Harry clung to his stuffed animal, knuckles whitening as he held it close to his chest, his knees drawn up into a protective ball. The boy's tension was palpable as Don gently eased himself onto the bed beside him. The soft dip of the mattress drew Harry's attention, and he cautiously turned his head to regard the healer. While Harry was aware that he should feel safe confiding anything to his healer, anxiety and fear gripped him as he contemplated their imminent conversation.
Seeing Harry's unease, Don bestowed a warm, reassuring smile upon his face, hoping to calm the visibly distressed boy. He understood, however, that his smile could only do so much; a potion would likely be far more effective. He reached into his robe pocket, fingers brushing the small vial of calming potion he always kept on hand, and he extended it towards Harry.
"Harry, this is a calming potion," Don explained softly. "It will help you stay calm."
Harry nodded, his small hand reaching out to accept the offered vial. With meticulous care, he brought the potion to his lips, tipped it back, and swallowed its contents in one gulp. His face twisted into a grimace at the distasteful flavor, but he obediently handed the empty vial back to the healer.
"Good job, Harry," Don praised him gently. He then ventured into the heart of their conversation, asking, "Would you like to share your dream with me?"
Harry huddled tighter, his knees almost touching his chest now, as a faint shiver coursed through his body. Drawing a deep breath, he focused his eyes on a nondescript spot on the opposing wall. He began to narrate his dream to Don. The act of recounting it felt like a painful weight pressing onto his chest, but Harry knew he had to confront it, especially considering the incident with the chessboard.
"It was... very weird. I was in this dark building, commanding this man who resembled a rat. He had twitchy hands and a rodent-like nose with whiskers sticking out," Harry started, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He continued, "He talked about his luck in being chosen as a secret keeper over someone named Black. He told me that he had murdered people on the street, framing Black for his crimes. He claimed he was the most loyal of all, coming to me as soon as he heard I was back.
"I accused him of returning merely out of fear. Then... I used my ward to cast a spell, Crucio, at him. I... I don't understand what it means, but it seemed really painful. I watched him writhe and scream as I continued the curse..."
Don gently rested a hand on Harry's arm, offering a physical reassurance to the distressed boy. The detached, almost fearful tone of Harry's narration unsettled the healer. If he hadn't known how terrified Harry was of his own dream, he might have worried that they were dealing with a potential future psychopath, maybe even a dark lord in the making.
Seemingly disturbed by his own account, Harry diverted his gaze from the wall to meet Don's. Confusion clouded his eyes as he asked, "What I can't understand is... why did I feel happy from causing him pain? It wasn't just happiness, it was almost a sense of thrill, giddiness. How could I derive pleasure from hurting someone?"
Don momentarily closed his eyes, a wave of sympathy washing over him. He was uncertain how to console the young boy. Clearly, this wasn't just an ordinary dream, given how vividly Harry remembered it and the intense emotions he experienced. But Don was caught in a dilemma. He felt obligated to inform Dumbledore about Harry's disturbing dream, yet the Healer's oath bound him to maintain confidentiality, only to be breached if it concerned Harry's immediate health and safety.
Before he could grapple with his dilemma further, Harry resumed his narrative, his gaze returning to the spot on the wall, his face blank.
"When I finally stopped the spell, the rat-man rose and kissed my feet in gratitude for my 'correction'. As I looked down at him, I noticed that my body was unnaturally small, skeletal even. There was a noise on the stairs, so I sent a snake to investigate. The snake reported a Muggle, the caretaker, and I commanded 'Wormtail' to bring the intruder to me. The man returned, holding an old man by the neck, his wand pointed at him. I... I pointed my wand at the old man and uttered the killing curse. I... I... murdered a man..."
As Harry recounted his nightmare, his eyes began to well up with tears, a silent plea for comfort. Moved by the boy's distress, Don leaned forward, drawing the trembling Harry into a comforting embrace.
"There, there, Harry," he soothed, his voice soft but steady. His hand moved in slow, reassuring circles on the boy's back. "It was just a dream. You haven't killed anyone, nor have you caused anyone pain. That wasn't you."
"But... but it felt so real!" Harry protested, his voice choked with emotion. His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, darted around the room in search of something—anything—that could provide some semblance of comfort. "I felt a sense of power when I killed that old man and a twisted joy at the thought of doing it again."
"Shhhh, calm down, Harry," Don implored, his tone gentle yet firm. His hands paused their movements momentarily before resuming, an attempt to ground the young wizard. "You didn't do any of those things. It was just a dream."
Don endeavored to reassure the young boy, his efforts marked by a grave concern that was slowly overwhelming him. Harry's breathing had once again taken on a rapid, shallow rhythm, despite the calming potion he had administered earlier. His small form shook within the confines of Don's comforting grasp.
Maintaining his comforting hold on Harry, Don gently placed one hand on the boy's chest and another on his forehead, a touch that was familiar from countless healing sessions. Soft, ethereal light emanated from his hands, channeling calming magic into his distressed body.
"Take deep breaths, Harry," he urged gently. His voice was like a soft. "As deep as you can manage." His gaze never left the boy's face, his own features a mask of quiet determination.
Harry made a concerted effort to obey, but his body seemed to resist the soothing influx of magic from the healer. A small part of Harry, conditioned by his relatives' harsh treatment, held onto a deep-seated belief that he was undeserving of comfort, which manifested in his resistance.
"Please, Harry," Don implored softly, his voice almost a whisper as he continued to stroke the boy's hair in an attempt to soothe him. "don't resist. I just want to help you feel better."
Despite the healer's efforts, Harry's body continued to resist the calming magic. His muscles remained tensed, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide with an unfocused fear. The distress etched on his young face deepened, his body appearing to draw into itself, a physical manifestation of his internal struggle.
