An owl swooped low in the Great Hall, and dropped a scroll in front of Harry's plate. It was still mostly full, with scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Harry picked up a piece of lightly buttered toast and nibbled at a corner of it, as he started at the rolled up parchment. Setting down his toast, Harry reached over, and broke the wax seal. Inside was a note from Dumbledore informing him that his next Occlemency lesson was to take place that evening.

The school year was well underway, and he'd already had several Occlemency lessons from hell. Harry got no rest, and his health was falling apart at the seams. He couldn't help but find it ironic that his potions abilities were improving as he found that he had to make himself various potions to avoid seeing Madame Pomfrey over his various issues. Malnutrition, insomnia, and depression, just to name a few.

His summer hadn't been any easier since that first night. Every weekend, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, Vernon demanded Harry's presence in his bedroom. Harry had no choice but to comply. He begged every time to be released, but Vernon never listened. He insisted that Harry should enjoy it. And Harry hated himself because at a purely animal level, he did. He hated himself, and he hated what he had been made to do that summer, over and over again. Not only that, but now every night he had some nightmare about it. Nightmares about Voldemort and Cedric seemed mild in comparison.

Even dreamless sleep didn't block out the nightmares. Usually if he took it, he could sleep with dreaming of Vernon, but then the graveyard would be what he would dream about instead. He had too many things to hide from, apparently, for even his strongest version of the potion to fully work. He cast silencing charms around his bed, so that Ron and the others wouldn't know of his nightmares. He knew he called out in his sleep, begging Vernon to leave him alone, crying at times as well. He couldn't bare the shame of his friends knowing.

He knew because when he would finally become tired enough to sleep despite being cradled in Vernon's arms, and he was reacting to a nightmare, Vernon would wake him, and tell him that he was dreaming. No, Harry would silently tell himself, it had only been memories of reality, not a dream. It seemed that there was no way to escape.

Harry understood that the purpose of his Occlemency lessons was to block out his nightmares about Voldemort. He wanted to do that, yes, but more importantly he wanted to block out his nightmares of Vernon. In comparison, to him, Voldemort was the smaller of the two problems. All Voldemort wanted to do was kill him. He wished that Snape would teach him in a way he could understand, because he really did want to learn Occlemency. Harry knew he had a strong mind, because he had kept Snape out of his memories of his childhood and the summer. Now if only he could learn to apply it to his sleep, maybe he could finally find an escape.

He blinked back the beginnings of tears. He'd promised himself after that first night that he would never cry again, but he broke that promise with every incident and nightmare. He certainly wasn't going to break it now. He pinched the bridge of his nose and banished thoughts of the summer from his mind.

"Harry?" a voice broke through his thoughts.

"Yes, Hermione?" Harry replied, his voice even and interested.

"What's wrong?" She asked it like she wanted a real answer, here and now, over breakfast.

"Nothing," Harry said, sounding surprised and innocent.

"Don't tell me that!" she hissed at him. "Don't lie to me! Something's wrong, terribly wrong. You're still upset about - about last year?"

"Something like that," Harry shrugged. It was true, he was still upset about Cedric.

"You can always talk to Ron and me," she said softly. "We'll understand." Harry smiled at her.

"I appreciate that," he said, not insincerely. "But I think it's something I have to work through on my own. I hope you can respect that?"

"Of course," she said. "You just haven't hardly eaten at all this school year. I'm not sure how you haven't passed out yet."

"I'll try to do better at that, okay?" Maybe if he showed Hermione a sign of his good faith, she could leave him alone. He didn't want to face his friends with what had happened that summer. Who would respect him at all? The Boy-Who-Lived. A whore. A slut. Too weak to stand up to Vernon. To weak not to be used. Unable to control his own reactions.

"Okay," Hermione said and smiled slightly.

Harry got up after finishing his toast and took the note with him. He wanted to inform Dumbledore of his situation at home. But he hadn't been able to get an opportunity to tell him yet. The man wouldn't even look at him. And it hurt Harry like a sharp knife, because even though Harry knew better, it felt like Dumbledore didn't even want to soil his eyes on him anymore. But there was no way Dumbledore could know.

And Harry hadn't told anyone else. Absolutely no one. Not Ron, not Hermione, not even his confessor. Sure, the priest came around asking him if something was wrong when he stopped going to communion abruptly.

"Harry," Vicar Donnall said one Sunday as he was trying to slip away quietly. Harry paused, but tried to slip away anyway. "Harry?" the vicar tried again, and Harry couldn't help but turn around and face him.

"Yes, vicar?" he asked.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, sir! I mean, vicar, sir," he stammered, so nervous with the confrontation. He wanted his vicar to think well of him, and telling him what had been happening surely wasn't the way to do that. How could he tell the man that he had hated it and liked it both at the same time?

