now, he should probably check on him, right? But he was eleven, and eleven was old enough for children to look after themselves. It wasn’t as though they didn’t live in dorms for months without their parents or any adult to really pay them any mind.

But he was still a child and children got into trouble… they were magnets for such things.

He went over to the spare bedroom door and hesitated only a fraction of a second before knocking. It was immediately answered with a cheerful “Come in!”

Severus pushed the door open and took stock of the room. Potter kept it clean, at least. He was sitting on the bed, school books spread out around him.

“Studying?” Severus questioned, pointing out the obvious. He truly was not qualified for this…

“Yes, sir,” Potter supplied. “I’m not quite so worried now that I know that there are kids who come from Muggle homes like me and won’t know everything that the others do, but I’d still like to try to catch up with the Purebloods.”

Severus nodded. “Good. You would do well to try your best, but don’t fret if you don’t learn everything there is to know in mere weeks. Just remember that blood status does not dictate brain functionality.”

Potter smiled that weird and innocent little smile that Severus had to look away from. “Did you write your letter?” he asked, to change the topic.

“Yes, sir,” Potter said again, reaching out to the nightstand and picking up an envelope. “I have it addressed and all, I just need to take it to the owlery.”

“I will take care of it for you,” Severus said, reaching out for the letter which Potter handed over with only a small amount of resistance. “I have my own correspondence to take care of. What excuse did you use for your disappearance? A school for the gifted?”

“You think I’m gifted, sir?” the brat responded cheekily.

Severus scowled. Potter’s expression cleared.

“I just told him that I was sent to a school for criminal boys,” he said, looking down.

Severus frowned. “You did not have to disparage yourself so.”

Potter shrugged. “It’s believable. My relatives have always threatened to send me there.”

“If you’re certain,” Severus said after an awkward moment of silence, “I’ll take it straight to the owlery.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Very well,” Severus conceded. “Continue your studying. I will return in time for dinner.”

He exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He threw on his cloak with his own letters in the pockets before leaving his quarters, looking down at the one envelope as he walked through the dungeon corridors.

Gary Weatherman
21 Magnolia Crescent,
Little Whinging,
SURREY

***

“Are you unwell, Mr. Potter?” Severus finally questioned, growing weary of the silence at dinner.

The boy was acting quite strange, pushing food around on his plate and looking mildly ill.

“No, sir,” Potter murmured. “I’m fine.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Severus said. He hesitated for what felt like a very long moment before reaching out a hand to check the boy’s forehead for a fever. That’s what he intended to do, anyway, but Potter violently flinched away before he could make contact. Severus furrowed his brow as the boy started spewing off apologies.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, cheeks reddening. “I-I didn’t- sorry-”

“It’s quite alright,” Severus said. “I was simply attempting to check your temperature.”

“Oh,” the boy said dumbly, face still red. Severus reached out his hand again, slowly projecting his movements, this time.

He didn’t feel very warm. Still… “Would you like to go on to bed?” Severus asked.

Potter nodded sluggishly. “Yes, sir.”

Severus glanced at the half-empty plate. He didn’t think he would be able to get Potter to eat any more tonight, anyway. “Go and get some rest, then.”

Potter nodded again before retreating to his room.

***

Severus opened his eyes, feeling groggy and wondering what had woken him. He heard a door squeak open. Ah, Potter.

He lifted himself out of bed and pulled on his robe, dreadfully anticipating the mess he was sure to find upon his entry to the living room. It had been a mistake to let his guard down, he should have known that the little miscreant couldn’t go very long without causing trouble. He was a child and he was a Potter, which made for an absolutely lethal combination.

He opened his bedroom door, eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the slightly less dark room. He spotted Potter standing at the open linen closet, standing on the tips of his toes as he attempted to reach for something.

“Potter,” Severus said as he approached. The boy jumped a foot in the air. “What are you doing?”

Potter turned around to look at him, eyes wide in surprise. The flush on his cheeks was visible even in the darkness. Had he developed a fever after all?

“Professor,” the boy said quietly. “I’m sorry for waking you. I just- er- I need to change the sheets.”

Severus stared at him blankly. “Why?”

“They’re um, they’re dirty.”

“Could it not wait until morning? Surely they weren’t so terribly dirty when you went to sleep.”

Potter seemed to be on the verge of tears, now. What on earth was it with this child, why was he always so emotional? And over dirty sheets? Heaven help- oh. Oh.

They continued to stare at one another for a long moment before Severus turned towards the closet and took the sheets down from the top shelf. The child had had no hope of reaching them on his own, try as he might.

Severus paused in the act of handing him the sheets. He might should- Well… Yes. Yes, he should. Probably.

Severus resisted the urge to run a hand over his face and instead placed it on the boy’s shoulder who flinched only a little at the contact. The kid was stiff as a board but allowed himself to be steered in the direction of the guest bedroom.

This was in no way a pleasant experience, but it wasn’t anywhere near as detrimental as Potter was sure to make it. Best to get him calmed down before teary eyes turned to sobs because while Severus could deal with a wet bed well enough, he had no intentions of dealing with a wet-faced eleven-year-old.

“Why don’t you go change into another pair of pajamas?” Severus said as he waved his wand to turn some lights and dry the bed before changing the sheets.

Potter was slow to react but eventually did, going over to the wardrobe and taking something out before hurrying off to the restroom. Severus then allowed himself to sigh. Children… he was not made for this.

Still, he changed the sheets easily enough, managing to feel only slightly disgusted about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t as though Potter had done it on purpose, he had to remind himself. It was unlikely that he had done it on purpose, anyway… It was just one of the little mishaps of children. He did seem a bit old for it, but it wasn’t as though he was the only firstie with such an issue.

He banished the dirty sheets to the laundry room and stood awkwardly, waiting for Potter to return. When he did, he was wearing a ragged nightshirt that came down just above his knees, his arms wrapped around his stomach and face still looking flushed.

“Back to bed,” Severus said, nodding in the direction. Potter scrambled over to it, nightshirt riding up a bit as he did so.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Where did you get that bruise?” he asked, for there was a large purplish spot on the boy’s thigh.

Potter pulled the covers over himself, looking confused for a moment before realization seemed to hit and his cheeks reddened even more. “Oh, that…”

“Yes, that,” Severus said, getting (more) annoyed. He was most definitely ready to return to his own bed.

“I just bruise easily, sir.”

“I imagine that it would still be caused by something.”

Potter resorted to that infuriating shrugging that children were so very prone to. “I fell. Yesterday, I think.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “And why would you fall on the stone floor here?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t!”

"I didn't say that you did," said Severus. "Are you still feeling unwell?"

Potter’s forehead creased at the abrupt change in topic. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“At dinner, you seemed to be ill and went to bed early.”

“Oh, yeah,” Potter said. “I feel better, my stomach just hurt is all.”

Severus frowned. “Then why did you inform me that you were ‘fine’?”

“Because I was.”

“Obviously not,” Severus sighed. “Inform me of the problem next time and I will give you a potion to combat the symptoms.”

“Oh, okay,” Potter offered stupidly.

Severus clenched his jaw but nodded. “Lay down and go back to sleep.”

Potter slid down in the sheets and pulled the covers up to his chin. Severus waved his wand to turn out the lights and was starting to close the door behind him when Potter’s voice spoke again.

“P-professor?”

Severus repressed a sigh, if only for fear of becoming repetitive. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“I’m- I’m sorry. About…”

“Do not fret over it, child,” Severus found himself saying in response. “Is this... a recurring issue?”

Potter shot up in bed. “No, sir! Honestly, it- I haven’t-”

“Alright, alright,” Severus said, “calm down and get some rest.”

He heard the sound of the bedding shifting and Severus exited when he was satisfied that he was unlikely to be disturbed again that night.

He returned to his own room, pulled off his robe and collapsed back into bed. He spared a moment to contemplate the boy’s strange behavior over the bruise, but ultimately decided that he was likely telling the truth. He was simply embarrassed about it and all the night’s events, and that was all there was to it.

***

Potter kept sneaking glances his way and Severus sighed, closing his potions journal. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s n-nothing, sir,” he mumbled.

Well obviously it was something, but Severus let it go.

Well he would have, if Potter hadn't kept on giving him the side-eye examination. He’d known that it was a mistake when he chose to read in the living room today in Potter’s company rather than remain in his lab... “What is it?” he snapped.

Potter jumped. “Um- I just, um…”

“Spit it out already!”

“It’s, um, just that you said to tell you if er- my stomach hurts and wellitjustkindadoes.”

Severus lifted a brow. “Do you often experience stomach pain, Mr. Potter?”

Potter seemed to think on it for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Not really. I mean, lately, I guess, but not before I came here.”

Severus huffed a breath. “I do hope that you’re not looking to blame this on your current living arrangements, as they are a vast improvement from the previous.” Potter made to protest but Severus shook his head to shush him before summoning a stomach soother. He handed Potter the potion which he drank before laying down on the couch, hugging his stomach.

Severus frowned. The effects should have been instant. He summoned another vial after a moment. “Try this one.”

Potter sat up to drink it before lying back down. It was a few minutes before he sat up again and announced that he felt much better. “What was that?” he asked.

“A calming draft,” Severus responded. “I believe your stomach issue is simply a side effect of anxiety. Is there anything in particular troubling you at the moment, Mr. Potter?”

“Erm, well, not anymore,” Potter laughed and Severus rolled his eyes.

***

Whether the bed-wetting was or wasn’t a recurring issue before, it most certainly was now.

While a large part of himself was telling him just to put the sheets on a lower shelf and let the boy deal with it himself, Severus possessed quite a bothersome guilty conscience that felt very different about things.

“I-I’m sorry, I w-wet the b-bed again,” Potter stuttered in a whisper.

There was no need for the child to feel ashamed about something that he could not prevent, no matter how aggravating Severus found the whole situation. He was somewhat proud of himself for not once lashing out at him thus far. It was a very impressive feat for him indeed, though it probably greatly helped along by the sight of bright green eyes looking at him with such fear and trust at the same time.

“It is nothing of consequence,” Severus murmured, gently pushing the boy down onto the pillows.

But it was getting to the point where Severus was half-heartedly tucking the child into bed and the thought disturbed him greatly.

“Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would be soo mad,” the boy muttered, eyes drooping shut as he clutched at a teddy bear.

Severus frowned. “Well, I’m not either one of them.”

“I’m glad,” Potter smiled sleepily, curling up on his side.

He nodded, though Potter could not see him. Whether consciously or not, Severus was endeavoring not to be.

“You have all of your things together?” Severus asked.

Potter nodded, eyes focused on his textbook, turning the pages with his left hand as he held the spoon for his cereal in the right. “It’s all together, I just have to put it into my trunk.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, Professor,” Potter said, attention still on the book. “Besides, if I forget anything I can just come back and get it later, it’s not as though we won’t be living in the same castle.”

Severus hummed, unsure of how he felt about that. Part of him wanted to forget that their month of living together in the same quarters had happened at all, but another was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of letting the boy go. It was almost as if he were a parent sending his child off to Hogwarts for the first time, but they were already at Hogwarts, Severus was not a parent and Potter was certainly not his child.

“There is such a thing as studying too hard, you know,” Severus said after a while. “Your mind can become too far stretched to process new information, and you’re going to want to be well-rested for your first day of class tomorrow.”

Potter bit his lip before slipping a bookmark in the text. “I know, sir, but I just want to be well-prepared. I mean, what if I’m sorted into Slytherin? They’re mostly Purebloods, aren’t they? I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

Severus snorted. “I doubt you’ll have to worry about being sorted into Slytherin. Besides, I’m fairly certain you’ll stick out a bit regardless of what house you’re placed in.”

Potter out stuck his lower lip in a pout “I could easily be sorted into Slytherin! And why would I stick out anywhere?”

Severus raised a brow and had opened his mouth to respond when the magical doorbell chimed, alerting them of the headmaster’s arrival. Albus was to take the boy to Hagrid, who would bring Potter along with him to Hogsmeade station so that he could ride in the boats along with the other first years.

