Harry’s feet slammed into the ground once the portkey released him, and he pitched forward, dizzy and disoriented. His arms flailed, trying to find something to hold, and he might have tumbled to the ground had he not felt Snape’s strong hand grasp his elbow, steadying him until he found his footing.

Snape released him once it was clear he was no longer in danger of falling over, and then swept up the hill, calling, “Come.”

Harry scurried after him, opening his extended touch and trailing what felt almost like a ‘hand’ on Snape’s back so that he would not lose him. He stumbled a few times on the uneven ground trying to keep up with Snape’s brisk pace, but he knew better than to complain.

Snape felt rather uncomfortable as he led the way up the hill towards the castle. Should he be helping the boy more? He did not really know how to interact with a blind person, and especially not a child who was blind. Blind wizards were very rare, though they did exist, and he had never had cause to interact with a blind muggle. He hoped the child would have the sense to say something if he needed help and hurried on, anxious to be within the heavily-protected castle as quickly as possible.

They went straight to the hospital wing, and Snape instructed Harry to take a seat on one of the beds. He watched Harry find one with his cane, then left as he saw Madam Pomfrey bustling over, giving her a nod as he turned.

Snape entered the headmaster’s office a couple of minutes later, letting the door slam shut behind him as he began to pace the floor in front of the headmaster’s desk.

“Blind, Headmaster! Potter is blind!” he exclaimed, seeming a bit at a loss.

“Yes, Severus, we did receive your Patronus. It is unexpected,” Dumbledore said placatingly.

“Unexpected!” Snape ranted. “In the time we lost him, I lost him, Potter was blinded, he lived on the streets, Merlin knows what else he faced…”

“Calm down, Severus. You cannot be everywhere or do everything. We are all human and fallible. The important thing is that he has been found and he is safe now.” Dumbledore calmly watched Snape pacing, radiating power and serenity.

“Safe,” Snape spat. “How does a blind wizard defend himself? He will be even more of a target--”

“Being blind is not the end of the world, Severus,” Dumbledore admonished him. “You do not know yet exactly what his injuries were, or whether you would have been able to prevent it anyway, and he seems to have adapted quite well since. He must be getting along fine if he was able to survive on the streets for any length of time.”

Snape growled, “But we might have been able to save his sight if we had found him sooner. At this point… It is highly unlikely even magical medicine will be able to fully restore his sight, if it can help him regain any vision at all.”

“Severus, Harry will be fine. Blind wizards are rare, but they do exist, and they get by just as well as their muggle counterparts,” Dumbledore soothed the man before him. “Now, the only way to know for certain exactly what Harry has been through in the past three years is to ask him, and to see what Poppy’s diagnostic scans reveal. Let us head to the hospital wing. We will inform Minerva on the way, but I do not want to overwhelm the boy with too many people at once.”

xxXxx

Harry was nervous at first when Professor Snape left him -- the man was gruff, but at least he sort of knew him. But the kindly matron soon set him at ease, plumping the pillows behind him and telling him to sit back. She asked if she could take his cane for him and told him exactly where she placed it on the nightstand. Harry relaxed minutely, and closed his extended touch, deciding to conserve his energy in case he needed to escape later.

“Now,” the nurse began, “I am going to perform a quick diagnostic scan on you, just to find any immediate issues. Just sit there and relax, it won’t take but a moment.”

Harry tried not to fidget, questions burning inside him even as he tried to tamp down the fear that was still smoldering at the back of his mind. Snape had given only a cursory explanation of magic on their way over, and there was still quite a lot Harry did not understand. He heard a scratching sound as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over him; it sounded similar to a pencil writing on paper, but was a bit harsher.

The scan took no more than half a minute, and afterwards Madam Pomfrey told him he could sit forward again.

“You seem relatively healthy, no pressing issues. A few scrapes and bruises of course, I can give you a salve for those a bit later.” She seemed to say this first part almost to herself, then her voice grew louder as she asked, “Are you hungry, Mr. Potter? I need to set up for another test, but it will take a bit of time and I thought you might like some food in the meantime,” she asked him kindly.

Harry nodded shortly, pleased to be receiving food so soon after his arrival. He heard the matron move briskly towards the other end of the wing. When she returned a couple of minutes later, a delicious aroma wafted towards him, causing his mouth to water.

“Here you are, Mr. Potter, I’ll just set this up over your legs on your lap. There’s soup in a bowl in the center and a piece of bread on the right-hand side. Here’s a glass of water, I’ll let you set it on the nightstand yourself so you can find it later.” With that, she began bustling around him, presumable preparing for the next test.

