Severus glanced up to see Minerva entering the ward, a silver tea service floating along behind her. His gaze shifted to a clock on the wall and he frowned. "Minerva? It's past midnight - what are you doing up so late?"

The stately witch smiled. "I couldn't sleep. I thought you might like some company."

"I would be happy to provide you with a Sleeping Draught, if you need it."

Minerva shook her head, a rueful twitch to her lips. "Thank you, but there is no need. Unfortunately, when you reach my age, Severus, you learn you don't require as much sleep as when you were younger." She waved her wand and murmured a few quiet spells. A nearby bed, chair and cart transformed swiftly into two comfortable arm chairs and an elegant tea table.

Severus smirked. "Cozy."

With an archly raised brow, Minerva smoothly guided the tea tray into place on the table. She sat in one of the chairs and proceeded to serve tea with all the practiced grace of a grand Lady at formal tea. "Chamomile and ginger root - my special blend," she informed him primly, pouring out a cup.

Severus suppressed a smile. The formal high tea setting in the midst of a sterile hospital environment was an incongruous sight. He believed only someone with McGonagall's innate class and flair could have pulled it off. Still holding the file he had been studying, he joined her at the table. He cast a silencing spell around them so their conversation wouldn't disturb his sleeping patient, confident that the monitoring spell he had placed on the boy would alert him if Harry stirred. He set the file aside and accepted the cup and saucer Minerva handed to him.

The gleaming silver service was at least a century old, in mint condition, and the delicate bone china bore the McGonagall crest etched in gold. He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. They were Minerva's prized heirlooms, and he knew she rarely used them. "Rather elegant for this occasion, wouldn't you say?"

Minerva smiled smugly. "I often find that a touch of refinement in depressing surroundings can lift the spirits." She poured herself a cup of tea and noted the file on the table. "Research?"

"In a way. It's Potter's medical record." At Minerva's sharp glance, he smirked slightly. "I ‘liberated' it from Poppy's files." Minerva didn't express the disapproval he expected, but only looked interested. He held the file out to her. "It's not what I expected, Minerva," he said as she set her cup aside and examined the single parchment inside. "It is disturbingly incomplete."

"Incomplete?"

"It contains only the results of Harry's eye examination and a few notes about his injuries from the incident with the Stone." Severus met her curious stare. "My medical scans are rudimentary. . . not nearly as sophisticated and in-depth as Pomfrey's should be....yet even my scans have exposed more than she has included here. This file is suspiciously limited."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not sure. But I'm familiar enough with Poppy's work to know this is highly uncharacteristic. Her records are usually excessively thorough," he sipped his tea thoughtfully. "The question is, why would Poppy exclude her normally comprehensive details from Harry's file? Why keep an abridged version of his medical history on record?"

Minerva shifted uncomfortably. "She wouldn't, Severus . . unless she had no choice." She rubbed her brow, scowling, and gave him a guilty look. "I have a suspicion, based on something that happened months ago. I haven't mentioned it to anyone - it was only a fleeting impression, and I never made a connection between that brief hint and Harry's current situation... but now. . ."

"What is it, Minerva?"

She gave him a short summary of her peculiar meeting with Poppy and her friend's odd behavior. "It was only an impression, but I felt like she wanted to tell me something, but could not for some reason. I even toyed with the idea that Poppy was Confounded... but at the time I dismissed that thought as preposterous." She shook her head despondently. "Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to disregard it."

"Are you saying you think it's possible Poppy knows more about Harry's abusive history than she has revealed?"

"No," Minerva stated firmly. "Poppy would never willingly conceal such a thing."

Severus rubbed his chin. "If she did find out a student was the victim of abuse, what would she do?"

Minerva sighed and looked up at him, regret and dismay clear on her expressive face. "She would go straight to Albus and inform him."

Severus nodded his head slowly. "This may mean what I have feared all along, Minerva. I regret to even voice this. . .but I suspect that Albus has known for some time about Harry's home life. I suspected it when you first informed him of your concerns. I watched him carefully in your memory of your meeting. He wasn't surprised. He appeared dismayed and distressed. . . but not shocked. If he knew already, it can only mean he had chosen to ignore it."

