Severus opened his eyes slowly. He hurt…badly. Very badly. He attempted sit up to survey his surroundings and nearly blacked out again. I think I won’t try that again just yet. He was fairly certain that he had no permanent injuries…Lucius had deflected one of the Sectum sempra aimed at his face with a snarl to the castor that Voldemort still had plans for him. Which probably wasn’t a good thing, but it had bought him a bit more time in this world. It’s a sad day when my own curses are used against me, he mused absently, trying to muster the energy to lift his head. Actually standing would take longer… perhaps he should have gone to the infirmary when he first got back to Hogwarts. At least then someone would know to come looking for him when he didn’t appear at breakfast. From his—admittedly limited—point of view, lying in the dirt, it appeared that the Death Eaters had been kind enough to drop him somewhere inside the Forbidden Forest. Where, precisely...so help me, I’m not leaving the castle for a month after this. I have had more than enough of great outdoors.

He forced his right arm to move—the muscles felt bruised, but at least it wasn’t broken. There was a pain-numbing potion—in an unbreakable flask—in the upper right pocket of his robe if he could just reach it. Fingers closed around the glass and he thanked Merlin that he this robe was stocked as he brought it gratefully to his mouth. His other arm wasn’t moving well, but he was able to pull the stopper out with his teeth…it stung where it touched split lips, but once he—his body convulsed as he swallowed the potion. He’d forgotten how raw his throat had become during his time in Azkaban, and last night had done nothing to aid in its healing. It burns…oh, sweet Merlin, it burns…. Panting, trying to draw air in to cool the fire in his throat didn’t work, but eventually the pain potion reached his stomach and began to take effect. It took longer than usual, but then he was in worse shape than usual as well. His left arm was broken in at least one place, a couple ribs as well, and there were various cuts and burns across most of the rest of his body. And then there were the effects of spells like the Cruciatus that left no outward signs but did plenty of internal damage—to nerves, to muscles…walking was not going to be a pleasant experience, but as he couldn’t apparate directly back to his quarters, much as he’d like to…. I really have to speak to Albus about finding some way around that spell. Though the way my luck has been lately he’d probably insist that it sends me to the infirmary or some such nonsense. He took a step and tried to pretend that walking with broken ribs and possible internal injuries wasn’t an incredibly stupid maneuver. Then again the infirmary wouldn’t be such a bad place to be just now…at least my legs appear to be more or less intact.

He made his way—slowly—back in the direction he thought Hogwarts lay. Perhaps Hagrid will be out in the forest today…. The gameskeeper had helped him back to the castle more than once when the Dark Lord’s ministrations left him barely able to remain upright. That didn’t appear to be the case, however, and when he reached the man’s hut he found it empty. The distance from there to the castle seemed to take just as long as the time he’d spent trekking through the forest…it may have been breakfast time when he’d awakened, but it was certainly past lunch when he finally reached the main entrance. It was silent when he entered, and as he made his way to the infirmary he was grateful that none of the students had picked this day to linger in the halls during classes. “Poppy?”

The mediwitch appeared from one of the inner chambers at his call. “Severus? Merlin, Severus, you look horrendous!”

“Thank you,” he returned dryly.

“Well, don’t just stand there, lie down! You’ve been walking on your injuries again, haven’t you? I’ve warned you about that.”

“I hardly had any other op—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses,” she cut in, overriding his protests. “Get yourself up on one of those cots.” She drew her wand. “I already know you’re bound to need skel-e-grow and blood replenishing potion, but let’s see how much more damage there is.”

