Paws of Comfort by Swamygliders

Harry Potter sat on the banks of the Black Lake, the quiet lapping of the water against the shore the only sound disturbing the tranquillity of the evening. Hogwarts was illuminated like a jewel, its great towers casting long, mysterious shadows over the grounds. But he had his back to the castle, its bustling, chaotic charm too much for his somber mood.

Harry was just beginning his fifth year at the school. And, yet, he felt older. He felt as if he had aged a lifetime in just one year.

The lake shimmered beneath the silvery glow of the moon. Even the giant squid, usually so playful, seemed subdued tonight. Its massive, tentacled form played gently beneath the surface, a shadowy creature in a world of reflected moonlight and stars.

His mind kept playing the same scene over and over again. The hedge maze. The Triwizard Cup. The graveyard. And Cedric... Always Cedric. There was no escaping it. Every time he blinked, he saw Cedric's face, shocked and confused, before it collapsed into the vacant stare of death. It was a memory that clawed at his mind, refusing to let him sleep, refusing to let him forget.

The summer that followed had been no better. The Dursleys, especially his Uncle Vernon, had been unusually cruel. The belt had been used more times than Harry cared to count, the memories still etched onto his skin. He had kept his torment hidden from his friends, not wanting to burden them further, but their silence this summer had amplified his isolation, deepening the divide between them.

His heart was heavy with loss and guilt, each beat a painful reminder of his loneliness. He missed Sirius, his godfather and his one real connection to his parents. But he also missed Ron and Hermione. Their letters, once his lifeline to the wizarding world, had stopped, and Harry felt more alone than ever.

As he stared out at the lake, lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice a small creature making its way out of the Forbidden Forest. A tiny black kitten, its eyes reflecting the moonlight, moved cautiously, its fluffy tail standing on end.

It hesitated for a moment, watching Harry with curious eyes, before it finally padded over to him. It leaped onto his lap, its small body curling up as it began to purr contentedly. Absentmindedly, Harry's hand moved to stroke the soft fur. The kitten's purring increased, and it nuzzled into him, its warmth seeping into Harry's chilled skin.

After a few moments of silent comfort, Harry finally looked down at the small bundle nestled against him. "And who might you be?" he asked softly, his voice sounding strangely loud in the silence of the night.

In response, the kitten meowed, its sound a small echo in the vast expanse of the Hogwarts grounds. Its yellow eyes met Harry's, and he found himself smiling again. The simple action felt foreign to him, like a language he'd forgotten how to speak.

Deciding that the universe wouldn't unravel itself if he took a moment to share his worries with a kitten, Harry began to talk. He spoke of the Dursleys, the oppressive heat of the small room under the stairs, the sharp sting of his Uncle's belt against his skin. The words tumbled out of him like water breaking through a dam. The kitten only mewed in response, its small body vibrating with each purr.

As Harry's words flowed, he found his voice becoming steadier, his posture less rigid. The tension that had made a home in his shoulders started to lessen. It was cathartic, sharing his pain with this tiny creature that could not judge, could not condemn. Its only contribution was the occasional mew and the steady rhythm of its purring.

He continued, his voice carrying his stories across the still surface of the lake. He talked about Cedric, about the Triwizard Tournament, about his loss and fear. About his friends, how their silence stung more than any of his uncle's beatings.

He knew it was silly, burdening a kitten with his problems. But the small creature never tried to get away. Instead, it sat there, its small form a beacon of warmth and companionship in the cool night. Harry found himself drawing strength from its presence, its acceptance of him without any pretenses.

Just as the last of his words echoed in the stillness of the night, Harry felt a shift in the air. A sense of foreboding flooded him, the tranquility of the moment disrupted. Before he could even react, a figure stepped into the moonlit clearing. Tall and cloaked in shadow, the figure was unmistakable.

Severus Snape.

The Potions Master moved closer, his robes rustling softly against the grass. His footsteps were deliberate, as if he wanted Harry to know he was there, not sneaking up on him. This act of consideration was strange coming from Snape, who usually thrived on maintaining an element of surprise and intimidation.

"Potter," Severus addressed him, his tone far softer than Harry had ever heard. His normally crisp and cold voice was replaced with something softer, warmer even, if one dared to describe Severus as such.

"You are missing the welcome back feast." His words were straightforward, yet there was an unusual gentleness that hung in the silence between them.