"Harry," the vicar said kindly, "it's alright. I know you come from a hard background. You're a good boy."

"Yes, vicar," Harry choked out, unable to meet his gaze.

"You know that I'm bound by the seal of confession if you ever want to talk about anything," the vicar continued.

"I know that, yes. I don't want to talk about anything."

"Alright, Harry. That's fine. Have a good day."

"Thank you, vicar, you too."

Harry still came to Mass every Sunday, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to go to communion. He'd been taught by the vicar when taking instruction that receiving was inviting Christ into his body. His body was supposed to be a temple of the Holy Spirit. How could he justify inviting his creator into a temple that had been desecrated to that degree?

Harry worked through the rest of the day, trying to keep his mind from wandering in the memories of the summer. It was a difficult task, he found, because it was all he could see when he closed his eyes. And sometimes, nightmares become daymares. Finally, after a grueling day of classwork, Harry found himself walking down to Snape's office for his Occlemency lesson. It was torture, yes, but at least the man hated him. It was easier than the summer. He knocked on the door. Snape opened it, and sneered at him.

"Late again."

"Yes, sir, sorry," Harry muttered. It all depended on which clock you read whether he was late or not. Even wizard clocks didn't all agree. They began the lesson, with Harry trying to occlude and Snape breaking into his mind.

"Why can't you do anything well, Potter?" Snape hissed at him.

"I don't know, sir!" Harry shouted back at him.

"Maybe if you had been properly disciplined, you would be able to do it," he sneered. "Legillimens!"

.oO-Oo.

The scenes that assaulted Severus' mind were astounding, he thought. Severus began to wander in Harry's thoughts and memories. He had never seen these before. That in itself proved to him that Harry was, in fact, capable of Occlemency.

It was clearly the summer after Harry's first year. He'd gotten to the Dursleys and was pointing his wand at Dudley.

"Abracadabra!" Harry said as he waved his wand. Obviously, nothing happened. But Dudley began to cry, and say that Harry had done something to his mind. Severus wasn't sure what Dudley was claiming, and he wasn't sure that anyone else could be sure either. But he ran to his mother, who cradled him in her apron, rebuking Harry. Severus noted, he wasn't defending himself, though nothing she said seemed to faze him, until she got to the part about telling his uncle.

"Please don't do that!" Harry said, paling considerably. "I was only joking with Dudley! It wasn't serious!" Then the memory skipped to where Harry stood with his uncle laying a belt on his back. Harry was wincing, but Severus knew from personal experience that it hurt more than Harry was letting on. All for saying Abracadabra? Well, sure, Severus knew that it was an ancient Muggle corruption of the killing curse, Avada Kadavra, but Harry didn't know that, and neither did the Dursleys, he was sure.

Severus saw a number of memories which were simply fragments. Harry dropping a dish and Petunia pushing him into the shards, cutting his hands as he fell. The owl screeching in the middle of the night, and Harry having to stay awake the rest of that night and the following night, to teach him the value of sleep. And generally, there were just feelings which Severus could sense which were much too familiar for his comfort.

Severus pulled out from Harry's mind. He looked at Harry curiously for a moment, but it was very passing, and Harry missed it.

"Get out," he hissed. "You're as inept as ever. Go!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, grabbing his bag and hurrying out.

Severus didn't know what to do, which was why he sent Harry away in his usual brisk manner. He didn't like what he'd seen, what he'd felt, and he wasn't about to stand by and let abuse happen. Not even to the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him. He braced himself against his desk and sighed.

One sentence. That had been all it had taken to bring those memories of "discipline" to Harry's mind. And then his assault on Harry's mind had broken into what was on the surface. He needed to do something about this.

Well, he could wait a bit, he figured. It wasn't like the brat was going back to his relatives for awhile yet. No matter what was wrong, he was out of danger at the moment.

.oO-Oo.

Another Occlemency lesson came, and Snape seemed to have it in for him, Harry thought miserably. This lesson seemed worse than normal, with Snape sneering at him and deriding him more than usual. Harry wasn't sure what he'd done to earn his professor's ire this time, but then, when did he ever have to do anything?

"If your relatives hadn't treated you like a spoiled brat, this wouldn't be so hard on both of us!" Snape hissed at him, and then legillimized him with a brutal force, breaking down his defenses in a moment.

.oO-Oo.

Severus wandered in memories again, just like he had planned it. In addition to the same memories as the week before, he saw fragments of other beatings, lack of food, and a cupboard. Severus remembered the address on Harry's Howarts letter, and then it made sense. So apparently Petunia hadn't changed at all over the past years. He saw Harry crying, alone and forgotten, both in his cupboard and in a room with bars on the window. Even the Potter brat couldn't be that bad, Severus realized.

