Weeping Willow by MellarkandArt

“Ow!” Ron yelped.

It had been a bad summer for Harry, most of it spent locked away in Dudley’s second bedroom. It would have been a total bust if not for his stay at The Burrow. Harry was grateful that it was over, all the same.

He thought things would improve upon his return to Hogwarts, but they only seemed to be taking a turn for the worse.

Ron and he had just arrived at the school by a less than ideal method of transportation. They had been blocked at the entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and in a moment of panic, Ron suggested taking Mr. Weasley’s Ford Anglia to Scotland.

The car just so happened to be a flying car, so. Of course they did.

They quickly caught up with the train and followed it all the way to Hogwarts. It had been an adventure for the ages, soaring amidst the clouds like an airplane.

It had all been going so great until the car broke down in midair and they crashed into the Whomping Willow immediately upon their arrival at the school.

Harry really needed to stop taking Ron’s suggestions.

One could say at least they hadn’t been hurt, but even that didn’t seem to ring true any longer.

“What’s wrong?” Harry choked out, still breathless from the crash but looking over to his friend in concern.

“My wrist,” Ron moaned. Sure enough, his left hand was clutching his right wrist and he was grimacing in pain. “I think I broke it.”

“We gotta go to the hospital wing,” Harry said, picking up his friend’s broken wand from where he had dropped it in the grass. It was split clean in half, save for the single string of unicorn hair just barely keeping the two pieces together.

“N-no we’ll get in trouble for sure,” Ron said.

“You’re hurt, and I think we’re pretty much screwed either way!”

“What an elegant way of putting it, Mr. Potter,” said a very cold voice from right behind them. Harry jumped, whipping around to meet the gaze of his least favorite professor. Harry’s breath caught in his throat just at the sight of him. Of all the professors to find them it just had to be this greasy git… but of course. At this point, why would Harry expect anything less?

“Professor Snape!” Harry exclaimed. “I-we… er.”

“Your demonstration of etiquette is impressive as always,” Snape sneered in disdain. “You two are truly in over your minuscule heads this time. You will follow me-“

“But sir!” Harry cut him off in a rush, a fine display of Gryffindor courage. “Ron hurt his wrist, he really needs to go to the hospital wing.”

If looks could kill… Snape had murdered Harry then and there with his glare. He broke it off only to look over at Ron who still held a viselike grip on his wrist. Snape sighed dramatically.

“Fine. Weasley!” he snapped and Ron jerked in response.

“Sir?” He inquired tentatively.

“Go to the hospital wing. Your head of house will meet you there. I’m sure that she’ll have many choice words for you in regards to your display of pure idiocy,” Snape sneered for like the fifth time in several minutes. Or perhaps the sneer had never once left his face? Harry wasn’t sure.

He made to go with Ron before he was stopped in his tracks.

“Stay put, Potter!” Snape barked. “You will come with me.” His tone of voice could freeze water in the desert. It underlined the promise of painful and immediate death should Harry decide not to obey.

Immediate death shouldn’t be painful, but Harry was certain that Snape could find a way.

Snape turned on his heel and stalked towards the castle, black robes billowing just above his ankles.

Harry gulped audibly and sent a final horrified look in Ron’s direction before resigning himself to his dreadful fate and hurrying to catch up with Snape’s brisk stride.

Through the courtyard they walked, Snape muttering under his breath all the while.

Into the castle, across the corridors they traveled, and Harry found himself still struggling to get his breathing under control.

He really was screwed, so very screwed. He’d give anything to trade places with Ron right now, broken wrist and all, especially as he heard Snape mutter something about how “Minerva will simply brush it off seeing as her precious little lions couldn’t possibly do anything wrong.”

Harry disagreed that she would just brush it off, but he definitely thought that she would at least treat him like a human being rather than muck stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

Snape absolutely loathed Harry and would not pass up an opportunity to get him expelled. And where would that leave Harry? Back to the Dursleys in his prison cell of a bedroom? He almost certainly wouldn’t survive another week in such a situation.

