SESESESE

Eyes blinked open as Harry stirred. Something felt odd, even stranger than the aftermath of his accident.The golden light streamed through the windows, it was morning. The Hospital Wing was calm, so it wasn’t as if some emergency had occurred. Unable to move his head, he scanned his eyes around the large hall. He was still the only patient to occupy a bed. Harry strained his ears, listening for anything that might be different. There was something . . . but he couldn’t place it. Birds chirped their morning greetings in the distance. The wind hitting the castle drummed a thud against the stone walls.

Then the freight train slammed into him. What was so different was the absence of the noises he’d begun to associate with the hustle and bustle of the Hospital Wing. There was no soft-soled shoes thudding against the stone floor as Pomfrey strutted about. No clanking of potion bottles as she rearranged her stores.

There were no instruments being shoved in his mouth, no swishing of a wand and the whisper of some unknown Latin spell. It was as if the nurse wasn’t even there. But that didn’t make sense. What type of mediwitch would leave her patient alone? Something still didn’t feel right, but he shrugged aside the feeling.

He had to attempt to change the sentence handed to him. Pomfrey and Snape be darned, he wouldn’t listen. He’d walk again! There had to be some way!

He vaguely remembered a needle-sharp pain on his neck and then relief from that pain sometime during the long night. He raised a cast-clad arm to his neck, tentatively running his hand on it. The hard unbending plastic of a muggle brace was there but gone was the rigid torture-like device that made up his halo. Well, at least one positive thing had happened to him. Perhaps he could use this opportunity to prove to everyone-he included that Harry Potter was no weakling!

He didn’t know much about paralyzed people. Why would he know anything? He didn’t have any friends who were paralyzed and it wasn’t as though the subject was taught in primary school. In Health class, the teacher had merely glossed over the subject while teaching tolerance. “Children in wheelchairs may have some differences, but they still can be great friends and there are many things they can do.”

No one his year had been in a wheelchair, so he hadn’t had the opportunity to befriend one. Oh, Merlin, were people going to start treating him weird because of the slight chance that he was paralyzed? Not that he was, of course, he couldn’t be. He was already the Boy-Who-Lived, he didn’t need any more reasons to be stared at like some animal in the zoo.

He had casts and braces over his body though, so it wasn’t like he could just get up and walk. He would need an easier test. Harry scrunched his brow. How could he prove to himself he could walk when his bones healed? Harry remembered an old telly soap opera where a lady had been hurt but was able to wiggle her toes. That would be simple enough.

He closed his eyes and willed for his big toe on his left foot to move. He couldn’t tell if it worked or not so he attempted again. Harry pleaded for his body to listen to the elementary request. However, he might as well have requested Advanced Arithmancy.

No! This could not be happening! His toe had to move! It had to!

He tasted a small copper-like fluid. Harry raised one arm awkwardly to his mouth, a few drops of blood dripped onto his casts. Huh? When had he bit his tongue?

But the blood wasn’t important when his toe wouldn’t move! Wait!

Harry peered towards the end of the bed as best he could. Was it his imagination or did the sheets move a tiny fraction? He could’ve swore the stiff white material had seemed to risen for a moment, but now it looked like it had never moved. The Gryffindor hoped that his eyes hadn’t betrayed him but for all he knew, he was already Potioned Up and could be seeing things.

Maybe he should just bite the bullet and attempt to stand. Harry breathed deep and put his arms behind him. Grunting, he pushed as hard as he could with his elbows. Sweat beaded his brow. It shouldn’t be so hard to hold his own weight!

Harry crashed down with a yelp as his elbows gave out on him, leaving him flat on his back. His arms were as useful as everything else in his body!

The boy tightened one stiff hand into a ball, leaving his left pointer finger out of the awkward cast clad fist. He gulped. He had to know for sure.

He slowly lowered his hand and brushed his finger along his side. Nothing. But there would be nothing, right? People didn’t generally feel small brushes against their skin. He shut his eyes and poked the skin with a quick motion.

He felt something, a small burst of almost unnoticeable pain. But was it in his hip? Or in his finger from where he had poked himself?

He pulled his hand closer to his face and studied the lone finger. The cast came over the length of the fingers but left enough room for his slightly awkward fist. His pointer finger was red, evidence from the experiment he had set. It ached but he still wasn’t convinced. Perhaps it still hurt his legs and he just didn’t know it.

He needed something sharp so he would definitely feel it. The nurse was bound to have some sort of muggle medical equipment. She probably had loads of needles. He hoped they weren’t as guarded as her potion stores. He didn’t know if it would work, but he had to try.

An Accio gave him what he needed.

Harry’s hand shook as he lowered the bed sheets and rolled his pajama bottoms down to his hip. He took a deep breath and plunged the needle down into his skin. Blood beaded out but still no pain.

Harry gritted his teeth before moving his hand a few inches to the right and stabbed the needle into his skin again. Nothing. Blood trickled down his side, a small pool forming on his sheets. He jabbed the needle into his hip and pushed it deeper. Still not a single shot of pain, even as the blood painted his hip red. A tear of betrayal fell down Harry’s cheeks as the needle sunk into his skin again. He couldn’t be paralyzed, he just couldn’t!

Worst of all he was alone. No one was there to tell him it would be okay, to tell him he could beat the odds. He didn’t trust his slimy Potions professor. No one had ever cared about him besides his new found friends and parents he couldn’t remember.

It would figure that the moment he admitted to himself that he didn’t mind Snape’s hand covering his own, the bat would be gone. No one ever stayed.

An hour passed. Then two. Would anyone come help him? He was so scared, and he was in pain. “Please, someone come help me! Please!”