“Finish your breakfast,” Severus instructed before getting up to open the door. On the other side stood Albus Dumbledore in all his glory, sporting red and gold robes in a fine display of impartiality.

“Good morning, Severus!” the old man greeted joyfully. Severus scowled.

“I do hope that you’re not attempting to sway my charge over to your side.” While Severus truly did not expect the little nuisance to end up in his own house, he was still hoping that it wouldn’t be Gryffindor.

“Why, of course not!” said Albus, sidestepping Severus into the quarters. “I simply thought that Harry’s eyes might have had enough of the green.”

“My eyes are green, Headmaster!” Potter broke in excitedly from behind, apparently completely ignoring Severus’ instructions to finish his breakfast.

“Indeed they are, dear boy! And how are you this fine morning? Excited to be sorted?”

Potter shrugged and took a couple of steps back, seemingly deciding to be shy now. “I think so, sir. Just a bit nervous.”

Albus smiled. “Ah, well, nothing to be nervous about, lad. Any one of the houses would be proud to have you, and they’re all equal at the end of the day.”

Severus couldn’t hold back his snort of amusement. Albus Dumbledore claiming Slytherin and Gryffindor to be held in equal measure… Well, it was quite laughable.

Albus turned his smile to Severus. “Something you find humorous, Severus? Do enlighten us.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that you can figure out the punchline all on your own, Headmaster. Mr. Potter, please do finish your breakfast before retrieving your things, Headmaster Dumbledore doesn’t have all day.”

Potter nodded before rushing off in sock-clad feet back to the table, practically chugging down his cereal before dashing off towards the guest room. “And don’t run indoors,” Severus muttered under his breath. Albus grinned.

“How have things been going, my boy? Are you and Harry getting along quite well?”

Severus led his employer over to the living room to sit, though Albus would surely invite himself to do so given much more time. “I must say that I find myself a bit surprised that this is the first time you’ve checked on the boy the whole month,” he said. “I could have used him for potions ingredients weeks ago and you’d have been none the wiser.”

Albus laughed that overly cheerful chuckle. “I do have more faith in you than that, Severus.”

Severus sighed, leaning back into the couch. “The boy is strange,” he admitted. “I’ve had to administer a calming draught for him several times for stomach pain due to anxiety, though he claims that he isn’t anxious about anything. He has some issues during the night…”

“Nightmares?” Albus asked.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Severus. It could possibly be the cause of the issue, but somehow he doubted it. “No,” he started, ashamed to admit to himself that he felt a bit awkward and perhaps worried that he was betraying the boy’s trust somehow. But it would have to be taken note of. “He wets the bed, not every night but often enough that his future head of house will need to be informed.”

Albus raised his eyebrows, perhaps a bit surprised that his child weapon faced such childish issues, before nodding and saying, “That could possibly be you, of course.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Doubtful.”

Albus shrugged like Potter tended to. “We’ll see. Anyway, the boy is likely just homesick.”

If Severus had been drinking something, he would have spit it out. “Homesick! Homesick for what? Those people he calls relatives were horrible and he doesn’t seem to miss them at all.”

“Sometimes we long for even the bad things, long as they are familiar,” Albus said, stroking his long white beard. “This is a whole new experience for young Harry, I’m sure that it’s been very overwhelming for him whether he expresses it vocally or not, or even if he realizes it himself. I’m sure that he shall adjust once he is with children his own age. It tends to bring about a certain comfort.”

Severus never found comfort in any of his peers besides Lily, and he never longed for home, either. But he was also never a candidate for Hufflepuff. Though when questioned by Albus which house he thought the boy would be sorted into, he told him, “Gryffindor, no doubt.”

It was then that Potter returned from the guest room, dragging his trunk behind him. Albus shrunk the item and stored it in his pocket, informing Potter that it would arrive in his dormitory once he had been sorted. Potter then started asking questions about how that was possible and how the colors and crests of the robes could change, too, and the pair departed Severus’ quarters with smiles and a wave goodbye.

Severus closed the door behind them and resolved to go over the year’s lesson plans once more.

***

He was shaking, though the movement was so subtle that Severus thought he might be the only one to notice it.

Head held low, Potter didn’t pay any mind to the children pointing and whispering about him as he stepped up to sit on the stool and had the hat placed upon his head. It went down to the bridge of his nose and took a few minutes to make a decision.

Soon enough, though, the hat bellowed, “Hufflepuff!” and while the majority of the Great Hall was in silent surprise the Hufflepuff table proceeded to lose their minds.

“We got Potter, we got Potter!” they chanted as Potter himself rushed over to the table, smiling shyly at his new housemates. He allowed himself to be clapped on the back by Cedric Diggory with little more than a jump of surprise, though he did seem a bit surprised at all the attention. Humble Hufflepuff…

If you’d told Severus a mere few weeks ago that Harry Potter would be sorted into Hufflepuff, he would have broken into a rare fit of laughter. After living with the child for a month, however, the placement wasn’t surprising in the least. He seemed to be the only professor who felt that way, as the others sat wide-eyed, though Pomona looked quite pleased herself. Albus seemed a bit disappointed, but also unsurprised. Much like Severus…

He truly hadn’t expected Potter to be sorted into Slytherin, he was simply too soft. Throwing him into the snake pit would have been a horrible idea. The child wasn’t stupid per se, but Ravenclaw could hardly even be a consideration. Gryffindor may have worked, but Hufflepuff was the best choice by far.

So when the child looked up at him, eyes questioning as if asking for approval, approval from him(!)... Severus allowed himself a single nod in his direction, and Potter beamed.

***

HERO OF THE WIZARDING WORLD SORTED INTO HUFFLEPUFF
A ploy to keep himself low profile or an insight into his true nature?

Well, Severus thought, tossing aside The Daily Prophet, if it was a ploy for less attention, it certainly wasn’t working. The press was losing it simply because an eleven-year-old child was sorted into Hufflepuff like thousands of children before him.

The child in question was sitting happily at the Hufflepuff table, looking over his schedule as he munched on bacon. He seemed to be adjusting well enough, and Severus hated the slight worry that still plagued him. What if he was still experiencing anxiety and… incidents? Would his dormmates laugh at him? Would Pomona know how to handle it?

Severus scowled. Of course Hufflepuffs wouldn’t make fun of their fellow housemate and of course Ponoma would know what to do, she was a head of house for crying out loud, Hufflepuff house at that. She could deal with it better than anyone, certainly better than him.

Still… Severus kept a close eye on him. He had made an oath to do so many years ago, after all. It wasn’t as though he were personally invested in Potter’s welfare or anything like that. Not at all.

***

His quarters felt strange now, stranger than they had when a child had invaded them. Potter hadn’t exactly been loud or rambunctious, but he had still made his presence known.

Severus stood in the doorway to the guest bedroom, taking in the odd sight of a perfectly made bed and a near-empty room. Potter hadn’t been messy, either, but the room had looked lived in just a few days before. He really had packed everything, Severus supposed. Though he had left a Muggle envelope on the floor.

He bent down to pick it up and throw it away, but when he flipped it over he noticed that it was addressed to Potter. Probably not trash, then. It had been torn open but Potter seemed like the kind to keep such things for sentimental value.

Severus looked around once more to make sure nothing else had been left behind before turning out the lights and shutting the door behind him. He set the letter on top of a stack of his work papers to give to Potter in class the next day.

***

Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, a class that was certainly much preferable to that of Gryffindors and Slytherins, yet still nothing to be gleeful about. Especially with the first year class, the most dunderhead of dunderheads.

Severus made his usual intimidation speech to get their attention, assigned a detention or two, and made a point to not look Potter in the eye.

Even then, the boy decided to come up to his desk after class to chat.

Was this really the last class of the day for both him and Potter? It couldn’t be, surely at least Severus had somewhere else to be…

“Hi, Professor Snape! Are you having a good day? Your class was really interesting, I don’t know why everyone keeps saying it’s the worst because I thought it was really neat and your presentation was so funny though I think you scared a couple of kids but that’s okay I’m sure you didn’t mean-”

“Mr. Potter,” Severus cut him off, sighing. “I hope you realize that I have no qualms about assigning detention for insufferable chattering now that we are officially in the school year.”

Potter giggled (uck) in response. “You wouldn’t!”

“Did I not do exactly that not once, but twice during your class time?”

Potter frowned. “Oh, yeah, I guess. Still, it’s different, ‘cause we’re-”

Ohhh, no. This was going way too far. There should be no we between Potter and himself and he did not need to know what kind of relationship the child assumed they had.

“Mr. Potter, you have homework, do you not? Best get to it, you wouldn’t want to get behind. I’m sure that the Purebloods are already halfway done with theirs.”

Potter gaped. “Oh, you’re right, I- of course. Thanks for reminding me, Professor Snape! I’ll see you later!” he ran from the room, stumbling a bit on the stones but managing to catch the doorframe and steady himself.

Severus planted his face on his desk. This was too much. Potter was strange and made everything feel strange. Severus hadn’t even yelled at the child once in the month since they’d met, what on earth was up with that? Was this Albus’ plan from the very start? Plant a first year Hufflepuff in his home to test and see if he had a heart? He had held no qualms about making Hufflepuffs cry before so why should it be any different now?

He had known that Potter would be the exception to every rule, but he hadn’t considered that that could include his own personal rules…

***

Potter returned not even an hour later.

Severus had been peacefully splashing red ink onto Gryffindor essays when there was a knock on his office door. “Come in,” he said, anticipating having to deal with Slytherin drama as he could not imagine that students from any other house would be paying him a visit, but while he’d been working he had somehow managed to forget about the whole Potter problem.

Had he not just sent the boy off to do his homework? Why had he returned and Merlin, why was he crying again?

“Professor Snape,” Potter greeted, lower lip trembling.

“What’s wrong?” Severus sighed, getting straight to the point.

Potter sat down in front of Severus’ desk, dumping his bag on the floor and wrapping his arms around his torso. “I- I was wondering why everyone was acting so strange around me. Like, one kid asked to see my scar, and I really didn’t know how he even knew about it as it’s covered under my fringe and I just got it in a car accident when I was a baby.”

Severus was vaguely aware of his lips parting. Crap. He had known the child knew nothing of his magical heritage and yet it had never even occurred to him that he didn’t know about-

“I asked Susan Bones about it, ‘cause she’s really nice and all and she said that I got this scar from someone trying to kill me. She- she said that my parents didn’t die in a car accident.”

Oh, why hadn’t Albus explained this to the child? How could Severus possibly even...

“Is it true?” the boy asked him, eyes shining ever so brightly with tears. “Were- were they murdered? B-because of me?”

Severus couldn’t prevent the gasp that escaped his lips. “Merlin, child, no. Well yes, they were murdered, but not because of you. Did Miss Bones say this to you?”

Potter shook his head. “No, but it… she said that the mad man was after me for some reason. So if not for me, they’d still be alive…”

His conclusion wasn’t even entirely untrue, Severus thought regrettably. If Lily had never had the child, then there wouldn’t have been a prophecy about Lily’s child and she would still be alive. But the boy didn’t need to believe this. Lily had loved her son, and Severus… Severus did not hate him.

“Harry,” Severus started softly, standing up from his chair and using the boy’s given name for the very first time, though if this were to be one of the rare occasions where he was completely honest with himself, he could not manage to look at the boy and find his hatred for Potter or see anything other than simply Lily’s child. Whom she had named to be covered with hair for some unknown reason.

He crouched down in front of where Harry sat, looking into those green, green eyes. “Your mother loved you… as did your father. They both loved you so very much and would have done anything to keep you safe.”

“So they did die because of me,” Harry whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks. Severus brushed them away with the pad of his thumb, shaking his head.

“No, child, no. They- they died for you. They made the choice to sacrifice themselves so that you could live because they loved you. It is something that any parent would have done for their child. Do not blame yourself for that.”

