Harry dragged his feet as he marched to his doom. Detention! In his first week! Despite Hagrid's best attempts at denying it and Ron's assurances that the man was as bad to all Gryffindors, Harry was quite sure Snape hated him. He just didn't know why. Not that the man really needed a reason, did he? After all, the Dursleys hated him too. Had hated him for as long as he could remember, so it wasn't as if he'd actually done something to them to make them hate him. Except maybe the whole getting dumped on them, but he sure hadn't asked for that to happen! He sighed as he knocked on Snape's office door.

"Come."

Harry walked in, grimacing as he glanced around at all the bottles and jars of ... well, things he really didn't want to know about, honestly. They looked disgusting. Snape pulled his wand and Harry had to fight the urge to dive to one side. Behind him, the door slammed, making him jump. Then Snape waved his wand around for what seemed like five minutes before giving a faint nod and refocusing on him. Oh boy. This was not going to end well.

"Take a seat, Potter."

Harry blinked in surprise, sitting down automatically as he gave Snape a slack-jawed stare. The man's tone had changed radically, from snarky-pissy to something far calmer, more neutral ... almost (dare he say it) kind.

"It has come to the staff's attention that all may not be well in the Dursley household." Snape said, grateful it wasn't entirely a lie. He'd spoken briefly with Hagrid after dinner, eliciting a more informative telling of Harry's rescue from the Dursleys (it could not have been anything *but* a rescue), and confirming certain facts with Minerva (like that she'd had to send something on the order of two hundred letters before they'd resorted to sending Hagrid). Certainly, that had made Minerva at least suspicious, and she'd mentioned, briefly, that she'd not liked the look of the Dursleys a decade ago. Snape had given an amused sneer at that understatement, but hadn't said anything specific. "My colleagues have asked me to speak with you about the matter, as I have the most experience dealing with situations like this." Snape eyed Harry, who'd gone wide-eyed. "First, however, I must apologize for my actions earlier today. There are still supporters of you-know-who out there ... "

"And Malfoy's dad is one of them." Harry jumped in, half-hopeful. "So you were ... pretending?" The staff had noticed something was wrong? Would he maybe ... ? Oh, please, let it be!

Snape almost smiled. "Indeed." Clearly, the boy had inherited at least some measure of Lily's intelligence. Potter's too, if he was to be fair. The boy'd been an unrelenting menace, but he'd not been stupid.

"So you don't hate me?" Harry asked.

Snape sighed mentally. The boy sounded so ... hopeful. "No, I do not, Mr. Potter. I will admit to having suspected you to have grown up a spoiled brat, but that was based on my own assumptions, and was very quickly disproven at the Sorting." That got him a grin that reminded him painfully of Lily. "I am aware that talking about the matter might be distressing for you, and if you would rather have Professor McGonagall or Madame Pomphrey here, I will be more than willing to summon them." Then he thought of something. "Speaking of Madame Pomphrey, do you have any hurts that need immediate tending?"

Harry shook his head. "No sir. They were kind of afraid to even be in the same room as me, after Hagrid came and got me. They sort of ignored the fact that I existed."

"That is, I imagine, a small mercy." Snape allowed, then got back on the more important subject. "I do not ask that you tell me everything, at least not tonight, but we do need some sort of confirmation that things are as bad as I suspect they are at the Dursley's." Snape was just grateful Harry wasn't shutting down. By whatever miracle, and Snape suspected he had Potter bullheadedness to thank, ironically enough, Harry's spirit had not been crushed.

Harry ducked his head, uncomfortable with looking Snape in the eye. He opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it closed, unsure of what to say, where to start.

"Why don't you begin with the circumstances surrounding the arrival of your first letter?" Snape suggested, seeing Harry struggle.

That was easy enough, Harry reflected, and so he started to tell Snape about it, grinning a bit at the memory of what had happened. And once he got started talking, he was surprised to be able to keep going, prompted occasionally by Snape.

It was as well, Snape reflected, that Harry never once looked up during his litany. Cupboards, starvation, overwork, a huge amount of verbal and emotional abuse and physical abuse in abundance by the pig of a cousin, as well as rarer instances of physical abuse by the adults. It was more than enough to make Snape raging mad, and more than once, he had been unable to keep his anger off his face despite all his years of learning to keep his true emotions unseen and years worth of dealing with the abused children who came through Slytherin's doors. But then, this was Lily's child, and she had always, would always, hold a special place in his heart. The thought of her son being brutalized was more than enough for him to lose his usual reserve.

When Harry had finally wound down (and Snape made no comment at the fact the boy had not shed so much as a tear during his recital ... he'd seen that sort of reaction before), he spoke up again. "I believe, Mr. Potter, that we have much to do tonight." He told Harry.

Harry blinked and finally looked up in time to see Snape stalk away from him. Snape headed to the fireplace, and tossed something in. Harry yelped when it turned green and Snape stuck his head in. A moment or two after he pulled back, McGonagall came whooshing out of the fireplace.

"Whatever is this about, Severus?" McGonagall wanted to know.