As much as the Dursleys didn’t want him to go to a school with the core curriculum centered around the M-word, they would definitely not be appreciative should he return from Hogwarts so soon. It was bad enough this summer when they had been expecting him, it would be far, far worse should he return early.

Down to the dungeons they journeyed, where it was so very cold and Harry shivered violently, but he wasn’t sure if he could credit the chilling temperatures as the reason for it.

It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to be too terribly frightened by the prospect of the Dursley’s cruel treatment, their punishments were usually swift and not well thought out, but every once in a while they would make him sit and stew. He would find himself in his cupboard shaking like a leaf from fear, waiting for them to decide what his fate would be.

Harry preferred punishment to be quick and immediate. It wasn’t as though he was usually punished for a legitimate reason, so there was no real lesson to be learned upon reflection during the long wait. All he would think about was how bad it was going to be that time…

He almost would rather take a quick, painful blow from Aunt Petunia’s frying pan and be done with it than to wait and worry about what they would do to him in the end.

He wondered if he could convince Snape to just hit him and get it over with, but Harry had a strong inclination that the man preferred the slow torture method.

“Inside,” he suddenly heard Snape spit out, and Harry was surprised to find they had already reached the Potion Master’s office. He must have zoned out while lost in thought.

Snape held the door open and sent Harry like the fifth glare that night. Or maybe he had never stopped glaring. Harry still couldn’t be sure.

He was sure that all he wanted to do was run but he rejected that instinct and slowly entered the office.

He tried to still his shaky limbs while Snape took his sweet time entering the room himself. He paced silently around the room for a moment before tearing into Harry.

“May I ask,” Snape started slowly, softly. Dangerously. “Precisely just what you and your little sidekick were thinking? Or perhaps I should ask if you were thinking at all? Because surely, even considering how dismal your grades can be, surely you could not be such complete imbeciles. There simply must be an ounce of integrity in those thick skulls of yours, thick skulls that you claim a brain resides in.”

Harry wanted to say something smart-mouthed and stupid, like how he had never made such a statement attributing to the location of his brain, but he found his tongue to be tied and he couldn’t get any words past his lips. He didn’t think that Snape much expected a response, anyway.

There was nothing but silence for a moment and Harry thought that maybe this was good, maybe Snape would collect himself and calm down and maybe he wouldn’t just continue yelling at Harry.

No such luck.

“Did you lose function of your mouth along with your brain? Is the train just not good enough for the famous Harry Potter? Did you have a lovely joyride on the way to school, whilst being spotted by no less than seven muggles?!”

Okay then maybe he did expect a response. Harry struggled to find his voice. “Sir, the platform was blocked, we couldn’t get on the train-“

“That’s a tragedy if I ever did hear one! Perhaps you would like to take the train back home?”

“No!” Harry nearly shrieked. “Sir-“

“Scared of a little punishment, Potter? They are your guardians, after all, perhaps they could knock some sense into you.”

“Professor,” Harry pleaded. “Don’t, please, don’t…”

“Wouldn’t do much good, coddling relatives,” Snape muttered under his breath. He was doing a lot of that tonight.

Harry felt relief wash over him for a full ten seconds before Snape continued speaking.

“But maybe they just need a reality check, hm? Why don’t I go ahead and write them a letter now detailing your appalling behavior before sending you back? They should know what they’re dealing with.”

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. “Sir, no, I-“

But Snape was past the point of listening, if he ever had been doing so in the first place. He swept over to his desk, dropping into his chair. He took out a piece of parchment and inked a quill.

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,” Snape spoke aloud as his quill scratched into the parchment. Harry tried to steady his breathing, but it was only becoming more difficult to get air out and into his body as his professor continued;

“I’m sure that this will come to you as quite a shock, but I must inform you that your nephew, Harry Potter, has participated in the unthinkable. He and a fellow classmate conspired together, resulting in the heinous crime of breaking the Statute of Secrecy and displaying truly atrocious behavior in the process.