Left with no alternative, Don reluctantly reached into his robes, his hand rummaging through the inner pockets. His fingers finally closed around a small vial. Extracting the vial, he held it out in front of him, uncorking it with a quick flick of his thumb. The faint shimmer of the liquid inside reflected off his grave face as he held it up with a firm resolve.
"I'm left with no choice, Harry," Don stated firmly, his eyes never leaving the boy's face. The glass vial glinted under the room's dim light, its contents promising the relief Harry needed. "You need to take this potion, now."
Upon hearing the healer's stern command, Harry obediently opened his mouth, his trembling hands preventing him from taking the vial himself. The moment the potion passed his lips, Harry welcomed the encroaching drowsiness, his mind clinging to the desperate hope that it was a dreamless sleep potion. He wanted nothing more than to escape his nightmarish visions.
Once Harry had drifted off into slumber, Don gently eased the boy down onto the bed, ensuring he was comfortably resting on his back. Even in sleep, Harry's anxiety was painfully evident, his body curled tightly on its side, knees drawn up to his chest as he clung to his stuffed animal.
With a heavy sigh, Don removed Harry's shoes and tenderly draped a blanket over him. He gently rolled Harry onto his back, granting him easier access to the boy's arm. With careful precision, he removed the sling and gingerly rolled up the sleeve to reveal the bandaged appendage.
This, after all, was the reason for his visit. Given the urgency of Harry's dream, he knew his chance to examine the wound might be fleeting, especially once Severus and Albus were informed of the unsettling narrative.
Don fully intended to share Harry's dream with the pair. The Healer's oath of confidentiality, in his view, was overridden by the harrowing conclusion of Harry's dream. Though Harry might not be physically endangered, his mental wellbeing was another matter entirely.
Pushing these unsettling thoughts aside, Don unwrapped the bandage from Harry's arm, revealing the raw wound underneath. He sighed heavily, his gaze drifting back to Harry's peaceful face.
"You just can't catch a break, can you?" he murmured softly.
Drawing forth two jars of cream he'd brought with him - one to reduce swelling, the other to numb pain - Don placed them on the bedside table. He scooped a generous amount of the swelling reducer from the first jar, applying it gently to the inflamed arm. Once he had massaged it thoroughly into the reddened skin, he repeated the process with the numbing cream, ensuring that Harry would not wake to the throbbing pain of his injured arm.
Having seen to Harry's arm, Don carefully bandaged the wound. Instead of using the sling, he cast a sticking charm directly on Harry's body to allow for more comfortable sleep. With the utmost care, he adjusted the blanket to tuck it snugly beneath Harry's chin. Just as he prepared to move away, however, he noticed a disquieting red hue surrounding the boy's infamous scar.
Sweeping the unruly fringe of hair away from Harry's forehead, Don couldn't help but murmur, "That's interesting," as he examined the inflamed scar. Upon gentle prodding, he realized with alarm that it was not just red and swollen, but also bleeding again, albeit less intensely than before. It appeared the scar was reopening. Just splendid.
"Severus!" he called out.
At the sound of his name, the Potions Master appeared in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the room anxiously. Spotting Harry on the bed, he immediately hastened over, concern evident in his gaze.
Maintaining a calm demeanor, Don addressed Severus, "I need some clean gauze, tape, and the most potent healing cream you have."
Severus raised an eyebrow, casting a concerned glance at the seemingly peaceful Harry. "What's going on? Is Harry okay?" His voice was sharp, reflecting his unease.
Don, standing at the bedside, turned to face him. His expression was grave, though he managed a small, comforting smile. "Please get the items first, Severus. Then, I'll explain everything. Albus should hear it too."
Severus nodded slightly, his black robe swirling around him as he retreated from the room, the heavy oak door closing with a soft click behind him. The air stilled for a moment, disturbed only by the quiet rustling of sheets as Harry shifted slightly in his sleep.
In the ensuing silence, Albus quietly entered, the old wooden floorboards creaking slightly beneath his weight. His piercing blue eyes, dulled slightly with sadness, immediately landed on Don and the sleeping Harry. His long, silver beard brushed against his robes as he inclined his head. "Is it his scar again?" he queried softly, the concern evident in his gentle tone.
Don shot Albus a questioning look, his brow furrowing in a mix of curiosity and concern. He crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching tightly. "You suspected this might happen."
Albus gave a somber nod, his gaze never leaving Harry. He finally admitted, "I've been studying that journal and have uncovered some...intriguing elements." He let the sentence hang in the air, the weight of his words filling the room.
Keeping his hand firmly on Harry's head, maintaining the hair's distance from the scar, Don scrutinized Albus. "And what vital information have you neglected to share? I must be kept abreast of such things in order to treat 'your boys', as you affectionately refer to them."
Albus looked down, a flash of guilt crossing his features. "I came to share precisely that information, about the journal and also some details regarding the adoption."
Don acknowledged the confession, his focus returning to his patient. "Can you check on Severus? He's taking longer than necessary."
With a quick nod, Albus exited the room, only to return moments later bearing the requested potions and bandages. Accepting the supplies, Don resumed cleaning Harry's now freely bleeding scar.
"Severus is sitting by the door with his head between his knees," Albus reported, his gaze straying to the closed door. His tone softened, the echoes of worry clear in his voice. "This situation seems to be overwhelming him. I'll check if he's recovering or needs assistance."
At the mention of Severus, Don paused his ministrations, his fingers stilling atop Harry's bandaged forehead. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his uneven breaths. "What did you tell him while I was tending to Harry?" His voice was calm, but the undercurrent of concern was undeniable.
Albus recoiled slightly at the cold, emotionless, and accusing tone in Don's voice. His eyebrows knit together, a hint of surprise in his wrinkled eyes. It was so uncharacteristic of the normally gentle healer that it was almost alarming.