Severus forced his impatience down as she hm’d and tsk’d over him, obediently swallowing the prescribed potions. She was quite good at what she did, and incredibly discreet as well—she wasn’t an official member of the Order, but she clearly knew some of what he was about as she’d never questioned him about the causes of his injuries—but she had an irritating habit of treated all injured persons like students. Particularly dense first-year students, to be precise. Fortunately she had a prior engagement and had to leave before he became too frustrated…she’d almost firecalled them to tell them she’d be late in order to stay with him, but he managed to convince her that there was no need. After all, he’d been taking care of himself for years, and the majority of the potions she was giving him he’d made himself—he certainly knew the appropriate dosage. Finally, peace and quiet, he thought as she exited. He was half-tempted to make his way back to his own quarters where he knew that he wouldn’t be bothered, but the cot was comfortable enough…and he wasn’t entirely certain that he could stand. Most of what she’d given him had been to heal the internal injuries…there was a limit to the amount of potions that any person’s body could absorb at once, and he’d reached that limit entirely too early this afternoon. Surface injuries like bruises and cuts—and three broken fingers on his left hand that hurt all out of proportion with the size of the injury—would have to wait for a later date for any active healing or mend on their own in the meantime.

At least the infirmary was empty for once; apparently Harry had been released back to the Gryffindor tower and none of the other little dunderheads had gotten themselves into any scrapes this day. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

The creak of the infirmary door awakened him sometime later, and he blinked into the darkness. “Filch?”

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I returned this morning,” Severus returned levelly. He didn’t particularly care for Filch—the man had been the caretaker back when he was in school, and all his talk of chaining students up and whipping them had never failed to make him nervous, even as his housemates had joked about the man’s lack of magical abilities.

“Hmpf.” Filch gave the room a cursory glance, but Poppy had always been insistent on cleanliness, and she’d aimed a quick scouring spell at the room before she’d left. “Should be like this all the time—neat and clean, without the little brats around to muck it up.” He turned to go.

“I—wait, what do you mean?” Severus said, halting him. “Where are the students?” Filch wouldn’t have made that comment if they were up in their rooms….

“True, true, you’ve been gone. Hogwarts is closed—has been the day after you and the Potter brat disappeared. Ministry said it was too dangerous to stay open.” He smiled at the cat on the floor beside him. “Headmaster’s trying to get it opened back up, but Mrs. Norris and I like it like this. No little brats running all over—it’s summer all year round.” He smiled again, and headed out of the infirmary.

Severus made no move to stop him; shocked at the man’s words. Hogwarts had never closed early before…the closest it had ever come to closing were the two fiascos with the Chamber of Secrets. And that it had closed so quickly…only a day after he and Harry had disappeared…. He wondered absently if Filch knew that Harry was back as well and decided not, otherwise he’d be haunting the halls outside the Gryffindor corridor waiting for the brat to put a foot out of line. No wonder Albus has been at the Ministry. “Tempus.” Too late to do anything now, but tomorrow I’ll go to meet them, explain what happened. Harry had likely already told Minerva who would have passed on the information he had to go with that Alastor had drawn from Severus earlier, but whether either had mentioned the unicorn’s death—Severus wasn’t certain that his words had truly impressed on the boy just how important and dangerous that could be for the Wizarding world, and Alastor wasn’t as conversant with potions as he was with most other forms of magic. He closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come so easily this time. It was almost a relief when the sun rose.

“Beware the darkness!” a voice wailed as he entered the Great Hall, and Severus’ good hand rose to rub his forehead.

All I wanted was breakfast, not dire predictions. “Sybil.”

“You were lucky to escape your fate, but have no fear—a terrible death will come for you. I have foreseen it!”

“Of course you have.” He took the seat farthest from the Divination professor. It was eerie, sitting for a meal in the Great Hall with only one other person around, and he wished that he’d simply summoned a house elf to the medical ward.

“Severus, you’re back! What happened, where were you?”

He turned, nodding hello to Rhiannon Vector. “Brazil, believe it or not. There was a Portgate in the Forbidden Forest.” He shook his head, taking a moment to arrange his thoughts…there was nothing the Arithmancy professor hated more than disorganized explanations. He mentioned that he’d ended up in Azkaban simply because the point was bound to come out but blamed the entire event on an overzealous Auror—there was no reason for anyone else to know about the Legilimency lessons. Or that he’d actually been released from prison yesterday. Flitwick and Devon Mallory walked in while he was speaking and seemed pleased to see him, but when none of the other staff arrived for breakfast he couldn’t help but be concerned. “Is the Ministry trying to close Hogwarts entirely?”