A sudden pang of anxiety made Harry's heart beat quicker. Snape had heard him. Heard his private confessions about the Dursleys, his deepest fears. The thought was frightening, but Harry kept his face neutral, not giving Snape the satisfaction of seeing him flustered.

"Will you accompany me to the hospital wing, Potter?" Severus’s question broke the tense silence, surprising Harry further.

He added, "You may bring the kitten," his gaze briefly dropping to the small creature in Harry's lap.

Harry hesitated. Why would Snape want him in the hospital wing? What could he possibly want from him now? A wave of doubt washed over Harry, but then he remembered the softness in Snape’s voice, the visible effort he had taken to approach without startling him.

"Wait, why the hospital wing?" Harry asked, his tone rising a notch with a hint of defensiveness. It was strange enough that Snape was acting in such a manner, but a visit to the hospital wing at this hour was more than just bizarre.

"You're injured, Potter," Severus answered, his dark eyes scrutinizing him, lingering on his cheekbone that had turned a dull shade of purple. He probably noticed the careful way Harry was holding his side, where a bruise was blossoming underneath his shirt, a painful reminder of his last encounter with his uncle.

A rush of emotions went through Harry at Snape's words - embarrassment, vulnerability, and a hint of gratitude that was quickly swallowed by his pride. He had gone through worse, and he was sure he could handle a few bruises. Yet, there was an underlying sincerity in Snape's voice that he couldn't ignore. This was a Snape Harry was unfamiliar with.

"I... I can handle it," Harry finally replied, trying to mask the vulnerability with a firmness in his voice.

Severus's eyebrows arched at this, not saying anything immediately. The silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the gentle rustling of the leaves in the night breeze. "Potter," Severus began, his tone softer than before, yet commanding. "Pride has its place, but not when it comes to your well-being. Your injuries need to be seen to."

Harry looked away, the lump in his throat making it harder for him to argue. He was used to handling things on his own, but Snape's insistence and his unexpected kindness left him confused. He had always thought that showing vulnerability was a sign of weakness, but Snape's words were chipping away at that belief.

He glanced down at the kitten in his arms, its soft fur comforting under his touch. It felt safer to hide behind his silence and his supposed toughness, but something in Snape's demeanor made him rethink. Maybe he didn't have to bear everything alone. Maybe he could let someone help him this time.

His gaze shifted back to Severus, who was silently observing him, patient in a way that was not characteristic of the man Harry knew. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, silently giving in. "Alright, professor," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Good." Severus gave a slight nod, indicating his approval of Harry's decision. He extended his hand, not as an invitation but more as an unspoken offering of assistance. Harry hesitated, then cautiously accepted, allowing Severus to guide him up to his feet. He kept his hold on the kitten, who had slipped into a peaceful sleep amidst the turmoil.

The night air had a biting cold to it, and Harry winced as it hit the bruises on his face. But Severus seemed to notice his discomfort, for he shrugged off his cloak and wordlessly draped it over Harry's shoulders. The fabric was heavier than it looked, carrying the faint smell of parchment and potion ingredients. It was comforting, in a peculiar way, creating a protective shield against the chilling wind.

"Do you need help walking?" Severus asked, his gaze steady on Harry's face.

"I don't need help," Harry replied quickly, too quickly. He winced at his own stubbornness, a trait that had often landed him in trouble.

But instead of a sharp retort that Harry expected, Severus merely arched an eyebrow. He stepped closer, his arm moving around Harry's shoulder in a gesture that might have been casual if it were anyone else but Severus. Severus's arm was firm but not constrictive, providing just enough support for Harry to walk without feeling entirely reliant.

And so they began their journey to the castle. The journey was mostly silent, but it wasn't an awkward one. The night provided a comfortable blanket of serenity, the usual hustle of the castle far in the distance. Hogwarts, bathed in the moonlight, stood tall and majestic, a beacon guiding them home.

The contrast of the stillness of the night with the journey they were undertaking wasn't lost on Harry. He was walking side by side with Severus, the man who usually seemed to have a personal vendetta against him. Yet, at this moment, he felt oddly safe, his injured body being subtly guided by the uncharacteristically gentle man.

Severus didn't ask about his injuries, or about the contents of his confessions to the kitten. He simply provided a silent, steady presence that made the trek to the hospital wing less daunting. Severus's stoic silence was a strange comfort that he wouldn't have expected from the Potions Master.