"Nothing," he defended himself, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "This morning, I mentioned a minor issue with the adoption when he inquired, but once you came in here with Harry, I merely offered him comfort. It was clear he was too distraught for any further bad news."
At his words, Don exhaled, a gusty sigh of relief that ruffled the nearby parchments. He reopened his eyes, the hardness in his gaze softening. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Albus. It's just that...well, you know..."
"I do understand," Albus assured him, his voice gentle. His eyes softened with understanding. "And you have every right to assume I may have acted imprudently. I've done so in the past, and I may well do so again."
Taking the explanation and the apology in stride, Don nodded in acceptance. His gaze drifted back to the sleeping Harry, his hands resuming their soft strokes through the boy's messy hair. "Could you please look after Severus for me while I attend to Harry?" he asked. "He could use a few calming potions. And get one for yourself, too."
The Headmaster arched an eyebrow at the unusual order, a faint smile tugging at his lips. However, he didn't comment on the suggestion that he needed a potion. Instead, he inclined his head in a respectful bow, agreeing, "Very well." He turned and headed towards the door, his robes rustling quietly in his wake.
As Albus exited to attend to his adopted son, Don turned his focus back to the oozing scar before him. He had meticulously cleaned the wound and applied the healing cream in an attempt to close it, but to no avail. Resigned, he realized he would have to resort to Muggle techniques. He was grateful that Harry was asleep; the young boy would likely find the procedure distressing if conscious.
Reaching into his pocket, Don extracted a compact first aid kit he habitually carried. One never knew when they might find themselves without the use of magic, and Don was a firm believer in being prepared. Opening the kit, he withdrew a needle and thread, laying them on the table beside him.
Re-opening the jar of numbing cream, Don scooped a small amount onto his finger, carefully spreading it over Harry's scar. Then, he picked up the needle he had set aside. Exhaling a sigh, the healer placed one hand over the scar, holding the two edges together, while his other hand skillfully stitched the wound to stem the bleeding.
Once he had finished, he applied a fresh layer of healing cream over the scar. Now, with the aid of the stitches, he hoped the cream would take effect and the thread would dissolve in a few hours. He reached for the bandages again, gently applying one over the scar and securing it with tape.
Having tended to Harry's scar for the moment, Don looked down at the sleeping boy with a wistful smile. He summoned another blanket, covering the small figure and marveling at how truly childlike Harry appeared in sleep. His youthful innocence was amplified in these quiet, peaceful moments.
Brushing aside the boy's unruly hair once more, Don removed the spectacles he had neglected to earlier, placing them on the nightstand. Satisfied that Harry was comfortable, he left the room to find the two other occupants of Severus's quarters.
Upon stepping out of Harry's room, he spotted Albus, hovering and fussing over a clearly upset Severus. Approaching the couch, Don picked up a few calming potions - items Albus had apparently overlooked in his distress.
However, as he drew nearer, he noted a particular glassy look in Severus's eyes, suggesting the opposite situation. It seemed Severus had overindulged in calming potions.
Gently, with a touch as light as a feather, Don guided Albus by the arm towards a plush chair in the corner of the room. "Albus, please sit down and take this," he coaxed, his other hand extending a small phial filled with a shimmering potion towards the elder wizard.
Albus, despite his age and inherent stubbornness, allowed himself to be steered towards the nearby chair, its worn fabric a testament to its age. His fingers closed around the potion vial and he brought it to his lips, dutifully downing the potion in one gulp. A grimace passed his face at the bitter taste, but it was quickly replaced with an expression of gratitude.
With Albus somewhat cared for, Don pivoted, his robes swirling around him as he moved towards Severus. He gracefully lowered himself onto the floor beside him, his hand reaching out to place gently on the Potion Master's pale forehead. His fingers were warm, a stark contrast to the clammy skin underneath.
"How many potions did you take, Severus?" He asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers were tracing a soothing path on the Potion Master's forehead, trying to lend some comfort.
"Four," came the muted reply, Severus's voice barely audible. His posture was hunched, his hands tightly gripping his knees as he sat with his head bowed.
Exhaling a weary sigh, Don withdrew his hand from Severus's forehead, shaking his head slightly in disapproval. "Severus, I understand that this is a high-stress situation, but overindulging in potions is not the solution." He shifted closer, extending a hand to gently lift Severus's chin. "Now, please focus on me so I can help you regain your bearings."
Slowly, as if fighting against an unseen force, Severus turned his glassy gaze to the healer. His lips parted and he murmured a soft, "Sorry," his gaze wavering before finding a steadfast anchor in Don's eyes.
With a comforting smile, Don shook his head and offered a soft assurance. "It's alright, Severus." His hand moved from Severus's chin to his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
Don placed a hand on each of Severus's shoulders, casting measured bursts of revitalizing magic to counteract the potion-induced haze. As the minutes passed, the cloudiness in Severus's eyes began to dissipate, his awareness of his surroundings gradually returning.
"There we are, Severus," Don said, his voice soft but firm. His hands, which were previously wrapped around Severus' shoulders in comfort, slowly retracted, sliding back to us sides. He offered Severus one last encouraging smile before he turned his attention to Albus.
His eyes roved over the elder wizard, taking in his posture and the color of his skin, trying to assess his condition after the potion. "Now, are we prepared to discuss everything?" His voice filled the room, breaking the tense silence that had fallen.
Albus gave a nod from his seat, the movement slow and controlled. His eyes met Don's, carrying a silent assurance of his readiness. Severus, on the other hand, merely responded with a quiet 'yes', his voice still shaky but stronger than before.
Don gave them both an appreciative nod before crossing his arms over his chest, signaling the start of the conversation. His gaze landed on Albus, curiosity and expectation clear in his eyes. "Shall we start with the developments in the adoption, Albus?" His tone was neutral, though the concern behind his words was evident. He leaned back against the wall, preparing himself for what was to come.