"Why would he do such a thing? How could he?" Minerva expressed his own bewilderment.

"I don't know. I'm sure he has his reasons," Severus shrugged. "If Poppy discovered evidence of Harry's abuse and told Albus, he may not have wanted her to reveal it to anyone. Your instincts may have been right. He may have Confounded her, or done some kind of memory alteration."

"Dear Merlin," Minerva shook her head, her lips quivering in distress. "What are we going to do, Severus?"

Severus sipped his tea, studying her pensively. "You said you were prepared to take any action to protect Harry - even if it meant defying Albus. Do you still feel that way?"

"Absolutely."

He was pleased with her swift, unhesitating declaration. "Then I think we will have to proceed with extraordinary caution. Until we understand the Headmaster's motives, we will have to assume that he has deliberately chosen to conceal any evidence of Harry's upbringing. He may even insist on continuing this - this - whatever this mad intrigue is. We also have to assume he might be willing to take further drastic steps to continue the cover-up." He set down his cup and reached across to her, covering her trembling hand with his own. "Minerva, we are going to have to make certain he does not succeed."

"You want to expose Harry's abuse?" Minerva whispered anxiously.

Severus shook his head. "Only as a last resort. The harm such a public revelation would bring, both to Harry and to our cause, would be appalling. Albus was correct about that, at least. But I also want to ensure Harry's safety. I want to make certain that the truth is not obscured again."

He rose, pacing restlessly as he voiced his thoughts. "We can ask Filius to discretely examine Poppy when she returns. . . if her memory has been interfered with, he will be able to confirm it. In the meantime, I fear we must assume the worst. Before you notify Albus tomorrow that Harry is here, I suggest we take steps to guarantee that our own knowledge of this cannot be suppressed. We need to protect ourselves. I will explain our concerns to both Pomona and Filius, and make certain they do the same." He sat down again, studying her with a shrewd eye. "This is what I propose we do." He laid out his scheme quietly, as Minerva nodded in grave agreement.

"Are we going to tell Albus about this?" Minerva asked.

"Absolutely," Severus nodded. "I am hoping it will serve as a deterrent. But leave that up to me. Remember - Albus doesn't know I side with the rest of you on this. It may prove useful if he doesn't know. We'll just have to make sure that Pomona and Filius don't expose me."

Minerva smirked grimly. "I've always said you had a devious mind, Severus."

"I would not have survived as a double agent for long, without one," Severus shrugged modestly, leaning back in his chair to accept a fresh cup of tea.

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Professor Snape!"

Filius Flitwick smiled at the sudden eagerness on the solemn child's face. It was the closest thing to a smile he had seen from the boy all morning. He grinned up at the Potions Professor's usual sour grimace.

"Good morning, Harry," Snape acknowledged coolly, ignoring Filius' grin.

"Good morning, sir."

"How are you feeling?" Snape couldn't hide the genuine concern in his dark study of the boy.

"Much better, sir," Harry insisted quietly. "Professor Flitwick has been telling me about some of his dueling matches."

Snape smirked at the tiny professor. "Has he? Knowing the Professor, I'm sure he has been overly modest. Did he tell you that he is the champion duelist of his generation?"

"Really?" Harry gaped at Filius with undisguised awe.

Filius chuckled and winked at the boy. "It is the one area where my size has a distinct advantage, Harry. I make a very difficult and challenging target!"

Severus snorted, and Harry hid a smile behind his hand.

Filius glanced up at Severus. "I take it you have completed your other business?"

Severus nodded. "I have - as have Professors Sprout and McGonagall. I believe we are adequately prepared."

"Very good," Filius nodded and rose from the chair beside Harry's bed. "And now, Harry, I'm afraid I must leave you for a while. I have a few small matters to attend to."

"Thank you for staying with me, Professor," Harry replied. "I really enjoyed our talk."

"As did I, Harry - very much," Flitwick beamed at him. "I hope you'll let me visit again?"

"I'd like that a lot," Harry admitted shyly.

"I'll see you later, Harry," Flitwick nodded at Severus and trotted out.