“This is not the first time that your nephew has participated in such a monstrous act, I’m afraid, and the school is simply reaching its limit.”

Snape rambled on and on for what felt like hours, using fancy words as slanders against him. Harry might have made an effort to tune him out if the ringing in his ears hadn’t been doing that for him.

He held his hand against the stone wall to assist him as he slid down to the ground. The world was tilting on its axis and Harry felt he would end up on the floor either way, and he preferred to find the way down himself.

He tried just to focus on his breathing, but his thoughts kept rushing back to Dursleys and cupboards and cat flaps and padlocked bird cages and-

He tried to choke out something, willing to ask for help from even Snape at this point, but he couldn’t get anything but a gasp to slip past his lips and Snape’s attention was still focused on jotting down heinous correspondence.

Harry thought that he would surely pass out soon, completely fall into the darkness cornering his vision, but he never lost consciousness. Just breathe, Harry, breathe, he told himself.

But that was the problem, he couldn’t breathe.

***

Severus finished the letter with a sadistic grin set upon his face before glancing over to see why the brat had finally decided to shut up.

He wasn’t actually going to send such an indecorous letter, he had more decorum than that. It was merely a scare tactic.

A scare tactic that seemed to work really well on this particular child.

The boy was sitting on the floor, back leaning against the wall. His head was burrowed in his knees but from what little Severus could see of his face, his complexion was pale and sweaty.

“Potter,” Severus snapped. “Get a hold of yourself.”

The child showed no indication that he had even heard Severus.

Well, Severus thought as he stood up from his desk chair, this was just grand. Albus was not going to be happy if Severus managed to cause the brat’s death by suffocation from the panic.

Severus raised his eyes to the ceiling before crouching down beside the child.

“Potter,” he tried again, in a softer tone this time. “You need to breathe,” he stated the obvious. Shockingly, these words seemed to bring no comfort.

He wanted to shove a calming draft down the boy’s throat and be done with it, but it wasn’t advisable to give such a strong potion to a child. Unfortunately, it seemed that Severus would have to go about this in a more conventional way.

Hesitantly, Severus reached out and gently placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder- the boy’s abnormally thin shoulder. Severus hadn’t really noticed just how thin the boy had gotten, what with his baggy clothes… extremely baggy clothes. Why on earth was the boy wearing those oversized rags, anyway?

Potter had always been thin, but this was ridiculous. Severus had enough experience dealing with 12-year-old boys to know that they should not be this small. The boy was skinnier now than he was during his sorting the previous year, and that was saying a lot. Potter had always been smaller than his classmates, even the Granger girl had a good three inches on him.

Severus frowned but stored those thoughts away for now. He really needed the child to calm down. He summoned a cold piece of ice and wrenched open one of Potter’s tightly closed hands, placing the ice into his palm before it clenched into a fist once more.

Severus placed his own hand over Potter’s, (Potter’s tiny hand, Merlin, even after several years of educating the little dunderheads, he would never not be marveled by just how small the first and second years always seemed to be) ensuring that he could feel the ice. It didn’t always work, but often having something to feel could help to ground someone in distress.

He slid his other hand from Potter’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, rubbing gently. It was such an abnormal scene to picture, but it seemed to help because, after several minutes, the boy’s breathing slowly seemed to steady. His eyes remained dull but no longer looked glazed.

Severus suddenly registered that his hand was still on the boy’s shoulder and moved to draw it away, but Potter beat him to it, sluggishly shaking it off.

The room was quiet for a few moments before Severus decided to break the silence.

“I was unaware that you suffered from panic attacks, Potter.”

“I don’t,” Potter muttered, fists coming up to rub at his eyes. Water from the melted ice cube dripped down his wrist.

He looked utterly exhausted, but now that Severus had caught a scent, he was going to follow it. He had no intention of saving this conversation for later. There was something going on here, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Oh? And what was that display just now?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly. “I didn’t mean to freak out so much.”

“And what exactly caused you to ‘freak out’ so very much? Is the prospect of a letter to your relatives truly such a cause for concern?”

