Severus was the picture of anxiety and unrest in the current moment. The last correspondence from Harry had left him unable to calm the turbulent thoughts in his mind. There was an indefinable sense, a paternal instinct perhaps, that told him something was amiss with his son. Harry's feeble attempt to evade revealing his lunch details had left Severus irked. His heart was convinced that his child was lying, and it was almost an innate skill he possessed, to detect dishonesty in children, particularly his own. Perhaps this uncanny ability was the reason children often found him daunting. Severus could unmask the truth simply by bestowing a stern gaze upon them.
Rising from the chair behind his desk, he began to pace around the room, hands clasped behind his back. The day had been fraught with distress. His son had been taken from him, and to add insult to injury, chaos seemed to reign. Worry was becoming a constant companion.
While in the midst of his pacing, the distinctive sound of the floo echoed from the adjacent room. Severus knew it would be Don, coming to check on him, and felt no need to personally greet the man. Following his troubling conversation with Harry, he had quickly contacted Don, hoping that the Healer might be able to satisfy his escalating worry, which felt like it might cause his heart to hammer out of his chest. Merlin, had he turned into Molly Weasley?
Upon Don's entrance, Severus merely glanced at him, continuing his restless pacing. His nerves were on edge, and movement was a necessary distraction. The wait for Don's arrival had been excruciatingly long for Severus's liking.
"There is something wrong. I am certain that there is something amiss with Harry." His words were immediate, devoid of any formal greeting.
Approaching Severus, Don placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, causing him to cease his pacing. "Did he disclose anything to you, Severus? Any indication that he might be hurt?"
Looking up at Don, Severus shook his head. "He didn't explicitly say anything, but he clearly hasn't eaten since breakfast. He claimed to have had lunch, but it is apparent to me that he was being dishonest."
Don surveyed the frantic man with a worried gaze. "Can I take a look at what he wrote to you?"
Severus nodded, retrieving the book where Harry had jotted down his fears and uncertainties, and showed Don the particular page marred by Harry's tears. He silently handed over the book, hoping that this evidence would convince Don of the severity of the situation.
"See," he pointed.
The Healer read the few pages Harry had filled, before gently closing the book and placing it on the table next to the couch. He sighed, looking at Severus with an expression of empathy.
"Severus, my hands are tied. If Harry had confessed to something being wrong or had reached out to me, I could intervene. But until that happens, my abilities are limited. They're already stretching the rules to let me see him."
A desperate hope lingered in Severus's eyes. His dignity would have precluded begging in the past, but for his son, he was ready to stoop to any level. "Could you check on him then? Please? To ensure he's alright?"
Don conceded, "I was planning on checking on him in the morning, but I could go back tonight under the pretext of returning something he left behind. That wouldn't raise suspicion."
Relief flooded Severus's features, and he dashed into Harry's room to retrieve the toy lion that Harry had left behind. During their packing, Harry had expressed his wish to carry only his small cat to save room. However, Severus knew Harry's attachment to his stuffed cat surpassed his affection for the lion. For once, he was grateful that Harry had left it behind.
Returning to the room with the toy in hand, Severus handed it to Don. "Could you deliver this to Harry? He inadvertently left it behind, and he can't sleep without it."
A tiny falsehood, but in his current state, Severus couldn't care less. If this would convince Don to see Harry, he could live with the lie.
Don nodded, understanding Severus's subtext. "It appears I must deliver this to him before his bedtime then."
Severus's smile was faint as he exhaled in relief. His wish was for Harry to be safe and enjoying time with his cousins. If that was not the case, he knew Don would intervene. "Thank you. If something is wrong, you will bring him back, won't you?"
With a sigh, Don shook his head. "Ideally, I want to bring him back here, but it may jeopardize the adoption, as he is mandated to spend a week away from you. If he is in distress, I will take him to The Clinic, a neutral location where the Ministry has no jurisdiction."
"Will I be allowed to see him once he arrives?" Severus's voice held a tremor of hope.
Don placed his hand gently on Severus's rigid shoulder, the warmth of his touch serving as a meager comfort in the cold room. "We have to wait for the Ministry's go-ahead. We can't risk jeopardizing the adoption proceedings. You're an essential figure in Harry's life, and he in yours."
Severus's shoulders sagged, as if the weight of the world had just landed on them. He inhaled sharply, a ragged sigh escaping his lips. "I'm not permitted to see him."