Harry ate slowly and carefully, savoring each bite and wary of keeping his stomach settled. Food had been scarce the last few days, and he knew from experience that if he ate too much or too quickly it would just come back up. As it was, he only managed to finish about half of the meal. Loathe as he was to leave food uneaten, he knew his protesting stomach would take no more.

“Finished?” Madam Pomfrey leaned over him as he set his spoon down. “That’s all right, there’s no prize for cleaning the plate. I’ll be back in just a moment.” She took the tray, presumably to be washed, and returned a minute later.

“Alright, this scan will take a bit longer. I’ll just need you to lie down, all the way, there you go, and lie still. I’ll let you know when you can sit back up,” She commanded him.

Harry complied somewhat nervously, worried about what the procedure would show and about being so exposed and in such a vulnerable position in front of a stranger, even one as kind as Madam Pomfrey. He clenched his teeth, reminding himself that he had made his decision and he was not leaving this newfound world unless they tried to send him back to Emily and Jack, or the Dursleys, or to someone equally as horrible.

The nurse began waving her wand over him once again, and he heard the odd scratching sound resume. But this time, the scan lasted long minutes. Harry’s nervousness steadily increased as time drew on, reaching a point where he was considering just bolting from the room when the scratching finally stopped and Madam Pomfrey took a step back.

“You can sit up now, dear,” she informed him pleasantly, and Harry obeyed. He was curious about what the scan would have shown, and what she would now know, but was wary of asking.

“Would you like to wash up a bit dear, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way? There’s a full bathroom off the wing I can show you to.”

Harry nodded gratefully. He was a bit afraid she would want to help him and he did not want to expose himself in front of her, but he had not had a full shower or bath in eight long months. The offer of cleaning himself thoroughly was too good to pass up; he would simply have to find a way out of it if she insisted on staying. He hopped off the bed, grabbing his cane, and took the matron’s proffered elbow, pleasantly surprised at how easily she performed a sighted lead with him.

Once in the bathroom, she showed him where the shampoo, soap, and comb were, setting his hand on each. She told him she would leave a towel on the toilet next to the shower, and fresh clothes on the hook behind the door. She turned the shower on for him and then left, shutting the door behind her.

Harry enjoyed the shower immensely, luxuriating in scrubbing the layers of grime away and the feeling of the warm water pouring over him. He wanted to stay in the shower until the water grew cold, but he had no idea what kind of rules this place had and was unwilling to risk it. When he finished, he stepped out and dried himself off, then began attacking his snarled hair with the comb. When he finally had freed the locks of all tangles, he was surprised at how long it was; his fringe now reached all the way down to his upper lip, the hair on the side of his head was at the level of his chin, and the hair in back was practically shoulder-length. He thought to himself that he would have to see if there was some way he could get a haircut, impatiently brushing the annoying strands out from his eyes.

Harry pulled the clothes that Madam Pomfrey had left him off the hook and began dressing. He had no trouble with the soft, cottony, pyjama-like trousers she had provided, but the top mystified him at first. Eventually, he realized the long, smock-like garment was probably a hospital gown or something similar, with an open back and a few ties. Unwilling to leave his back exposed, he put it on so the opening was in front and held it closed with his left hand. He retrieved his cane from where he had left it by the door and gave it a thorough scrubbing in the sink. Then he ventured back out into the wing.

xxXxx

Snape and Dumbledore entered the hospital wing just as Madam Pomfrey emerged from the bathroom where she had left Harry. Eyes lighting on them, the matron motioned for them to follow her to the office. She closed the door behind the three of them, situating herself so she could see out through the windows to see when Harry finished his shower.

“Yes, Poppy?” Dumbledore prompted her. “Did you perform the scan on young Harry?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey replied. “He’s just taking a shower now. The poor boy was covered in dirt.”

“Well, what did it show?” Snape bit out impatiently.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a stern look, but pulled out two rolled up parchments and handed them over. “The initial scan did not reveal too much, a few scrapes and bruises, along with malnutrition that will need to be treated. The deeper scan revealed much more, of course. And while it is not as bad as we might have feared, it is also not as good as we might have hoped.”

Snape frowned as his eyes scanned the longer parchment, not looking up, but Dumbledore glanced at the matron and gave her an encouraging nod, the shorter parchment open before him.

Madam Pomfrey asked for the long parchment back from Snape, drew a breath and began, “The malnutrition has been chronic, and it has stunted his growth. If we keep him on a healthy diet moving forward and get him up to a healthy weight, he should be able to eventually achieve a height a bit closer to average, but he will likely always be on the short side, and he will certainly not attain the full height he would have.