Severus studied the boy sitting up in the bed. Harry's color was considerably healthier, with only a trace of pallor beneath the fading pink flush of sun. His green eyes had lost their fevered brightness, and now regarded him with undisguised relief.

"I'm glad you're back," the boy said as Severus felt his cheeks and forehead for any residual warmth.

"Are you?" Severus was mildly surprised. "Was Professor Flitwick's company not sufficiently entertaining for you?" he smirked.

"Oh, no - he's been very kind - and I never knew before how funny he was! Everyone has been so nice to me," Harry's smile dimmed. "It's a bit embarrassing, actually. They all look at me. . .that way - you know what I mean? Like they feel sorry for me," he sighed unhappily. "That's why I'd rather be with you. You don't treat me differently. I guess it's because you understand things, you know?" he admitted softly.

"I do understand," Severus sat in the chair beside him and studied the boy's face. "Are you feeling stronger?"

"Yes, sir. I'm not dizzy at all - just feel a bit tired."

"That will pass as we get more food into you. I'm going to have Roker bring you some lunch soon. He will be staying with you for a while. The other Professors and I have a meeting with the Headmaster this afternoon."

Harry's face flushed abruptly and he hung his head. "Is...is it about me?" he asked uneasily.

"Yes. Professor McGonagall contacted him a short while ago to tell him you were here," Severus explained, frowning at the look of anxiety that swept across the boy's forlorn face.

"You. . . you won't let him expel me, will you?" Harry's voice quivered plaintively.

"Expel you? Of course not! Why would he?" Severus scowled in confusion.

"I thought. . .th-the Ministry . . ." Harry stammered, plucking at his blanket with nervous fingers. "They thought I had done it - but I didn't, I swear!"

"Done what? I don't understand."

"The magic! It wasn't me! Professor Dumbledore will believe me, won't he?"

Severus suddenly remembered Harry's panicked denials when he first spoke with the boy in the Dursley house. He had been babbling something similar at the time, but Severus was so preoccupied with the boy's physical state he had taken no notice. "You mentioned this before...," he murmured, concerned by Harry's abrupt agitation. He reached out to still his fretful fingers. "Calm down, Harry. There's no need to feel anxious. What magic are you talking about?"

"The magic the house elf did! The Ministry thinks I did it - but I couldn't! I didn't even have my wand! Please believe me!" he begged frantically.

"Shhh," Severus soothed. "I believe you. It's all right. Take it easy. Take a deep breath, Harry. That's better. Now, I don't know what you're talking about. Slow down and tell me what happened."

Harry visibly calmed himself and began to explain. Severus listened without comment, but he was taken aback by the boy's bizarre story. He couldn't fathom why a strange house elf would visit the child, or behave so outlandishly. Most house elves were peculiar, and he didn't pretend to understand their quirks and odd habits, but he had never heard of one interfering with a wizard in such a fashion. "What did the elf say was his name?" he asked.

"Dobby."

Severus scowled pensively. The name was vaguely familiar. . . he thought he might have heard it before - but it wasn't particularly uncommon, and most house elves' names sounded alike. He called for Roker who popped into view immediately. "Roker - do you know if there is a house elf here at Hogwarts who goes by the name of Dobby?"

The tiny elf scowled - his expression so strangely similar to one of Severus' own that it startled the Potions Master.

Roker's been around me too much, I think.

"I have never heard of one by that name," Roker said.

"He may not come from here," Severus mused aloud. "Perhaps he belongs to a family. . .or did once and was abandoned somehow. .but why would he bother Harry?" He glanced at the curious elf. "I need to know who this elf is, Roker. Would it be possible to ask the other elves here if any know of him, or have heard the name?"

"Of course, Master Snape. I will make inquiries," Roker promised, frowning in concern. "It may take a little time," he added apologetically.

"I understand. Let me know if you find out anything." Severus turned his attention back to Harry as the elf vanished. "I don't know what this means," he admitted. "But I will look into it. Please don't worry about it."

"But the Ministry. . ." Harry protested.