Potter shifted uneasily. “They- I just don’t want to disappoint them, is all.”

“Do you often disappoint them?”

Potter scoffed. “Of course I disappoint them, sir. You know how I am.”

“Just how are you, Potter? A pathological liar, an extreme troublemaker? Despite my allegations, I have cause to doubt that. Could it just be that their expectations of you are too high?”

“You’re the one writing to my relatives and telling them that what I did was so horrible!”

“What you did was horrible!” Severus spat, a bit of his anger returning at the reminder of why they were in this situation in the first place. The little idiot had flown an illegal car all the way to school, in front of muggles no less! The boy flinched at his change of tone and Severus made an effort to calm himself.

“You and your friend did a very bad thing, yes, but I fail to understand why their knowledge of the event would cause you to panic so. Does their disappointment truly sting so badly? Surely this couldn’t be the first time they’ve known you to cause mischief.”

“Of course not, I’ve done magic in front of them several times but they still expect better from me!” he burst out. Severus furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Magic has nothing to do with this,” Severus muttered. “Or does it?” Potter’s relatives were Muggles, after all. Perhaps that was the issue?

Potter shook his head quickly, pressing his back closer against the wall and Severus sighed but he did not relent.

“Just what do they expect from you?”

Potter shrugged, clearly attempting to go for casual but it had just the opposite effect with him backed up against the wall. “Just- chores, and stuff. Everybody has chores.”

“Just what kind of chores?”

Potter shrugged again. “Nothing special. Gardening, yard work, cleaning the house, cooking…”

“Do they allow you to eat any of the meals you cook?” Severus asked in a low tone.

“Of course they allow me to eat!” Potter exclaimed.

“I find that doubtful, considering your malnourished state.”

“I am not malnourished!” Potter argued defensively.

“Mmm. You eat three meals a day, every day?”

“Well, not… every day, exactly…”

“How often, then?”

“I don’t know!” Potter shouted in frustration. “What is the big deal? So they don’t like me much, so what? You know better than anyone that I’m nothing but trouble and I’m not even their kid!”

“You are a child in their care, and it would not matter if you committed crimes, they are your guardians and have an obligation to care for you. It seems to me that they have been neglectful in those duties.”

“Okay, fine, yeah, they’re neglectful. Is that really such a crime?”

“If they did not have the means to care for you, it would be different, but willful neglect? That is most certainly a crime.”

“Well, it’s not as though they planned to have another kid. It was really good of them to take me in.”

“Your parents left a fund for your care that they have been receiving a stipend from every month since they took you in.”

Potter seemed surprised by this and was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know that,” he said softly. “I thought…” he broke off, looking down to the ground.

Good, Severus thought. He was getting somewhere now.

“Have they ever hit you?” he asked frankly. Potter flinched at the question, eyes widening so much it was almost comical. Almost.

“They- they are not abusive,” he protested, crossing shaky arms over his chest.

“No?”

“No! Just stop with these stupid questions, you’re going to expel me anyway, it doesn’t matter… just let it go and send me home, please.”

“I think that it would be very ill-advised for me to send a child back to an abusive home situation.”

“I told you they don’t abuse me!”

“You know there is such a thing as emotional abuse. I feel almost certain that you have suffered that which is horrible in of itself, but have they ever taken their wrath out on you physically?”

The boy kept his mouth shut, which was answer enough.

“I’m thinking now that I was too quick in my judgment of you,” Severus said suddenly. “You’re clearly not a pampered prince.”

“No,” Potter agreed. “I’m not. Still… it’s not so bad, really. I can deal with it.”

Severus sighed, running a hand over his face. “I have no doubt that you can deal with it, but there is absolutely no reason why you should. Not when help is available.”

“How can you help me? I-I didn’t want to go back this summer. But Professor Dumbledore told me I have to stay there.”

“Professor Dumbledore can not object to something like this when there are facts in his face.”

“He wouldn’t believe me…” the expression on the child’s face was so melancholic, it made Severus’ chest tighten unexpectedly.