“Trying, perhaps,” Filius replied with some distaste. “Fortunately failing—and now that you are back they won’t have any excuse not to allow us to reopen.”

“But where are the others?”

“When the students were sent home and we had no idea when Hogwarts would be reopening, Minerva suggested that we set up a tutoring schedule to help the students keep up with their work,” Devon began. “Muggle studies doesn’t require a practical so I’ve been doing almost everything by owl post, but Sprout has been staying with the Longbottom’s, and Sinstra—well, I’m not sure where she is now, but I know she was in Surrey a few days ago. Hooch is staying with family just outside London and giving extra lessons on their estate.”

“Hagrid is giving lessons on-site?” Severus could just envision the wreckage that would be made of the Wizarding world. And of the work it would take to clean it up.

“He left on an errand for Albus, actually,” Rhiannon replied. “The day after Hogwarts was officially closed. Just after that idiot Umbridge left.”

Severus nodded at that. At least I won’t be facing her for a day or two.

“So where is Mr. Potter?” Sybil asked. “For I have foreseen darkness in his future that he must be warned of, lest perilous—”

“I assume he’s up in the tower,” Severus interrupted before she could begin waxing eloquent. “Actually I’m surprised he wasn’t the first one here…we spent a few days with less than generous foodstuffs, although I suppose our time in the village more than made up for that.”

“In the tower?” Filius shook his head. “The houses are sealed.”

“Poppy picked him up from St. Mungo’s yesterday afternoon…you mean to say that none of you have seen him?”

“No.”

Severus glanced around the table, hoping that one of the others would contradict the man’s statement, but all of them were shaking their heads. “Damnit, where is he? I suppose he could be sleeping somewhere…the house elves would know.” A snap of his fingers summoned one to them, but when questioned the little creature denied having seen Harry Potter the day before or delivering any extra meals or materials to Pomfrey. “Brilliant, we’ve lost the Golden Boy.”

“Are you sure that Poppy took him from St. Mungo’s?” Devon asked. “Surely if she had she would have let one of us know, especially if his condition was anything like yours.”

It hadn’t been, Severus knew, but he was also fairly certain that it wasn’t any minion of the Dark Lord’s that had taken the child from St. Mungo’s. If it had been, the creature wouldn’t have wasted time punishing him, he’d be too busy torturing and killing the brat. So help me, if he left on his own…. But that was the most likely explanation—Potter has cast some sort of charm to confound the mediwitches and snuck out. But surely he would have come back to Hogwarts… unless someone told him that it was closed. He tried to concentrate. Potter had been with him when they floo’d into the terminal some mornings ago. At which point he’d been stunned and taken to Azkaban and Harry had ended up in St. Mungo’s. Severus wasn’t entirely certain how long it had taken for him to be released, but from what the mediwitch had said Harry had only left with Poppy earlier that day—and Alastor had spoken to him before that. So the brat had been at St. Mungo’s up until that point, at least; the Auror wasn’t one to be fooled. And that was what, two days ago? The Weasleys, he decided. If he didn’t come back here, he must have gone to them. “He may have snuck out—he’s hardly one for following instructions, after all. I suspect if we visit the Weasley home we’ll find him there.”

Sybil opened her mouth to comment, but fortunately Filius beat her to it. “You’re probably right—I didn’t think of that. The young Weasleys were all most upset at his disappearance.”

“So was Miss Granger,” Rhiannon added. “I offered her extra tutoring while the school was closed and she actually declined.”

Which did say rather a lot about her mental state, Severus thought although he made no comment. “I suppose I shall have to fetch him…I need to go to the Ministry to meet with Albus anyway.”