Don's grip on Severus's shoulder tightened slightly in an empathetic squeeze. "Just a little longer, Severus. Patience."
Severus slumped heavily into a nearby chair, his gaunt face lifting to meet Don's gaze. His eyes, usually cold and distant, shimmered with a hint of desperate hope.
"Make sure to convey to Harry that I love him," he requested softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I will, Severus. I should head off to see him now. It's past dinner, nearly his bedtime. Would you like me to ask Albus to stay with you before I leave?"
Lowering his gaze to his lap, Severus nodded in assent.
Don gave Severus's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be back shortly then."
Making his way to the floo, Don quickly summoned Albus to keep Severus company. The former spy's agitation and stress were palpable, and Don was reluctant to leave him alone in this state. He knew that what Severus projected was merely the tip of the iceberg of his true inner turmoil.
Albus, in the next moment, stepped through the fireplace. With a brisk nod towards Don, the Headmaster strode over to Severus's side, taking a seat on the chair opposite him. With a tender touch on Severus's knee, Albus raised his gaze, giving a grateful nod to the Healer. Albus would take care of Severus now.
Returning the nod, Don strode towards the fireplace, the stuffed Lion in his grasp. The flames flickered from green to orange, and Severus leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. The dam of his restraint broke and tears flowed freely. Albus, ever the supportive mentor, transfigured the chair into a comfortable couch and slid next to Severus. No words were exchanged. Instead, Albus pulled the grieving man close, offering a safe harbor for his storm of sobs.
Severus's heart ached with an unbearable void. His boy was not with him, and his paternal instincts screamed that something was terribly amiss.
Meanwhile, Harry lay curled in a corner of a cold room, struggling to find some semblance of sleep. He was hurting in ways he hadn't since the last time Uncle Vernon had thrashed him, only this time it was different. This pain seeped into his heart, leaving him feeling betrayed. Despite knowing that he could call for help whenever he needed, he found himself lost in a spiral of despair. With a shudder, he remembered the events that led him to his current predicament.
After only a few minutes into reading a fairy tale from the book Severus had gifted him, Harry's exhaustion had overwhelmed him, luring him into a much-needed slumber.
His sleep was shattered by a brutal kick to his chest, yanking him from the bed and flinging him onto the floor. Disoriented, Harry realized he was the one who was screaming and were a response to a nightmare he couldn't recall, but his awakening was to a nightmare far too real. He instinctively shielded his head with his arms, drawing his knees up to protect his vulnerable stomach. Long years at the Dursley's had taught him well.
"Look at what you did, you dirty little runt! You ruined my good sheets with your filth! You're no better than a dog! I'll send my husband in right away to teach you your place, you filthy little animal. I don't know why the hell we agreed to take in the first place!"
His cousin's harsh words resonated in his ears as she slammed the door shut behind her. Fighting through his pain, Harry scrambled to the corner of the room. His instincts of self-preservation kicked in, and he knew his only chance was to protect himself. He positioned himself with one side pressed against the wall, again with his arms shielding his head, knees drawn up to protect his stomach.
Harry had made the right move, for when the door burst open again, Mark stood in the doorway, belt in hand. As Mark approached him, hurling insults, he also aimed a heavy kick at Harry's side. A sharp crack reverberated through the room, and Harry yelped at the agonizing pain of a broken rib, bracing himself for the upcoming onslaught.
"How dare you ruin our sheets with your disgusting urine! If it takes all night I will teach you not to ruin nice things that are beneath you!"
A barrage of pain rained down upon Harry as Mark mercilessly lashed his belt. He made every effort to stifle his cries, but a particularly painful kick to his ribs forced a pained yelp out of him, much to Mark's satisfaction.
"There we go, cry like the animal you are!"
As the belt cracked relentlessly onto Harry's back, tears began to stream silently down his face. He yearned for the warmth and safety of his home, and for his daddy. His thoughts veered towards feelings of betrayal. He couldn't help but feel Severus had promised he would never be hurt like this again.
After what felt like an eternity, Mark's onslaught finally ceased. Panting heavily, Mark withdrew his wand and pointed it at Harry, uttering the dreaded curse.
"Crucio!"
Harry writhed on the floor, agony coursing through him. The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced. Twice more, the curse hit him. When Mark finally exhausted himself, he backed away, leaving Harry alone once again.
