Curled up in the centre of the cellar, lay Harry Potter.

He looked asleep. His bed was made up of the hard floor and a single, holey and very dirty blanket, the corner of which he had cuddled to his face. There was a collar around his neck, which chained him to a ring in the middle of the floor. He was dressed in clothes so thin and raggedy Severus couldn’t even tell what they were supposed to be.

Severus looked around the rest of the cellar. Almost empty. There were two dog bowls on the floor. One held a little water and the other had been knocked upside-down, surrounded by a dark, sticky puddle that smelled of Wolfsbane Potion. On the floor next to them was what remained of Harry’s last meal: a few mouldy bread crumbs. A bucket stood in one corner, but by the looks of things, the chain wasn’t long enough for Harry to reach it properly.

His hackles rose even further. How dare they! How could anyone treat a child this way? Severus was no stranger to abuse, but this was sicker than anything he had ever endured.

Harry stirred slightly, and Severus’ attention snapped back to him. All he could think about now was the best way to get him out of here. He started making his way down the steps, trying not to breathe in the putrid mixture of potion, sweat and human waste. Harry opened his eyes, and looked up at him.

Upon seeing Severus, Harry jumped in surprise, letting out a small cry, and started backing away rapidly until the chain was pulled tort. Severus stopped, not wanting him to hurt himself. “Harry?”

He didn’t get any response, and he remembered what Mrs Figg had said about Harry not responding to his name. He wondered if the boy actually knew it was his name. Now he’d seen what the Dursleys were capable of, nothing would surprise him.

“Sshh, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you,” Severus said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He wasn’t really an expert on young children, especially traumatised ones, and Harry just continued watching him warily.

Perhaps if he sat on the floor—Severus tried not to wrinkle his nose at the thought—it might help; as it was, he towered over the child. He lowered himself as carefully as he could, careful not to jar his knee.

Right. First things first. “Harry,” Severus said gently, “I’m going to take your collar off, all right? Don’t be startled.” He raised his wand, and the collar slowly undid itself and fell to the floor.

Harry stared at it in utter astonishment, and he looked as if he were thinking hard. Finally he slowly crawled nearer. Severus sat very still, not daring even to breathe for fear of scaring him into the corner. He could now see the marks where the collar had been—Harry’s neck was bruised and rubbed raw, in some places with dried blood. Severus realised why. The collar had looked close-fitting as a boy, but when he transformed, and as such grew bigger, it must have half-strangled him.

Coming right up to him, Harry sniffed him, and said questioningly, “Daddy?”

Severus froze. Werewolves had a very strong memory for smells, and he knew he and James shared a scent from being bitten by the same wolf, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Sorry,” he managed to get out. “I’m not Daddy, Harry.”

Harry’s face crumpled in disappointment, but he didn’t back away. Severus spoke again, even more gently. “Harry, I’m going to take you away, somewhere you can be properly looked after. You can have nice clothes, and food, and a proper bed. Would you like that?”

Hope appeared in Harry’s eyes. The effect was heartrending. Severus smiled as Harry nodded eagerly.

“All right then.” Severus opened his arms. “Would you like me to carry you?”

Harry hesitated, but climbed into them. Severus realised with disgust that the blanket and Harry’s clothes were heavily soiled. Sweet Merlin, the people had him living in his own excrement—it was a miracle he hadn’t died of some infection by now.

Despite this, he held the boy firmly to him and slowly stood up. “Here we go, then.”

Harry wriggled, letting out a stifled cry. Severus looked at him. “What is it?”

The little boy pointed at the blanket, which had dropped to the floor. Severus curled his lip, but Harry kept pointing and making the noise, so he awkwardly knelt down and picked it up by a corner, planning on giving it a good thorough wash before he let Harry put it anywhere near his face again.

It was very awkward getting back up the cellar steps with Harry in his arms; Severus needed both arms to carry him and a third to use his walking stick. In the end he had to levitate Harry, who seemed to like it—his eyes grew even brighter and he rolled over in the air, giving a small giggle.