“Are you sure that’s such a wise idea?” Devon asked. “You don’t look….”

“I’m sure I closely resemble a three-day old corpse, however if what you are saying is true then no one has given Albus a firsthand account about the events that transpired.” Alastor’s recitation is all well and good, but I would prefer that he heard the complete version from me. “And I’m sure you’ll agree with me when I say that getting the fact that the Wizarding world’s savior is back and unharmed is of paramount importance. If only to prevent a panic.”

When none of them argued, he took a last bite of his meal and stood. “If you will all excuse me, then?” He was going to need some form of painkiller before attempting any sort of trip. And if it hadn’t been for the need to speak to the headmaster himself, to make sure that matters at Hogwarts didn’t get any worse, he’d have quite cheerfully detailed one of the others to go.

It took some time to locate the Weasley’s abode—by the time the he found the correct floo location the nerve-deadening potion had taken effect. With a sigh he stepped into the hearth, took a moment to hope that his reception on exiting might be a bit warmer than it had the last time he used one of these things, and tossed down the powder. “The Burrow.” The landing did not go well—perhaps the potion wasn’t as strong as he’d thought because his ribs most definitely protested—and when the stars finally faded from his vision he found himself facing the two youngest Weasleys.

“Um…Professor Snape?”

That was the girl, Ginny, and he nodded. “Obviously. Where would I find Mr. Potter?”

“How would we know?” the boy shot back. “You’re the one that kidnapped hi—”

“Ronald Weasely! You will not address a guest of this house in that manner! Severus, are you all right? I’d heard that you were back, but you look awful. What happened?”

He turned to face Molly and for the second time that day found himself giving an abbreviated version of what had happened. He suspected that it was more for the benefit of the children than anything else—she had no doubt gotten the basic information from Alastor yesterday. But she shook her head when he asked about Harry.

“He hasn’t been here, I’m sorry to say. Haven’t seen him at all—I’d hope he’d have had the sense to stay at St. Mungo’s until someone came for him, but, well, boys will be boys. Perhaps he’s gone to visit Hermione? Ron, didn’t I just see Pig come in with a reply to your letter?”

“She didn’t say anything about Harry, Mum, and you know she would have if he was there. Is Hedwig still at Hogwarts?”

“I didn’t look,” Severus admitted.

“I don’t think he’d have gone very far without her,” Ginny pointed out. “Maybe he’s just staying at the Leaky Cauldron again.”

“If he is, I’ll be giving that boy a piece of my mind,” Molly put in. “Wandering off like that, leaving us to worry.”

You won’t be the only one. “Well, then, I must be going. I was planning to go directly to the Ministry, but I think I’d better check Diagon Alley first.”

“Are you certain? I can send Fred and George to do that, perhaps you could stay for tea? I must say, you really don’t look well.”

Severus shook his head. “Thank you, but I must be going…I’m sorry I disrupted your morning.” He moved back to the hearth before she could do more than open her mouth in protest, sending himself back to Hogwarts. The trip up the owlry steps was something he would have preferred to have avoided, but when he arrived he found Potter’s snowy owl missing. “So the brat was here.” Perhaps the Weasley’s were right, perhaps he was spending his time off school in Diagon Alley. So help me, when I get my hands on him—surely he knows how important it is that we know where he is! If the Dark Lord finds out that he’s alone….

But there was nothing for it—he firecalled the Ministry, left a message for Albus that he would be arriving later than afternoon, and then made his way to the Leaky Cauldron. But there was no sign of Potter…no unsupervised teenagers at all…. Damn it, I’ll deliver him to the Dark Lord myself for disappearing like this!

Eventually he had no choice—he had to get to the Ministry. The last thing he wanted was to face Albus’ disappointment for losing the brat, but there was no point in putting it off any longer…he didn’t know the child well enough to know where he might go if it wasn’t to the homes of one of his two little friends.