"You're just lucky I'm tired. I'll be back to finish your lesson later, you hear me?"
In the silence of his solitude, Harry cautiously leaned against the cold stone walls, gingerly assessing the extent of his injuries. His back was raw and tender to the touch, and his shirt was soaked through with fresh blood. A broken rib throbbed with pain inside his chest, and his pants were damp from an involuntary accident. While the spell hadn't inflicted visible scars like the belt did, it left his body trembling uncontrollably.
Steadying himself against the wall, Harry rose shakily to his feet, his body convulsing from the intense pain. He began to limp towards a pile of clean clothes, loathing the dirty and sticky sensation that clung to his skin. How he longed for a warm shower or a healing charm! The mere thought of such comfort made Harry shut his eyes tightly. He knew he could summon Don for help, but the heavy weight of shame held him back.
With a resigned sigh, Harry painstakingly removed his blood-soaked clothes, leaving only his shorts on. He despised the idea of spoiling the new attire Severus had procured for him, but he couldn't bear to remain in the blood-stained garments any longer.
Once he was dressed in the fresh clothes, Harry weakly limped back to his corner, curling up into a tight ball. Despite his body crying out for rest, the fear of being caught off guard kept him awake. Past encounters had taught him that inattention invited harsher punishments from his uncle. The thought of what his cousin could potentially do to him here was an added fear Harry wasn't ready to face. He remained alert, his senses heightened to every sound and movement, willing himself to stay awake and prepared for what might come next. He was unsuccessful though and eventually fell into an exhausted sleep.
Some time later, Harry was awakened by a gentle shake of his shoulder instead of a brutal kick. Confusion clouded his senses as he looked up, his arm still protecting his face.
"Harry?"
The voice sounded kind, soothing. But Harry shrank back, unable to let his guard down completely. His recent experiences had eroded his ability to trust what was real and what was not.
"Harry? What's wrong, child?"
Don's worry was palpable. When he had entered Harry's room, he had found the boy huddled in a corner, shaking violently. At first glance, Harry appeared to be sleeping peacefully, albeit the tremors which could simply be due to the cold. But the sight of the blood-stained clothes near the dresser painted a very different, alarming picture.
Once Harry, had opened his eyes, Don was startled by the glassy quality they held. It was as though Harry was not truly present, trapped in a memory replaying a terrible incident. Sensing the boy's distress, Don gently laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. Yet Harry recoiled, tensing as if bracing for pain. The trembling was worsening and Don's concern deepened.
Casting aside his reservations about the Ministry, Don resolved to bring Harry to The Clinic immediately. The boy's condition clearly required urgent medical intervention. The evidence of what had transpired lay scattered around the room: a bloodied belt near Harry, discarded clothing in the corner. Don's heart ached at the sight.
Struggling to keep his emotions in check, Don's voice wavered with sorrow and compassion as he addressed Harry. "Harry, it's me, Don. I'm here to take you to The Clinic."
Peering out from behind the arm shielding his face, Harry looked at Don anew, recognising him as the Healer he truly was. A surge of relief washed over him, mingled with anxiety. He knew he had escaped further harm for the moment, but uncertainty lingered about what the Healer, or his father, might say. They had both instructed him to use his pendant to summon help if he was injured, and he hadn't. Would they be angry with him for not calling sooner?
Unaware that his apprehension was spiralling into a panic attack, Harry's breaths grew ragged and shallow. Noticing the boy's distress, Don carefully lifted him into his arms, mindful of his injuries.
"Harry, breathe. I've got you now, you're safe. Breathe for me, Harry, can you do that?"
Slowly, Harry managed to regain control of his breath, relaxing into Don's comforting embrace. Safe at last. A torrent of tears followed as the reality of his situation set in. Harry clung to Don, still shaken from the recent trauma.
"Please, I want my daddy!"
Gently, Don rose to his feet, casting a small weight-altering spell on Harry to make him easier to carry.
"I know, I know, Harry. Let's get you to the Clinic and treated first. Then, I'll see if I can arrange for your daddy to come see you."
Harry nodded, tears still streaming down his face and his body shaking against Don's robes. Sighing lightly, Don summoned Harry's belongings with his wand, excluding the torn clothing and the belt in the corner. These he left behind as evidence, and cast a spell on the room to preserve the scene untouched. In just a few moments, all of Harry's belongings were packed, save for a small toy cat that floated over from the downstairs.