Harry’s breath hitched as he fell forwards a bit to rest his head on Severus’ shoulder, leaving tears and snot and all those horrible and disgusting things on his robes. Severus found that he didn’t mind so much, as he hesitantly began to rub circles on the child’s back.

He was not good with children. He did not like children. Yet here was the child he had practically orphaned himself and he couldn’t… he wouldn’t allow him to suffer alone any longer. Maybe he didn’t have a right to offer Lily’s child comfort, but Lily herself wasn’t here to do it anymore and no one else seemed to be standing in line for the task.

“It’s alright,” Severus soothed quietly. “It’s alright.”

***

Severus sent the boy off to dinner and started to put his things together before leaving for the Great Hall himself. It was only then that he remembered the letter he was supposed to give to Harry as it fell out onto the floor once more. He sighed, resigning himself to yet another daunting conversation with the boy as he bent down to pick it up. The letter had slipped out of the envelope and he caught a few words as he made to put it back in.

Could an eleven-year-old’s privacy really be invaded? It wasn’t as though Severus had done it on purpose… even as he unfolded the paper and read more of it.

My Dearest Harry, it started,

I wasn’t all that surprised but still very disappointed to hear that your relatives sent you away to that criminal school. It’s maddening to me that those schools even exist for children, especially children as sweet and kind as you.

I am hoping that I can do something to remedy the situation. Maybe I could talk to the people in charge? It’s not as though you’ve committed crimes or anything so surely they can’t keep you there against your will just because of your guardians. Let me know. Perhaps you can visit me during the Christmas holidays and we can work something out. Your relatives wouldn’t even have to know you were in Surrey, it can just be you and me at my place. I’ll certainly be missing my little model until then.

I love you so, so very much,
Gary

Severus frowned. He faintly remembered reading the name Gary on an envelope before but this certainly didn’t sound like the preadolescent Muggle friend he had imagined. Who was this person and why was he writing a letter like this to an eleven-year-old boy?

He read over the letter again. And again. Yes, this man had really invited the child to stay with him during the holidays without his relatives’ permission. And little model? This was… disturbing.

To say the very least.

Severus was in the process of tucking the letter back into the envelope and reflecting on its contents when he was startled out of his musings by the voice of the boy himself.

“Professor Snape, I forgot my bag, I’m sor-” Harry stopped mid-sentence, staring at Severus open-mouthed. He seemed to take a moment to process the scene before growing angry.

“That’s mine,” the boy snapped, and Severus was momentarily stunned by the sheer venom in his voice. He had never heard him speak in such a tone before. He was a Hufflepuff, after all.

Severus looked away and finished putting the letter back into the envelope, pondering his next words. He wasn’t sure how easy it would be to get information out of the upset child.

“I apologize, Harry,” he said after a moment, even almost meaning it. “I had found this in your room in my quarters and meant to give it to you after class today, but I’d forgotten… it slipped out just now.” Severus handed the letter back to the boy, having memorized its contents.

Harry took it very slowly. “It’s alright, I guess,” he said, still watching Severus with suspicious eyes. “It- it’s just a letter from my friend.”

“Oh?” Severus inquired softly. Best to tread lightly. “Is this the Muggle friend you told me about?”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed as he went over to the chair in front of Severus’ desk to pick up his bag and slip the letter inside. “He’s my neighbor. He’s nice.”

Yes, your friendly neighborhood pedophile, thought Severus. If the man had touched the boy, if he had so much as thought about it...

“Ah, I see,” Severus said, brushing invisible lint off of his robes in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It is good to have friends in your neighborhood. Does he often send you letters?”

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and nodded adamantly, apparently quickly recovering from his previous vexation. “Yeah, he writes to me all the time! I usually went to his house after school and all, so we’re pretty close.”

Severus made a point to keep a calm facade on the outside while he was slightly panicking on the inside. This was- what else could it possibly be? It certainly wasn’t normal. This, this...

“This smells fishy,” Severus muttered out loud.

“Fishy?” Harry questioned, wrinkling his nose as if sniffing the air. “It doesn’t smell fishy to me.”

Oh, sweet Merlin, the first years could still be so sweet and precious and Severus was going to kill the son of a bitch who had stolen the innocence from this one.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said as Severus lifted him up under his armpits and set him onto the hospital bed. “I’m not sick.”

“It’s just a check-up, Mr. Potter,” Severus said, knowing that wasn’t quite it. Well, they were checking for something, just not in the usual sense… “Surely you’ve had one before.”

Harry furrowed his brow and Severus sighed, realizing that no, of course he hadn’t had a check-up before. His relatives had neglected that, just as they had neglected to notice whether or not the child was being molested.

Severus shook his head. Nothing was confirmed yet. He just had read that strange letter. And Harry had said some strange things. And possessed some very strange behaviors. But he was a child, and children were strange. It was a fundamental aspect of their beings.

“Stay here,” Severus instructed, tempted to use a sticking charm to ensure the child’s obedience. He really wasn’t disobedient, though. He was far too obedient at times, really. Severus was simply having an internal crisis, which brought on a need to be in control of everything.

Harry nodded and Severus turned and walked towards the school matron’s office, taking a heavy breath before knocking on the door and entering.

“Severus!” Poppy Pomfrey greeted, though not cheerfully. “Is it one of your snakes?”

Severus shook his head slowly. He only came to the infirmary when he was concerned about a student, usually a Slytherin, or delivering potions. He had just stocked the hospital wing with potions. “Hufflepuff, actually,” he stated softly.

Poppy nodded solemnly. “Who is it?”

Severus sat down in a chair in front of her desk. This would not be an easy conversation. “First year. Harry Potter.”

The matron raised her eyebrows but did not gape or gasp. She’d been in this dreadful business long enough to know that no one was immune to abuse. “Yes, I heard that you took care of him this past month because his home situation wasn’t a good one. I’m surprised it took you this long to bring him to me, I’ve been back from my holiday for a couple of weeks.”

“His relatives were clearly neglectful, but I mixed nutritional potions in with his pumpkin juice at meals. He’s looking better than he was, believe it or not. I hadn’t felt that he needed a complete scan...”

Poppy tsked. “Never hurts, Severus.”

“I know,” Severus sighed. “And you can run one. But that’s not the reason I brought him in.”

“Then what is the main concern?”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the wall. How had he even gotten to this point? The last half hour or so had been a bit of a blur, he wasn’t even sure when exactly he had decided that Harry needed to see Poppy, just that they were here now. And he didn’t want to speak about this, didn’t even want to think about it being a possibility, but it was.

“I stumbled across a very disturbing letter addressed to him. It appears to be from an adult male, the child’s neighbor. He seems to be very… friendly with him,” Severus said, giving Poppy a pointed look.

“Oh, my,” Poppy murmured, looking down at her desk. “That is rather concerning. Did you notice anything strange while he was staying with you?”

Severus nodded, though she wasn’t looking at him. “He often had stomach pain due to anxiety, frequently wet the bed… I noticed a rather large bruise on his thigh, on one occasion. He told me he had fallen and I didn’t think much of it, he is a bit clumsy… He spoke of writing to this person a few times, but I hadn’t once considered that he was an adult.”

“I know what you’re thinking, Severus, stop blaming yourself,” said Poppy. “One’s thought process hardly jumps to sexual abuse with these signs. It’s not as though you left him in an abusive environment, either. He has been safe with you.”

“What if he has a disease, and I didn’t-”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Poppy said, standing up. “We don’t even know if anything happened or if there are any lasting results. But… even if my exam shows nothing, you realize that it could still be true? You will have to ask him point-blank.”

Severus grimaced, dreading that moment and the moment of the exam and pretty much every moment from here on out. “Yes, well, either way, this needs to be done.”

Poppy nodded, sighing. “I hate doing this. I’ve had to do it several times now, and it never gets any easier.”

The sexual assault scan was a near painless process, but it still wasn’t pleasant and an emotionally daunting task for the healer. Harry wouldn’t even be aware of what they were scanning for, just experience a bit of a stinging sensation all over.

They exited the office and approached the bed where Harry sat on the edge of, swinging his legs back and forth.

“Hello, Harry,” Poppy greeted the boy with a warm smile. Harry smiled back at her shyly.

“Hi, Madam. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, dearie. Now, Professor Snape here tells me that you need a little checkup. It’s not a difficult process, but I will warn you that it does sting a bit. It’s best to lay down as I run my wand over you.”

Harry frowned and glanced at Severus, who nodded. “It won’t take long, just try to relax.”

He still looked hesitant, but Harry obeyed, lying down flat on the bed. He was stiff and seemed ready to bolt at any moment so Severus pressed his hand against his scarred forehead as Poppy started the scan and Harry squirmed.

Severus stared unseeingly at the stone wall before him as his fingers rubbed circles under the boy’s fringe. “You really are a lot like your mother, you know,” he said, finally speaking of the one thing he had sworn he would never speak of to this child in an effort to distract him. What was the point in hiding it from him, anyway? “She was very… friendly. And excitable…”

“Really?” Harry asked, opening his eyes that had previously been tightly shut. “What house was she in?”

“Gryffindor,” Severus said, sighing. “We knew each other before Hogwarts, grew up in the same neighborhood.”

“Wow,” breathed Harry as he winched. “So you and my mum, and Aunt Petunia…”

Severus clenched his jaw. “Yes, your aunt was often around. She had quite the jealousy streak. Your mother, however…” he softened his features.

“Most people would describe her without flaws, but she was not perfect,” Severus said, smiling slightly. “She hated children, for one thing. ‘I will never, ever, have children, Sev,’ she’d say to me. But then there was you…”

Lily had had Harry so young, and he was perhaps not… planned, but she never regretted him. She and Severus had fallen out in fifth year, but she’d sent him a few letters after school, some of them expressing her love for her son and sharing a few pictures of him.

That was one thing about Lily that remained consistent, she would get so angry when she was wronged, and rightfully so, but she always forgave in her own way. She should have given up on him and Petunia both long ago but chose to try to keep in contact anyway.

One of Severus’ biggest regrets was never responding to her efforts.

“Did… did she really like me?” the boy whispered.

“Oh, child. What did I tell you earlier? She loved you,” Severus said, ruffling his hair a bit. Merlin, he was really getting to the point of no return here.

“Alright, we’re all finished,” Poppy said, smiling tightly as she held a piece of parchment in her hand. That was a bit ominous.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Severus said. “Let’s get you some dinner while Madam Pomfrey and I go over some things.”

“Uh, alright,” Harry said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Severus called for a house-elf and requested a dinner tray before following Poppy back to her office.

“Well?” Severus questioned quietly, throwing up a privacy spell around them. “How bad is it?”

“Signs of neglect, of course. He is in need of various vaccinations. He is in better shape now than he was a month ago, still… stunted growth. His history suggests physical abuse to a certain extent, many bruises throughout the years, some scarring on various parts of his body.” Poppy sighed, rolling up the parchment.

“There are signs of trauma in the rectum, within the past few months… he has an STI, Severus. Gonorrhea. Very treatable at this stage, he’ll just need to take some antibiotic potions.”

Severus’ stomach dropped. That pretty much confirmed their fears. He looked at Poppy, understanding reflecting in her eyes. He swayed a little on his feet as it all really washed over him, and he sank heavily into a chair by the desk.

He crossed his arms over his knees and planted his face into them, feeling ill. This was sick. Absolutely revolting. How could someone possibly do that to a child?

How had Severus had the child around for a month and not notice anything peculiar? Well, to be fair, he had taken note of many peculiar things but had assumed it was a result of the Dursleys. Before today, he had never even considered anything like this…

Never would have imagined something so, so sinister, something so vile...

“He’ll need to be treated,” Poppy murmured, interrupting his disgusted musings. “The STI can be treated orally with the potions, but the trauma to the rec-”

“I know, I know,” Severus said, breathing heavily. “Just- just give me a moment.”

