Harry sat up in the bed fiddling with the crisp white sheets. All he could see was a gap under them where his lower leg used to be. He’d been awake for little over an hour. The nurse had given him a mix of muggle morphine and a potent painkilling potion, so his body felt sufficiently numb. He hadn’t yet lifted the sheet. It wasn’t real yet, and that’s how he wanted it to stay for as long as possible – just a horrible dream that he would wake up from very soon. He’d pinched himself several times; once he’d even dug his nails in so hard it’d drawn blood, but nothing happened, he was still in a bed in St Mungos.

The healers told him he would be able to have visitors as soon as the consultant had spoken to him, but Harry apparently needed an adult with him for that. He was told that the consultant would speak to Professor Dumbledore and arrange something, considering he’d apparently been waiting outside since Harry had been brought in. So Harry was waiting in the vague hope that they’d take their time and he could prolong his denial. That was all he could do.

It was daylight outside. He didn’t know the time but considering it was dark at Privet Drive, he assumed he’d been out of it for hours. For minutes at a time he’d stare out of the window at nothing in particular, just to take his attention off the sterile room and, by extension, the reason he was in the room in the first place.

His arm felt better, if a little stiff. Everything else was bearable now the morphine had kicked in. In his daydreams, the pain was so mild he could pretend it didn’t even exist. When he allowed himself to feel, it was nothing but grief, a tremendous sense of loss. He was lopsided, unbalanced, abnormal just as his family had always said. He thought back to something Lupin had said to Sirius in the Shrieking Shack all that time ago. “Finally, the flesh reflects the madness within.” Fitting, he thought.         

The bed sheets were scrunched up in his fingers as he looked blankly through the pane of glass. The sky was grey. Everything felt grey. It was strange feeling so disconnected.

He heard footsteps as people entered the room, but he didn’t turn to look, he just hoped they’d leave before it all became too real.

“Mr Potter?” came an unfamiliar voice. Harry sighed and dropped his eyes from the window before slowly turning his head to face the man. “I am your consultant. My name is...” That is all he heard, for his attention was grabbed immediately by the black-clad man standing at the consultant’s side. Their eyes met briefly and Harry was obviously stunned. Snape was the last person he expected to see...or was he? Harry didn’t even know anymore. It felt like a lot had changed, but he wasn’t stupid enough to expect that change to stick. Snape inclined his head, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to do the same.

The consultant stood at the foot of the bed, signalling for Snape to sit down in the seat next to Harry. “I thought you might like somebody to talk you through what’s happened and what the next steps are, Mr Potter,” the consultant said. He drew his wand, muttering an incantation, and Harry’s medical notes appeared in the air by the side of him. “As you should know, the bleeding was too much to save your lower leg. We had to amputate just above the knee.” Harry felt himself pale a little bit as the words were said out loud. “The rehabilitation procedure is not an easy one, but it will ensure you are mobile and can go on to live a normal life.” Harry would have snorted if he didn’t feel so sick. “We will fit a prosthetic leg, with a joint because you’re young and have plenty of time to get used to it. Then you will need to work on strengthening your muscles, but we can arrange that with a healer. Now, your leg may be tender for a while and you may feel some pain and discomfort, but we can help you cope with that and it should die down. I will show you how the prosthetic will work.” The consultant moved around Harry’s bed and reached forward to grab the sheet and pull it back. Harry’s eyes went wide.

“No!” he shouted, snatching the sheet back. Harry could feel Snape’s eyes on him. A deep frown drew across the consultant’s face.

“You haven’t looked yet, have you, Mr Potter?” the consultant asked. Harry looked down, as if ashamed by it. “It is not unusual for amputees to try and deny the procedure has even happened, but you will have to face it sometime. The sooner you do, the sooner you can learn to live with it.”

“I don’t want to live with it,” Harry murmured sullenly. He was surprised when it wasn’t the consultant who replied, but Snape.

“Sometimes life deals us a bad hand. The headmaster once told me, it is the sign of a strong man to find the good when others only see the bad. A lot of things are about to change for you, Potter,” he said deeply. His eyes were so sincere. “My advice is to let them.”

Harry just looked at him solemnly like his world was at an end.

“Mr Potter, I have briefed Mr Snape on the rehabilitation procedures. Perhaps I should leave you both alone to discuss it. We can discuss prosthetics when you are ready.” Harry nodded numbly and Snape said a quiet thank you before the consultant left them alone. Snape said nothing more, just sat there quietly scrutinising Harry.

“Why are you here, Sir?” Harry eventually said, breaking the silence.

“It would normally be the duty of a parent or guardian, but your relatives were moved to a safe-house, Lupin is taking care of them, and the order didn’t think it prudent for them to leave. Besides, it seems they often abandoned their duties...” Snape bristled and trailed off. Harry felt a tiny spark of happiness that his relatives were still alive and he didn’t have any more deaths on his conscience, but that spark was soon engulfed by sadness. They never wanted him, but who would want him now there were pieces of him missing? Who wants something that’s broken?

Snape sat forward in his chair watching Harry as he stared morosely at the gap under the sheet where his leg should have been.

“No amount of magic will bring it back, Potter,” Snape said softly.

“I know,” Harry whispered. His hand trembled as it went to his thigh, but he couldn’t bring himself to move it any lower. “What do I do now?” His voice shook and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. He couldn’t do anything to help the tears building behind his eyes.

“You will need physical therapy as soon as possible to help you walk again with the prosthetic limb and –”

“No, I mean about Voldemort,” Harry interrupted, his voice cracking. “Who’s going to put their faith in someone who can’t even walk?”

“Potter, look at me right now,” Snape’s voice was quiet but firm. “Potter!” he implored. Harry looked at him through glassy eyes. “None of that matters right now. We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Harry looked taken aback. “We?”