Curiosity sparked in Don's mind, but this was not the moment to question why Harry had left behind his cherished toy. When the toy cat floated into his hand, Don offered it to the still-crying Harry, hoping it would provide some comfort. Grasping the toy as if his life depended on it, Harry clutched it tightly against his chest.
Don shrank the bags of Harry's belongings and stowed them in his pocket. His mission now was two-fold: ensure Harry's safety and bring the people responsible to justice. Anger bubbled within him at the thought of a child, already burdened with so much suffering, being subjected to such cruelty.
Descending the stairs, Don spotted the two culprits seated on a couch. Before they could react or reach for their wands, he cast a stunning spell on them, ensuring they would remain incapacitated until an Auror released them.
"You two are fortunate that my Healer's oath forbids causing harm. Otherwise, you would be writhing in agony right now. Prepare yourselves, the Aurors will arrive shortly." Speaking these words brought Don a modicum of satisfaction, even if they couldn't hear him.
Exiting the front door, Don swathed Harry in his cloak to protect him from the chill. He walked briskly to the pub, then used the Floo Network to transport them to The Clinic, cradling the hurting boy.
Upon arrival at The Clinic's front desk, Don kept Harry covered as much as possible. The boy was still shivering, and Don knew it was not merely from the cold. A deeper issue lurked beneath the surface, and the thought of it twisted his stomach with disgust. How could anyone inflict such harm on a helpless child?
Without looking up from her ledger, the woman replied, "Our rooms are fully occupied at present. However, we do have a shared room that will be available in a few hours..."
Interrupting her, Don raised his voice slightly, "Surely, there's a room available immediately. Harry, the boy I'm carrying, is severely hurt."
Only then did the receptionist glance up from her book, her eyes widening at the sight of the small, trembling figure in Don's arms. With renewed urgency, she briskly flipped through the pages of her book, fully comprehending the gravity of the situation.
"We do have a bed vacant in the emergency ward. You can administer care to him there until a private room becomes available in the pediatric ward."
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Don shifted Harry's weight, ensuring a more secure grip. His arm tightened protectively around the boy, his hand lightly brushing over the back of Harry's head, trying to soothe his quiet sobs.
"Could you direct me to the available bed?" he asked, his gaze never leaving the receptionist's face.
"Bed number 189, in the left wing," she promptly relayed the information.
Acknowledging the instructions, Don turned from the reception desk, moving toward the specified bed in the emergency ward. Arriving at the location, he carefully eased himself onto the edge of the hospital bed, Harry cradled gently against his chest. He delicately unwrapped Harry from his cloak, positioning him in such a way that he could properly examine the boy.
As he gazed into the misty eyes of the child, Don gently swept a stray lock of Harry's untidy hair from his face.
"Harry, is it alright if I lay you down on the bed?" he asked softly.
In response, Harry nuzzled deeper into Don's robes, the tremors wracking his small frame enough of an answer. The boy needed medical attention, but equally, he yearned for the comfort of human touch, the reassurance of being loved.
"Alright, Harry," Don comforted, "I'll ask another healer to attend to your wounds while I hold you, okay?"
Harry's response was a slight nod, his face retreating further into the safe cocoon of Don's robe. Using his free hand, Don signaled an emergency healer, summoning him to their aid.
"I need your help to treat Harry," he requested, "while I keep him calm."
"Certainly," the healer nodded, eyeing the boy. "What seems to be the nature of his injuries?"
A sorrowful look crossed Don's face, he mouthed the words he didn't want Harry to hear. "His relatives."
Upon hearing this, the emergency healer's expression darkened momentarily before he switched his attention back to the wounded boy with a sympathetic gaze.
"Alright," he said, steadying his voice, "let's remove his shirt and assess the damage."
Don raised his hand, stopping the healer. "Could we give him an Anti-Cruciatus potion first?"
The healer's eyes widened slightly at this request but, recovering quickly, he nodded and moved away to retrieve the potion. Upon returning, he drew up a stool and sat down before the two figures on the bed. Uncorking the potion, he extended a comforting hand to Harry's back, vying for his attention.
"Harry," he began, his voice calm, "this potion will alleviate your shaking and ease some of the pain. Can you take it?"
Though Harry nodded, he made no move to unbury his face from Don's robes. Tenderly, Don pulled back Harry's face a little, accepted the potion from the healer, and brought it to the boy's lips.