Albus leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees and nodded slowly. "This morning, I mentioned a distant cousin that social services had located. It appears that he and his wife are willing to meet Harry and have invited him to spend a week with them."
Pausing to draw a slow, measured breath, Albus locked his gaze onto Severus. "I understand this may seem as though they're attempting to cause you and Harry unnecessary stress, but it's crucial to perceive it from their perspective. They're unaware of the profound bond you and Harry share. In their eyes, you are a solitary bachelor, a former Death Eater, and a Professor engrossed in his work. On the contrary, they view Harry's cousin and his wife as a stable, loving environment for Harry. Their intentions are purely to act in Harry's best interest; they simply lack the full context."
Continuing, he added, "So, the day after tomorrow, I've arranged for a social worker to observe your interaction with Harry. And next week, Harry is scheduled to visit and spend a week with his cousin. Even if he doesn't ultimately live with them, it would be beneficial for Harry to establish a connection with his remaining family, and it might even help them to recognize the deep bond between you two."
In his potion-subdued state, Severus nodded slowly, absorbing the information. His hands were clasped together in his lap, knuckles white from the pressure. Typically, such news would send him into a panic, but the calming potions had dulled his distress, giving him a rare sense of tranquility.
Observing Severus's composed demeanor, Don placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. His voice broke the silence that had settled around them, "How are you holding up, Severus?"
Severus tilted his head, acknowledging Don's concern. "I'm alright." His gaze then shifted, drifting past Don to settle on Albus. "Who makes the final decision on Harry's permanent living arrangement?" His voice was steady, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.
Albus leaned forward in his chair, his hands resting on his knees. "Ultimately, Harry has the final say, given that he's nearing his teenage years and is deemed capable of making an informed choice. The social worker's role is simply to ensure that whichever home Harry selects is a safe environment for him. If he opts to stay with you, which I believe he will, a social worker will make unannounced visits every few weeks to ensure all remains well."
Severus's brows furrowed at this, worry etching lines into his face. "He is required to stay with them for an entire week? Can I maintain contact with him to ascertain his well-being?"
The Headmaster shook his head, his long white hair rustling against his shoulders. "No, he isn't obliged to stay the full week, though it would be preferable if he did. As for maintaining contact, I've already addressed that concern." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "Before I joined you, I prepared a set of two-way journals that will allow you to correspond."
Gratitude washed over Severus's features, the lines of stress softening noticeably. He nodded, managing a weak smile. "Thank you, Albus... for everything." His words were heartfelt, the sincerity behind them echoing in the quiet room.
"Don't express your gratitude just yet, Severus," the Headmaster warned, his tone gentle but firm. He cast a questioning glance at Don, his eyebrows knitting together. "Should I elaborate on the journal?"
Don responded with a nod, his gaze softening. "Perhaps it will provide some clarity about Harry's dream."
At the mention of Harry's dream, Severus quickly turned his attention to Don, an interrogative look in his eyes. "What was his dream about?"
Don offered him a gentle smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in empathy. "Under normal circumstances, I would respect the confidentiality of what a patient shares with me, but this is an exceptional case." He inclined his head towards Albus. "Allow Albus to elucidate on the journal first, then I'll relay Harry's dream."
Taking Don's advice, Severus nodded, shifting his gaze back to Albus. His eyes narrowed in anticipation, his lips pressing together in a firm line.
Albus began his explanation, his hands folding together on his lap. "I'll start from the beginning. As you both are aware, the journal possessed by both Ginny Weasley and Harry was not an ordinary diary. It was imbued with a kind of magic that is not commonly known. It was a Horcrux, created by Tom Riddle himself."
At this revelation, Severus looked taken aback, his pale face turning an even paler shade. "How is that possible, and how did it end up at Hogwarts?"
Albus shook his head, a regretful expression on his face. "I'm not entirely certain, my dear boy. I've been trying to unearth a specific memory that may hold the key to all of this, but the individual in question has proven elusive. I do have a theory about how the diary arrived here, but I hesitate to cast blame where it may not be deserved."
Severus blinked, then his gaze sharpened as he connected the dots. "You suspect that Senior Malfoy gave Ginny the journal," he concluded, the statement laced with a hint of accusation.
"Yes, but it's crucial that he remains unaware of our suspicions. Do we have an understanding?" Albus cast a firm gaze at Severus, who nodded in agreement.
"Excellent. Now, based on the information I've gathered, it appears that the diary is not the only Horcrux Voldemort has created. In fact, he seems to have intentionally created five others, and one... inadvertently."
Albus's gaze drifted meaningfully toward the door of Harry's room, the closed entrance standing like a silent testament to the grave conversation transpiring within the adjoining space.
A look of incredulity crossed Severus's face as he stared at Albus. His eyes were wide, disbelief etched into every line of his face. "You're suggesting that Harry is the seventh?" The words came out in a strained whisper, his tone mingling fear and shock in equal parts.
Albus, in response, nodded solemnly, the gravity of the situation clear on his lined face. However, before he could respond further, Don interjected. "That would explain his dream and the emotions he reported experiencing during it."
Severus turned his anxious gaze to Don, the flicker of dread in his eyes painfully evident. "What...what did he dream?"
Don sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. He closed his eyes momentarily, collecting his thoughts. When he reopened them, they held a depth of seriousness. He started to relay the details of Harry's dream, his voice steady and deliberate. It was an elaborate explanation, but Don understood the necessity of divulging every detail, including the part where Harry's scar split open and his theory behind it.
After he finished, Severus stared at him, horror etched in his eyes. His voice wavered as he asked, "You believe... The Dark Lord has a connection with him through his scar?"