To his embarrassment, a slight wetness dripped down his cheeks. He never cried! Big boys never cry!

Where was Pomfrey? She would never leave her hospital wing for so long and especially with no one to care for her patients! For that matter, where was Snape? As annoyed as he was at the man, he’d welcome the Slytherin with open arms if he would only come and help him! He was trapped, and he hated it.

“Please Uncle Vernon, please don’t leave me here. Please don’t leave me in the shed!” he sobbed while his uncle wrapped the chains on the boy’s tiny wrists. The darkness began to descend as his uncle blocked the door. The man turned to leave. The heavy-set human paused and with a glare his fist clenched and punched Harry in the eye.

Vernon backed away.

The door slammed and Harry sobbed in his prison.

He knew it wouldn’t work. No one ever listened to him, but he couldn’t help it , he continued to call out, his voice breaking with sorrow. He wiped his eyes from the seemingly endless stream of tears.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black dot moving about in the corner space. A spider.

“Come here, girl.” To his amazement, the spider wandered over.

“Your name is Charlotte.”

That summer had been the worst he ever had with the Dursleys though it paled with how he felt now. He was so alone with no one to comfort him. Not only in the room, but really, anywhere in the world. He didn’t have a mum like Dudley did. He didn’t have a Dad like most of his classmates. His parents were dead, killed by some murderer who had wanted to kill him, too. His parents had made the ultimate sacrifice for him, but he wanted someone here with him!

He wrapped his arms around his thin chest. No one wanted to hug the Freak-Who-Lived.

SESESESESESE

Darn the old bitty for making him leave the hospital wing! There had been a so-called emergency and Severus had been pulled away from watching Harry. The Mediwitch could have easily examined and treated the two students who had come down with Dragon Pox but no, they were Slytherins and he was expected to help her. The illness was contagious but paled when compared to having a seriously injured student in his care.

“Severus, are you paying attention? This is the third time I’ve asked you to hand me some Bruise Balm!”

Merlin, would that woman ever stop? If she wanted the darned balm so much, a simple Accio would take care of it! Had she never heard of magic? He rolled his eyes as he sent the bottle flying over to the mediwitch.

The bottle zoomed in the air , spinning such as a muggle bullet. The contents swirled as it flew. Poppy was no match for Severus’ charm and the vial crashed onto her head.

“Severus!”

“You wanted the Balm, did you not?” He smirked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, but you know full well I had no intention of having to use the Balm for myself!”

The head of Slytherin vaguely noted that the two sick students were covering snorts with the palms of their hands. He’d have to talk to his Prefects about the lack of subtlety in first year students. He could always threaten the Prefects with not going on Hogsmeade trips. The younger students would be straightened out quickly.

“One must always be prepared. Mustn’t they, Poppy?” Severus placed a monitoring charm on the students that would allow the Mediwitch or him to watch the students from the hospital wing. It wouldn’t do for them to be brought up there and give the disease to Harry.

Speaking of whom, hadn’t they been gone too long? The young boy was sure to have noticed their absence by now. He had to get out of the Snake Pit and back to Harry.

“Severus.”

“Merlin, will you shut up for a moment!”

“Severus, that is no way to talk to me, I know you are worried about your potions but we are needed here!”

“No, I am not needed here. I have signed the appropriate forms that as their Head of House authorized the treatment. My job here is done. You can do all of this-“he waved his hand around the stone room,” by yourself.”

At least Poppy had edited her rebuke and cited potions as his concern. It would not due for anyone to know that the Boy-Who-Lived was injured and laid up in the Hospital Wing practically defenseless. The only students in the room were first years and their families were aligned with the light but Severus would not delude himself that older students did not know eavesdropping spells.

“Severus. It’s good that you are so serious about your potions, but you are in charge of these children as well.” The nurse clucked her tongue and waved her wand at one student. “Hmm . . . slight fever. Severus, could you please-“

The head of Slytherin paced in front of the beds.

“Severus. Never mind. Just go back to your potions. For the sake of everyone.”

The Mediwitch didn’t have to order Severus twice.

SESESESESESE

Harry felt a gentle pressure on his shoulders. Had someone managed to get inside the shed to rescue him? Wait, no. There weren’t any chains or rusty nails. Oh. The Hospital Wing. But who was calling to him, hugging him? Black robes, a soft odor wafting to his nose and Harry knew. Snape.

“Snape?” Harry looked up into his teacher’s tunneling eyes.

“Severus, Harry.” His professor gently rubbed the boy’s shoulders.

Right. The man had told him to call him by his first name. Part of that “I feel so bad for what I did to you” rubbish. Ugh, he felt so relieved to see Severus but yet at the same time, so angry. His need for company override his desire to hurt Snape for the moment.

“Harry.” The man’s concern was obvious to the child. The eleven year-old felt his professor’s eyes beading down on him. He forced himself to follow the man’s gaze. Scarlet pools of blood soiled his sheets. The needle.

“Sir. . .it’s not what it looks like.” He bit his lip as Snape drew his wand.

“No?”

“No… I just wanted to feel.”

Snape sighed and whispered a spell that healed his injuries and then cast a cleaning charm on the sheets.

“Where were you sir?” Harry ground out a moment later, his voice carefully neutral.

“Harry, I didn’t want to leave you, Pomfrey needed me to help with a case of Dragonpox in Slytherin. She is still there but I told her that I needed to get back to you. I’m very sorry child.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He hated that his voice came out as a whimper.

“Of course it does child. I didn’t mean to, but I let you down.” Severus ran his hand through Harry’s fringe.

The Gryffindor tried to resist the calmness that the repetitive motion of the lean hands stroking his head brought. He really did but he was soon more relaxed than he had ever been since his world had turned to Hell.