"Leave," he snapped. "I don't even know why you come here!"

"I don't either," Potter said under his breath, but he let it pass.

He needed to adopt Potter. It was the surest way of guarding him against abuse. He could watch over Potter well enough, he figured. It would certainly make things awkward with the Dark Lord, but well, perhaps it was just something he could hide like he hid so much. He would definitely have a talk with Dumbledore about this.

.oO-Oo.

"Albus," he said, after the old man told him to come in.

"Ah, Severus," he replied. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," he said. "It's about Potter."

"I should have guessed," Albus chuckled. "How did he fare tonight?"

"Abysmal, as always," Severus drawled. "But his performance in Occlemency is not why I'm here. I have reason to believe that his relatives aren't treating him properly. That they are, for lack of a better word, abusing him."

"Really, Severus?" Albus said, curious. "Why do you think this?"

"Because I saw memories when I attacked his mind tonight, and a week ago, where his uncle was beating him with a belt," Severus sighed, "for saying 'Abracadabra.' I saw him being kept in a cupboard, while they were denying him food."

"When was this?" Albus said, the usual twinkle gone from his eyes, replaced by grave seriousness.

"The beating was the summer after his first year, and the cupboard was before Hogwarts," Severus replied.

"Did you see anything from this past summer?" Albus asked.

"No, I didn't, Albus."

"Then, perhaps," Albus said hopefully, "it's stopped? Perhaps Voldemort's return has brought them around to the seriousness of the situation?"

"Don't say his name, Albus!" Severus hissed, clutching his left arm. "You know what it does!"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Albus said. "I forgot." Severus made a face at him.

"Of course you would," he sneered. "It doesn't send agony up your arm when you hear the name."

"So I propose that you speak to Harry about what you saw, Severus, and see what he has to say about it."

"No, Albus," Severus said. "I can't do that. I've already broken into his private business too far. I refuse to do more. All I wish to do is to become the Potter brat's guardian. I can stay distant from him, but see that he receives some proper discipline for apparently the first time in his life."

"And your version of proper discipline?"

"Not abuse," Severus hissed. "Don't you dare think that I would to anyone in my care."

"You do to your students in class enough," Albus pointed out. Severus hissed in response. It was true, and he didn't have a good excuse. Turning around and blaming them for being dunderheads certainly wasn't mature, and it definitely wasn't an excuse.

"Fine," he said after a moment. "But I won't to Potter, not now, I swear."

"What about the wards, Severus?" Albus said. "He needs the protection of blood."

"A blood adoption," Severus said after a moment's pause. "His mother's sacrifice will not be forgotten that way," Severus continued. "If we go through with a blood adoption, I will then become a blood relative. That is all the wards need, correct? A blood relative? Petunia may be related directly to Lily, and strengthen the wards that way, but I am a wizard, and I can strengthen them other ways too. After all is said and done, the wards will be the same strength, if not stronger. Will that satisfy you?"

"It will," Albus said. "If this is truly what you want, Severus."

"It is."

"You don't have to, you know. I'm sure someone else would be willing enough to take him in, if you're as sure as you are that his home condition is unacceptable."

"I am, and no, I won't let you choose his next caretaker," Severus said. "If you want a job done right, do it yourself."

"Then we can begin on the paperwork, I suppose," Albus said. "Consent from the Dursleys will not be required. I can over rule any objections they may have. They will simply receive an owl when it is complete."

"That is acceptable, Albus," Severus said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Severus," he said. "Will you be telling Harry?"

"No," Severus said. "Not until the ceremony. I'm not sure that the news of being placed in my care will be any easier on him than his relatives."

"I'm truly sorry if I ever placed Harry in danger." Severus nodded, and left the office.

.oO-Oo.

"No, no, no," Harry whispered, pale and panicked as he read a letter that had been dropped in front of his breakfast a few days before Christmas. "No, no!"

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron said, trying to get a glance at Harry's letter.

"Nothing!" Harry said, crumpling the paper.

"Aw, common, Harry," Ron said. "You look like you just saw Nearly Headless Nick become totally headless. What's up?"

"My relatives want me back for the holidays," Harry gave in, as he covered his face with his hands, dropping the paper on his half empty plate.

"Why?" Ron asked. "They've never wanted you before."

"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically.

"But why?" Ron pushed.

"I - I don't know," Harry stammered. "But it can't be good," he amended lamely. Ron nodded, confused.

"You can talk to Dumbledore," Ron suggested.

"Yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "I think I will. Thanks." He smiled wanly at his friend.

.oO-Oo.

"Professor?" Harry said after Transfiguration the next day. "I need to speak with Dumbledore. It's urgent."

"He's a busy man, Harry," McGonagall said. "What is it?"

"It's about the Christmas holidays," Harry tried to explain. "The Dursleys want me back for some reason," he shrugged ignorantly, "and I'd rather stay here." McGonagall raised a eyebrow.

"I see," she said. "I'm sure the Headmaster can take a few moments to deal with this." Minerva remembered warning Dumbledore years ago that the Dursleys were the worst kind of Muggles. And Harry was very intent on not going back if he was ready to talk to Dumbledore about this. Minerva suspected that Harry knew more than he was telling her, but she wanted him to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays as well, or perhaps spend it with the Weasleys.

After saying the password, "butterscotch chips," and watching the gargoyles jump away, Minerva let Harry go up the stairs alone to speak with Dumbledore. Harry was nervous, but he continued up the stairs as confidently as he could.

Thank God there wasn't anything incriminating in the letter. Just a simple line saying that they expected him back for Christmas. He could show it to Dumbledore without having to explain anything. He knocked on the Headmaster's door.

"Come in!" he heard Dumbledore call. Harry cautiously opened the door, slipped in, and closed it behind him.

"Harry!" Dumbledore said, but he remained looking at the papers on his desk.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he asked, but his voice nearly as steady as he would have liked. "It's about the Christmas holidays, sir. My relatives want me back, and I was hoping you would be able to tell them no. I'd rather stay here." He laid the Dursley's letter on Dumbledore's desk. He took it and read it over.

"Why don't you want to go back?" Dumbledore said.

"Because - " Harry began, groping for an excuse, "because I'd rather stay here, sir. It's just noisier with them."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Well, Harry," he sighed. "I would love to say that you can stay here for Christmas. But unless I have a specific and immediate reason why shouldn't go back there, they are your guardians, and I must respect the request. Is there any other reason you would like to tell me now?" Harry hesitated for a moment. All he would have to do is say it. Vernon rapes me! His mind was screaming it, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Even now, Dumbledore wasn't looking at him. And it hurt. "Anything at all?" Harry tried to make his mouth say what he was thinking, but no sound came out.

"No, sir," he finally said, sighing. "Thank you, sir." Harry grabbed the note from Dumbledore's desk, and turned.

"If you want to bring a reason to me later, that is fine too," Dumbledore offered.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Good day." Harry slipped out of Dumbledore's office, silently, and went to his dorms, where he sat on his bed with the curtains drawn. He cast a silencing charm, and began to cry silently into his hands, despite his promise never to cry again.

.oO-Oo.

The Christmas holidays were upon them, and Harry waited at Platform 9 to be picked up that Friday evening. He sat on his trunk, chin in his hands as his heart thumped in his ears. He could run away. He could take off right now. Take off and never come back. But if he did that, now, the Dursleys would likely get the police to look for a runaway child. He began to hyperventilate, but he consciously slowed his breathing. As tempting as running away sounded, he didn't really believe it would fix any of his problems. It would only make them worse.

But couldn't Vernon be arrested for what he was doing? Harry knew there were laws against it, but he'd also heard too many stories of no one helping when abuse was reported. If Vernon denied it, it would just be his word against Vernon's. And he knew that his relatives had done a good job of telling everyone in the neighborhood that he was a nut job. So if the social worker tried to talk to anyone else about it, that would be what she would get. And his last situation would be worse than the first. Harry ruled out going to the authorities.

He shivered and pulled his coat closer as the winter winds picked up. In a moment, a car drove up, and he recognized Vernon in the front seat.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "Did you have a good semester?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, looking at the cement as he dragged his trunk to the boot of the car. Once he was backed, he got into the front seat where Vernon was directing him. Harry couldn't bring himself to meet Vernon's gaze, the hungry one that he knew was observing him. He'd been away for months, and Vernon had already said he wouldn't use a prostitute. No, he wanted his own personal one instead.

They were perfectly silent the whole ride back to Private Drive. Harry got his trunk from the boot of the car, and brought it into his bedroom. Vernon was watching his every move like a hawk. It was making Harry nervous, having Vernon stare at him like that. Harry got the distinct feeling that Vernon was undressing him with his eyes. Harry's cheeks flushed even though he was fully clothed.

.oO-Oo.

"You what?" Snape screamed at Dumbledore.

"I had to, Severus!" Dumbledore said. "His relatives said they wanted him back for the holidays, and your paperwork isn't done yet! Look, it's only for a little better than a week. Be reasonable. Nothing that bad is going to happen to him in a week."