Don gave a nod of confirmation, his eyes never leaving Severus's face. "The inference is strong, based on his detailed explanation of what it felt like to take a life." His tone was grave, but steady, highlighting the serious implications of the situation they were facing.
Severus couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through his body. The mere thought of that malevolent man inhabiting his mind was enough to trigger flashes of his own past experiences—memories he desperately wished to forget.
With an air of melancholy, Albus lifted his gaze from his hands that were interlocked in his lap. His eyes held a sorrowful glint as he said, "I fear it's more than just that, my dear boy. I surmise that his scar harbors a fragment of Voldemort's soul."
At that moment, Severus found himself grateful for the calming potions coursing through his system. His face was ashen, his lips pressed into a thin line. Without them, he wasn't sure how he would have reacted. Although, he did have a vague idea involving the violent destruction of the room's contents—but that was beside the point. His voice was a bit shaky as he asked, "Can...can we extract it from him?"
Gently patting Severus on the knee, Don succeeded in redirecting his attention from the troubling implications. "I'm going to delve into research regarding dark magic removal, and together, we'll devise a solution. Meanwhile, any strange dreams or unusual behavior from Harry should be reported to Albus and me immediately."
A silent nod was Severus' response, his hands moving to cradle his head, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. Eyes clenched shut, and brow furrowed, he grappled with the revelations until a new concern arose. "What about when he visits his cousin? What if something transpires while he's there?"
"Rest assured, Severus," Don's voice echoed, carrying a reassuring tone. "I plan to cast a long-distance monitoring charm on Harry, which will allow me to detect any signs of distress. However, it might not pick up on his dreams or internal turmoil, so you'll need to monitor his mental state through the journals."
A slight nod from Severus acknowledged Don's plan, the lines of worry on his face softening a fraction. "Do you think he'll be fit to return to school tomorrow? I know he doesn't want to fall further behind," he voiced his concern, a clear testament to the deep affection he had developed for the boy.
"By morning, he should be completely recovered. We'll need to inform him of tonight's events, albeit a toned-down version. The goal is to convey essential information without triggering a panic attack."
The two other adults expressed their agreement with nods, but it was Albus who voiced a query. "Should we mention anything about his scar? I wouldn't want to cause undue alarm."
"Yes, we shouldn't withhold such crucial information. It's his body, and he has a right to know what's happening to it. Wouldn't you be apprehensive if you were undergoing surgery without understanding why?" The Healer offered Albus a mildly reproving glance, knowing that Albus, if left to his own devices, would provide Harry with the bare minimum of information.
Slightly chastened, Albus lowered his gaze to his folded hands and nodded. "I understand," he murmured, his tone conveying his acceptance of the seriousness of the matter.
"Excellent," Don acknowledged, a hint of relief in his voice. He proceeded with the next point on their discussion, "Now, regarding Sirius Black—if Harry's dream bears truth, he could be innocent."
Taken aback momentarily by the revelation, Albus quickly regained his composure. His fingers tapped a light rhythm on his knee as he processed the new information. His nod this time was accompanied by a determined expression. "I'll take responsibility for that," he stated firmly. "I will strive to arrange a trial for him, and should his innocence be proven, I will secure his release." The gravity in his voice underscored his resolve to rectify any potential injustices.
Turning his attention towards Severus, Albus continued, "I'll make an effort to reconnect with Remus Lupin. His presence could be beneficial as it would portray to child services that Harry has more support than just you. Moreover, Lupin could provide personal anecdotes about Harry's parents. We are well aware of the closeness between him and Lily."
For a moment, Severus closed his eyes, only to open them as he rose from the couch. He slowly made his way over to a charmed window in his chamber, peering out at the setting sun over the dark expanse of the lake.
With a sigh, Don shot a meaningful glance at Albus before rising to place a comforting hand on Severus's shoulder. He was well aware that the memory of the traumatic encounter with the Marauders in the Shrieking Shack had left a deep impression on Severus.
"Don't forget, Severus. Remus was not a participant in that horrific incident. He found himself ensnared in its cruelty, much like you," Don stated gently, his tone laced with the soothing calmness of a seasoned therapist. His eyes, brimming with empathy, held Severus's gaze as he aimed to assuage the lingering fear.
"I... I understand," Severus confessed reluctantly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yet, I cannot shake off this unsettling dread that engulfs me whenever he's in proximity."
Don nodded, appreciating the raw honesty of Severus's admission. "Remember, we have those breathing techniques that we've worked on. I will be by your side, always ready to help," he reassured, infusing his words with a firm promise of unwavering support.
Severus inclined his head in a silent nod, his piercing black eyes still locked onto the distant silhouette of the Whomping Willow, the perennial reminder of his past ordeal. "I understand, and I assure you, I shall manage."
"Excellent. But, do remember to contact me if you find it difficult, alright?" Don persisted, striving to fortify Severus's trust in their rapport.
"I shall," Severus confirmed, a hint of gratitude flickering in his otherwise somber eyes.
With a comforting pat on Severus's shoulder, Don acknowledged his brave concession and turned towards Albus, imparting a tacit approval with a slight nod.
"Then, I should see to some pending tasks," Albus announced, rising gracefully from his antique chair. Before making his way towards the door, he halted beside Severus, his deep-set eyes filled with paternal affection. "Severus, I'm here for you as well. Never overlook that."
Severus reciprocated with a fleeting nod, his gaze unwavering from the window, as if tethered to the scene outside. "Thank you, Albus. Your help... it means a lot to me."
"Indeed, my dear boy, it's my utmost pleasure," Albus responded, a soft smile gracing his weathered features. "Shall I visit later to assist with explaining everything to Harry?"
"No, I appreciate the offer, but I believe it would be most appropriate if I handled this alone." Severus finally shifted his gaze, seeking out Don's with a wordless plea.