“Severus, my boy, we were worried about you!” Albus greeted him. They were in one of the private chambers—Arthur Weasley was there as well, with work spread all around him, while Alastor napped against the back wall. At least Severus thought he was napping....  “Are you well? I hadn’t realized how badly injured you’d been—”

“He called me last night,” Severus interrupted. “He was…not pleased. And I misspoke rather terribly, at least in terms of what he was expecting….” He trailed off. Albus had seen the results of the Dark Lord’s displeasure before.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You shouldn’t be up and around so soon if Poppy wasn’t able to heal you more than that.”

“Did he tell you anything useful?”

Severus his a quick smile. Trust Alastor to do immediately to the heart of the matter. “No, although I’d prefer if he never found out exactly why Ambrose put me in Azkaban.”

“Already taken care of.”

With a nod of thanks, he returned his gaze to the headmaster as the man guided him into a chair. “I’ll be fine, Albus—the major injuries were healed yesterday; the rest simply look worse than they are.”

“And just how strong is the painkiller you’re taking?”

He declined to answer that, opting to avoid putting off the unpleasant subject he had no choice but to broach. “I have some decidedly bad news—it seems that Mr. Potter is missing.”

“What?” Alastor demanded. “What do you mean missing? Do you think—?”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t have the brat,” Severus assured him. “If he did, he would most certainly have called us all for a ‘celebration.’ However, I haven’t been able to locate him either. Apparently he tricked the staff at St. Mungo’s into letting him out and then disappeared. I’ve checked the Weasleys, Diagon Alley…”

“Poppy brought Harry back to Hogwarts with her the day before yesterday,” Minerva said with a frown, entering the room. “He looked all right—much better than you—so I told her to check him over and then take him back to his relatives.”

“His relatives?” Severus felt his stomach clench. “Why would you send him there?”

“Hogwarts is closed, at least for the near future until we can…what is it?...‘assure concerned parents that their children are under no immediate threat while in attendance.’” She said the words with distaste, clearly repeating them verbatim from some other source. “Where else would we send him?”

He bit off a curse. “Minerva, gentlemen, if you will excuse me it seems that I have one more errand that I must run this morning.”

“Pardon?” Arthur finally looked up from his pile of parchment, clearly surprised to see him there. “Oh, Severus, you look awful.”

“Thank you.” If one more person feels the need to inform me of that fact…. “It seems I need to go collect Harry.”

Both Minerva’s and Albus’ eyes widened a fraction when he used the child’s first name; Alastor and Arthur just seemed concerned in general.

“Why would you need to do that?” Alastor asked. “Was he injured?”

“Not yet. It is hardly my story to tell…suffice to say that it would be better if you found some plausible reason that he should remain with your family, Arthur, or somewhere else other than his relatives’ home until Hogwarts reopens.”

“Severus, what are you trying to say?” Minerva asked. “Is he in danger there? Has You-Know-Who discovered their location?”

“As I said, I do not have any business telling the story. I will bring him back here.” He had to apparate to get to the neighborhood Harry was living in, which he wouldn’t have done if he’d had another choice, but then he was hardly in any shape to fly there on his broom. He hadn’t been able to apparate directly to the house the child lived in, so some amount of wandering was required. Harry had been right when he’d mentioned that the place could be a maze…the houses were disturbingly similar. Do none of them have any creativity? He was looking for Number 4…there. It looked remarkably similar to the rest of the houses, if you discounted the bars on one of the front windows. Apparently they put them back up after the Weasleys’ little escapade. I wonder how they explain them to the neighbors? He realized belatedly that he was still wearing his robes and considered transfiguring them, and then decided that it wouldn’t be worth the effort. Better to just get the child and be gone. He walked up to the door, banging firmly on the wood with his good hand. “Hello?”

“What’re you howling about?”

Severus raised an eyebrow at the small whale that answered the door, identifying him easily enough as Harry’s cousin. “I’m looking for Harry Potter.”

