All had been well. The remaining death eaters at large had been quiet for years. Frequent patrols to Privet Drive had shown that – at least from outward appearances – all was as it should be.

That night, things abruptly changed. Albus Dumbledore had been startled out of a deep slumber by a shrill alarm sometime after midnight. The blood wards surrounding 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging had fallen.

The man had immediately sent out his patronus to rouse members of the Order of the Phoenix to action. He, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, who were still at Hogwarts castle following the close of the recent school year, were the first on the scene, apparating directly to the muggle home. The Dursleys' back door had been jimmied open while the front had been left entirely ajar. Quickly, the three professors slipped inside, soon to be joined by others.

“Up here,” Minerva called quietly a few minutes later. She peered down over the banister at her colleagues below. “The Dursley parents...” The woman simply shook her head, looking back at the two bodies and the still fresh blood.

Remus Lupin stepped out from a room behind her, having proceeded up the stairs after directing two others to search outside. “Looks like a robbery gone wrong. No one else is up here. No sign of Harry or his cousin.”

“Perhaps, they are both at a friend's house?” Albus proposed, beginning to feel grateful that the boy had not been present.

“There is no sign that the boy lives here at all,” Severus remarked, staring around the lounge with its many photographs – all void of a dark-haired child. Minerva frowned, opening her mouth to say something, when a small noise drew their attention to the stairs.

The Potions Master glided forward, wand at the ready as he approached the door to the small cupboard beneath the staircase. Reaching out with potion-stained fingers, he grasped the bolt which held the door shut and slowly slid it open. As the door swung free of its casing, a piece of paper fell from it, the tape holding it in place having failed. Written with crayon in childish letters were the words, “Hary's Room.”

And suddenly, all present came to the dawning realization that they were not just at the scene of a burglary and double-homicide.

Crouching down, Severus noted the flimsy mattress lining the floor of the cupboard and the few broken toys upon the shelf. “Lumos,” he canted quietly. At first, he didn't spot what he was hoping he wouldn't find in that dank little space. No. It wasn't until he had moved into the small doorway that he was able to see the child, huddled as far beneath the stairs as he could get, a thin, tattered blanket pulled up over his head in an attempt to shield him from view.

“Severus?” Albus prompted when he remained crouched there, his tone reminding him that time was of the essence, that muggle authorities would undoubtedly be on their way if they weren't already.

“Potter,” Severus quietly addressed the small, shuddering form. The boy immediately stilled. “Come out from there.”

If anything, the boy attempted to do the opposite, hunching impossibly further beneath his meager shield. The man shifted back out of the cupboard, turning to face his employer. A lump had formed in his throat despite himself.

“The boy is in here,” he confirmed. Shaking his head, he silently indicated that the child had made no move to come to him.

Remus had made his way down the steps and proceeded forward. The Potions Master moved to allow him to make an attempt. Getting onto his hands and knees, the werewolf stuck his head into the tiny room.

“Harry? It's okay, Harry,” he said gently, tone coaxing. “I know you must be scared and you have no idea who any of us are. My name is Remus. I was friends with your parents.”

The blanket came down a bit, allowing a pair of eyes to peek out at the man in the dark. No other move was made.

Sirens began to sound in the distance.

“That's right, Harry. Your dad, James, and your mum, Lily – we were all good friends,” Remus spoke encouragingly. Slowly he held out an open hand to the child. “No one will hurt you. All of us here, now, we're all here to take you somewhere safe. If you'll let us. Won't you please come out, Harry?”

For a long moment, it seemed that they might have to remove the child by force, after all, before a small hand timidly reached out to take Remus' calloused one.

“Good, Harry,” the man praised, guiding the boy out into the entryway. “Very good, thank you.” Slowly, the child emerged, wide green eyes flitting to each of the other adults present. Severus felt a surge of rage while Albus and Minerva instantly felt sick to their stomachs.

The boy's left eye was surrounded by heavy bruising, a clearly defined hand print marring that side of his face, although both had started to yellow at the edges. His lip had been split, dried blood filling the cut. And he was small and thin – far too thin for the grungy, over-sized garments hanging from his frame.

All the while, Remus kept up his soothing monologue. “It's okay, Harry. Everything's going to be fine. We're going to take you away from here. Is that all right, Harry? Will you come with me?”

