Severus was in his office, contently marking down lesson plans for the fifth-year Slytherins when he heard Argus nearly sprint inside, his elbow slamming against the door with a loud cracking noise that made even the Potions Master wince.

"Argus? What is it?" he asked, rising in concern, but Filch was already wheezing out the required information.

"Potter-broom closet-thought it'd be funny-called for his uncle..."

Severus was halfway down the hallway before Argus even finished speaking.

He was also very, very angry, but had to remind himself to not let the slightest bit of it show. He wasn't angry at the boy, he was angry at Filch, but if Harry was as badly off as the caretaker had insinuated he was, he would take the slightest bit of aggression as firmly directed at him.

Sure enough, when he found the correct broom cupboard (after making an arse of himself and searching four others), he saw the eight-year-old crammed in a corner, staring vacantly into space.

"Harry?" Severus asked as gently as he could, squatting down on his heels in the cramped doorway. The boy started, smacking his head back against the wall, before shaking his head.

"Not Harry," the boy said stubbornly.

"What do you mean?" Severus said, utterly perplexed. Of course it was Harry. The lightning bolt scar that slashed across his forehead, now a livid-looking red, was proof enough.

"Uncle said don't have a name," Potter said, returning to staring emptily at the wall.

"Your uncle's not here anymore," Severus pointed out.

"In my cupboard!" Harry nearly shouted, before turning dead white and scrambling farther away.

"Your..." Severus trailed off, until the realisation hit him, and he nearly turned on his heel and went to murder Filch. "This isn't your cupboard, Harry," he finally said, summoning all the patience he could. "This is a broom closet at Hogwarts. Remember? You live here now. At Hogwarts. The man who locked you in wasn't supposed to do that. It was wrong."

"Wrong?" the boy asked doubtfully, uncurling a bit.

"Wrong," Severus nodded. "No one is allowed to lock you in a cupboard again," he clarified. "Ever."

The boy rushed from his corner and yet again, Severus found himself with a lap-ful of sobbing child, a phenomenon he thought he would never get used to.

There was still the matter of what to do with Filch, however, and after Severus deposited a still teary-eyed and shaking Harry with Poppy, he marched right up to the Headmaster's office. The man deserved to be fired straight off, yet somehow Severus thought it wouldn't be that easy.

Of course it wasn't.

"He's been a staff member here for so long, though, Severus," Albus reproved gently as he sucked on another lemon drop. "What he did today was cruel, yes, but you heard him, he didn't mean to do such a thing for so long, he came straight to you when he realised the effect it had had on poor Harry, and after all, he didn't know it would have such a terrible, negative consequence."

"He's been a bloody menace to every student in this school and you and I both know it, Albus," Severus hissed, pushing the limits of his patience. "Locking an eight-year-old child in a broom cupboard for any length of time is inexcusable."

"But Severus," Albus began, but the Potions professor had had enough.

"Keep that man away from my son," Severus snarled, surprised at his words and his warning, but not enough to keep him from his dramatic exit, his cloak swirling around his ankles.

"How did it go?" Poppy asked sympathetically as she met him in the entrance of the Hospital Wing. Behind her, Severus could see Harry sleeping on the bed closest to her office, the shadows under his eyes standing out at this distance.

"About as well as you would expect," Severus said, his voice flat. "He won't deal with Filch. Nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Sound familiar?"

"Yes," Poppy sighed, thinking of a certain band of four overly mischievous Gryffindors. "Well, I'm sure after this, we can at least keep Harry away from Argus. Hopefully, Argus will want to stay away as well."

"He better," Severus growled, flushing when Poppy placed a finger to her lips with a meaningful glance over her shoulder. "Sorry," he amended more quietly. "He didn't even know his own name, Poppy. He said his uncle told him he didn't need one."

"His uncle is going to go to prison for a very long time," Poppy pointed out with grim satisfaction. "And that wretched aunt of his."

"Not very helpful right now," Severus sighed. Behind the mediwitch, he saw Harry stir, looking about drowsily with no small measure of fear. "And I do believe Harry is awake."

Poppy turned, and in that moment, Harry bolted up, nearly fell, and managed to hide under the bed.

Well, this wasn't very promising.