Gary Weatherman. What kind of name was that, anyway? Was he a meteorologist? Why did his name rhyme with Harry’s? Did the author of this sick and twisted story they were living in put any effort into it at all?

Gary Weatherman. Gary Weatherman. Gary Weatherman.

Severus Snape was going to kill Gary Weatherman.

That decided, Severus lifted his head and looked at his companion.

“I think it would be best to put him to sleep,” she said softly. “The discussion can wait until he’s recovered. Physically, at least...”

Severus nodded. “Yes, I believe that would be for the best.”

Poppy bit her lip. “I know that they are not…” she trailed off and took a deep breath before continuing, “Standard procedure is to inform the guardians of this. It’s not law, per se, but it’s-”

“Don’t fret over it, Poppy. They will be informed. I will take care of it.”

Poppy narrowed her eyes. “It’s also standard for the head of house to take responsi-”

“Did I not just say that I would take care of it?” Severus sniped. “I assure you that I will handle the situation with sensitivity and grace. Besides, Tuney and I are old pals. I’m sure that she would appreciate a familiar face to deliver the difficult news.”

Poppy sighed. “Do whatever you think is best, Severus.”

***

Harry woke up feeling groggy and sore, though not quite as sore as usual. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before reaching over for his glasses, unable to bring the room into focus otherwise. He couldn’t seem to find them on the night table, though, and instead knocked over a glass of water, which was strange because he didn’t keep a glass of water on his nightstand.

The cup crashed loudly onto the stone floor and Harry cringed, imagining the mess. He cursed his horrible vision as he stressed over his lack of glasses.

“You would do well to watch your language, Mr. Potter,” he heard a voice say from beside him, causing him to jump. Great, not only had he broken the water glass in front of someone but he had cursed in the presence of an adult. That was never a good idea.

“S-sorry sir,” Harry murmured softly, rubbing fists into his eyes again. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

A snort as someone pressed his glasses into his palm. “That certainly excuses it,” came the voice that Harry now recognized as Professor Snape’s.

Harry flushed as he shoved the frames onto his face, blinking as the room came into focus. Oh, he wasn’t in the Hufflepuff dorm. Now things made a bit more sense. But why was he still in the hospital wing?

He looked over to Professor Snape, eyebrows furrowed. “What time is it?”

“Eleven at night,” the man responded as he waved his wand to clear away the mess of glass on the floor. “I’m surprised you’ve awoken as you took the sleeping potion only four hours ago.”

“Oh,” said Harry. “I don’t remember that. Why am I still here?”

Professor Snape shifted in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you remember?”

“Er, eating dinner and changing into a hospital gown, I guess,” Harry said. “I thought you told me that it was just a check-up?”

“Yes, well, Madam Pomfrey had to treat you for something so she put you to sleep with the intention of you staying overnight.”

“Why?” asked Harry. “I mean, I feel fine.” Actually, if he thought about it, he felt a great deal better now than he had earlier. He had gotten used to always having a bit of pain somewhere and its absence now was just a little unsettling.

Professor Snape stood up and paced the room. He was acting really strange and it made Harry feel a little nervous. “Harry,” he started finally, “we need to talk about something.”

Harry eyed him wearily, fingers absently fiddling with the hospital sheets. It was only the second or third time that Professor Snape had called him by his first name, so he felt more than a little apprehensive about the whole thing. “What is it? Am I like really sick or something?”

The professor sat down again, not looking at Harry. “You were not in perfect health but it’s being taken care of, nothing to worry about. You’ll just have to take some potions for a bit. What we need to talk about is a bit… personal, but I need you to be completely honest with me, do you think you can do that?”

Harry lowered his head as he nodded. He hadn’t lied to the professor before, much, anyway, and even then nothing serious…

“I hope so, because this is a very serious matter and I know you’ve lied to me before,” Professor Snape said.

Harry’s head shot back up. “No I, I haven’t, what are you talking about?”

Professor Snape sighed. “Harry, I’m not angry with you, just listen… you didn’t tell me the truth about the bruise a few weeks ago. You didn’t get it from falling, did you? ‘’

Harry looked away again, face burning with shame. “N-no, sir.”

There was a moment of silence before Harry felt a hand on his own. He jumped slightly, looking at his professor with wide eyes. Professor Snape wasn’t really looking at him, though.

“As a Slytherin, I can hardly blame you for being a bit deceitful. But I’m sure you know by now that honesty is one of Hufflepuff’s finest traits, and I would appreciate the use of it in the future, especially when it comes to matters involving your health.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, it was just a bruise,” Harry defended weakly.

“Allow me to be the judge of that, Harry, please.” Professor Snape’s dark, dark eyes looked into his own then. “Can you tell me how you got it?”

Harry sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “I-I really don’t want to talk about it, sir.”

“I know,” Professor Snape offered, patting his hand a bit awkwardly. “But this… can you tell me more about your… friend? Gary?”

Harry snatched his hand away, pulling it close to his chest as he curled up against the headboard. “What- what does he have to do with anything?”

“I’m concerned that-”

“No,” Harry snapped. “There’s nothing to be concerned about. He’s a good friend, he cares about me, he actually wants me around, he-”

“Harry,” Professor Snape said, sounding far less angry than he should at this point, but still annoyed. Harry clamped his mouth shut.

There was a long pause as Harry refused to say anything more and Professor Snape seemed to struggle to find his words. It was all so strange and wrong and Harry just wanted to go back to sleep and forget about all of this.

“I don’t doubt that you care about him, Harry. But… has he ever done anything that made you feel uncomfortable?”

Harry shrugged. Yes.

“You know, the headmaster and I are good friends, but he does tend to do things that annoy me or make me uncomfortable. I always let him know when he crosses a line because a friend should know and accept things like that. Has something like that ever occurred between you and your friend?”

Harry hesitated before nodding slowly. He knew that friends often had disagreements and they usually worked them out. Gary and he compromised sometimes, too.

Professor Snape nodded. “A friend should respect your boundaries, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah…”

“Has your friend ever-”

“Gary doesn’t make me do anything I don’t want to do,” Harry bit out. He didn’t! He had never forced anything upon Harry, simply made suggestions that Harry rarely argued with.

“Does he pressure you into those things though?” Professor Snape questioned.

Did he? Well, yeah, kinda… but it wasn’t near as bad as it sounded, really. Harry knew that he could hit the pause button whenever he wanted to. But it was just really difficult to say no to someone who had done so much for him. Harry shrugged again.

Professor Snape blew out a heavy breath. Harry felt like he somehow already knew the answers to the questions he was asking, but he still asked them anyway. “Has he ever touched you in ways that made you feel uncomfortable?”

“Stop,” Harry said, head starting to hurt. “I- I don’t want to talk about this. Like, honestly, Professor, what does this even have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with the fact that-”

“Severus,” a voice interrupted, and Harry looked up to see Madam Pomfrey standing a few feet away from his bed. Professor Snape’s voice had risen quite a bit from it’s previous softness and Harry realized that he had unconsciously shrunk even further away from him.

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, looking skyward. Or would it be ceiling ward? Either way, he was looking up and away from Harry.

“Harry,” Madam Pomfrey’s soothing voice entered Harry’s ears. She slowly came closer to his bed and crouched down opposite the side that Professor Snape was sitting. “I know that this is rather difficult and confusing for you, but Professor Snape and I only want to help you. We’re not upset with you in any way. We only ask you to be honest with us.”

Harry wrapped his arms around himself, an age old form of self comfort as tears started to form in his eyes. He really did cry a lot and he knew that Professor Snape found it annoying, but he’d never told him that it wasn’t okay to cry. He had even sort of hugged him, once. Was that really only just a few hours ago? He’d also never asked for much from Harry in return, just that he do his best in school, and for his honesty.

Gary asked for a lot of things. Sometimes it was really difficult for Harry to distinguish his feelings for Gary because for the most part, he was so kind to him, but there was that little bit where he-

Positive and negative emotions clashed together so horribly that sometimes Harry forgot that there was even a difference. He had such a hard time distinguishing the good from the bad, it seemed like everything was ugly. But then Gary would give him small comforts in a world that was just so horrible and it made everything feel just a little bit easier.

Harry didn’t know all that much about sex. He knew the basic idea, knew that that was how babies were made and so apparently Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon must to have had it at least once which was a disgusting thought, and he knew that it wasn’t really something kids were supposed to have, but… Gary was just so kind to him that he…

Harry choked on a sob as he nodded his answer to the question that had been asked what felt like years ago. “I didn’t want t-to, but I- I just wanted to make him happy with me, I just wanted him to love me because nobody- nobody has ever-”

He felt hesitant hands on his shoulders then, and he let himself fall into the offer of comfort. He rested his head on the shoulder of his professor as arms enveloped him into a gentle embrace.

“I knew it- I shouldn’t-” Harry rambled on, “but I just wanted someone to-”

“Is it really so hard to believe that someone could care for you just being you, with no need for anything in return?” Professor Snape asked very softly.

Harry nodded, forehead rubbing roughly against robes. It had never happened before. At least Gary had cared at all, Harry had tried so hard to get the Dursleys to love him but he finally realized that nothing he could do would ever get him that.

“Well,” Professor Snape murmured, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair, “I despise children, I’m sure you realize.” Harry let out a wet chuckle before Professor Snape pulled him slightly away to look him in the eyes.

“And yet, I… I care about you, Harry. I care about your health and your happiness. And I would never ask you to do things like Gary asked of you. Love... love is not something that requires something in return. It just is.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Harry whispered, looking away. “But it’s not. It wasn’t. I mean, you weren’t there.”

The arms around him tightened. “I know. But I am now.”

Severus was not a good person.

Good people did not kill people, and murder was something he’d committed more times than he’d like to admit. His track record was not a clean one. Good people did not kill people.

But Severus was not a good person, and some people deserved to die.

Some people deserved to die slow and painful deaths, begging for mercy that would never be given, begging for an end, an end that was endless, and that was just a fact of life.

He contemplated how he would do it, as he listened to the soft sniffles of a child crying himself to sleep in the hospital bed. Would he do it the old-fashioned way, the muggle way, the Avada Kedavra way? Would he brew a potion for the occasion? There was a very special one created just with these situations in mind. There were so many options to choose from. It needed to be painful if nothing else.

And then the Dursleys, what of them? For as far as Severus was concerned, this was their fault above anyone else’s. Maybe Dumbledore should have noticed how things were at home for Harry, and this Gary man certainly should have had his balls cut off, but Petunia, in particular, must have known what was going on and had made no efforts to stop it.

He knew her, he knew that she couldn’t mind her own business to save her life. There was no possible way that something like this could have occurred under her nose. She knew.

That deserved punishment.

Severus gazed at the near still form of the sleeping child as the sounds of his sniffles died down, his only movements being the steady rise and fall of his chest. He conjured a wet flannel and gently wiped the dried tear tracks off his cheeks.

Harry would be avenged. Severus would make certain of it.

***

The neighborhood appeared to be even more perfect than it had the last two or three times Severus had apparated there. The lawns were perfectly manicured, the bushes perfectly plucked and trimmed. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

It was repulsive.

The Dursley home seemed to be a little less prestigious than it had a month ago, the yard not quite up to the standards of perfection that Little Whinging seemed used to. It didn’t look unkempt, exactly, but it was clear that something had changed in the lawn care department. Severus was pretty sure that he knew what that something was.

“Are you home alone?” Severus asked the whale of a boy who had answered the door. He had orange snack dust covering his chin and sticky fingers. Was this seriously Petunia’s spawn?

The boy rolled his eyes. “No, dummy, my parents don’t leave me home alone. I’m just a kid.”

Yes, it most certainly was.

“You’re the same age as your cousin, are you not? I hear he gets left home alone quite often.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he turned around before slamming the door in Severus’ face. The screech of “Muuuuum! Someone is here about the freak!” could be heard clearly. Severus tightened his jaw and waited for the door to open once more. When it was, he was greeted by the sight of a large and red-faced man who seemed to be lacking a neck.