Harry stared back at him warily, gaze distrustful. What other choice did he have, though? He didn't know any of these people, but his relatives... his aunt and uncle, in any case... they were... If these people were taking him away, now, Harry was quite certain it must mean that his aunt and uncle were dead, just like he thought they were after the horrible things he'd heard happening above his head. Finally, just as Albus was about to order their departure, the eight-year-old gave a jerky nod.

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus told him with a warm smile. “Can I pick you up? Is that okay?”

The child tensed, but warily gave another nod. The brown-haired man lifted the boy as he stood to his feet, circling his arms securely around him. He looked to Albus who gave him a nod.

“Harry, I need you to hold tight to me, okay? We're going to do something that is probably a little scary and it might make you feel sick, but I promise it will be okay and I promise I will explain later, all right?” The boy's hands had tangled into the fabric of the man's worn robes. “Are you ready?”

Remus waited until the boy gave another nod. Then, as he cradled the back of Harry's head, the man and his companions all turned, promptly vanishing from the horror on Privet Drive with a series of quiet pops.

0o0o0

Apparating away from Little Whinging proved itself to be but the start of the adults' struggle with the boy. As was often frequently the case with young children and those who had not traveled by apparation before, young Harry had gotten sick and vomited bile down the back of Remus' robes. When Remus set the child on his feet to check on him, the boy escaped his hold and darted away, only to be caught by Minerva.

It had been no easy task to calm the boy in order to safely get him from the gates into the castle itself. Severus had finally cast a mild somnus spell upon the child, which had earned the disapproval of his colleagues, despite its almost immediate effectiveness. They were then able to transport the boy to the Hospital Wing without him further injuring himself, so the Potions Master considered it a win.

Albus sent his patronus on ahead and Poppy Pomfrey met them at the door to the ward. “Lay him here,” the mediwitch instructed, indicating a waiting bed. Without further prompting, she had proceeded to treat the sleeping child, casting scans that would not only diagnose his present condition, but also catalog injuries and maladies he had suffered the rest of his life as well.

The bruising on the boy's face and his split lip were not the only injuries the child had. A patchwork of other bruises of varying age littered his limbs and torso and a collection of welts which looked like they'd been inflicted with a belt marred his back. It was not until after she had healed the boy's injuries that Poppy spoke a word to anyone else.

“Ten,” she uttered when they gathered around to hear what she had to say. Her eyes were flashing and lips trembling with barely contained fury. Severus had to look away from the woman, having seen her this way before. “He has had ten broken bones – in seven years! Ten! His arm has been pulled from its socket on no less than three different occasions. Two concussions. And as I am certain you can tell from his size, he is malnourished. I doubt those people have ever fed him properly in the entire time he has been with them.”

Poppy's gaze fixed fiercely upon the Headmaster, rage in her tone. “Albus, why was no one been checking in on the child?!” she demanded.

Albus diverted his gaze as four sets of eyes settled upon him. His ears rang with Minerva's silent I-told-you-so. He could feel Severus' disgust that he had condemned another child to such a fate even while Remus' disappointment that he had failed the boy so completely weighed heavily upon him. Everything had seemed so well.

“Arabella was to help look after the boy,” he began haltingly, in explanation but not excuse. “She reported that the boy was well-behaved when he'd stayed with her, quiet – perhaps a bit unusually so. Nothing that would raise any alarm. I confess... I had not considered that perhaps the situation ought to have been observed from within the home, as well. They were the boy's family. Blood...”

“Petunia Evans was never exactly a kind person,” Severus drawled. “And I do believe I had mentioned that she had cut all ties with her sister whilst Lily was still in school.” Though to be fair, not even he had thought his childhood nemesis would be so cruel to her own nephew.

“What happens to Harry, now, Albus?” Remus asked quietly, glancing over at the small child. “Who will take care of him now? And after what he's already suffered...”

Albus, too, regarded the boy, blue eyes solemn. “I am not certain. I do believe that perhaps it would be wise to first assess the boy's mental and emotional condition before determining another placement,” he said wearily. “It is evident that I was too hasty in my last decision. I owe it to Harry to not commit the same mistake again.” 

They lapsed into silence, each sharing similar thoughts and concerns. Blissfully unaware of anything, young Harry Potter slept on.