“He has scarring on his retinas and corneas from damage that did not properly heal. It may be possible, though difficult, to reduce some of the scarring which could help with his vision somewhat. However, he has also had damage to his occipital lobe, which would have been nearly impossible to mitigate even if he had been found right away. The only way to have prevented such damage would have been to take him immediately after the accident to magical healers and they had been able to manage the swelling and spreading necrosis. Unfortunately, the magical world does not understand the brain much better than the muggle one.

“He has some faint scarring on his face around the eyes, although it is barely noticeable, particularly with his hair that long, also scarring on his right forearm from burns, and scarring on his right hip from burns and a deep laceration. There is also scarring in the soft tissue of the hip area, particularly the iliotibial band. It looks bad enough to possibly give him a limp, though I did not observe one, and the damage will likely only be partially reversible at this point. He has multiple scars from multiple lacerations to his back and upper arms, and he has previously suffered a couple of cracked ribs as well. Other than that, there are numerous bruises and contusions, he fractured one of his hands a couple of years ago, and of course his lightning scar.”

Snape cleared his throat. “How much of that would you guess is from the accident?”

“Based on the timing of the healing of each,” Madam Pomfrey scanned the parchment for a moment, “I would guess the main things not from the accident are the scars on his back, the cracked ribs and fractured hand, and the malnutrition. The malnutrition has been going on for quite some time, since before the accident, and the lacerations to his back and injuries to his ribs and hand likely occurred after.”

Snape glared at Dumbledore as he asked the matron, “And what would you guess the scarring on his back is from?”

“I have not actually seen them myself, so it’s a bit difficult to tell,” she answered. “But whatever the cause, the child has clearly been through quite a lot. And he hasn’t said a word to me yet, either.”

Dumbledore interrupted Snape before he could ask his next question, his eyes kind if a bit worried as he stated, “You are likely quite right, Poppy. However, we could stand around all day speculating, and logistics need to be discussed.” Snape’s glare softened marginally. “I will need to make a few discreet trips to the Ministry and to the Dursleys to get his guardianship taken care of as soon as possible. It is rather fortunate that the Dursleys still have legal custody of Harry in our world, as I do not anticipate that it will be difficult to convince them to sign the documents.”

“Are you planning on taking custody over yourself, Albus?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Yes. It seems the simplest solution. I believe I will have stronger legal and political footing than many other options if it comes to fighting against powerful families such as the Malfoys, and it would not seem unreasonable to the general public that Harry would be brought up by his muggle relatives but have his guardianship changed once he enters school.

“Taking care of those details will take me a few days, perhaps a week, so in the meantime, Severus would you watch Harry? He should probably start getting used to my quarters, so you will have to move up there temporarily. I will be around on occasion, but I do not want to leave him alone during his first week in a strange world.”

“But… Surely someone else… I do not know how to deal with the boy, how to interact, surely there is someone better?” Snape questioned.

“He is already somewhat familiar with you, Severus, and you should be able to spare the time. I am sure you will figure out how to interact with him. Just communicate -- ask him what he needs and what he does not need. I am sure you will do fine together.”

Just then, Madam Pomfrey spotted Harry making his way back out into the hospital wing, and she motioned to the two men.

xxXxx

As Harry found his bed again, he heard three sets of footsteps approaching from one of the ends of the hospital wing. He stood by the end of the bed to meet them, his feet planted solidly and his cane gripped loosely in his hands, ready for anything without giving the appearance of wariness. He debated for a moment over re-opening his extended touch, unsure of whether he should preserve his energy, but his anxiety over the new situation eventually won out. He felt the familiar forms of Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape approaching, led by a tall man with long hair and a long beard.

As they came within a few feet of him, Madam Pomfrey spoke from the group, saying, “Harry, this is Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

Harry held out his right hand towards the man in the center when they came to a stop in front of him. “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” he stated, his voice firm but emotionless.

The hand that engulfed his was old, but surprisingly strong, and a merry voice said from somewhere high above him, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Harry. We were very glad to hear from you; we have been worried about you for quite some time.”

Harry frowned inwardly at this, although his expression remained blank. How had they known to worry? Had they known when he left Emily’s place? How separate were the magical authorities from the normal ones? And if they had been worried about him, they could not have known where he was, which led to the question of how their owl had found him -- something he had not really considered earlier. His speeding thoughts were cut off as the Headmaster spoke again.

“Harry, would you care to sit please? We have some things the four of us need to discuss.”

Harry complied without a word, perching carefully on the edge of his bed. He had to consciously hide his amazement when the Headmaster swished a thin stick in his hand and three chairs appeared, which the three adults sat in, albeit somewhat stiffly in Professor Snape’s case.