“Potter...I have not made many errors of judgement in my lifetime, but the very worst has been with regards to you. I owe you an apology,” Snape said regretfully. “You will need guidance and support. As your relatives have proved themselves incapable of offering this, they have been relinquished of their guardianship of you.” Harry didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t unhappy about it, not at all, but Snape wasn’t lying when he said things would be changing. His life was spinning before him. Snape wasn’t finished. “Potter, your guardianship has been handed over to me.”

Silence descended over them. Mouth agape, Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Snape. The professor actually looked worried.  

“You?” was all Harry could say.

Snape sat back in his chair and turned his attention to a spot on the wall. “It may not sound ideal, but I am a partially trained healer so you will be in safe hands. You divulged to me a great deal more about your life than I expect anybody else knows. I am willing to give my time to help you recover from this. And I mean all of this. Not just the leg.”

Harry’s voice was small. “Why?”

“Call it making amends.”

The room was quiet as Harry tried to digest everything he’d just been told. The Dursleys were no longer his guardians. Snape was his guardian now. Any other day he’d be dreading it – things certainly were changing. Snape had even apologised. He’d apologised and all but promised to help him.

“Potter, this will not be an easy process. You will have to move one step at a time. It will be slow. There will be pain, but we will learn to control it. There will be frustration, but we will learn to vent it. There will be anger, but we will learn to redirect it.” Snape looked Harry straight in the eye. “Don’t be a fool by thinking it won’t get better. You have my word.”

Harry felt his eyes grow heavy as unshed tears glistened on their brims. He was touched by Snape’s words, by his honesty and his offer of support. The man didn’t even seem put-out at having to become his guardian. Harry tried to send Snape a grateful smile, but a tear slipped from his eye onto his cheek and he quickly turned to wipe it away. Sniffing to himself, Harry tried to regain his composure.       

“What happens now?” he asked wearily.

Snape looked from Harry to the hospital bed. “Take the first step.”

“What is it?”

“Remove the sheet and accept the situation for what is it.”

“I...I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Snape said more forcefully. “You were not placed in Gryffindor without due reason.”

Harry shook his head, but Snape’s expression seemed to urge him on. He took the top hem of the sheet in his hand and began dragging it towards himself. As he pulled the sheet, he imagined it uncovering his foot. But there was no foot. He pulled it further and imagined it uncovering his shin, but there was no shin. He could feel himself getting upset and stopped to try and calm down. Snape said nothing, allowing him this moment to himself. It was then that he remembered something he’d overheard Aunt Petunia say to Dudley once. Dudley was trying to take off a plaster and crying because it was pulling out the hairs of his arm. “No, Duddikins,” she’d said, “rip it off quickly. It’ll hurt less and it’ll be over and done with quicker.”

Maybe he was making it worse for himself. Nodding, he gripped the sheet tighter, knuckles turning white, and took a deep breath. Rip it off, he thought. Before his mind could talk him out of it, he yanked his arm backwards, startling Snape in the process, and revealing the pink stump that sat just above where his knee would normally have been. He felt sick and shook his head, feeling himself losing it. “No,” he said. “No, no, no!” Harry went to throw the sheet back on, but Snape’s hand stopped him.

“Accept it. Don’t shut it out,” Snape said, holding Harry’s wrist tightly. The tears in Harry’s eyes weighed too heavy and suddenly began cascading down his face. Harry felt his chest tighten and he finally gave in to the quiet sobs that were rising to the surface. Snape gently let go as, once again, Harry began sliding a hand down his damaged leg, but he had to stop.

“I c-can’t even touch it,” he cried and angrily whacked his head backwards into the wall behind him. Slumping forwards, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, wishing the world away. Even with his eyes covered he could feel Snape’s gaze on him and, in that moment, he hated it! What does he get from watching me like this? Why does he always have to see me so...so...so bloody weak?! “Get out,” Harry said through the hands still covering his face. Snape didn’t move. “I said get out, alright! I don’t want you here anymore!”

“Potter, don’t.”

“Just leave me alone alright!” Harry shouted, thrusting his hands into his hair and pulling. “I don’t want you here! I don’t need this!”

Suddenly, Snape was standing. His large hands prized Harry’s fingers away from his hair and kept hold of them. Harry struggled, but Snape sat on the side of his bed and stooped his head so they were eye to eye. Snape still kept a firm, yet reassuring hold of Harry hands.

“Do not push people away, Potter. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” Harry averted his gaze, silently crying and feeling wholly unable to stop. “I am not going anywhere.”

Harry slowly looked up at his professor and then down at the hands that held his. Snape squeezed and Harry didn’t hesitate to squeeze back. As a loud sob escaped his mouth, Harry couldn’t help but squeeze harder as though all the emotion was rushing out through his fingertips.

“It’s alright,” Snape said deeply as Harry cried. The tears came hard and fast like a river that had burst its banks. Feeling like he was on display, Harry leant forward and his forehead came to rest on Snape’s chest before he even realised what he was doing. He cried painfully into Snape’s robes for what felt like an eternity. Not once did Snape let go of his hands. The man hadn’t said a word since Harry had buried himself in his torso, and although Harry felt pathetic, Snape said nothing of the sort, content to let him cry his heart out. Snape slid one of his hands out of Harry’s grip, and in that moment Harry felt a mixture of embarrassment and misery. What was I thinking? Thinking Snape had had enough of him, the shame suddenly set in. Harry sniffled and mumbled a wet “Merlin, m’sorry” into Snape’s chest and tried to pull away...but Snape stopped him. A gentle hand came to rest at the back of his head, pulling him close.        

That was a gesture worth more than any word, and Harry knew in that moment that he wouldn’t have to go it alone anymore. I am not going anywhere, Snape had said, and Harry truly believed him.