“Mr. Dursley, I presume?” Severus inquired. “I’m here on account of your nephew.”

“I know what you are,” Dursley growled, steam nearly coming out of his ears like some sort of Muggle cartoon character. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

“Ah, how very strange then, that you should house a member of my kind for ten years, then,” Severus mused, making his voice a bit louder towards the end. “I imagine your neighbors would find that fairly baffling.”

“Just let him in, Vernon,” he heard an all too familiar voice shriek. Severus was already massaging his temples in preparation for the incoming migraine. He managed to sidestep the bulky man (quite a feat) and enter the house.

“Of all people- they sent you?” Petunia cried dramatically as a greeting. Severus rolled his eyes.

“I’m here of my own volition, Tuney dear. Though I do bring some rather troublesome news concerning your nephew.”

“Whatever the boy has done now, we bear no responsibility!” Dursley interjects. “You took him so he’s your problem now.”

Severus clicked his tongue. “Oh my, so quick to jump to conclusions… I assure you, the boy has done nothing wrong as of yet. Come now, I believe we should sit for this conversation,” he said, feeling something akin to delight as he invited himself into the sitting room and wondered if this was similar to what Albus felt when he performed such forward actions. The Dursleys followed him after a moment, husband and wife sitting on the couch opposite Severus while the child remained standing in the doorway.

“I suppose I should start by stating my surprise that you’ve not once shown an ounce of concern for your nephew since he left. Do you normally allow him to go off with strangers?”

“We didn’t allow him to go anywhere,” Petunia snapped. “You people took him without even informing us!”

Severus hummed distractedly. “Perhaps you shouldn’t leave a child alone if you don’t want him to be abducted.”

“Are you implying that it’s our fault?” Petunia glared.

“Yes, I believe that is exactly what I am implying,” Severus spit right back.

“Now you listen here, you rodeo clown,” Dursley said. “We never asked for that boy. We never wanted him. It’s only out of the kindness of our hearts that we dealt with him for as long as we did. We fed him, clothed him, raised him, with not even so much as a penny to compensate us for the trouble! We dealt with the garbage that you didn’t want to deal with yourselves so if anything, you should be thanking us!”

“Oh yes, I really should offer my gratitude. I am certain that your dearly departed sister would be so appreciative if she were here. It’s clear to me how much you must care about him. We could almost overlook the fact that you allowed him to be molested,” Severus sneered disdainfully.

Silence. Dursley simply gaped while Petunia did her best to look anywhere but at Severus. “Who?” she asked after a while in a near whisper.

“Gary Weatherman, your neighbor,” Severus snarled.

She nodded, lowering her head into her hands. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. “How difficult would it have been to simply put in the least amount of effort, just enough to ensure that the boy wasn’t being targeted by a predator?” he questioned.

“We didn’t know!” Petunia practically whined. “He’s old enough to look after himself, we couldn’t have…”

“But Mum,” the boy whom Severus had nearly forgotten was there spoke up, “you… you told me that Mr. Weatherman is weird and dangerous. You told me to stay away from him.”

Severus’ stare was cold enough to freeze hell over. Petunia must have felt it as she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself in some misplaced form of comfort. It was a pathetic sight to witness.

“See, I’m not the least bit surprised. I knew that you knew. Because I know you, Petunia Evans. I know that you could have prevented it if you had wanted to. But alas, here we are.”

Petunia was shaking, tears streaming down her face as she sat hunched over. Severus couldn’t have felt sorry for her even if he’d tried. “Now I’m just left wondering why. Why, Petunia?” he asked, voice almost breaking despite his best efforts. “No matter how much you despise his mother, despise him, he is a child. A child. How could you have allowed this to happen to him? How can you even sleep at night?”

“Stop this,” Dursley demanded. “You have no right-”

“I have every right,” Severus said, standing up and taking out his wand, casting a privacy spell over the adults’ conversation. “Do you want to know what that little boy, that bruised little boy who had a sexually transmitted infection and was torn up inside, who had to be stitched back together, told me when I asked him if someone he trusted had violated him in the worst possible way? Do you?”

Dursley was fuming and Petunia was shaking her head frantically, but Severus didn’t care. He lifted the privacy spell. “He told me that no one, no one, has ever loved him. That was all he wanted.” He kept his wand raised.

“How difficult could it have been? To at least pretend? This is your fault. You could have so easily prevented it, but you chose not to. A child has been destroyed because of you.”

“Stop!” Petunia wailed, full-on sobbing now. “Please, just stop.”

Severus breathed heavily through his nose. He wanted to make her, make both of them, pay. Merlin, he wanted it. He could practically taste the words of the killing curse on his tongue. But this was not what Harry needed from him, he knew. He turned away from them and towards the exit, Harry’s cousin scrambling backward as he faced him. He paused in the doorway.

“That cupboard,” Severus said, pointing towards it, “I saw that child getting his things out of that cupboard, the cupboard where he slept for ten years.” He locked eyes with Petunia one final time. “There is no room for redemption. I can scarcely imagine how many pieces your sister’s heart must be broken into by now. She would have never treated your child like this. You’ll get what’s coming to you, both of you.” And with that, Severus Snape left the dreadful place that was #4 Privet Drive, not once looking back.

Severus stormed down to the corner but paused before apparating back to Hogwarts, looking up at the street sign as he thought back on the letter he had taken to the owlery for Harry all those weeks ago. Magnolia Crescent was just straight ahead.

***

Gary Weatherman couldn’t have been much younger than Severus himself, though he was quite a handsome young man. He sported a flattering shade of blond hair, held kindly blue eyes and a dazzling smile.

The sight sickened Severus.

“Can I help you, sir?” Weatherman asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, you can, actually,” Severus said, brushing invisible lint off his Muggle button-up shirt. “I know we’ve never met, but I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, have you?” Weatherman chuckled nervously. “All good, I hope.”

Severus shrugged. “Depends on your opinion, I suppose. Actually, I hear that you like little boys.”

Weatherman’s eyes widened in surprise and he made to close the door, but Severus shot his foot out to prevent it from happening. “Surely you didn’t think you could keep this one under wraps?”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Shut up,” Severus snarled, shoving himself towards Weatherman, pushing his way into the house and locking the door behind him. “Don’t even bother denying what we both know. He was nine. Nine.”

“Nearly ten,” Weatherman interjected weakly and Severus saw red.

“How can you possibly even think that makes it the least bit better? He was a child. He is a child. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Weatherman held his hands up in the air. “He never told me no, man. Not once. Just because he’s a kid doesn’t mean that he-”

“Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t even want to know how sick of a creature you are. Sit down,” Severus said, pushing him down on the couch. He pulled out his wand and cast a sticking charm.

“Hey, what the-” Severus punched the sad excuse for a human being in the face before placing a Silencio on him. “I do believe that I told you to shut up.”

Severus wandered around the house, not sure what he was looking for but still looking regardless. The first room he came across was a bedroom, the sight of which made him feel sick to his stomach. He quickly moved past it and up the stairs, opening doors to closets and a bathroom before finding one that opened into a large space, some sort of photo studio by the looks of it.

There were props and a couch, lights, and a large camera placed in the near center of the room. Severus really didn’t want to think about the implications of this being here in a pedophile’s house, but it left very little to the imagination. He turned to find another door which led to a darkroom with red lighting and a somewhat foul odor.

He pushed the door open further to reveal tables containing trays of liquid. He went over to one and, using the large prongs sitting beside the tray, lifted a small sheet of paper out of the water before immediately dropping it upon seeing what it contained. He then looked up to see photographs hanging by close pins on strings all throughout the room and had to close his eyes, though the images were surely permanently burned into his mind now.

Severus didn’t know what he had been expecting, something along the lines of evidence, maybe, but this was far more than he could have ever imagined.

He exited the room and hurried back down the stairs to face the most perverted person he had ever met in the flesh.

“How many?” Severus demanded, lifting the silencing spell. “I know that it wasn’t only Harry, so don’t bother lying. How many other children have you placed your filthy hands on?”

Weatherman smirked, he actually smirked. “Did you like the pictures? I’ve got quite the collection, I know. You couldn’t imagine how many children would do anything for just the smallest bit of attention. Harry was my favorite though, I must say. Not many other children are quite so… compliant. He was perfect, really. Beautiful. I knew from the get-go that he was going places, what, with a pretty little arse like that-”

Severus punched him again, hard. What the actual fuck? He’d known that sick bastards like this existed, he’d known that Weatherman himself existed for the past day or so, but this was like something out of a nightmare. How dare he talk about literal children as though they were nothing more than sex toys? How dare he talk about Harry like that?

“You deserve to rot in hell,” Severus spat as he hit the man repeatedly and contemplated his next move. He could simply kill him now, that was what he had come here to do after all, and it would be so very easy. But would that really be justice? Could he possibly make it painful enough to account for the ruined lives of the unknown number of children this sick fucker had violated?

“I’m going to give you a choice,” Severus said as Weatherman began to cough up blood. “You’re either going to turn yourself in to the police or I’m going to kill you, it’s up to you.”

Weatherman was actually crying now as if he deserved the relieving release of tears. “No, no, just kill me, please. I can’t go to prison again.”

Again? Severus wondered what he had done to land himself there the first time and if it was anything having to do with being a sex offender, why he was out now. He didn’t really care at this point, anyway, as the matter of what Severus was to do was now settled.

“Good job,” Severus praised sardonically, patting his cheek. “Now you’re definitely going back to prison. Death would be a mercy and you will come to learn that, if you haven’t realized already, I am not a very merciful kind of person.”

“No, no! You tricked me!” the man whined, smearing blood and tears all over his face as he ran his hands over it. “That’s not fair!”

“You want to talk about what’s fair, you fucking piece of shite? How many children have you tricked into posing for pictures for your sick little obsession? How many have you laid your hands on without them even knowing what’s going on?” Severus waved his wand and used his signature spell, slicing expertly into Weatherman’s skin and causing him to cry out in pain. Blood was spilling everywhere and the sight made Severus feel maybe a little bit too pleased with himself.

Severus picked up a pen and notepad, thrusting the items at the pedo. “I want names, write them down, every single one of them. Now.” Weatherman hurried to comply, hand shaking as it scribbled down name after name. Severus wanted to throw up. “Don’t forget to write how you molested those children and sign it,” he snapped, snatching it out of his hands once the task was completed.

“Good. This is your confession,” Severus said, throwing it out of reach before conjuring ropes to tie around Weatherman. “Though I’m sure that the darkroom is evidence enough, it might help with victim compensation. Where’s your phone?”

Weatherman jerked his head in the general direction and Severus picked it up, dialing the number for the local police station that was written down beside the landline. “I’d like to report an anonymous tip,” he said once someone had picked up on the other end of the line. “Gary Weatherman of #21 Magnolia Crescent seems to be involved in some sort of child pornography scheme, there are hundreds of photos in the house and I believe that he has raped and molested multiple children in the midst of this. Someone needs to be sent to the scene right away.”

He hung up the phone before receiving a response and shrugged nonchalantly at Weatherman who was quickly beginning to bleed out. “Better hope they come soon, otherwise you might get your death wish after all,” he said, landing a few swift kicks to the area of man’s most precious cargo before leaning in close to hiss in his ear. “And if you ever come near Harry Potter again, you’ll be begging for more than the sweet relief of death from me.”

He again stood tall and straightened his shoulders. “Enjoy life behind bars, Mr. Weatherman. I hear that they really like child molesters in prison.”

And with that, he exited the premises and apparated away from Little Whinging before the bobbies could come and accuse him of assault or some such nonsense.

***

Severus hummed softly as he held his hands under the sink tap, watching as pink water trailed down to the drain. He grabbed a hand towel before turning to see Albus sitting at his kitchen table.

“It’s been said to be considered rude to enter one’s home without knocking, Albus,” Severus said as he wiped his hands dry with the towel. “And I do know how very important manners are to you.”

