Severus followed him out, ready to grab him if the boy made a break for it, and they made their way to Pomfrey's domain.

When all was said and done, and the boy was getting dressed again, Severus cast a privacy ward and met with Poppy to go over the results of her scans. They were . . . worrying. Not that Severus was worried; of course not. The Brat had proved more than capable of taking care of himself for the ten years he'd been left in the dubious care of his Muggle relatives, hadn't he? Tended his own wounds, found ways to keep from being hungry, developed an attitude that pitched himself against the rest of the world . . .

It was no good. He couldn't work up a decent gut full of bile against the boy, not after what he'd heard . . . and what he'd seen.

Meeting with Poppy, he had to take a few minutes to compose himself. Always watchful, Poppy put a hand on his arm and looked into his face. "Are you all right, Severus? I know this must be hard."

She was the one who had rescued him all those years ago, who had tended to his hurts each autumn, when he returned from a summer under his father's tender mercies. She knew the memories this evoked, and did not judge him for it. Neither did she judge the Potter boy. And neither should he.

"I'm fine," he snapped, knowing that was the answer she expected. "What are we going to do about Potter?"

She offered him a knowing smile and glanced at the still-drawn curtain. "He'll need fattening up, of course. And he has several broken ribs that are mostly healed, but not fully."

"You didn't mention those before."

"Would it have mattered?"

Severus shook his head. "Go on," he encouraged.

"His kidneys are bruised, obviously, as if someone repeatedly kicked or punched him in the back. No surprise, given the quantity of bruising there. And he has some tenderness near his liver, too, but I believe that will be taken care of with the potion for the kidneys. And you saw the rest."

He had indeed. Never had he seen a body so completely covered in cuts, bumps and bruises. "You didn't ask him about his Aunt and Uncle."

Taking several potions out of her cabinet, Poppy paused and gave him a long look. "You saw how afraid he was. Do you really think he would have told us the truth? Did you, the first time we talked?"

Well, she had him there. "I have not yet heard back from them, about an appointment."

"Ah yes, your first year home visits. Well, from what I heard, Harry had a great deal of difficulty getting his owl informing him about school. Despite hundreds of owls sent, Hagrid finally had to give him his letter on the 31st, searching him out in some cabin on a rock in the middle of the ocean."

Severus stared. He hadn't heard that story. No surprise, as he'd not wanted to hear anything about the Potter Brat if he could help it. "I've sent two owls," he said, feeling almost stupid.

"I wouldn't expect them to return promptly," she said quietly, and he knew what she really meant. He should expect them to return at all.

The curtain was pulled aside, and the boy came out, still a little wild-eyed, but holding himself still and trying for composure. Good.

"Can I go now?" The boy looked at Severus. "Sir?"

Severus looked him up and down, then canceled the privacy spell with a wave of his wand. "In a moment. Come here, please."

The boy dragged his feet, obviously reluctant and expecting the worst, but Severus merely shoved a potion at him. "Drink that." Potter sniffed it and wrinkled his nose at it. "Drink it, Potter," Severus warned him. "It's a nutritional supplement. You'll take another dose in the morning, and every day thereafter at breakfast."

When Potter had choked that one down, Severus handed him a Skele-Gro for his ribs, and Poppy gave him two more potions and set an appointment with him for Friday.

The tightness was gone from around the boy's eyes as he was finally excused; obviously he'd been in pain for some time, and the potions had eased it for him. Watching him race from the room, Severus put a hand up to cover his eyes. He was tired all of a sudden, so tired he could barely think.

"When you do visit them," Poppy said, "make sure not to mention anything Harry's told us today."

"I know," he said, remembering Potter's rant when they'd first arrived. It made much more sense now, why he hadn't wanted to come to the infirmary. Trust was a fragile thing, especially for someone like him, and all it would take is telling his story once and having it be ignored or mocked, to shatter that trust completely.

And yet, the boy had told, despite his protestations. There was still hope for him, hidden under that aggravatingly blustery attitude.

Still, if the boy needed to be returned to his home, for whatever reason -- Severus had heard of the blood wards, of course -- then it would not go well for him if his relatives were under the impression that he'd spilled their "secrets" at first opportunity. No, Severus would need to be circumspect, at least until he was sure of what kinds of strictures he could enforce for their continued care of the boy.

It would be best, of course, if he could keep the child from being sent back there at all.

"What are you going to tell the Headmaster?" Poppy asked.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "The truth, of course." In all its brutal glory. He would let the man writhe, then, when he heard about how his Golden Boy had been treated. Although, how Dumbledore could not have known already was beyond him, and if he had . . . so help him, Severus didn't know what he would do.

"Of course," Poppy murmured.