They arrived at the hospital wing faster than Harry expected. The lights were dimmed, the silence echoing in the large space. The usual bustling of Madam Pomfrey was absent, a sign of the late hour. Severus guided Harry to an empty bed, helping him sit down with more gentleness than Harry thought possible from the usually curt professor.

"You should change into this and then lie down," Severus instructed, but his tone was more of a suggestion than a command.

Harry obeyed, carefully positioning himself on the bed to avoid putting pressure on his sore side. The hospital pajamas, a soft material in Hogwarts' colors, felt strangely comforting as he slid into them. Their warmth was a gentle balm against his aching body, and a comforting reminder of the fact that he was safe, within the walls of the school he considered his true home. He cradled the kitten against his chest, its soft purring soothing his racing heart. The small creature seemed content, curling into the crook of his arm, its tiny body relaxing as it succumbed to the lure of sleep once again.

Severus stood beside the bed, his eyes assessing Harry with a scrutiny that was more concerned than judging. Then he reached into the pocket of his robes, withdrawing a small glass vial filled with a familiar glowing substance.

"Drink," Severus commanded, handing him the vial of potion. His tone held no room for refusal. Harry recognized it as the same kind of potion he'd been given after the Triwizard Tournament, a potent pain reliever.

Harry accepted the vial with a curt nod. He uncorked it and downed its contents in one swift motion, wincing at the bitter taste. As he set the empty vial on the bedside table, he felt the potion begin to take effect, the throbbing pain in his side subsiding.

"Would you prefer Madam Pomfrey or a male healer from St. Mungo's?" Severus asked him, his gaze unwavering. It was a simple question, but there was a deeper implication behind it. Severus was giving him a choice, an opportunity to decide for himself who he wanted to confide in about his injuries.

Harry felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes darting to the kitten nestled against his chest. He hadn't expected this level of consideration from Severus, had never thought that he would be given a choice in this matter. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves before meeting Severus's gaze again. "A male healer," he said softly, barely louder than a whisper.

Severus gave a curt nod, seemingly pleased with his decision. "I know a good healer I can call. And I'll inform Madam Pomfrey," he said, his voice conveying an unspoken promise of confidentiality.

Severus turned to leave, his dark robes rustling with his movements. He paused at the door, glancing back at Harry with a look that held a strange mix of understanding and concern. "Rest, Potter. Healer Kendrick will be here shortly."

Then he stepped out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts and the still-purring kitten.

Harry watched the darkened figure of Severus disappear through the door, a silent sigh escaping his lips. He gingerly shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. The kitten in his arms, which had been quiet for a while, stirred and opened its eyes. Its gaze met Harry's, and there was an understanding in the small creature's eyes, as if it was aware of the emotional turmoil Harry was going through.

Harry smiled at the kitten, his fingers lightly brushing its soft fur. "So, do you have a name?" He asked the small creature, his voice barely audible in the dimly lit room.

The kitten mewed, its tiny paws kneading at his chest. Harry took it as a no.

"How about... Alfie?" Harry suggested. The name popped into his head out of nowhere, but it felt right. The kitten mewed again, snuggling closer into his chest. Harry chuckled softly, "Alfie it is then."

Just as he was getting comfortable, there was a soft knock at the door. Harry turned to see a tall man stepping into the room. He was not very old, with soft brown hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. He wore the standard healer's uniform, but there was an aura of kindness and understanding about him.

"Mr. Potter," the man greeted, approaching the bed. "I'm Healer Kendrick. Professor Snape called me."

Harry nodded, carefully sitting up. Healer Kendrick took a seat beside him, his expression serious but gentle. "I understand that you're in some discomfort," he began, his tone professional yet empathetic. "Would it be alright if I took a look at your injuries?"

Harry hesitated, his grip tightening on Alfie. The thought of revealing his injuries, of telling another person about the Dursleys, sent a wave of anxiety through him. But then, he remembered Severus's words, his insistence on taking care of his wellbeing.

He nodded, a small sigh escaping his lips. "Yeah...yeah, that's okay."

Healer Kendrick nodded, carefully drawing the privacy curtain around Harry's bed. He started his examination, his movements soft and unhurried, his manner comforting. The kitten - Alfie - mewed from time to time, as if offering Harry support.