Albus looked at him with a blank expression, elbows on the table and right hand stroking his beard while the left held a rolled-up newspaper. “It’s also considered rude to play hooky as a professor, Severus. Where were you today?”

Taking a seat at the table across from the headmaster, Severus ensured that his poker face was in place. Clearly, Albus knew exactly how he had spent his afternoon, Severus had never planned on hiding it, but he could play along with the game. “Family emergency, I apologize for not informing you before I left, Headmaster. There was an aunt I simply had to pay a visit to.”

Albus nodded, tossing the paper onto the table. “A great deal has occurred in your absence, Severus. I’d hate for you to be out of touch.”

Severus picked up the paper, eyes scanning over the article and pictures. Weatherman looked a mess, eyes swollen shut and the bloodstains were clearly visible even in black and white. “The news seems to travel rather fast these days,” he commented absently.

“Yes, well, it is quite late, this is tomorrow’s paper. The front page isn’t the only article I found of interest, however.”

Severus raised his eyebrows, opening the paper and skimming through the stories until he found the one Albus was speaking of. He couldn’t quite suppress the smirk that appeared on his face.

“Local Little Whinging family suspected of child neglect,” Severus read the headline out loud. “In the midst of the Weatherman case, police were sent to the homes of suspected victims that were listed in a handwritten confession. Vernon and Petunia Dursley of Little Whinging are the legal guardians of their nephew, aged 11, who is one of these suspected victims. The child is said to currently be away at boarding school but the Dursleys were very evasive upon questioning. Further investigation led to the discovery of a cupboard where police found evidence of long-term living arrangements for the child. The Dursleys are currently being held for further questioning. My my my, what a day for news,” he finished, sighing dramatically.

“Poppy informed me about Harry this morning,” Albus said, voice growing serious.

“What, exactly, did she inform you of?” Severus asked, irritation and deep-rooted pain quickly flooding back into his consciousness as though they had never left. “The part where he was clearly neglected for the majority of his life, or my personal favorite, the one where he was molested?”

Albus sighed, looking away from him at last. “I won’t bother with the empty words that never make anything better. I’ve always believed that everyone is deserving of forgiveness, second chances, and redemptions. I thought I’d seen the worst that the world had to offer by now, but alas,” he stood up, sighing again.

“I can hardly state that I condone your actions, Severus,” Albus continued, placing his hand atop his shoulder. “I am, after all, a kindly old wizard. But…”

“But?” Severus questioned knowingly.

“I suppose if I told you that I am proud of you, there are many reasons for that pride,” he said, patting Severus’ shoulder. “You did well, Severus. I only wish it were not necessary.”

“I as well,” Severus muttered, glaring down at the stone floor. “There are countless things that I wish that I could go back in time and change, but this one in particular…”

“We can only look to the future, my boy. We can rarely change the past for the better, but we can do our best going forward. That’s all anyone could ask or expect.”

Severus nodded, though his eyes remained downcast. It sounded like nothing more than another pointless and placating speech from the old man, but he could see some truth in the statement.

“As for your extracurricular activities,” Albus murmured, running a finger over his lips in a locking motion. “My lips are sealed.” He gave Severus one final pat on the shoulder before turning to leave.

He paused at the door. “Harry will be alright, Severus. He has you, after all.”

Severus made to protest, but Albus was gone before he could even open his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily as his eyes landed on the paper once more. The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. Severus had never been much for sentimentality, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to save this one, just once. Maybe he’d even consider framing it.

“Professor Snape, where were you yesterday?” Harry asked as soon as his fellow students cleared out of the classroom. “Everyone said that you weren’t in class and there were all kinds of crazy rumors going around! Some of the Slytherins said that you told them that you’d left to join the wizarding circus but I didn’t really believe them, I mean it just didn’t make much sen-”

“First things first, there is no such thing as a wizarding circus, so don’t go on believing in that. If wizards want to join the circus they have ample opportunity, as the muggle world is all about equal rights. Even if they don’t realize they are hiring wizards…”

“Oh, well, that’s nice,” Harry said, nibbling on his lower lip. “I mean, discrimination is bad and I’ve been thinking from the start how strange this segregated world is, so it’s cool that wizards and Muggles have the same circus, at least. Still, you’re not thinking of leaving Hogwarts to join the circus, are you?”

Severus nearly smiled at the child. “No, I don’t have any plans on quitting my stable job as a professor in order to join the circus. This school is more than enough of a circus for me as it is.”

Harry giggled at his response and Severus couldn’t help it; he smiled at him now. At least no one else was there to witness it.

“Where were you, then?” Harry asked, taking a seat on one of the stools at the front of the classroom. “If not training to become a clown?”

Severus’ mind instantly flashed back to his discussion with Harry’s relatives the day before, where that Dursley oaf had referred to him as a rodeo clown. It made him both humorous and somber.

“I simply had some things to take care of outside of Hogwarts yesterday,” Severus said, offering a half-answer to Harry’s question. “Nothing to concern yourself over.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry replied easily, swinging his legs back and forth on the stool and seemingly having no plans of leaving any time soon. Severus found that he didn’t really mind his presence.

“How are you, Harry?” he ventured after a moment, making a show of sorting through some papers on his desk. Harry’s motion stilled and any previous signs of joy disappeared from his features.

“F-fine, Professor,” Harry responded, practically shrinking under Severus’ gaze.

Severus paused in his actions. “It’s quite alright if you’re not doing so well.”

Harry shrugged and started to swing his legs again, albeit slower now. “I’m okay, really. Just kind of… I dunno. Things feel a little weird, I guess.”

Severus nodded. He knew that Harry must be feeling very unbalanced right now. He had been through so much in just the past couple of days, not to mention how much his world had changed in the last month or so.

“I can imagine. I’ve been wondering, Harry… what do you think about talking to someone about what you’re going through, and maybe they could help you sort through your feelings about it all?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Yes, and you can talk to me at any time. But I’m referring to someone a bit more… experienced.”

“So like a shrink,” Harry said flatly.

“A psychiatrist, yes…”

“I’m not crazy.”

It was Severus’ turn to frown. “I’m not suggesting that you are.”

“Then why do I have to see a shrink? Only crazy people need one!” Harry hopped off the desk, shoes landing on the stone with a thunk.

“That is most certainly not true and you don’t have to see one, I am simply asking your opinion because I believe that it would be beneficial to your mental health.”

Harry crossed his arms against his chest, though it came across as more defensive than defiant. “I don’t want to.”

Severus lifted his shoulders in a small shrug before going back to the papers on his desk. “Then you won’t.”

A pause. “That’s it?”

“Well I’m not going to make you,” said Severus. “Even though I believe you are under a false premonition in regards to psychology.”

“…Why?”

“Because millions of people see therapists and it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s actually a very courageous-“

“No, I mean, why aren’t you going to make me?”

Severus looked back up. “Because, perhaps in contrast to what you have been made to believe thus far, you do have the right to make certain decisions when it comes to your life. I’m not going to force you into something you are so clearly against, and therapy typically works best when it’s done under free will, anyway.”

Harry seemed puzzled. “Well… okay. I- I still would rather not do it. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize for it is, as I said before, your choice, and I respect your decision.”

Harry still seemed confused and hesitant, but he nodded eventually. “Thank you, Professor.”

***

The snickers of his classmates echoed loudly in his ears as Harry picked himself up off the stone floor. He lifted a hand to touch his throbbing lip and it came away stained with blood.

“Come on,” Susan Bones murmured beside him, draping an arm across his back and leading him off to who knows where. Harry didn’t really care, Susan had been very kind to him since the start and he trusted her. Not that trusting someone meant that they wouldn’t hurt you, of course, but he figured the likelihood of someone screwing him over terribly bad once again was fairly slim.

“Can’t believe Harry Potter turned out to be a sniffling little Hufflepuff,” one of the Slytherin boys could be heard jeering behind them as they departed the corridor where Harry had been tripped. “All this time we’d been expecting a hero and instead we got stuck with this.”

Harry wanted to turn around and tell the bully to fuck off, and that just because he was a Hufflepuff didn’t necessarily mean that he couldn’t pack a punch (even if he couldn’t, that was beside the point), but Susan’s firm hand kept him from making the move, and he knew that it wouldn’t change anything, anyway. Some people were just born to be ignorant pricks.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked once they’d turned the corner away from the Hufflepuff dorms.

“Madam Pomfrey,” responded Susan. “You look a mess.”

Harry raised a hand to his mouth again and winced at the pain. He definitely had a busted lip, but it wasn’t the end of the world. “I really don’t need to go to the hospital wing, Susan.”

Susan rolled her eyes and kept trudging on. “You’re literally bleeding. You could just wait a few painful days for it to heal, sure, or you could have Madam Pomfrey fix it in, like, two seconds.”

Harry simply sighed, resigned to his fate though still not too terribly keen on seeing the matron again so soon after his last little visit that ended in way too many tears and snotty noses. Just his, though, because apparently, he was the only other person in the castle who seemed to feel the need to cry on a daily basis, which was why some of his classmates found him to be a perfect target.

Even his fellow Hufflepuffs didn’t seem to constantly be on the brink of an emotional meltdown, though at least they had all been very kind to him about it all. Susan, in particular, had become someone he could possibly refer to as a friend, and Hannah Abbott had shown an absurd amount of friendliness towards him. It was just so strange to have people not hate Harry as soon as they met him, it was a bit of a mental whirlwind.

Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley had also been really nice to Harry, but he was still having a hard time feeling comfortable in the dorm room. No one made him feel uncomfortable, really, but everyone else just seemed so in place while Harry was simply there.

No one ever excluded him, yet he didn’t totally feel like he was included in the whole Hogwarts experience. Even Justin, who also came from a Muggle background, seemed to be more at ease with his surroundings than Harry, and Harry had technically been at Hogwarts longer than any of the other first-years.

Then there was Draco Malfoy, who was just a prat, along with the two goons who followed him around everywhere. Even some of the older Slytherins weren’t all that nice to him, and for what reason? Because he existed? Well, the Dursleys never needed any more reason than that, so it was nothing new.

The other houses were okay, he supposed. Ravenclaws seemed to make a conscious effort to ignore him (also nothing new) and the Gryffindors, while not unkind, were far too rambunctious for Harry to even consider interacting with.

Everyone seemed to be aware of where they belonged once they were placed in their houses while Harry still felt as though he was waiting in line to be sorted. Not that he thought he belonged in a different house, exactly, it was more like he just didn’t know if he belonged in any house at all.

He knew that he was somehow different from his peers, and he hated it. And it wasn’t just the whole Harry Potter is famous thing he was still trying to wrap his head around, there was also the coming to terms with the fact that his parents were apparently murdered, somewhat being bullied by a few of his classmates, everything that had occurred in his life before Hogwarts, and not to mention that one night stay in the hospital wing...

Harry had a lot going on at the moment, and to add adjusting to his new lifestyle on top of all that… It was just a bit much.

So, yeah, he supposed that he wasn’t terribly happy these days, but it could be a lot worse. Going to see Madam Pomfrey once more was just another inconvenience to add to the ever-growing list of tragedies.

They arrived at the hospital wing far sooner than Harry might have hoped and Susan ushered him over towards Madam Pomfrey’s office where she knocked on the door frame.

The matron came out and looked the two of them up and down, frowning when her eyes landed on Harry’s face. “Mr. Potter, what have you gotten into?”

“Some prat-”

“I tripped,” Harry said, cutting off Susan’s explanation. She sent him a glare but didn’t attempt to continue. He had tripped, after all. What did it matter if someone helped him along the way?

Madam Pomfrey didn’t seem to believe him, but didn’t question it any further. “Well, come along, then. Let’s get you fixed up,” she said, leading him over to sit on a bed. It was the same one he had slept in the other night. Great. Somehow he had a feeling that he and this hospital bed would become well acquainted with one another over the next several years.