"Open up, Harry. I know it doesn't taste great, but it's important you drink this."
Harry complied, opening his mouth to let the potion slide down his throat. The sobbing caused him to splutter a few times, but eventually, he managed to swallow the entire content of the vial. His shaking gradually subsided.
Returning the empty vial to the healer, Don gently guided Harry's head to rest on his shoulder, enveloped in his robe.
"That's it, Harry, you're doing really well," he cooed softly.
The other healer once again gently rested a hand on Harry's back. "Ready for me to remove your shirt now?"
Receiving a faint nod from Harry, the healer began to undress the boy as delicately as possible. However, to prevent causing further pain, he decided to cut away the fabric.
"We can mend your shirt later, Harry, but for now, it needs to be cut. Is that okay?"
Too overwhelmed to articulate a response, Harry merely burrowed his face deeper into Don's chest, his small hands clutching the soft fabric beneath him. Sharing a silent understanding with the emergency healer, Don began to stroke Harry's messy hair, attempting to provide a modicum of comfort. Relief washed over him as he noted the cessation of Harry's tremors.
The emergency healer gently started to cut away Harry's shirt, and the sight that greeted him caused him to gasp. It was no wonder the child was in such distress. The question that gnawed at him was, how could anyone inflict such cruelty on a child?
Once the shirt was fully removed, the healer stood from his stool to gather the necessary healing supplies and other provisions he anticipated might be needed later. His intuition suggested that the physical evidence of trauma on the boy's back was only the tip of the iceberg.
Returning to the bedside, the healer first drew the curtains around the bed, providing some privacy for the patient. He then unpacked the healing salves and potions on the bedside table. Taking a jar of disinfectant cream, he applied a small amount and gently began to smear it over Harry's back.
Upon feeling the healer's touch, Harry stiffened and tried to squirm away. While it wasn't overly painful, it was an unwelcome sensation after his recent ordeal. Don securely held Harry in his arms and murmured soothing words in an effort to calm him.
Slowly, Harry relaxed again in Don's embrace, that is until the other healer initiated contact again. With great care, Don pulled the boy back a little so he could meet Harry's gaze.
"I know this stings a little, Harry, but can you be brave for me? Just for a little while?" he asked, his voice filled with empathy.
A hesitant nod was Harry's response, but he managed to choke out a few tear-filled words.
"I...I do...don't know if I...I can."
Intercepting the look exchanged between Don and the healer, the latter nodded slightly and reached for a potion he had set aside earlier. It was generally preferable to heal someone without overloading their system with magic when the full extent of their condition was unknown, but it was clear Harry needed immediate relief from his pain.
"How about a pain relief potion, Harry?" he suggested. "It might make you feel a little drowsy and strange, but it will help alleviate the pain."
Harry's slight nod prompted Don to accept the potion from the healer. Positioning the vial against Harry's lips, he helped the boy take small gulps until the potion was entirely consumed. With a few final sobs and tears, Harry's eyes fluttered closed.
Immediately, Don placed his hand over Harry's nose and mouth to ensure he was still breathing, then checked his pulse for additional reassurance. He had anticipated the potion would make Harry sleepy, but the rapid onset of slumber indicated the boy had experienced more than he had initially imagined.
He looked up at the other healer, managing a weary smile. "It appears Harry was more fatigued than I realized. Thank you for your assistance."
The emergency healer nodded in response. "I'm happy to help. Could you tell me what really happened?"
Don's gaze fell back on the slumbering boy in his arms. "It's a complicated story, but the Ministry decided he should stay with his relatives. Needless to say, it didn't turn out well."
Resuming his treatment, the emergency healer picked up the jar of disinfectant cream and carefully smeared it over Harry's back. "That seems to be an understatement."
Summoning a wet cloth with a wave of his wand, Don started cleaning Harry's tear-streaked face. "Indeed. I had an uneasy feeling when I left him there, but convinced myself he would be fine until morning. It was only a few hours, and I thought he had begun to trust us enough to let us know if something was wrong. I'm just grateful that Severus sensed something amiss and prompted me to check on him."
As Don wiped away Harry's tears, the other healer opened a jar of healing balm, delicately applying it to the raw welts adorning Harry's back. "From what I understand, you cannot hold yourself responsible for this. How could you have known with certainty that those people would harm him? You and I both know that it would have taken irrefutable evidence to intervene or remove him from that home."