Severus eyed her. "You were more right about the Dursleys than you want to know." He told her. "I'm going to need your help with *him* later." She, as Potter's head of house, would have more sway with Dumbledore, and the clout to back up the call to get Potter out of that house.

McGonagall's eyes blazed. "I warned him! I *told* him!" She stormed, then looked over at Harry. "I'm so sorry, Harry. You should never have had to endure those awful people. Rest assured that we will do whatever we must to ensure that you do not return there."

Harry, for his part, just blushed and ducked his head, feeling both horribly embarrassed and deeply relieved.

"We are going to need to keep a closer eye on the Hogwarts mailing system, Minerva." Snape told her. "His first letter was addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs."

McGonagall got a very angry look on her face. "Cupboard under the stairs?" She glanced from Harry to Severus.

"His room for the last ten years." Snape told her.

The resulting verbal explosion (in some language definitely not English that Harry didn't understand) was ... rather impressive. It took McGonagall a few minutes to wind down. Then, finally, she took a deep breath. "Right." She said. "First we get him to Poppy, have her do a diagnostic on him so we have medical evidence. Then see what she can do to reverse any damage."

"Precisely." Snape agreed.

Harry spoke up after a moment. "Professor McGonagall? Would you be willing to tell Ron that you found out how awful the Dursley's were to me and that's why I'm in the infirmary? If he finds out I went there after a detention with Professor Snape ... "

That got a laugh from McGonagall, and an amused smirk from Snape. "Quite a good idea, Harry. I'll let him know so he doesn't sic the twins on Severus, or something equally terrifying."

Snape scoffed. "The twins know better than to cross me." He said. "They know I'll revoke their brewing privileges."

"So *that's* how they manage it! I would never have suspected you, of all people, to support their endeavors!" McGonagall scolded as she herded Harry and Snape out the door towards the infirmary.

"The Weasley twins are among the best potioneers I've seen. They may even surpass myself one day soon. While I do not agree with the way they utilize that gift, I would be the worst sort of fool to discourage them." Snape informed her.

"High praise indeed, coming from you." McGonagall agreed.

"And it has the side benefit of my knowing what they're up to, generally speaking, and being able to neutralize the worst of their excesses. And minimize the number of explosions." Snape pointed out as they arrived at the infirmary.

"Hmmm, you do have a point." McGonagall agreed.

Harry just kept quiet as the two bantered back and forth, more than a bit amused at the good-natured teasing. He wondered what the other Gryffindors would think if they knew that McGonagall was on friendly terms with Snape. Or the Slytherins, for that matter! The thought made him grin.

"Ahh, Severus ... a late find?" Pomphrey asked as she bustled into view. "Minerva, what on ... " And then she spotted Harry. She glanced from Snape to McGonagall. "Oh. I see." And there was an irate expression on her face for a second before it smoothed out.

"Mr. Potter, if you'd just hop up on this bed?" She asked.

Harry glanced at Snape and McGonagall, then did as he was asked. Pomphrey summoned a roll of parchment and an odd-looking quill that she set on the table next to the bed, then shot a spell at them before turning her wand on Harry, muttering something Harry couldn't catch as she moved her wand slowly from the crown of his head on down. Harry could feel the magic sort of ... pressing ... against him, almost tickling when it reached sensitive areas, but he was sidetracked a bit by the fact that the quill was busily writing, without anyone touching it. Finally, Pomphrey finished.

"Well, Mr. Potter, the good news is, everything is fixable." She told him, then looked over at the two House Heads. "He'll need several months of potions to correct the damage done by malnutrition, but by summer he'll have caught up to where he should be. Might even correct a bit of his vision. I know his father wore glasses, but vision can be affected by diet over the long term, especially in children. And speaking of vision, those glasses of his are badly out of date. He'll be needing a new pair."

"That can easily be taken care of tomorrow, as it's the weekend." McGonagall agreed.

"You've got patrolling tomorrow during the day, Minerva. I'll take him." Snape told her. "After we've had a chat with our dear Headmaster."

"Not without me you don't!" Pomphrey said, rolling up the parchment the quill had written on and sticking it in her pocket. She then bustled over to the storeroom and came out with a small vial. "Drink this, Mr. Potter. It will encourage you to have an appetite, and keep you from sicking up when you eat more than you're used to." She told him. "A late night snack will do you a world of good."

Harry accepted the vial and drank it. It tasted, oddly, of mint, and was not at all unpleasant. Probably a good thing, given it was supposed to make him hungry. Wouldn't do to make him not want to eat thanks to the foul taste of the stuff. Shortly thereafter he did indeed feel hungry, and Pomphrey floated a tray with all sorts of fruits on it to him.

Harry, who had only rarely gotten fruit (mostly because fruit did not feature in the Dursley's diet, for the most part), happily munched his way through the lot, and fell asleep not five minutes after he was finished, thanks to a combination of emotional fatigue and a very full stomach.

Pomphrey shot a few spells at Harry, and at the bed he was on. "There. We'll lock the door and he'll be safe as houses in here until we return." She told the other two, giving them a grim, determined look. "Let's go."

Snape had no argument against that idea. Neither did McGonagall. Together, the three of them marched towards Dumbledore's office.