The door closed in his face, and he could hear a yell from the inside. “Mum, Dad, some weirdo’s here to see the freak!”

Weirdo? At the sound of heavy footfalls approaching, he slid his wand into his palm. The door swung open, and he was face to face with Harry’s uncle. Well…something like face to face, anyway. He was several inches taller than the man, a fact which he took great comfort in considering the fact that the only other time he’d seen him had been as a looming giant in Harry’s memories.

“Now see here,” the man began, his voice only slightly below a dull roar. “I get home two days ago after work, planning to relax with my wife, and I find out that one of you freaks has brought that thing back here!” His eyes widened at something behind Severus, and then he began to get even redder. “Get in here! Walking around wearing those freak clothes, and now the neighbors are going to talk!”

Severus debated refusing, then decided that it was best to just go along with him and get this nonsense over. When he stepped inside, he found that the house looked as…generic on the inside as it had on the out. The only spots of individuality were random photos of the obese boy scattered here and there. “You were saying?”

The man picked up his rant just where he’d left off. “I get home, and I find out that one of you freaks dropped him back off! He’s your problem during the school year—not ours! And now I take today off so my son and I can go to the big boxing tournament this afternoon, and another one of you shows up! So help me I’d like to—”

A wand drawn and pointed at the man shut him up immediately. “That is enough. I am here to inform you that I am taking your nephew with me now, and he will not be returning to your care. As tempted as I am to impart some of the same treatment to you that you have to him—”

“We’ve raised that boy—fed and clothed him out of our own pockets, taking money away from our little Dudleykins—”

“Stupefy.” The woman fell gratifyingly silent, and the boy who’d come in behind her ran back out of the room with his hands covering his backside. What in Merlin’s name…? He shook his head. “As I was saying, as much as I would like to return some of your treatment, there are plenty of others who have a much better right to do so…your nephew not the least. He’ll be of age soon enough, you realize? Now, in case you cannot tell from the way I look, I have not had a particularly pleasant time these last few days, and I am not in a good mood so unless you have anything else to say to me—” a glance over at the woman encouraged strongly encouraged the man to discard that option—“I suggest you tell me where the child is staying and where any other items belonging to him may be found.” And he had best not be locked under any staircase.

The man gulped. “He’s upstairs. Dudley’s second bedroom.”

With a flick of his wand, Severus stupefied the man as well—no point in leaving him free to clobber me from behind—and began the climb up the staircase. As with the owlry stairs it took longer than it should have, but when he reached the top it was easy enough to identify which room was Harry’s. It was the only one with padlocks on the outside. “Idiot muggles. Alohamora.”

The figure that had been lying on the bed stood immediately upon his entrance, shoving something under his pillow before turning to look at him. “I—Professor?” The boy blinked. “You look awful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. I haven’t been told that in at least an hour.” He stepped closer, frowning at the bruise on the child’s face. “I daresay you don’t appear all that much better. Are you hurt otherwise?”

“No, sir.”

Could he possibly be any less convincing? “Look at me when you speak. Are you injured?”

The boy made an effort to meet his eyes before returning his gaze to the ground. “Just some bruises, Professor.”

“I believe I’ve mentioned before that I’ll not tolerate you lying.” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, indicating for the boy to sit beside him. “Show me.”

“They’re nothing, really.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Sit down, Harry.”

“I’d…rather not, Professor.”

“He whipped you then.” It wasn’t a question, and Harry didn’t bother to answer. “Badly?”

“Just bruises, like I said.” He pushed one sleeve of the ridiculously oversized shirt up to show a rectangular bruise on his shoulder with several small, deep, circular bruises down the center.

“Hm. Hardly nothing. Unfortunately, this is not the place to deal with them. Where are your things?”

“Some up here, some down in my cupboard.” He reached under his pillow to pull out his Transfiguration text, and then knelt to pull out a pillowcase. “Could you get Hedwig?”