“I know you likely have many questions, Harry, which you will be able to ask in just a little while. However, I think a few basics should probably be covered first; it may be overwhelming but I believe a brief overview would be helpful. Is it safe to guess that your relatives told you nothing about magic?” the man asked, his tone kind.

Harry shook his head a bit jerkily, thinking of Aunt Petunia’s reaction whenever the ‘m’ word was mentioned around the Dursley house.

Harry felt Professor Snape shift a bit in his seat, crossing his arms, but Dumbledore nodded solemnly and continued. “To begin with, your parents were both a witch and a wizard, and a part of our world, the magical world. We have kept our world mostly separate and completely secret from the nonmagical world, also referred to as the muggle world, for a few centuries now. Magic is usually passed down from parent to child, but it does sometimes appear in a child with nonmagic parents, as in the case of your mother.” Harry was unsure, but thought the Headmaster may have hesitated for a moment before saying, “After your parents died, you were left with your aunt and uncle, your only remaining relatives. But you were always meant to come to Hogwarts when you turned eleven; it is where your parents were educated. Your name has been down since you were born.

"It may be wise if further details about the magical world are explained later; there is quite a lot to learn. But for now, do you have any questions?" The Headmaster's voice was gentle.

Harry shook his head mutely, his lips pressed into a thin line. His mind was swirling with questions about magic -- how it worked, how much it could do… If his parents had been magical, he wondered how they had died in a car accident. But perhaps magical transportation and medical treatment was not so very different from ‘muggle.’ But he did not ask any of his questions -- how could he know what was safe to ask yet? He did not know these people, and very few adults in his life had ever truly encouraged questions.

The Headmaster nodded and continued, “Given the circumstances we found you in, it seems prudent to find you a new living situation, and as soon as possible. If you are amenable, I believe it will be simplest if I take over your guardianship, at least temporarily. I have a lot of influence within the Ministry of Magic, so I should be able to do so fairly quickly and smoothly. You will be able to live here until school starts, and begin to get acquainted with the school and with the magical world. Does that sound agreeable?” Dumbledore asked.

Although Harry kept his face carefully blank as he nodded his head slightly, his fear was beginning to edge a bit into anger. Did he not have any real say in the matter? Oh, he knew the Headmaster had phrased it as though he had a choice, but how could he truly say no when no other option had been given? And what was this about having ‘influence within the Ministry of Magic’?” Would the authorities not be willing to give custody to the man otherwise, was there something wrong with him? His nervousness notched up a level, but he contained his desire to immediately run. He could practically feel what seemed like power radiating from Headmaster Dumbledore, and to a slightly lesser extent from Professor Snape; he did not think he would make it far running at the moment. So he would stick to his original plan to wait and bide his time, feeling out the situation before deciding whether to escape. Besides, he was used to adults trying to control him, even if he did hate it. He could handle it for now. As he stiffened his resolve, he turned his attention back to the Headmaster.

“Good,” Dumbledore was saying rather cheerily. “I will be rather busy for the next few days then, making the arrangements, but Professor Snape will take you up to my quarters later on and help you get settled in while I am gone. And you may certainly ask him, or myself or Madam Pomfrey, any questions you may have at any point.”

Harry’s anger deepened just slightly at being shuffled around like unwanted luggage, but he only nodded his head, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Now," Dumbledore's tone grew slightly more serious, "I believe Madam Pomfrey wished to discuss some treatment plans with us." He turned towards the matron expectantly.

Harry's heartbeat picked up slightly. Treatment plans? For what? He wasn't sick or injured! Sure he had a few scrapes, but that was normal. And the nurse had said she would just give him a salve. So what were they treating? Was this some trap, some way of getting him further under their control, get him to let his guard down? He cursed himself mentally. He had heard of kidnappers who took children to use them and exploit them, particularly street children who had no one to report them missing. The story had seemed too elaborate for such a thing -- Dumbledore had even appeared to conjure chairs! (although they would not have known he could sense them of course) -- and it had seemed to fit too well with the weird things he was able to do. But perhaps he had just wanted to be special. How foolish of him to trust them! He began thinking of escape routes, running through possibilities in his mind, and growing increasingly frightened as he despaired at his chances of success.

His wariness and increased breathing tempo did not go unnoticed by the three adults. Madam Pomfrey shared a glance with Dumbledore, and Snape's frown deepened.

Madam Pomfrey spoke up, hoping to reassure Harry. "Child, there's nothing to be worried about. We simply noticed you have some old injuries and conditions that were never fully tended to. Your hip for example, it still pains you at times, correct?"