Healer Kendrick worked with a quiet precision that eased some of the tension Harry felt. The man's hands were gentle as they checked over his body for injuries, taking care to be gentle around the areas that Harry winced at. His movements were methodical, showing a level of care and understanding that made Harry feel more at ease. The young wizard watched him work, surprised at the man's delicate touch and respectful demeanor. It was a stark contrast to the rough treatment he was used to.

"How long have you had these injuries, Mr. Potter?" Healer Kendrick asked in a soft voice. His gaze was focused on the cuts and bruises that marred Harry's body, his eyes reflecting a deep concern.

Harry swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hadn't expected the question. How was he supposed to answer? Should he tell the truth? That he'd had some of these wounds for weeks? That his uncle didn't need much of a reason to inflict pain? "A few days," he lied, unable to meet the healer's gaze.

Healer Kendrick paused, his eyes searching Harry's face. For a moment, Harry was afraid that he would push for more information. But then the healer simply nodded, turning his attention back to treating the wounds.

Harry watched as Healer Kendrick carefully applied a salve to a cut on his arm, the healing magic within it making the pain subside instantly. The healer's hands were steady, his touch comforting. Harry found himself relaxing under his care, the anxiety he'd been carrying slowly melting away.

After what felt like an eternity, Healer Kendrick finished treating his injuries. He cleaned his hands with a spell and turned to Harry with a small, encouraging smile as he sat in the chair next to Harry's bed. "There, all done. You were very brave, Mr. Potter."

Healer Kendrick's voice broke Harry from his reverie. He glanced up to meet the healer's gaze, then down at Alfie who had been patient throughout the ordeal. "Thank you," he replied softly, absently stroking Alfie's fur. His body felt significantly better, the pain he had been carrying around less intense. But the questions about his home life, they still loomed large.

"Mr. Potter," Healer Kendrick began, the light in his eyes dimming as he carefully chose his next words, "I can't help but notice the pattern and severity of your injuries. They don't seem to be... accidental."

Harry's heart hammered in his chest. His mind raced to form a plausible excuse, but no words came. His eyes focused on Alfie, who was now quietly purring in his arms.

The healer was quiet for a moment, giving Harry time to process his words. "I am a mind healer, as well as a physical one," he continued gently. "I can assist you, if you're willing, not just with your physical wounds, but also with the ones that can't be seen."

Harry's breath hitched. He had never considered talking about his life with the Dursleys with anyone else, let alone a stranger. The very thought of it was enough to make his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"But... I don't...," Harry stammered, his grip on Alfie tightening unconsciously. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "I'm not ready to talk about it... Not yet."

Healer Kendrick nodded, a soft understanding smile on his face. "I understand, Harry. And it's perfectly okay. Healing, both physical and mental, takes time. But remember, when you're ready, I am here to help. Why don't we set up a meeting each week and we can talk about school and other things. When you're ready to talk about other things my ears will be open."

Harry blinked, surprised at the offer. He looked at the healer, at the sincerity in his eyes, and he found himself unable to decline. A part of him – a very small part – wanted to talk, to let out all the fears and worries that had been haunting him.

"Yeah," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible. "Yeah, that would be... nice."

A warm smile crossed Healer Kendrick's face. "Great. I'll be here next Monday, after your classes. We can start with talking about school and your friends, and when you're ready, we can discuss anything else you want to."

Harry nodded, a small part of the tension in his chest easing. Maybe talking wouldn't be so bad, he thought. Maybe it could even help.

"Get some rest now, Harry," Healer Kendrick said as he stood from the chair. He gave Harry's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door. "I'll see you next week."

As the healer pulled back the privacy curtains and left, the door to the hospital wing creaked open again. Harry looked over, expecting to see Madam Pomfrey, but was surprised to find Severus Snape stepping into the room. The potions master's dark eyes quickly found Harry, a frown etching itself into his features as he strode over.

He took the seat Healer Kendrick had vacated, his gaze scrutinizing. "Potter," Severus started, his voice carrying its usual harsh edge but with an underlying tone of concern that was new. "If word gets out that I've been... kind," he said the word as though it was a particularly distasteful potion ingredient, "I will know who to blame. And rest assured, I can find a multitude of uses for you in potion-making."

Harry blinked, taken aback by the threat. But Severus wasn't done. "However," he added, his gaze softening just a fraction, "if you find yourself in need of assistance or... someone to talk to, my office door will always be open. As much as it pains me to say it, you're not entirely without merit, Potter."