The matron rummaged through her storage cupboard for a moment before coming back with a thing of… ChapStick. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t give me that look, young man,” Madam Pomfrey said as sternly as she could manage. “It’s a healing lip balm. One use will fix that split lip but you should keep it with you, as I can imagine this won’t be the last time you’ll be needing it.”

Harry flushed as he accepted the lip balm, running it over his lips before pocketing it. He smiled as he could feel it doing it’s job.

“Better?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she dabbed the specks of blood off his chin with a wet flannel. It was entirely unnecessary and Harry felt his appreciation for her swell because of it.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry confirmed.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. “Good. Now, I would have preferred if you didn’t have to come here, but I was actually hoping to see you at some point so that I could talk to you about something…” she trailed off, glancing over at Susan who was standing silently next to the bed.

“...Yes?” Harry ventured, hoping it wasn’t too personal, whatever it was. He couldn’t very well tell Susan to bug off, could he?

“Well, it’s just that… I spoke to Professor Snape recently, and he told me about what you and he discussed a few days ago.”

“Oh…” Harry said, pretty sure he knew what conversation she was referring to.

“I think that it would be a good idea,” she continued. “It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try and I was hoping that you might reconsider your decision.”

Harry shrugged as he lifted himself up off the bed. “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey, but… I’m good, really. Professor Snape said that it was my choice, and I just- don’t want to. I don’t need to, either.”

Madam Pomfrey’s lips turned further downward, but she didn’t fight him on it. Susan may have been his saving grace there, as the matron didn’t seem to want to go into further detail while she was present, thankfully. Harry could only handle so much embarrassment in a single day.

“Alright, well, you two please try to refrain from injuring yourselves further,” she said as the pair of students made their way to the exit.

“I didn’t get injured at all, ma’am,” Susan smiled sweetly. Goody two shoes.

They left the hospital wing and started to trek down to the Hufflepuff common room in silence. It wasn’t until they’d reached the dungeons that Susan spoke up.

“I don’t mean to pry so excuse me if I’m being rude,” she said, “but what was Madam Pomfrey talking about wanting you to try?”

Harry’s first instinct was to evade the question, but then he started to think about it. Susan had been perhaps his first real friend, considering Gary apparently hadn’t been his friend at all, which was a whole can of worms he was just trying to avoid thinking about, and Professor Snape wasn’t exactly a friend, more of a… Well, either way, Susan was definitely the first friend Harry had that was anywhere near the same age as himself and friends were supposed to confide in one another, weren’t they?

“It’s, well…” Harry sighed, feeling his cheeks heating up. “She and Professor Snape want me to see a therapist, I guess.”

Harry expected Susan to laugh or for her face to scrunch up in disgust, but instead she just nodded and seemed to consider. “It’s not such a bad idea. I mean, I’ve seen one from time to time.”

“You- you have?” Harry asked, surprised. Susan didn’t seem like the kind of person who needed professional help with their issues, unlike him, apparently.

Susan hummed, pulling on the straps of her knapsack as they walked. “You know how it is. Most of my family was murdered by You-Know-Who, so it’s just my aunt and me. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember, but still… an orphan is an orphan and we long for what could have been, you know? Of course you do, you’re like the most famous orphan in the world.

“Anyway, the point I’m trying to get at here is, therapy has really helped me get through some things, and I’d recommend it to anyone. If Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey think that you should try it… perhaps you should give it a chance.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “What if we have nothing to talk about? What if they just sit there and wait for me to come up with something to say until my face is so hot that I spontaneously combust from the inside out due to the awkwardness?”

Susan laughed. “They’re like professional talkers, Harry. They usually start out by asking you questions to get to know you. Besides, I’m sure that you have a boatload of childhood trauma to fill the silence, I mean, don’t we all?”

Harry snorted but didn’t disagree.

“So?” Susan said, giving him a little nudge with her shoulder as they approached the entry to the common room. “What are you thinking?”

Harry was unsure what he was thinking, exactly. He knew that not only did Professor Snape think it was a good idea to try therapy, but Madam Pomfrey and his first friend did as well, so basically the three most important people he had met upon his entry to wizarding society.

He knew that the idea of seeing a shrink was something his Aunt Petunia would stick her nose up at, which made the prospect all the more terrifying yet also just the slightest bit appealing. He’d never been much of a rebel and had for the most part obeyed his relatives’ every command, but he did know that they weren’t always right. In fact, they were usually wrong when it came to things like this.

So if all the signs were pointing towards giving it a try, why was Harry still feeling so reluctant? Was the idea of receiving help really so daunting that he would allow it to prevent himself from achieving a possible happiness?

And Harry was happy, really, he was. He was living in a magical castle, attending a magical school to learn magic spells, surrounded by magical people, a few of whom might genuinely care about him. It was all so magical and beautiful and stunning and how could he not be happy?

But Harry knew that he was struggling to truly appreciate it all because deep down, he was terrified that it could all be taken away from him just as easily as it had been given. Good things did not happen to Harry Potter, which was why he often had bad dreams and acted like a baby and trusted the wrong people and was let down time and time again, and always ended up alone.

As horrible as people could be, Harry really, really hated being lonely.

Harry couldn’t exactly be happy when he was so scared of losing the potential for happiness. So really, Harry wasn’t happy at all. He was petrified and he wanted someone to help fix it. He knew that all he had to do was ask, but that, of course, was just as intimidating of an aspect as everything else.

“I dunno,” he said, biting his lip and then instantly regretting it as it wasn’t fully healed quite yet.

“Go on,” said Susan. “Just tell Professor Snape that you’ll try it. If you don’t like it you can always quit, but you’ll never know if you never try.”

She was right, Harry realized. Sometimes the simplest of things seemed terrifying, but Harry didn’t want to live in fear. He was a Hufflepuff, not a Gryffindor, but did that mean that he couldn’t be brave?

It was with that thought that he parted ways with Susan at the entrance of the common room and turned to seek out his favorite professor on the other side of the dungeons.

“Woah,” Harry breathed, sitting up on his knees as he gazed at the starry illusion above his canopy bed. “It’s brilliant.”

“My wand work has been said to be rather magnificent,” Severus murmured, only half teasing. He had created a fairly beautiful display to act as a nightlight for Harry.

Harry laughed in that gentle and innocent way that made Severus’ heart swell just a little bit more every time he heard it. He was unsure how he could possibly be the one to revoke such a joyful-sounding reaction from the boy, but he didn’t mind it all that much.

The origin cause of this moment, however, did make him frown.

Harry had his first session with the mind healer, Claire, earlier in the afternoon. She was a friendly-looking woman in her mid to late forties, a witch, but one that had chosen to live her life fairly far removed from wizarding society. It had been a little difficult to convince her to come to Hogwarts for Harry’s sessions, but Severus was nothing if not persuasive.

While it was a fair bit awkward to begin with, the boy had started with his endless chattering with little prompting. Severus hadn’t planned on staying but both Claire and Harry agreed that he should stay for the first session while they got to know one another.

She had referred to Severus as Harry’s guardian which seemed to startle the boy, but surely not nearly as much as it did him. He was perhaps still reeling from that causal assumption even hours later.

Claire had started with a simple topic, how school was going and how he was adjusting to his classes. However, it soon became clear that it wasn’t all that simple of a topic to start with after all.

The boy hadn’t been terribly forward about any of it, but by the end of the session, Severus was in the midst of making plans to discuss behavioral issues with his Slytherins. But first, he’d decided to focus on trying to help with Harry’s apparent fear of the dark.

“I’m not afraid of the dark, exactly,” Harry had said as his cheeks began to color. “It’s just… I used to always sleep in a dark cupboard and I didn’t mind it all that much, really, but well, I’ve always just had a bit of trouble falling asleep in pitch darkness and now sometimes if I wake up in the night and it’s really dark I kind of…”

“You worry that you might be back in the cupboard?” Claire had offered gently.

Harry then nodded hesitantly and if Severus was striving to theoretically burn down #4 Privet Drive in Harry’s mind (though doing so literally as well might not be all that terrible of an idea), he thought that he should shed some light on the subject.

So, after first discussing it with Claire to assure himself that he wouldn’t be stunting Harry’s emotional growth or something along those lines, he’d decided to cast something resembling a Lumos in the canopy of Harry’s bed in the Hufflepuff dorms. Though he supposed it was a fair sight off from the Lumos spell, as it did not emit from the wand and perhaps a simulation of the solar system, there was light all the same.

Placing it solely above Harry’s bed where it could hide with the curtains ensured that it wouldn’t bother any other students should they prefer the darkness. Though Harry had already promised him that he would ask his dormmates if they would like Professor Snape to do the same for them because he was such a nice teacher.

Mhm.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” Harry said sincerely, breaking Severus out of his musings. He had that starry-eyed thing going on once again, even more so now illuminated by the artificial stars above, and Severus gave a stiff nod before making a show of looking anywhere that wasn’t his young companion. His eyes landed on a stuffed bear lying propped up against the pillows near the headrest and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Where did you get this?” Severus asked, picking up the toy. Surely the boy’s horrible relatives hadn’t given it to him.

Harry shrugged in response. “Gary gave it to me.”

It was strange how quickly one could react without really thinking their actions all the way through. Severus banished it on the spot. Harry’s mouth dropped open.

“I- that’s my teddy bear you can’t just-” he sputtered.

“Anything he gave you, I can just,” Severus sniped.

Harry’s eyes filled with tears. Severus sighed. Maybe he had been a bit rash.

“I’ll get you a new bear, just calm down,” he said as the boy turned away to hide his face.

“Why is it okay for you to give me a teddy bear and not him?!” Harry asked, voice wobbling.

Oh. Severus really wasn’t doing great with the good examples at the moment. It was different, though, and Harry needed to understand that lest he be confused about people and their intentions for the rest of his life.

“Harry, it’s not that simple,” Severus muttered. He imagined they would be having several conversations like this before the message would finally sink in, if it ever would. “Here, just- look at me.” he continued when the child turned his face back to him, eyes red.

“It’s acceptable for me to give you a gift because I have nothing but your best interests in mind When… Gary,” he struggled not to spit the name out, “gave you gifts, it was to manipulate your trust for his own gain. I know that it’s difficult to understand, but he didn’t care for you. Not in the way that is appropriate for an adult to care for a child.”

“You keep saying stuff like that, but it’s just not true!” Harry burst out. “He’s the only person who has ever cared about me at all!”

Severus sighed, running a hand over his face. “It seems that way, because of the abhorrent way your relatives treated you. Had they raised you as they should have, you would have an easier time understanding good versus bad intentions.”

“Well they didn’t and I don’t,” Harry huffed.

Severus offered a sad little smile. “I know. I’m hopeful that someday you might see things differently, however.”

Harry looked away yet again. “I just… I don’t see what was so wrong about it all. I mean yeah I didn’t like some things, but he was really nice most of the time…”

Don’t snap, don’t snap, don’t snap. He doesn’t know any better. Severus searched his mind for child-friendly words to help with this conversation but came up with nothing. Besides, it seemed a joke to try to childproof this for a child who had actually been through it.

“Harry, you were taken advantage of and used. Gary Weatherman violated you in the absolute worst way possible, there is no situation in which it can possibly be okay for an adult to touch a child in the ways that he touched you.”

“But he cares about me,” Harry argued weakly.

“I care about you. We have known each other for well over a month now, and have I ever asked you to do something like that?”

“Well, no, but it took Gary a while to get around to it himself.”

Severus decided to take a moment to focus solely on his breathing in an effort to keep from screaming. He should have killed that man. He didn’t deserve to share the same air as Harry. He should have gone ahead and crushed every bone in his body before digging a ditch and kicking his barely breathing body into it. He should have filled the hole with fertilizer full of pesticides for good measure.

“Would you like me to swear an oath to never touch you in that way?” Severus asked once he’d calmed himself with those heartwarming thoughts. “Because I’m more than willing.”