The healer, understanding the silent communication, gave a nod of acceptance. Severus, in his quest to navigate the labyrinth of his fears, wished for this crucial conversation with his son to be a private affair.
"I will see you both later then." With a final comforting pat on Severus's shoulder and a warm smile, Albus made his way over to the floo and returned to his office via the magical fireplace. His knowledge of the situation meant there was much to do. He hoped sincerely that he could contact Remus—not only would his presence provide additional support for Harry, but Albus knew that if Sirius was indeed innocent, Remus could help him heal from his harrowing experience with the Dementors.
As soon as Albus exited the room, Don turned back to Severus, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. When Severus turned to face him, he noticed the glaze in his eyes gradually diminishing, indicating the calming potions were losing their effect.
"How do you fare, Severus?" Don posed his question gently, his tone carrying the soothing lilt of a practiced therapist, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.
"I believe... I believe I'll manage," Severus murmured, his voice thick with the strain of suppressed emotion. His gaze hardened then, determination flickering in his black eyes. "Would you be so kind as to explore possible solutions for... for eradicating that affliction from my son?" he implored, each word laden with a father's desperation.
"I will, Severus," Don affirmed, his words echoing a steadfast commitment. "Would you prefer if I commence this investigation promptly?" He offered, gauging Severus's reaction carefully.
"Would you?" Severus entreated, his plea barely louder than a whisper, a hushed testament to his growing fear and hope intertwined.
"Very well then," Don agreed, his tone laced with reassurance. "Remember, if you require my assistance, don't hesitate to reach out," he admonished gently, lending strength to the wavering man before him with his promise of unwavering support.
Acknowledging Don with a small nod, Severus watched as he left the room and used the floo network to return to his office. Don understood Severus's need for solitude at this moment, having just confronted some deeply troubling revelations. He needed time to process it all.
When the sound of the floo extinguished behind him, Severus felt his shoulders slump. He brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, hoping to alleviate the impending headache.
He remained like that for a few minutes, making a silent vow that he would do everything within his power to keep Harry with him. Even if it meant feigning cordiality with the werewolf who had once almost taken his life. Harry was worth it.
Lowering his hand, Severus ambled over to a cabinet and retrieved a potion to soothe his impending headache. He downed it in one gulp, and immediately began to feel a little better. He then crossed the room towards Harry's bedroom, hoping to sit with his son until he woke up. Before entering the room, he called for a house elf, asking her to ensure dinner was ready when Harry woke. It would be better if the boy had something to eat before they delved into the day's events.
A couple of hours later, as night was fast approaching, Harry's eyes fluttered open. Before the day's occurrences could flood his mind, he noticed a blurry figure by his bed and smiled.
"Daddy." The small voice floated through the quiet room.
Severus moved toward the source, his son, Harry. He tenderly fitted the round glasses onto the small nose, smiling softly as he met his son's bright, green eyes.
"Hello there, Harry. How are you feeling?" Severus's voice was as soft as silk, every word dipped in paternal concern.
Harry's eyes fluttered closed, surrendering himself to the onslaught of memories from the day's tumultuous events. When he finally opened them again, he moved with a slow deliberation, propping himself up on his elbows. His gaze, heavy with lingering confusion, traced the familiar pattern of his blanket. An instinctive hand rose, hesitating briefly over his bandaged forehead. His expression morphed into a slight frown at the foreign texture under his fingertips.
"Did I... did I injure myself?" Harry asked, his voice a picture of childlike innocence.
Severus, perched on the edge of Harry's bed, shook his head gently. "No, my boy. Your scar... it split open once more."
The confusion in Harry's eyes deepened at this revelation. "Why?" he questioned, his voice wavering with uncertainty.
"We're not entirely certain yet. However, Albus has a hypothesis. As we speak, Don is meticulously working on a solution to keep this from recurring," Severus explained, his tone comforting, yet honest.
Harry nodded slowly, his gaze dropping back down to his lap. His messy fringe fell forward, partially concealing his eyes as he raised them to meet Severus's gaze, a shy undercurrent running through his demeanor. "Are you mad at me? I... I broke some of your chess pieces."
"Angry? No, my child, not at all," Severus reassured, his voice a soothing. "Though, we may need to seek strategies to control your temper better."
Harry's cheeks flushed a tender pink, and his gaze dropped a fraction lower. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"Harry, there's no need to apologize. Would you like to inspect the chess board and its pieces? Albus has been kind enough to mend them all for us."
Once more, Harry's cheeks colored as he shook his head. He couldn't believe he had behaved so childishly. First, he had destroyed his father's things, and then he had stormed into this room, sobbing into his father's robes, and later into Don's, as the healer tucked him into bed. What more could he have done to embarrass himself?
Reading Harry's thoughts wasn't hard; his emotions were clearly etched across his face. Gently, Severus used his hand to lift Harry's chin.
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Don and I are more than willing to comfort you when you're upset."
Harry nodded, feeling slightly reassured. At least no one was laughing at him. He still felt immature, though. He was already twelve years old; he shouldn't be behaving this way.
Severus let out a small sigh. "Come on, let's get some dinner into you, and then I'll fill you in on everything that's transpired while you were asleep."
Harry nodded and tugged down the two blankets, likely placed on him by Don, to the foot of the bed. A shiver ran through him as the warmth receded.
"Are you feeling the cold, Harry?" Severus's question broke through the silence, his tone concerned yet gentle.
"No, I'm alright," Harry replied, the faintest hint of a shiver contradicting his words.
Severus, however, was not easily fooled. His gaze fell on Harry, assessing him with an acute attention borne of his fatherly instincts. "Perhaps you should put on a sweater, regardless? The evening carries a notable chill," he suggested, his words carrying a subtle hint of command wrapped in a plea.