“I believe that he would. But even if he didn’t take your word for it, we have physical proof. You’re clearly nothing more than skin and bones. You just have to come to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey will make a report.”

“I don’t think I can,” Potter whispered. “I, I…”

Severus reached out a gentle hand for the second time that night and placed it on Potter’s shoulder. The boy stiffened momentarily at the touch before relaxing slightly.

“I will go with you, if it would help,” Severus offered quietly.

“I still don’t…”

“I will not lie and say that it would be easy. It could possibly be the most difficult thing you’ve ever done in your life. But things can get better, and you’ve already taken the first step just by considering it.”

Slowly, after a moment that seemed an eternity, Potter nodded. “Okay,” he said, still in a whisper.

Severus’ lips twitched - just a bit -, and he offered the boy a hand up.

Potter took the hand and gave him a small smile in return. It didn’t last for long, as fear was understandably the dominant emotion for that evening.

They exited the office, trekking their way back up to the main part of the castle.

***

They entered the hospital wing, Severus’ hand placed on Potter’s shoulder. Minerva turned from Ron Weasley, pausing her tirade as the doors closed behind them. She looked ready to tear into Potter but stopped when Severus shook his head lightly. She narrowed her eyes in confusion, taking in Severus’ hand placement but said nothing.

“Harry!” Weasley exclaimed, looking his friend up and down. “Are you okay?”

Potter nodded mutely and looked away from his friend, cheeks reddening. Severus led him over to a bed and closed the curtains around it before going over to where Poppy and Minerva stood by Weasley.

“Severus, Potter is in my house. I believe I can manage his discipline on my own and I do not appreciate your interference!”

“That is beside the point, now, Minerva. For him being in your house, you’d think you would have paid more attention to the boy,” Severus stated with an edge in his voice, unable to completely contain his anger.

He was the only head of house who had his students go through a screening exam every year, and he would never understand why none of the other professors would follow his lead. There were at least a couple of Slytherins every year that showed signs of abuse, and Severus refused to believe that it only occurred to the students in his house.

Minerva fumed at what she assumed to be his insinuation. “I can not control what students do outside of Hogwarts, do not try to pin this-”

“That is not what I am referring to,” Severus spit out, looking away from her and over to Poppy for a moment before looking back at Minerva.

“Then what are you referring to, Severus?” she asked in exasperation. Severus just gave her a long look before glancing over at Weasley.

She sighed before conjuring a plate of sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice, sending the boy on his way. Once he had left (not without much protesting before Minerva reminded him he was in enough trouble as it was) she looked at Severus expectantly.

Severus cast a silencing charm around himself and the two witches before saying anything. “It has come to my attention that the boy has been mistreated,” he stated simply.

Poppy let out a gasp while Minerva just stared at him for a moment. “We’re talking about Harry Potter?” she asked finally.

Severus nodded grimly before turning to Poppy. “He needs a full examination. Malnutrition is a certainty, but I don’t know what else he may be suffering from.”

Poppy took a deep breath before nodding and going over to the closed curtain and handing Potter a hospital gown. She then went to collect the papers for the standard screening process used on his Slytherins.

Minerva still seemed to be in a state of shock, shaking her head slightly. “I-I didn’t know, Severus. I knew his family wasn’t the kindest, but I never-”

“Shouldn’t that have been enough to give you an indication?” Severus rounded on her. “Because that’s more than I ever knew and yet I managed to figure out that something fishy was going on. He’s not even in my house! I simply do not understand why you refuse to put your students through a screening exam. Every child deserves kindness-”

“That’s mighty rich coming from you, Severus Snape!” Minerva exclaimed. “The way you’ve treated that child-”

“I’m not his family or his head of house!” Severus retorted, shoving down his shame at the all too accurate accusation. “I’m not supposed to-”

“Would you two stop your squabbling?” Poppy suddenly snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have far more important matters to attend to at the moment,” she continued, looking over to the closed curtain.