Petunia and Dudley seemed to have disappeared. The front door was still open. Severus thought this was probably a good thing. After seeing what he’d seen, he couldn’t trust himself not to cast one of the nasty curses he had mentioned earlier, and if Harry didn’t have to see his relatives again, so much the better. He’d let Albus find and deal with them.

Now he was up the stairs, Severus ended the levitation spell and managed to get Harry into a position that meant he could still use his stick, and left the house, heading towards Mrs Figg’s.

The moment the morning sun hit Harrys’s face, he cried out and buried his face in Severus’ shoulder. Severus rubbed his back gently, trying to think how to help—obviously being kept in a dark cellar for months on end would make him sensitive to the light; he was stupid not to have predicted that. Harry kept his face hidden all the time they were outside, and once Mrs Figg had let them in, Severus drew the blinds. “All right Harry, you can look now.” To Mrs Figg he said, “Call Albus, and Minerva McGonagall, and run a bath.”

Harry didn’t seem to like Mrs Figg, nor did he want to be put down, clinging to Severus like a lifeline. So Severus carried him up to the bathroom and stood holding him while Mrs Figg ran the bath.

“I’ll get him some decent clothes, as well,” Mrs Figg said before she left them to it. “And some nappies, I suppose.”

“Some shampoo would be good, too,” Severus said, noting how matted Harry’s hair was. “Child-friendly. And I think he’s going to need a lot of it.”

He managed to coax Harry into letting go so he could undress him for the bath. A shiver ran down Severus’ spine as his thin little body was uncovered. He could see every one of Harry’s ribs, and everywhere he looked there were bruises, and scars.

Severus recognised the scars. He had a few of them himself. They were the signs of an isolated werewolf—self-inflicted bites and scratches. Nothing that would happen under the potion’s effects.

He might have known, if they couldn’t even give him a decent place to sleep, they wouldn’t be making sure he took his potion. Severus wondered if he had ever had it. The taste was foul; maybe they had just left it for him every month and he, after discovering how horrid it was, ignored it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as the first pang of guilt descended. No doubt the first of many. If he had just said yes to Albus in the first place, the poor boy need never have gone through this.

Harry said nothing, not knowing what Severus was talking about. Severus chose not to enlighten him, and just lowered him gently into the warm bath and picked up the soap.

“Might need a few bars,” he muttered as he began to scrub Harry free of the grime, as gently as he could.

“Severus?” Albus’ voice was a welcome relief to the dark, self-blame thoughts starting to run around his head.

“Up here,” Severus called. “In the bathroom.”

After a minute, there was a knock on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door opened, and Albus looked in. He opened his mouth to say something, spotted Harry, and lost whatever it was, just standing in shock. Severus decided to ignore Albus while he was speechless, and concentrate on the washing.

“Arms up, Harry,” he instructed, and the little boy obeyed, wriggling when Severus did his armpits.

With the exception of the ‘Daddy’, Harry had yet to actually speak. Severus was becoming quite worried.

“What … on … earth …? Severus, what happened to his neck?”

“I suggest you go and look in the cellar,” Severus said shortly. “That will tell you all you need to know.”

“I … I will.” Albus swallowed. “Where’s Arabella?”

“Getting him some decent clothes. And you don’t have to say it.”

“Say what?”

“That all of this could have been avoided had I just done as you asked in the first place. I’m thinking it already, you don’t have to point it out. Harry, you can put your arms down now.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Albus said, and left the bathroom without another word.

Mrs Figg returned more or less the same moment as Minerva arrived. Severus started attacking Harry’s rat’s nest of hair with the large bottle of shampoo, whilst explaining the situation to Minerva. She looked nothing short of horrified. Severus decided Harry was as clean as he could get him in one bath, dried him off and plonked him on the potty Mrs Figg had also bought, just in time.

“There,” he said to Harry once he was finished. “That must be much better than using your clothes, isn’t it?”

Harry just looked at him, and down at the potty, as if trying to figure it out. Severus sighed, and opened up the pack of nappies. “Minerva, can you look him over? He needs a full medical examination.”

“Of course.”