Harry nodded in agreement, yet when he attempted to move his arm, his brows knitted together in confusion. He lifted his questioning gaze to Severus, who responded with a small, reassuring smile.
"I suspect Don may have cast a sticking charm on your arm. How about I remove it for you, and then we can secure your arm back in the sling?" Severus offered, his fingers already hovering over his wand in readiness.
Harry responded with a small, grateful smile. "Yes, please." His words were softly spoken, carrying an undertone of trust that touched Severus, affirming the growing bond between the unlikely pair.
Severus nodded and drew his wand, canceling the sticking charm on the boy. He then watched as Harry fetched a jumper and carefully pulled it over his head, mindful of his arm.
Remembering what Don had mentioned earlier about Harry's arm being sore, Severus picked up the sling and approached the boy. He gently adjusted the sling so that Harry's arm was resting comfortably. However, instead of leading Harry out to the kitchen, he knelt down in front of the boy.
"Harry," Severus began, his voice serious, "Don mentioned that your arm was swollen and must have been painful. Why didn't you mention it?"
Harry simply shrugged. "Didn't think it really mattered."
Severus closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before reaching forward to envelop the boy in a comforting hug. "It does matter, Harry. It matters a great deal. I want you to tell me if you feel even the slightest discomfort. Do you understand?"
Drawing back from the embrace, Severus held Harry's gaze. "Promise me that you'll tell someone if you're hurt or in any pain. Can you do that?"
Harry shuffled his feet, his eyes cast downward. "I'll try."
Severus offered a sad smile, acknowledging that this was all he could realistically expect from the boy. "That's all I ask. Now, I believe food is calling your name. Or at least, your stomach is calling out for it. I heard that grumble!"
Harry flushed a delicate pink, watching as Severus rose to his feet. The sight of the older man smiling at him made his own lips twitch upward.
Accepting the hand offered to him, Harry followed his father out of the room and into the kitchen for the meal his stomach had been clamoring for over the last hour or so. He knew that accepting Severus' hand was a childish act, but he chose to indulge his father. Or at least, that's what he told himself.
Upon reaching the kitchen table, they were greeted by a spread of food so vast they knew they would never be able to finish it all. Nevertheless, they sat down and, after ingesting a few necessary potions, began to eat.
Halfway through the meal, however, Severus noticed that Harry was merely playing with his food. Sighing, he set down his fork and observed the boy as he idly stirred his mashed potatoes.
"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked, suspecting that Harry's nerves about their impending conversation might be affecting his appetite. Still, he needed to be sure Harry was physically well.
The boy gave a small nod. "I'm sorry, I'm just not that hungry."
Summoning two nutritional potions, Severus handed one to Harry. It was clear neither of them was going to eat much more. "Don't apologize, Harry. Just drink this potion, and then we can talk. Is that okay?"
Harry nodded, downing the potion Severus had given him. Severus stood and drank his own potion, aware that Don would reprimand him if he neglected to do so.
As Harry rose from his seat, Severus gently placed an arm around his shoulders, guiding him from the room. As they left, a house elf appeared behind them, and in response to the unasked question, Severus instructed the elf to leave the food on the table for a while. Perhaps later, he could persuade Harry to eat some more fruit or something similar. While nutritional potions were beneficial, they were no substitute for real food.
Severus settled next to Harry on the couch, turning to face the boy. He chose his words carefully, trying to present the situation as gently as possible.
"As Albus mentioned earlier, a development has arisen regarding your adoption. Social services have located a distant cousin of yours. This cousin, along with his wife, wishes to meet you."
Harry's gaze fell to his lap. "You mean they want to take me away from you."
In an attempt to comfort Harry, Severus gently draped an arm over the boy's shoulders.
"Not necessarily. For now, they merely want to spend some time with you, to allow you to get acquainted with them. Unless you strongly object, they've proposed that you come and stay with them for a few days next week."
Harry looked up at Severus, his eyes filled with worry. "I don't want to leave you. What if I go and can't come back? And what about school? I can't miss any more; I'm already falling behind!"
Gently patting Harry on the shoulder, Severus reassured him. "You will always be able to return here, if that's what you wish. Albus has arranged a set of journals that we can use to keep in touch. As for school, I believe Don mentioned something about Pam coming by to ensure you keep up with your class."
"You mean I'll be able to communicate with you even though we'll be apart, and I won't fall behind academically?"
"Exactly, Harry. And you'll also be able to contact Don whenever you need to. You'll see, it won't be as daunting as you imagine."
Harry gave a small nod of understanding, and with a sigh, Severus continued.
"A social worker will visit us the day after tomorrow to check on our situation. I assure you, their visit will bear no resemblance to Madam Roloon's. Their objective will simply be to determine whether you're content here and discuss with you where you'd prefer to stay."
Harry nodded again. "Will you be present?"
"I'll be here if you want me to be. They might ask to speak with you alone for a while, though."
"Okay, as long as you're present and I can return."
"Agreed. Now, there are a few more things you need to be aware of. As you know, your father and I didn't get along particularly well. However, a couple of his friends might wish to see you, if you're comfortable with that. One of them is your godfather, and the other was very fond of you when you were a baby."
Harry looked down, his eyes reflecting a sense of betrayal. "If they loved me so much, why didn't they come for me sooner?"
In response, Severus reached over to pull the boy into a tight embrace, his chin resting on Harry's head. As much as he was reluctant to defend the remaining Marauders, he knew what the boy needed to hear.
After several more moments of silence, Severus felt Harry pull back slightly. Allowing the boy to dictate the pace, he met Harry's eyes with a searching gaze.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
Slowly, Harry nodded, though his eyes remained full of questions as his hand rose to his scar. "Is that why there's a bandage over my scar, and why it feels so itchy?"
"Don mentioned that after you shared your dream, your scar split open and stubbornly refused to close. He had to resort to using Muggle stitches to hold it together, and then he healed it."