Severus nodded, feeling his cheeks reddening just slightly. “So we do. Minerva?”

The Head of Gryffindor House met his eyes for a moment before nodding. Poppy took this as the go-ahead and led them over to where Potter was. She pulled back the curtain to reveal the tiny Harry Potter, sitting on the bed with his legs hanging off the side, his hospital gown reaching down nearly to his ankles. He flushed as he met the gaze of his head of house and looked down to stare at the sheets of the bed.

Minerva made to go over to him, but Severus grabbed her arm and pulled her back gently, shaking his head. They stood by the curtain, allowing Poppy to do her work without interruption.

“How are you doing this evening, Mr. Potter?” she asked, starting out slow.

Harry shrugged slightly before whispering, “‘m fine, Madam Pomfrey.”

“I must say, after patching up your accomplice I’m surprised to see you escape the little escapade into the Whomping Willow with nothing more than a scratch,” she clucked, ignoring his somber mood.

“Is Ron okay?” he asked quietly, but the concern in his features was evident as he looked up from the sheets.

“Mr. Weasley is fine, yes. A broken wrist, nothing I can’t handle. Though the way his stomach was growling, you’d think he had missed more than just dinner!”

Potter smiled slightly before looking down again. “Yeah, well, Ron isn’t really one to miss a meal.”

Poppy hummed in response and then was quiet for a moment before saying anything more. “A bit unlike yourself, then?”

Potter shrugged yet again. “I guess,” he said softly.

She nodded, but Severus doubted he noticed with his eyes plastered to the ground.

“Okay, well, Harry,” Poppy started, breaking the formalities. “I’m going to run a few spells on you now, and I need you to lie down on the bed for me.”

Potter glanced up to Severus, worried features making his displeasure of this situation clear, but Severus simply nodded at him and he slowly moved to obey the mediwitch’s instructions.

“This shouldn’t hurt,” Poppy said a moment after he was settled, “but you may feel a tingling sensation. That’s just the magic doing its work, nothing to worry about.”

Potter nodded, closing his eyes tightly as if expecting pain anyway. Or perhaps just attempting to block everything out.

Poppy ran her wand over the boy, a scroll popping into existence proved that she was running a diagnostic spell. It spent several minutes recording Potter’s medical history. Once it had finished, Poppy looked over it for a moment before handing it over to Minerva and Severus and starting another diagnostic spell, this one pinpointing his current ailments.

The medical history was excessively long for a 12-year-old boy, Severus thought absently as he read over it with Minerva beside him. It of course listed the famous lightning bolt-shaped injury received in infancy, but it only continued from there. Not just little childhood scrapes and cuts, either. He only made it halfway down the parchment before jumping slightly when Potter yelped.

“Ow! I’m sorry, I, that just hurt,” he said, sitting up in the bed again, cheeks flushing a bit.

Poppy looked concerned. “What hurts?”

“My ankle, er… it’s still a bit sore from when I kind of fell out of a window this summer…”

“You fell out of a window?” Severus asked sharply.

Potter looked away. “I, um… not exactly.”

“Then what, pray tell, do you mean?” Severus asked, exasperated.

Potter huffed in irritation, a small spark returning to his eyes. “I was kind of jumping out of the window to get into the flying car but my uncle grabbed my ankle and yeah…”

“Sprained ankle,” Poppy murmured in agreement. She seemed ready to move on after healing it, but Severus needed to know more.

“Why on earth were you jumping out of a window to get into a flying car?”

Potter took a deep breath before speaking. “I had to get out somehow. They locked me in my room this summer. Well, it’s not my room exactly…”

“What do you mean by that?”

He shifted. “It was my cousin’s second bedroom. They only gave it to me last year so it doesn’t really feel like mine.”

“What happened to your bedroom? Where did you sleep before?”

Potter brought his knees up to his chest and hid his face in them before mumbling, “inthecupboardunderthestairs.”

Severus asked him to repeat himself, for he could not have possibly just said what he thought he just said.