"The Ministry's only real concern is exposure of magic to Muggles. That's why they ban students from using magic out of school. They can't really prevent it in wizard homes, but they do track the use of magic among Muggleborn students - or in your case, Muggle-raised. They placed a simple alert on your home that detects if any magic is used. The system is perfunctory - it can't tell the source of the magic - it simply assumed that as you were the only wizard present in the house, that the magic was yours. When triggered, the alert automatically generated a letter of warning - that was the letter you received. But there's no need for you to be alarmed. I will explain the circumstances to the Headmaster, and he will have your record cleared. Please don't worry, Harry. Professor Dumbledore will not let you be expelled." He gave the boy a sardonic smirk. "I should know. . . at the beginning of last year, I tried my best to make that happen, with no success at all, obviously."

The boy looked both amused and immensely relieved. "Then why did Professor McGonagall call the Headmaster?" The flush of shame returned to the child's face. "Is it because of....are you going to tell him about - you know?"

"Yes, Harry. He has to know. We can't make certain that you will be protected from those. . ." Severus amended the slur he wanted to utter, snarling the modified phrase as if the words were poisonous, ". . . your relatives. . . .without the Headmaster's help." He patted the child's nervous hands. "I know you're uncomfortable discussing their treatment of you, Harry, but you have no need to feel ashamed. I told you, it is not your fault."

"I know," Harry sighed petulantly. ‘I just. . .I don't like to talk about it. It's no big deal, anyway."

"What do you mean, ‘no big deal'?"

"It's just the way they are. They've always been that way," Harry said blandly. "It only got a little worse after I started at Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon. . ." he halted, looking away.

"What about your uncle?" Severus urged gently.

Harry shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. "Before I started getting my Hogwarts letters, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always said that magic wasn't real. They hate anything that's not normal - like magic. Sometimes, when I was little, strange things would happen. . .I did magical things without meaning to, or even realizing it. I didn't know about accidental magic then. But they punished me whenever it happened, and said I was bad and a freak. They can't even stand to hear the word ‘magic' - Uncle Vernon spanked me once when I said something about a magic show that was on the telly. Then Hagrid came and I found out I was really a wizard and that magic was real. . .and it made them really mad. I guess because they couldn't pretend it wasn't real anymore. That's when everything got worse." He paused uneasily.

"Go on," Severus encouraged him.

"Uncle Vernon doesn't want me to go to Hogwarts. I don't think he wants me to learn to use magic. He tried to stop me from getting my letter. And after the business with Dobby and the pudding, and the Ministry owl and everything, he. . . he said he would beat the freakishness out of me... that I'd never go back to school again." The boy squirmed uncomfortably. "He's always been mean to me. . . but he never. . . well, before he used to spank me, and even thrash me with his belt sometimes, but he never. . ." Harry swallowed. His face was flushed an angry red now, but Severus kept quiet, hoping the child would continue to open up.

"They always hated me cause I was a freak and not normal and. . .and bad and worthless and they got stuck with taking care of me. They used to lock me up in my cupboard sometimes, but never more than a day or two. And Aunt Petunia usually gave me food at least every other day, even when I was being punished, until. . . well - it's just - they were never quite this nasty before, and he...he... he never whipped me on the bare before. . ." Harry whispered, clearly fighting back tears. "It's just the magic that makes them really mad, and they hate it so much that I guess they hate me even more now and that's why. . ." his voice was just a hoarse murmur of anguish now. "Anyway, it's only a little worse than before, and I'm used to it, so it's . . . I just don't want anyone to make a fuss over it, you know. I. . .It's not important." Harry shrugged, hugging his arms protectively across his chest.

Severus slowly reached out so as not to startle the child and tugged on of his hands, clasping it in his own. "It is important, Harry. You are important! They have no right to treat you that way. Your uncle is wrong to punish you for being who you are, even if he does hate magic." He squeezed the boy's hand tenderly. "Look at me, Harry."