As Harry's fingers began an absent-minded dance over the bandage, Severus intervened, his hand gently halting the motion.
"I would advise against touching it, Harry. Your scar is still in the process of healing, hence the itchiness," he admonished softly, careful not to sound too stern.
Harry nodded and allowed his hand to be guided away from his forehead, his small fingers curling into a fist as if to prevent a relapse into the unconscious action.
Shifting gears, Severus proposed a change of scene. "How about we return to the kitchen? Would you feel up to eating a little fruit and perhaps some ice cream?" His words, infused with an enticing warmth, painted a comforting picture of normalcy in contrast to their heavy conversation.
Harry smiled and nodded. His time at Hogwarts had revealed this combination as his favorite dessert.
Severus helped the boy off the couch, following him back to the kitchen. To his amusement, one of the house elves had overheard his request for different food and had replaced their previous meals with two bowls of fruit and vanilla ice cream.
Severus shook his head, vowing to one day uncover the enigma of house elves' impeccable timing. His instincts as a spy suggested that they must have ears in every room, eavesdropping on conversations. However, his rational side refuted this, acknowledging the impossibility of elves being everywhere at once. More likely, there was a specific charm only house elves could perform, which alerted them whenever food was mentioned. That had to be it.
Snapping back to the present, Severus noticed Harry, now seated across from him, eagerly devouring his dessert. He couldn't help but smile at the sight - it was undeniably endearing. Merlin, he was softening.
Shaking off the thought, he started on his own dessert. After Harry finished annihilating his bowl of fruit and ice cream, Severus pushed his own, nearly-empty bowl in front of himself, raising an eyebrow at Harry.
"It seems the key to getting you to eat is offering fruit."
Harry blushed and dropped his gaze to his lap. "Sorry, sir. It's just that back at the Dursleys', I was never able to have anything fresh, so I really enjoy fresh fruit."
Severus gave a swift nod, striving to maintain his composure. Displaying anger in response to Harry's revelation would only frighten the boy, and nothing productive would come of that.
"Please, Harry, there's no need to constantly apologize," Severus gently rebuked, his tone softened by a hint of fondness. "I was merely teasing you, you silly boy."
Harry's cheeks flushed, and he glanced down, stammering, "I'm so..."
But halfway through his apology, Harry pressed a hand over his mouth, halting the habitual utterance. It was a reflex he had picked up living with his relatives - to apologize even when he wasn't at fault.
With an amused smile, Severus watched the wide-eyed boy. "I believe it's nearly time for bed. Why don't you go wash up and get into your pajamas?"
Harry nodded and stood to do as Severus had suggested. He first made his way to his room to gather his pajamas, then proceeded to the bathroom to freshen up and change.
As Harry prepared for bed, Severus moved to the bookshelf in his own room and rummaged through until he found a cherished relic from his youth, "The Complete Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales". The tales were ancient and admittedly grim, but they were some of the most memorable stories from his childhood.
Carrying the well-worn book, he strolled over to Harry's room and placed it on the bedside table. The shower was still running, so Severus drew up a chair beside Harry's bed and seated himself, deciding to wait for the boy there instead of occupying himself with other matters. At least, that was the excuse he told himself. He would never confess that he simply wished to savor as much time as possible with Harry while he could.
In truth, his composure in discussing Harry's visit with his relatives belied the turmoil within. The idea of being parted from his boy, even temporarily, sent his heart into a whirl. It was remarkable how Harry had managed to burrow so deeply into his affections.
A few minutes later, the soft patter of feet echoed down the hallway. As he turned, he saw Harry tiptoe into the room, only to startle at the sight of Severus waiting there. Clearly, Harry hadn't expected him to be present.
Gifting the boy with a reassuring smile, he patted the bed gently. "Hop on in, Harry."
Harry gave a nod and clambered into his bed. Severus moved closer, tucking the boy in so that the covers reached just below his armpits.
"I've brought a storybook here that I thought you might enjoy. Would you mind if I read some of it aloud?"
Harry's eyes widened at the suggestion. No one had ever read to him before. Indeed, Dudley had been treated to a bedtime story every night until he'd deemed himself too mature for such things, but Harry had never enjoyed the privilege. He'd tried once or twice to eavesdrop from behind the closed door, but his last attempt had ended in a stark memory of punishment.
Suppressing a shudder at the remembrance, Harry nodded, his voice soft but eager. "I...I would like that."
Severus gifted him a gentle smile. "Good. Now, lie back and relax."
He reached for the storybook and reclined back into the chair he'd occupied earlier, after tucking the small boy into bed. Opening the book, he commenced reading the first story, "The Frog King".
Half an hour later, Severus noticed Harry's eyes begin to flutter closed. Marking his place with a small white ribbon, a trinket he'd borrowed from Minerva's office - he couldn't be blamed if it made the perfect bookmark and she'd left it in plain sight - he closed the book and placed it back on the bedside table. Rising quietly from his chair, he removed Harry's glasses, placing them atop the book.
"That's it, Harry, nice and relaxed," he cooed softly.
Gently cradling the boy's head, he softly ventured into Harry's mind. Once inside, he swiftly erected the strongest mental shields he could. Lingering wouldn't do any good. When he was done, he exited Harry's mind as gently as he had entered, taking solace in the knowledge that his child was protected in every possible way.
Returning to his own senses, Severus withdrew his hands from the now sleeping child and pulled the covers up to his chin, ensuring his arms were covered to stave off any chill. Leaning over, he placed a tender kiss on the boy's forehead.
"Goodnight, my dear boy. May your dreams be pleasant, and I promise you, everything will work out just fine," he murmured softly.
With that, Severus retreated from the room, whispering a quick "Nox" to douse the lights as he exited.
Revelations