“I slept in the cupboard under the stairs,” Potter said again, still quick, but coherent this time.

Severus hadn’t misunderstood, then.

“You- your cousin had a second bedroom and they made you sleep in a cupboard?” Severus asked in a tight voice, barely restraining his anger.

Potter nodded slightly, forehead rubbing against the knees of his jeans.

Minerva’s face was nearly white and Poppy looked equally horrified.

“Anyway. Ron and his brothers took the flying car and came to rescue me from the Dursleys. They absolutely hate magic, I’m sure you’ve realized. They had already locked away all my schoolbooks and my wand in the cupboard, so it wasn’t as though I could do anything, but… this house-elf paid me a visit and he-he made a mess of the pudding during the Dursleys dinner party and they thought I did it and they locked me in my room, and put bars on the window. It was so awful because Hedwig, my owl, was locked in her cage and didn’t really have anything to eat…

“What about you?”

Potter shrugged. “They fed me once every few days, I guess.”

This seemed to remind Minerva of her lion’s malnourished state and she conjured sandwiches and pumpkin juice for him just as she had done for Weasley. Potter nibbled on the sandwiches as Poppy measured some potions for him to take.

“You need to eat more than that,” she said as he pushed his plate away from him, barely half a sandwich missing from it.

“I know, I just can’t right now,” Potter mumbled.

She sighed dramatically before adding a meal supplement to his potions and administering them to him. He grimaced at the taste of all of them before washing them down with his pumpkin juice. Poppy nodded in approval before clearing the vials and abandoned sandwiches away.

Severus blew out a heavy breath before coming over to sit in a chair beside the hospital bed. “I hope you realize that the way they have treated you is abominable, and you in no way did anything to deserve it?”

Potter lifted his head, eyes now focused on the ceiling. “I- I don’t know. Logically, I know that… It wasn't normal. I didn’t always know that. But it became kind of apparent that I was the only kid in primary school who slept in a cupboard and I knew that it wasn’t right. It’s kind of funny to think that Aunt Petunia even allowed it, considering how obsessed she is with normalcy. But I guess they thought if they kept me hidden away it wouldn’t really matter... “

He nibbled on his lower lip. “I know it wasn’t right, but I… sometimes I think that if I had just been… well I know that if I had been more normal… if I weren’t a wizard, it would have been different, I know. I didn’t know then that I was… I didn’t know what I was doing wrong,” he whispered, sniffling a little.

In his first year at Hogwarts, the child had battled a mountain troll, nearly been killed during a quidditch match, and faced down the dark lord but yet it was the first time Severus had ever seen the boy cry and still there was only a single teardrop leaking from the corner of his eye.

Severus slowly reached his hand out and gently wiped the moisture away with his thumb. “You’ve been very brave today, Harry. Not a Gryffindor for nothing, hm?”

Something like a chuckle came from the boy but it was so weak it was difficult to tell. Poppy measured a dose of Dreamless Sleep and brought it over to the boy. “You need to rest, Harry. This will help.”

Potter took the potion cautiously, grimacing before downing it in one swallow. His eyebrows raised, he was likely surprised to discover it to be one of the better tasting potions. He laid his head down on the pillow and Minerva tucked him in, running a hand through his hair and smoothing the sheets down before stepping away.

Emerald green eyes closed for a moment, but they opened again soon after. He was fighting the effects of the potion despite his obvious exhaustion.

Severus reached his hand out again, placing it on the boy’s forehead, fingers brushing across the scar that had brought so much joy to the Wizarding World and so much misfortune to this child. The scar that had cost him so much. The scar that Severus practically inflicted himself.

“Rest, Harry,” he murmured softly. “Let this burden go. I will carry it for you.”

Potter let out a breath that came out sounding suspiciously like a sob, leaning into the touch ever so slightly before his eyelids fluttered closed for the final time that night.

It had taken an unconventional method of transportation, but Harry Potter had made it to Hogwarts. He had made it home.

But he was kidding himself if he thought he could drive a flying car to school and scrape by without a single detention.