A sigh escaped from Don as he banished the cloth. "Even so, I should have done more to ensure his safety."
With a solemn frown, the emergency healer momentarily set aside the jar of healing balm, pausing in his careful ministrations. "Given what I understand, it seems like you went above and beyond," he observed, casting an evaluative glance at Don.
His eyes lingered momentarily on the charm that hung around Harry's neck, his trained eye recognizing it as a summoning charm. "If I'm not mistaken, that's a summoning charm," he pointed out. "Harry could have used it to call you at any moment or confided in the person he spoke with about his situation. You cannot reprimand yourself when entities like the Ministry or Social Services become involved. Their interference often curtails our ability to act as freely as we'd like."
His words hung in the air, reverberating with a grim realism that Don could not deny, as he returned to gently applying the soothing balm on Harry's wounded back.
The healer's words rang true, though they did little to lessen the weight on Don's shoulders. He had promised Harry he would be safe, and he felt he had failed to deliver on that promise. Still, he knew he had to focus on the present, on helping Harry heal and recover. "I guess you are right."
Don looked down at Harry, whose breaths had steadied into the deep rhythm of sleep, offering some relief. He continued to hold the boy close, his hand rhythmically stroking the boy's hair. As the emergency healer continued applying the healing balm, the room fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the occasional soft murmur of spells cast to heal Harry's injuries.
"Of course, I am. Could you assist me in removing his trousers?" The emergency healer suggested, his voice gentle yet professional.
Giving a slight nod of agreement, Don began the delicate process. His fingers moved to the front of the boy's pants, carefully unzipping them. He tugged them down just far enough to ensure Harry's comfort before the task became too cumbersome for one person. Noticing Don's pause, the emergency healer took over, continuing to gently pull the trousers down to Harry's ankles before removing them completely. The soft rustle of fabric signaled the summoning of a hospital gown by the emergency healer, which was carefully draped over the boy with Don's assistance.
Once Harry was decently clothed in the gown, the emergency healer cautiously rolled the fabric up, revealing just enough to reach the wounded area. With a renewed focus, he embarked on the process once again, initially disinfecting the welts and subsequently applying a soothing healing balm. Upon completion, he gently pulled the boy's shorts back up and arranged the gown appropriately, providing as much coverage as possible.
Pausing for a moment to ensure he hadn't missed anything, the healer finally looked up at Don. "Why don't you lay him down on the bed so we can assess if there are any other injuries?" He proposed.
With a sigh of agreement, Don responded to the suggestion, slowly rising from his seat. Hours of supporting Harry's weight had left his muscles stiff and aching, but he cast aside his discomfort, his focus solely on Harry. Gently, he transferred the boy onto the bed, laying him down with care. Almost immediately, the telltale signs of broken ribs under the thin fabric of the gown caught his attention. Despite the added weight Harry had managed to gain in the past week, his ribs were disturbingly visible beneath the gown.
Turning slightly to the other Healer, Don offered a small, grateful smile, a sad undertone threading through his features. "Thank you for all your assistance, but I can take it from here."
Recognizing the resignation in Don's expression, the emergency Healer rested a comforting hand on Don's shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. "Alright then, if you need anything else, I'm here until midnight."
"Thank you," Don murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
The emergency Healer respectfully retreated, parting the privacy curtains and closing them gently behind him. Once alone, Don returned his full attention to Harry, extracting his wand from his robe pocket.
Without uttering a word, he cast a diagnostic spell, watching as a quill, floating in mid-air, scribbled the results onto a crisp sheet of parchment. Once the quill stilled, Don snatched the parchment from the air, scanning the medical report with an intense focus.
Not only were there the two broken ribs he had observed, but Harry had also managed to bruise his elbow severely. What concerned Don the most, however, was the minor internal bleeding around Harry's spleen. Easy to fix, but its presence could explain the boy's evident exhaustion. Such internal injuries were draining, causing extreme fatigue.
Summoning the medical supplies that the emergency Healer had thoughtfully left on the bedside table, Don set to work, his heart heavy but his hands steady as he began to heal the battered child before him.
Despite the reassuring aura of his healing magic, he wished Harry were awake during the process. Not to cause him discomfort, but to reassure himself that he didn't inadvertently cause further harm. Magic could provide a comprehensive diagnostic, yet it still missed details that a physical exam or the human eye could detect.