Severus observed the snowy owl, sitting quietly on her perch observing them. “Perhaps it would be easier if we simply let her fly back to Hogwarts?”

“I’m not allowed to let her out of her cage when I’m here.”

“As both of your adult relatives are currently incapable of twitching their little fingers never mind doing you any harm and your cousin is likely hiding under a table or something equally ridiculous, I would say you are more than welcome to do whatever you please.” Severus stepped to the window, opening the glass and blasting away the bars. It relieved some of his tension. “Let your lady fly; we can shrink her cage with the rest of your things. And get your wand out.”

“But I can’t use magic until I get back to Hogwarts.”

Attempting to follow the rules? Well, I suppose doing anything that might prevent him from returning to school…. “The underage-magic detector can only pinpoint magic performed in a particular area—there is no way to distinguish your magic from mine,” he assured him. “And I would greatly enjoy seeing anyone, particularly that idiot Fudge, try and forbid me from using my magic.”

Harry snickered at that, the first cheerful sound he’d heard since he arrived, but sobered after a quick glance at him. “Are you sure you’re okay, Professor? It…it looked like they were going to hurt you pretty bad.”

“You saw, then? All of it?” I should have expected that.

“I can only see what he sees, but you didn’t look so good when they took you away. Did that man really put you in Azkaban? The one at the floo terminal?”

“Ambrose? Yes. Fortunately Alastor had me released just after he spoke to you.” There was no point in discussing the events that had occurred previous to his release; they had no relevance in the current situation.

“I hate dementors.”

“So do I,” Severus agreed. “Are you nearly packed?”

That got a quick nod as the last of his books were stored in the pillowcase. “Everything else is in the trunk is under the stairs.”

“Come along, then.” He glanced at the boy as they made their way down. “Are you certain you are not badly injured? You’re moving nearly as slowly as I am.”

“Um...that’s because you look like you’re about to fall head over heels, Professor. At least this way I’ve got a chance at catching you.”

“More likely you’d be flattened in the attempt. Go on, Harry, I will survive the steps quite well on my own.”

By the time Severus made it down, the boy had his trunk and books shrunk and fit into his pocket, and he passed over the miniaturized birdcage as well. “Best you keep your things together.” He turned, waving his wand to release the boy’s aunt and uncle from the spells that held them. Although he wouldn’t personally have any issues with leaving as they were until the spell wore off….

“And where the hell do you think you’re going!” Harry’s uncle roared as he was released.

This man is an idiot, Severus observed. But I don’t have the energy to waste doing anything about it at this particular moment. “Mr. Potter and I will be leaving, now; I suggest that you get out of our way.”

“Well then you can be the one to tell that headmaster of yours that we don’t want that freak back! We never wanted him in the first pl—”

“That will be more than enough.” No child needed to be spoken to in that manner, and at a sharp gesture the man’s mouth disappeared. “Since we’re leaving, I suppose you’ll just have to wait until the spell fades before you’ll be able to speak again. Don’t worry; it will only be a few days. You’ll hardly starve.” The walk past the wards to the point where apparition was possible was decidedly quiet, but then comfort had never been Severus’ forte. As soon as he was able, he rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder and concentrated, taking them both to the edge of Hogwarts’ grounds.

“Are we going to see the headmaster now?” Harry asked, shaking himself out of his stupor. “I thought Madam Pomfrey said that he was staying at the Ministry until they got everything straightened out?”

“He is. We’ll be going there shortly, but I thought you might prefer it if your bruises were tended first.”

“I…yes, sir. Thank you.”

Severus waved off his words, taking the boy down to his dungeons—damn all staircases—and digging out the appropriate bruise remedies from his stores. “I believe it was mentioned that the student rooms are locked, so you might as well unshrink your things and leave them here until Albus decides where to send you.” He waited until he boy complied, before nodding at his shirt. “Get that thing off, then, and we’ll see how bad these ‘just bruises’ are.”