The room was silent as Severus rose from his chair, his black robes billowing around him. He gave Harry one last lingering look before departing, leaving Harry alone once more. But this time, the emptiness didn't feel quite so oppressive.

Harry stared at the door Severus had disappeared through, his mind still processing the unexpected kindness. Snape – the man who had never missed an opportunity to taunt him, belittle him, criticize him – was offering his help. It was confusing, perplexing, and yet... comforting in a strange way.

He felt Alfie stir against his chest, and he looked down at the kitten. Its yellow eyes were staring at him, seemingly waiting for him to say something. Harry gave a soft laugh, his hand absently stroking Alfie's fur. "What a day, Alfie," he whispered, his voice carrying a tired note.

Slowly, he eased back into his bed, careful not to jostle Alfie. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. His eyelids felt heavy, his mind a whirl of thoughts. As he closed his eyes, he felt Alfie nestle closer into his chest, its soft purring a soothing lullaby.

"Thank you, Alfie," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "For listening."

He didn't know if kittens could understand human speech, but somehow, he felt like Alfie understood him. As sleep started to claim him, he couldn't help but feel a little less alone, a little more hopeful. He didn't know what the future held for him, but he knew he wouldn't be facing it alone.

The next morning, Harry woke up to find Albus Dumbledore sitting by his bedside. The Headmaster was peering over his half-moon spectacles at a roll of parchment in his hands. His long, silver beard was tucked neatly onto his lap, and his hair, an untamed mane of silver, was tied back with a simple black ribbon.

Harry blinked, his vision blurred without his glasses. Reaching over to the bedside table, he picked up his spectacles, sliding them onto his face. The room came into focus, Dumbledore's features sharpening in clarity.

Dumbledore looked up as Harry stirred, his blue eyes twinkling as they always did, but there was a somberness to his gaze that Harry rarely saw. "Good morning, Harry," he greeted with a warm smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Harry was momentarily surprised, having expected to see Madam Pomfrey, but he pushed the surprise aside and gave a shrug. "Better," he said, looking down at Alfie who was still nestled against him. The kitten gave a small mew, rubbing its head against Harry's hand.

"I see you've made a friend," Albus commented, a trace of amusement in his voice. He extended a hand towards Alfie, letting the kitten sniff his fingers before gently scratching behind its ears.

"Yeah," Harry replied, a small smile playing on his lips. He glanced at Albus, noticing the seriousness in his gaze. "What's wrong, sir?"

Albus's smile faded, and he took a deep breath, folding the parchment and placing it on the bedside table. "Harry, it appears that we need to discuss some matters regarding your safety."

Harry tensed, his mind immediately jumping to worst-case scenarios. "Is it Voldemort? Has he..."

"No, Harry, it's not Voldemort," Albus interrupted gently. He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Last night, after you were settled in here, I received a visit from Professor Snape. He was... quite insistent that you should not return to your relatives' home."

Harry's heart clenched at the mention of the Dursleys, but he remained silent, prompting Albus to continue.

"Professor Snape did not provide any specific reason for his insistence," Albus went on, "but I trust his judgement in this matter. Therefore, you will not be going back to your relatives, Harry."

Harry blinked in surprise, his mind trying to process the information. Not go back to the Dursleys? But where would he go? "But, sir, where will I..."

"You'll be staying at Grimmauld Place with Sirius for the summers now," Albus quickly replied, silencing Harry's worries. "Sirius will be delighted to have you, and it will be a safer and far more suitable environment for you."

"But what about the legal issues?" Harry asked, his brows furrowed in concern. "Can they just...let me leave?"

Albus smiled kindly at him, "Harry, one thing you must know about me is that I have quite a bit of experience in navigating the labyrinthine laws of the wizarding world. I assure you, I will take care of it. Please, do not worry about it."

Harry nodded, his mind still grappling with the implications of this sudden change. He was not going to stay with the Dursleys anymore. It was a thought that brought a rush of relief, quickly followed by a wave of apprehension. He was moving into an entirely new situation, a new home with people who genuinely cared about him.

Albus watched him for a moment, his gaze softening. "Harry, are you truly alright?" he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

Harry gave a small shrug, unsure of how to answer. Yes, he was physically alright, but mentally and emotionally? That was another matter entirely. He felt Albus's gaze on him, patient and concerned.

"It's okay if you're not," Albus continued gently. "And it's okay to talk about it. I'm here to listen, if you want to."