Sighing, Don cast another diagnostic spell post-treatment to confirm he hadn't caused any unintentional harm while healing Harry's ribs. Satisfied that he hadn't, he picked up a potion bottle from the bedside table and charmed it directly into Harry's stomach, hoping to halt the internal bleeding as swiftly as possible.
Once the healing was complete, Don picked up the last two potions: a Blood Replenisher and a Dreamless Sleep elixir. He wanted Harry to rest after such an ordeal, and was determined to prevent the boy from enduring any potential nightmares. After the potions were safely administered, he carefully tucked Harry in, ensuring that his small black cat was nestled comfortably next to him.
Having cast a monitoring charm on Harry, Don quietly left the privacy curtains. He wished that such a spell could have been active when Harry was staying with his cousins, but its effectiveness was limited by distance. It was impossible to monitor someone beyond a certain range, and it was a frustrating constraint.
Choosing not to dwell on something beyond his control, Don moved towards the Floo Network connection nestled in a corner of the room. He had to inform Severus about Harry's condition and reassure him that the boy was safe. He also had to notify Harry's social worker and the Aurors about the culprits responsible for the boy's state.
Sighing, Don knelt down before the flickering green fire, throwing in a handful of Floo powder. He called out Severus's name and was relieved to see the familiar face of Albus Dumbledore in the background when Severus answered. He was glad Albus was still with Severus; the man needed all the support he could get during such a troubling time.
"Hello, Severus," Don greeted, his voice a comforting lull amidst the storm of worry.
Severus, his eyes wide with fear, scrutinized Don's face, desperately seeking any sign that would reveal Harry's state. "How is Harry?" he demanded, his voice thick with anxiety.
Don offered a sad smile, his heart heavy. "He is sleeping comfortably here at The Clinic."
"Harry was injured?" Severus exclaimed, panic seeping into his tone. "I'm coming through! I need to see him!"
Don watched as Albus stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Severus's shoulder, successfully halting the man's hasty move towards the fireplace. Although he couldn't hear their whispered argument, he could see the heated exchange. Eventually, Severus returned his gaze to Don, looking defeated, his head drooping low.
"What happened to him?" Severus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Aware that Albus had only prevented Severus from coming here to avoid jeopardizing the adoption process, Don offered an empathetic look. "It seems Harry suffered a nightmare, which caused him to wet his bed. I presume the man responsible, Mark if I recall his name correctly, believed he could 'cure' Harry by punishing him with his belt. There's more, but I found Harry cowering in a corner of the room, shaking violently and in tears." Don tactfully omitted the fact that Harry had also suffered a Cruciatus Curse, not wishing to distress Severus unnecessarily. He could share the horrifying details when the time was right.
Severus inhaled sharply, a look of disbelief etched on his face. "I... I thought they had just starved him... but they actually inflicted physical harm?"
Nodding solemnly, Don confirmed, "They did, Severus. Are you alright there with Albus? I have to inform the Aurors and ensure those responsible are arrested."
Severus, with a forced calm, managed a stiff nod. "I'm coping. Please inform me when I can visit Harry." His voice was strained, and his eyes pleaded, indicating the monumental effort it was taking him to not immediately rush to Harry's side.
Promising to keep him updated, Don reassured Severus. "I will, Severus. As soon as Madam Lark gives her approval, I'll contact you."
After another acknowledgment from Severus, Don ended the call and reignited the Floo connection to inform Madam Lark of the dire situation.
Her face filled the fireplace, and Don met her gaze with the same melancholy expression he had given Severus. "Don? What's the matter?"
Exhaling deeply, Don unraveled the events that had unfolded. As he finished, Madam Lark's face took on a mournful expression. "Step back, let me come through to see the poor child."
Don complied, and once he was clear, Madam Lark stepped out from the emerald flames, landing elegantly on the hearth.
Pointing towards the privacy curtains, Don shared, "Harry's resting there. Would you like to see my Pensieve memories of the incident?"
She shook her head. "Not now, but eventually, yes, for the case. For now, I'd like to be with Harry."
Don then broached the subject of Severus's visitation. "Is Severus permitted to see Harry? I recall he was barred from visiting Harry while he was with his cousins."
Madam Lark, her face filled with regret, shook her head. "Not just yet. First, we need to have those individuals arrested, and then I have to check the protocol in this scenario. I don't want to risk jeopardizing the adoption."