After a tense moment, teary green eyes shifted up to meet his gaze. "Your Aunt and Uncle are wrong. You are not a freak. You are not worthless - you are not bad. The Dursleys are the freaks, Harry. They are bad and worthless. Anyone who would starve and mistreat a child the way they have, is vile and depraved. They are cowards. They are clearly afraid of magic and afraid of you, and like senseless animals, they attack what they are afraid of. That doesn't make them right. It makes them monsters - blind, heartless beasts!" Harry blinked up at him in stunned bewilderment. "I know you are brave, Harry. You have withstood their abuse for many years. But you shouldn't have had to - no child should be used to such terrible treatment. And it isn't going to continue. Those people will not be allowed to hurt you ever again. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly, a single tear trickling down his cheek.

"I wish you had told someone, Harry. I wish you had confided in some adult. All of this should have been stopped long ago," Severus sighed, fighting to keep his fury at the despicable Muggles from showing on his face.

"I told a teacher one time," Harry admitted softly. "My first teacher - Miss Watson - she was really nice to me. She. . . she saw a bruise on my cheek once. . .from where Aunt Petunia hit me with a pan. She asked me if the Dursleys hit me. When I said that they did, she said she was going to make it stop." He sighed sadly. "I think she told the Headmistress. . . but she didn't know the Headmistress was Aunt Petunia's friend. Aunt Petunia told Headmistress Watterby that I fell down the stairs and that I was a dreadful liar - that I made up stories all the time to get attention. Then Miss Wilson went away and another teacher came to teach our class. Her name was Mrs. Midgen. She didn't like me right from the start. She told the whole class I was a nasty little liar and was going to end up in the Reform School some day."

Severus huffed in frustration.

Dear Merlin, what this child has been through! No wonder he doesn't trust adults.

"You never told anyone else, did you?"

Harry shook his head and shrugged. "Wasn't any point, was there? No one would believe it." He didn't have to voice his obvious belief - it was clear on his face...no one would care.

"We cannot change the past, Harry - but we will change the future. In order to do that, we will need your help. You don't have to do it today, but you will eventually have to tell the Headmaster how your relatives have treated you."

Harry slumped further down under his covers with an uneasy frown. Severus watched him for a moment, waiting to see the boy's reaction. When Harry didn't reply, he patted his hand again. "Don't worry about all of that right now. All you need to concentrate on now is getting stronger." He glanced around the empty ward pensively. "Now that you are staying awake longer, it must be boring sitting here in bed. Would you like me to bring you your books and parchment, or some books from the library, perhaps?"

Harry's face lightened and he nodded. "Oh, yes - please! I haven't been able to work on any of my summer assignments yet."

"I'll bring your things when I return. They are still in your trunk, aren't they?"

"Yes, sir! The password for the wards is bezoar."

Severus restrained an urge to chuckle and raised a brow in amusement.

"It was a word I knew the Dursleys would never use - even by accident," Harry explained sheepishly. He looked around the room. "Uhm. . .Where is my trunk?"

"It's in my quarters at the moment. When we decided where you will stay when you leave the Infirmary, I'll have it moved." He rose and called for Roker, giving the elf a few quick instructions. He waited while Roker popped out - returning almost immediately with a tray of soup and toast. "Is your stomach still unsettled?" he asked.

"No, sir - it's fine."

"Try to eat as much as you can. I will return when the meeting is over."

"Yes, sir," Harry obediently started on his soup.

With a meaningful glance at Roker, Severus swept out of the Infirmary, making his way to the Headmaster's office. He knew he should feel more nervous about the coming confrontation, but his righteous anger burned away any misgivings. It would be a ticklish situation . . . he would have to pay close attention to Dumbledore's responses in order to know in which manner to play his part. He wasn't terribly concerned about this. Maintaining a crafty dual role was his own unique talent after all. . .one he had been forced to rely upon for far too long. Under the circumstances, he felt no need for belated scruples now.

He reached the entry to the Headmaster's office just as Minerva was about to climb the revolving stair. She gave him a swift nod, her eyes glittering with obvious anger and disapproval.

"Do you have the memories?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Minerva pulled several clear vials that glowed a pale neon blue from her pocket. "I told him to ready his Pensieve. Filius and Pomona are already inside."

"So," Severus nodded grimly. "We begin."