Harry hesitated before nodding slightly. It was not a good sign that they had picked up on his wariness. But it was true that his hip still bothered him occasionally, usually in the morning and at night if he had overworked it, and certainly in the cold. But how could they know that?

The matron nodded encouragingly. "You also are rather small and underweight for your age; you would be healthier and overall feel better and likely have more energy if we could get your weight up a bit."

At this Harry frowned, almost imperceptibly. He had been living on the streets for a while, were they implying he had done a bad job of caring for himself?

The matron smiled slightly. "I think the main things, for now, are to start you on a nutrition potion that will give you some extra calories while we get your appetite up to a normal range -- not to worry, dear, it's not your fault," she explained at the faint frown on Harry's face. "And then I also have a cream we can apply that will help with scarring; it may help your hip at least a bit. We can also apply it to your back if you'd like," she added kindly, but when she saw Harry stiffen she hurried to add, "Or you may just apply it yourself to your hip, that's fine as well."

How do they know about my back, about what Jack did? Harry wondered, nervous and a bit ashamed. How can they know so much about me?

The matron looked down for a moment at something in her lap, glanced at Dumbledore and then said, "I believe those were the main items of concern that showed up on the scan. Are there any other things that bother you, Harry, or do you have any questions?" Her voice seemed so kind.

Harry shook his head in response. The scan? That much stuff showed up on that scan? Harry thought. How much more do they know about me? He still felt wary, but at least he had some explanation.

She smiled at him. "All right, Harry, you can just sit back then for a little while. We'll get you taken care of."

Harry scooted a bit farther onto the bed but was too tense still to sit back. He closed off his extended touch and heard the three adults stand and walk back down to the end of the wing, and tried to relax a bit while he waited. He suddenly realized just how exhausted he was from the long day, and was hoping it would not be too long until he was taken to where he would be staying. Perhaps he could find some privacy so that he could let his guard down a bit, or even possibly a place where he could feel safe napping for a short while.

xxXxx

A few hours later, he was following Snape's quiet footsteps down the corridors of Hogwarts, trailing just behind with his grubby backpack hoisted over one shoulder and his cane sweeping the floor in front of him. He contemplated the overwhelming amount of changes and new information that had been thrown at him, and marveled a bit at the soft fabric of the new jeans and T-shirt that had been given to him.

Snape was once again uncomfortable leading Harry through the halls of the school to the Headmaster's quarters. How did he seem to always get landed with these unwanted jobs? Sure, he had worked hard to protect the boy, and planned to continue doing so, but he had hoped to do so from the shadows. He was not a kind man or a man truly suited to work with children -- his students could attest to that. He glanced back at the small, scruffy-haired boy trailing just behind him, reassuring himself that it would just be a few days, a week perhaps.

He paused in front of the stone gargoyle, muttering “Mars Bars” to it, and watched it spring aside. Harry followed him past it and seemed to do well enough navigating the moving staircase, although Snape had been a bit worried that the top where the revolving stairs met the stone of the next floor would cause him problems.

Stepping off of the staircase, Harry got the impression that the room was rather large, with a high ceiling. It reminded him a bit of the feeling he got in the library in London, although it was not as quiet. The room was full of strange little noises, almost sounding like a tinker’s workshop with all of the puffing, whirring, and soft pting sounds. But Harry’s skin crawled as he heard a swell of whispering rise up around him, as though the room was full of people, although he did not hear the rustles of movement or feel the sense of fullness in the air that would usually accompany such a crowd. He tried re-opening his extended touch, but he was exhausted and could not force his range to extend beyond a five-foot radius. He stiffened for a moment, then shifted his feet a bit farther apart, centering his weight and bending his knees a bit in readiness as he tried to loosen his muscles.

While he was considering where the voices could be coming from, and whether he had actually just stepped into a room full of people, he nearly startled when Snape snapped out, “Mr. Potter, they are just wizard portraits. All of the former headmasters of Hogwarts, in fact, though they are still the worst gossips in the castle. But aside from feeding the rumor mill they cannot harm you.”

Harry’s face flushed just slightly and he straightened up a bit, feeling mildly foolish. “Portraits, sir?” he queried tentatively, wary of being rebuffed. “They talk?”

“Yes. Unlike their muggle counterparts, wizard photographs and portraits usually can move around, even leaving their frames, and portraits generally speak, taking on the personality of their subject to a limited extent.”

“Can a muggle photograph be made to do that?”

“No,” Snape answered, a bit curtly. “It is done upon creation.”

Harry nodded slightly and closed his extended touch, then Snape said, “Come. I will show you to the Headmaster’s quarters. These are his offices, but straight ahead is a door that leads to his rooms.”