Recognizing her decision as necessary, Don suggested, "Why don't you stay with Harry while I get the Aurors involved? He was understandably distressed when I found him, and I suspect he will still be shaken when he awakes."
With a heavy sigh, Madam Lark closed her eyes and nodded in agreement. "The resilience of that boy astounds me. I wish I hadn't placed him in that dreadful house. I swear I would wring my boss's neck if I could."
Offering a comforting pat on her shoulder, Don attempted to console her. "You had no choice, Madam Lark. Rather than lamenting what's past, let's focus on improving Harry's future."
Guided by Don, Madam Lark strode towards the privacy curtains. Leaving her to sit with Harry, Don mentally prepared himself for the next step – contacting the Aurors.
Retreating to the fireplace, Don threw in some Floo powder and requested the one Auror he knew would ensure justice was served – Alastor Moody. When Moody's gruff visage appeared in the flames, he gave Don a skeptical look.
"What do you need, sunshine? If you're thinking of attempting another head-shrinking spell, remember how well that turned out last time." His magical eye whirred and rolled as it scanned Don.
Brushing aside Moody's jest, Don responded, "Actually, I'm reaching out on more serious matters. Something has happened."
Moody's solitary good eye narrowed. "It must be pressing for you to contact me. What's got your knickers in a twist?"
Don recounted the harrowing events of the last few days. As he narrated, Moody maintained a stoic expression, his gaze never wavering. Don was well aware of Moody's deep-seated hatred for child abusers, and he knew Moody would do everything in his power to ensure justice.
With a rigid nod, Moody asked, "The culprits are in their living room, stunned?"
"Yes, and thank you, Alastor," Don affirmed, appreciating Moody's resolve.
"Always a pleasure to deal with scum like them," Moody grumbled, his voice steely. "And if they get a little roughed up on the way to their cells, it wouldn't exactly be my fault."
Don would normally reprimand Moody for such a harsh sentiment, but under these circumstances, he found himself silent. Those people had earned every bit of what Moody intended for them.
"Thank you, again, Alastor."
Alastor merely nodded, a glint of grim satisfaction in his eye as he severed the Floo connection. He had a daunting task ahead, and he had a creeping intuition that he was going to derive a bitter sense of fulfillment from it.
As the connection with the Auror flickered out, Don rose from his kneel by the fireplace and strolled back to where Harry and his social worker were situated. He gently pulled back the privacy curtain and couldn't help but offer a melancholy smile upon seeing the woman sitting on the edge of Harry's bed, her hand delicately placed atop his.
The social worker offered a slight tilt of her head in acknowledgment as he entered, her gaze quickly returning to Harry as she tenderly squeezed his hand.
"Are the Aurors en route to apprehend those people?" she asked, her voice tight with controlled anger.
"I've assigned Alastor Moody to the task," Don replied, a note of determination in his voice.
At his words, she turned her head again, a wry smile curving her lips. "Moody? They're certainly going to be in a rough state when they're brought in. Quite fitting, I would say."
Don raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. "Well, this is a new side of you I've never seen before."
With a sigh, the social worker returned her focus to Harry. "I abhor individuals who inflict harm on children. They represent the vilest form of humanity. I simply can't fathom how anyone could harm someone so small, so innocent."
Matching her sigh, Don moved closer and rested his hand on her shoulder. "I understand your sentiment, but we must concentrate not only on those who perpetrated these acts but primarily on the victim and their healing process."
She nodded, her gaze full of sorrow. "Seeing children so broken... it's overwhelming. However, it's clear that you have the situation under control here. I should consult my superior regarding Severus's visitation rights."
As she rose from the bed, Don acknowledged her with a nod. Before she exited the curtain-enclosed area, she turned back to him, her eyes brimming with gratitude.
"Your skills as a healer, and your friendship to Harry, are invaluable. Thank you for noticing what I overlooked. I suppose I allowed my hopes for a positive outcome to blind me to the reality."
Don offered a consoling nod. "It happens to the best of us."
With one last nod, the woman disappeared behind the curtains, leaving Don alone with Harry. Taking the place previously occupied by the social worker, he gently lifted Harry's hand, cradling it in his own.
"If only she knew how much I blame myself for your suffering," he whispered to the unconscious boy. "I truly am sorry, Harry."
Healing