Harry’s head snapped up. “What? No! I’m not- I don’t think you’ll-”

“Good,” said Severus. “Because I will not, ever.”

“Alright, yeah,” said Harry, wrapping his arms around himself. “Okay, so why exactly do you care about me? Do you really not want anything from me?”

“The only thing I want from you is for you to live.” Severus’ endgame really hadn’t changed much even now that he had grown slightly fond of the boy. At the end of the day, his reason for living would always be to keep Harry living. “It is your life, and as long as you are not causing harm to yourself or others, you may do whatever you’d please with it.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone,” Harry responded, frowning.

“I know,” Severus chuckled. “Though refraining from hurting yourself is just as important.”

“I can do that, I think.”

“Just as long as you try… I’ll be proud of you either way.”

“...Proud of me?”

Severus blinked.

He was exhausted. Between teaching his classes, keeping up with grading essays, visiting with unsavory Muggles, and dealing with an emotionally drained eleven-year-old, well, it was all causing him to feel extremely drained himself.

But he was also extremely proud, which he found to be an odd feeling to have, and to have it directed at James Potter’s son… it was unexpected, to say the least. But yet it was there.

The boy was brave but kind, an absolute chatterbox that somehow wasn’t exactly annoying, intelligent without being insufferable and he had been through teetotal hell yet still came out with a smile and bright eyes.

Harry Potter defied all expectations.

“Yes, Mr. Potter,” Severus said. “I am very proud of you.”

Harry started to smile as the door burst open and Justin Finch-Fletchley stumbled into the room. He didn’t glance over at them as he made a sprint towards his own bed where he rummaged through his trunk for something.

“Heya, Harry,” he greeted absently, apparently aware that he was there without looking. “Are you sure you don’t want to come outside and play with Ernie and me? It’s really nice out today and he drug his Wizard’s Chest set out there, we’ve been playing that all day though so now I’m just looking for the card set I brought with me. Can you believe that Ernie’s never played Go Fish? And everyone here says that Muggles are strange… Ah-ha, I found them!”

Finch-Fletchley jumped up from where he was crouched on the floor and spun around to face Harry, though his eyes widened significantly once he took in the sight of Severus sitting next to him.

“Oh- oh my- what- Professor Snape, what are you doing in my dorm room?”

“We’re playing Go Fish,” Severus offered drily.

“But- you- you don’t have any cards.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain about that?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t see them but I guess I couldn’t swear to it…”

“Then you are simply presuming. Now, why don’t you run along from here as you do when passing me in the hallways?”

Finch-Fletchley gaped like a fish for a moment before hightailing it out of there. “See ya, Harry!” he threw over his shoulder.

Harry promptly burst into a fit of giggles. “Professor Snape, you’re so funny!”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Am I?”

“Yes! Justin was all like-” Harry couldn’t seem to finish his sentence and opted to snort to fill the gap. He’d apparently been hit by a laughing jinx as he did not seem to be able to control himself.

Somehow in the midst of all of this, his head landed on Severus’ shoulder and did not retract itself. Severus wondered if there would always be a part of him that’s first instinct was to push it off of him, but he tried to focus on the part of his brain that wasn’t completely bothered by the action. Then he reflected on how strange it was that a part like that existed in him at all.

Harry’s presence in his life had been... unexpected. Of course, he’d known for the past decade that the child would someday soon come to Hogwarts, but he had been prepared to despise his existence. He had despised the very idea of him, but somehow…

Severus was unsure of when and how everything had changed. It seemed the past few weeks were nothing more than a whirlwind, though he distinctly remembered when Albus had asked him to hand-deliver Harry Potter’s acceptance letter, and Severus had griped and groaned about it even if a small part of himself was perhaps curious of the child.

He’d traveled to Surrey expecting to find a prince sitting on a throne in his castle but instead had found a little boy in rags with a cupboard for a bedroom. The tale had spun from The Princess and the Pea to Cinderella so quickly it nearly had given him whiplash.

He was aware that he should have pushed the boy away long ago, but he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. At first, he had kept him around out of obligation, maybe because of Albus, maybe because of Lily, maybe because Severus himself was the reason why Harry lost his parents and grew up the way that he did. At some point, the obligation he’d held had somehow shifted to something along the lines of… fondness.

Severus Snape was somewhat perhaps just maybe slightly fond of Harry Potter.

By the time his mind shifted back to the present, Harry’s giggles had faded and he seemed to be on the cusp of falling asleep while leaning onto Severus if not there already. Seemingly out of his own violation, Severus’ hand reached out to run through a messy mop of black hair.

He still wasn’t completely sure how or why it had happened, but it definitely had and he could deny it no longer. Severus stared wide-eyed at the mustard yellow walls of the Hufflepuff dorm room, wondering how the hell he ended up here and why he truly didn’t seem to mind it at all.

Harry spun the band of the gold watch around his wrist for a bit before tightening it up a couple of notches. Severus had obviously felt very insecure about the gift when he’d given it to him nearly a year ago, as if he hadn’t held more right than anyone else to give it, but Harry treasured it above all else. It was more than just a symbol to mark a milestone age for him, the fact that the professor had been the one to give it to him spoke volumes of their relationship.

Who would have thought that the strange man who had stood on the Dursleys doorstep all those years ago waiting for Harry would have become someone so very vital to his survival, a protector, a guardian… a father.

Harry shook the thought from his head, though a ghost of a smile still traced his lips. Severus would have kittens if he knew where Harry’s train of thought went sometimes. Though Harry knew now that the man could truly read minds if he wanted to, and it wasn’t as if he could deny the thought process after all this time.

“Harry Potter?” Harry heard his name be called and stood to follow the voice into the visitation room. There was a long line of chairs divided by small walls that held phones that connected to the ones on a portion of the room separated by glass.

“You are allowed sixty minutes. He’s waiting for you, two seats down from the left,” the prison guard beside him said, and Harry nodded his assent. He took a deep breath to steady himself before making his way over to the chair.

Harry kept his eyes focused solely on the task of seating himself properly before holding his head up high to meet the gaze of his childhood abuser. He lifted his end of the phone to his ear with steady hands.

“Harry,” Gary practically purred his name. “Is that really you?”

“Yes,” Harry responded flatly.

“It’s been a long time. I wondered if you’d ever come to visit me. You did say that you missed me and couldn’t wait to see me again, what was it, seven years ago?”

“Nearly.”

“What took you so long, then? My God, how you’ve grown… you must be eighteen by now.”

“Nearly,” Harry said again, looking away from Gary to take further note of his surroundings. Everything was dark and dirty, grey, and dreary. This was not the kind of place that Harry would want to stay at for long.

Gary frowned. “If you’re going to be so hostile, why did you come at all?”

“I came to see how you’re holding up,” said Harry, looking back at him. “Not to offer meaningless platitudes.”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” Gary said. “Were you hoping for more? I know I can’t really offer much when we’re separated by glass like this, but…”

Harry closed his eyes as he snorted lightly. He wasn’t sure if the action was one of humor or sadness or nothing at all. “You haven’t changed.”

“Why would I?” Gary asked, genuinely confused. “You always seemed to like me well enough.”

“Why… why wouldn’t you? I... Don’t you feel the slightest bit of remorse for what you did? Not just to me, but to all those other kids.”

“Remorse? Why would I feel remorse? You’re the one who came onto me, begging for love and attention, which I gave, then went and sent your psycho guardian angel after me, betraying my trust the first chance you got! You’re the reason I’m locked up in here, you should be apologizing to me.”

“Are you seriously trying to blame me for your actions? Did all the children just come onto you so strong that it made you powerless to stop yourself from hurting them?”

“I didn’t hurt anybody!” Gary nearly shouted. “I gave you what you wanted!”

“I was a child and I didn’t want that!” Harry cried. “All I wanted was somebody to care about me, which you only pretended to do. Why couldn’t you have actually cared about me and not just used me?”

“Because nobody could,” Gary snarled. “You’ve only ever been good for one thing and you’re just lucky that I was nice to you about it.”

Harry stood up then, keeping the phone held loosely against the side of his face. “See, I know that isn’t true. Because I have people in my life now who do care about me, who actually love me. And they would never ask me to do the things that you did.”

Gary seemed to deflate before him before backtracking on his previous words. “Harry, I’m sorry- I just can’t help myself. I’m a very sick man-”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Harry murmured, looking directly into those kind blue eyes that masked so much cruelty. “You are extremely sick. But that doesn’t excuse it. Just like it’s not okay for me to yell at my friends just because it’s a bad day, it’s not okay for you to prey on children. Mental illness is not an excuse to abuse people. Nothing is. You could have stopped yourself, you just chose not to.”

Harry hung up the phone, slamming it back onto the receiver before Gary could respond. There was nothing left to say and Harry didn’t need anything from him anymore, anyway. He exited the visitation room, feeling glad of only having used ten or so of his allotted sixty minutes.

It was a long time before Harry fully recognized the magnitude of what had been done to him. It took quite a while before he really realized the gravity of what Gary had stolen from him, even longer before it truly registered what had been taken and what could never be returned.

Sometimes it felt as though coming to terms with it was something that had to be done several times throughout the day, and some days it felt as though the violent violation was happening all over again.

It often felt as though the journey between healing and recovery were two separate paths that were so very far away from each other. It seemed as if there was no such thing as recovery, just the never-ending process of healing. Every now and then it even felt like there was no such thing as healing at all, only consistent grief and pain.

It was strange how things could go from being so right to so wrong in a matter of seconds, and it made Harry unsure of whether he could ever really distinguish the righteous from the wicked and he wondered if it was that way for everyone or if it was because he was someone broken from the inside out.

Then Severus would wrap a tentative arm around his shoulders as he did now, and the lenses of his world view would look just a little less blurry.

“Did you really have to do this alone?” Severus asked quietly as they sat on a bench outside the London prison.

“Yes,” Harry breathed out. “It wasn’t that bad, and it was something I just needed to do on my own. And not just for me, I don’t think you could have seen him again without going all former Death Eater on him.”

“Would that really be so bad? I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

Harry hadn’t known of his involvement in the arrest until much later, but he now was very aware of Severus’ regret for not just killing Gary when he had the chance. He was grateful he hadn’t though, not because the man didn’t deserve it, though that was another thing it took a long time for Harry to accept (it’s not my fault not my fault not my-), but because as odd as it sounded, seeing Gary today as the same person but trapped behind bars in such a depressing atmosphere seemed to help heal a small part of his soul.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Harry admitted. “I- I needed this. So thanks for making the right choice by deciding not to commit murder that day, I guess.”

Severus scoffed, leaning back into the bench. “I wasn’t even sure if there was a right or wrong choice in this situation, I just- acted. I wish…”

“I know,” Harry said, leaning into the man. “But I’m okay, today.”

Severus sat up and wrapped his other arm around Harry, pulling him into a hug with his head pillowed against his guardian’s chest.

Harry sighed contently. “You have the best hugs, Professor Snape.”

He could practically feel the professor roll his eyes. “Will you ever stop calling me that? You’re likely the only student in history that has kept it “Professor Snape” and not “Dungeon Bat” or at the very least dropped the Professor.”

“If you’re a dungeon bat then I’m a dungeon bat too, and I don’t feel like being a dungeon bat.”

“When will you just call me Severus?”

“When I graduate from Hogwarts,” Harry said for what must be the millionth time in their relationship.

“Well, we’d best get home, then. I’ve heard whispers of a rumor that there is a feast to attend and boats for seventh years to board this evening.”

So much of Harry’s life had been bathed in darkness, bleak and full of a terrible loneliness before it truly dimmed. Sometimes it felt as though that would never change, and who he was before, to then, to now, really weren’t all that different.

But as he stood up from the bench with Severus keeping an arm around his shoulders and prepared to sit at the Hufflepuff table for his final time as a student, he knew that even if he was done with his schooling now he would always have a home there in the dungeons where it was drab in lighting but luminous in every other way.

Harry’s future felt bright.