He gave her a sharp look, which she returned with a bland smile. He shook his head, not willing to play whatever games she wanted today. "Let me know if he doesn't return for his appointment."

"Of course," she said again, and he swept from her presence.

---

Later that evening, unable to concentrate on his grading, Severus made a surprise visit to the Slytherin common room, ostensibly to make sure no "funny business" was going on, but if he'd been dosed with Veratiserum, he would have admitted it was to check on Potter and see how he was faring after his trip to the infirmary. He recalled his own first visit with Pomfrey, and how he'd hidden out in his dorms for two days afterwards, not wanting anyone to see his shame.

But Potter was bent over his books, at a table with the Malfoy whelp, as well as the blood purist Zabini and one of the more dull witted of the new Firsties, at least according to her other professors, Millicent Bullstrode. Study group then. Good. Potter still looked a bit hot around the collar, but Severus did not watch him too closely, not with all the other eyes warily on him as he toured the room.

Instead, he checked in with his new Prefects, as well as the ones from sixth and seventh years. Slowly, inexorably, he made his way around to Potter's end of the room, still not looking at the boy, though he could feel Potter's gaze on him from time to time. It was unlikely he would be able to fool the Brat as to why he was there at all, but it was for others he had to do this, for the Malfoys and Notts and Averys.

Zabini was muttering something now, and Severus listened with half an ear to their conversation, and half an ear to Flint's whinging about Slytherin's chances this year for the Quidditch Cup without a decent Seeker.

"It's a swish and a flick, for Merlin's sake, Bullstrode. Everybody else has gotten it."

"Well not everybody's got a Mummy who'll buy them a brand new wand, Zabini," the large girl spat. "This old one's a piece of crap."

"Then it should feel right at home in your hand," Zabini told her with a sneer.

"Hey," Potter interjected. "You don't gotta be rude about it. It's not her fault she's got hand me downs."

"Shut it, you half-blood freak." Zabini pointed his quill at Harry's forehead. "Besides, what the hell do you know about hand me downs? Your parents were loaded when they bit it."

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised what I know," Potter said, and Severus saw a twitch along the boy's jaw. He'd seen the boy's clothes, what he'd scooped from the floor when he'd tried to escape the infirmary second time. Aside from his new uniform trousers, shirt and tie, the rest of his clothing - socks, vest, underpants, trainers - was in woeful shape, not to mention much too large for him, quite like the Muggle shirt he'd been wearing the night before last when Severus had accosted him in the dorms. He would bet a whole vial of basilisk venom that the boy knew quite a lot about hand me downs.

And now he was also fairly sure he knew why the Brat had wanted to use the owl post, just after learning the rules about clothing. He would have sworn at his own blind misperceptions if he thought it would do any good.

Instead, he watched as Potter scooted his chair closer to the girl and said, "Here, try it this way." For the next few minutes, he went through the motion several times for the Wingardium Leviosa, but very, very slowly, and encouraged Bullstrode to mirror his movement. Once she was following him along almost perfectly, he said, "You end the swish here, see, and start the flick when you say the ‘v' part of Leviosa. Like this," and demonstrated again, this time with the incantation. He watched her arm carefully, and nodded when she started the incantation on just the right syllable. His face lit up as much as hers when her feather took flight.

"Hey, good one, Milly," Draco said, entering the conversation at last, and then he elbowed Harry in the side. "You, too."

Zabini rolled his eyes but said, "Yeah, okay. Let's try the next one . . ."

Severus, of course, did not smile. Instead, he nodded to Flint and said, "You'll need to be selective at tryouts, then. They'd better be soon, or your practice time will be cut short. And for heaven's sake, see if you can't get Beaters who can actually sit a broom, too. I'm weary of red heads flying circles around our team."

"Yes, sir," Flint said. "I'll put up the notice tomorrow."

"See that you do," Severus told him, and left the common room before witnessing another sickeningly sweet display of the Brat's wonderfulness. He knew he was being unfair, and that he had some more serious readjusting of his thinking to do, but decided he could do it better on a full stomach. He'd missed dinner, what with one thing and another, and so ordered up food from the House-elves before settling back to his grading, this time with a clearer head.

The next day, the answer to the Slytherin Seeker problem fell, almost literally, into his lap. Once again, Potter had broken rules almost as soon as they were handed out, but this time, what with the catch Severus witnessed and the visions of the Quidditch Cup now dancing madly in his mind, he could hardly make himself care.

He did give the Brat Who Could Apparently Make Bloody Rainbows Bend to His Will detention for a week, though. And a week for the Malfoy boy, too. He wasn't going to allow that much leeway, no matter how impressed he was. It was enough that he would need to secure the Brat a decent broom before the first official team practice. Hm. And some gear that fit . . .