Harry glanced up, his green eyes meeting Albus blue ones. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, of accusations he wanted to hurl at the Headmaster, of questions he wanted to ask. But at the same time, he was wary. Was Albus really willing to listen this time?

His gaze dropped to Alfie, who was now wide awake and staring curiously at Albus. The kitten's presence was a calming influence, keeping his anger in check as he finally spoke up. "You know, sir," he began, his voice soft yet firm. "I tried to tell you. First year, about the Dursleys. You didn't listen."

Albus's face fell slightly at the accusation, but he remained silent, encouraging Harry to continue.

"I also tried to tell you about the Sorcerer's Stone," Harry continued, his voice gaining strength. "About the Chamber of Secrets. You didn't believe me when I said I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

He paused, taking a deep breath before delivering his final blow, "And then, you told my friends to ignore me all summer when I really needed them."

Harry's words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and raw with pain. Albus's eyes widened slightly, shock rippling through them before it was quickly replaced by regret. Harry's final sentence, full of bitter resentment and the palpable sting of betrayal, was like a knife to the heart.

"I..." Albus began, his voice choked with emotion, "Harry, I can assure you..."

But he was interrupted by the imposing figure of Severus Snape, who had been quietly observing the conversation from a distance. The Potions Master strode towards the bed, his robes billowing ominously as he moved.

"Albus," Severus said sharply, cutting the Headmaster off. His normally cool gaze was ablaze with anger. "I believe you've said enough."

Albus started to respond, taking a deep calming breath to do so, but Severus's glare silenced him. "It would be best if you left now," he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "You are upsetting Potter."

Behind Severus, Madam Pomfrey was approaching as well, her usually kind face set in a stern expression. She nodded in agreement with Severus, making it clear that she sided with the Potions Master on this matter.

"But..." Albus tried to protest, but Pomfrey was already ushering him towards the door.

"The boy needs rest," she said firmly, not giving Albus any room for argument. "Out, Albus. Now."

Reluctantly, Albus complied. He gave Harry one last look, his eyes filled with regret and sadness, before turning and leaving the hospital wing. The door closed behind him, leaving Severus, Pomfrey, and Harry alone in the room.

As the silence fell, Severus moved to the seat Albus had vacated. He sat down, his black eyes scrutinizing Harry carefully. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, finally, Severus broke the silence.

"Well, Potter," he began, his voice carrying its usual harsh edge but also an unexpected note of...was that concern? Harry blinked in surprise but said nothing, waiting for Severus to continue.

"We have a lot to discuss," Severus said, and though his words were curt, Harry could hear a promise in them. A promise that, unlike Albus, Severus would listen.

The rustle of robes drew Harry's attention as Madam Pomfrey bustled over, a flicker of relief washing over him. Despite the harshness of the conversation just had, he trusted Madam Pomfrey to handle any situation with professionalism and care. Her no-nonsense attitude and complete dedication to her job as Hogwarts' nurse was reassuring.

"Alright, Harry," she said briskly, her wand held ready. "A few more diagnostic spells, and then we'll see about getting you out of here."

Harry nodded, holding still as she muttered a series of incantations. A soft glow enveloped him as she waved her wand, flicking it in precise, efficient movements. The tension seemed to drain out of him as he felt the familiar, comforting magic doing its work.

After a moment, she lowered her wand, tucking it back into her apron pocket. She scrutinized him carefully, as if she was looking for any sign of discomfort or pain. Finally, she nodded, seemingly satisfied with what she saw.

"You're good to go, Harry," she confirmed, her tone softening slightly. "But remember to take it easy for the next few days. No Quidditch or roughhousing."

Harry nodded, giving her a grateful smile. As she moved away to tend to other patients, Severus cleared his throat, drawing Harry's attention.

"Potter," he began, his tone still sharp but oddly lacking in the usual scorn. He reached into his pocket, pulling out two small, distinct potions. "These are for you."

Severus extended his hand, offering the vials to Harry. "One is a nutritional potion," he explained, pointing to the potion that was a bright emerald green. "The other," he indicated the pastel orange potion, "is designed to help you gain weight."

During this, Alfie, the kitten, chose this moment to engage in his own distraction tactics. The small feline jumped down from Harry's lap, batting curiously at a spare quill on the side table. His tiny paw swiped clumsily, missing more often than hitting. The sight of the kitten's playful antics drew a faint smile from Harry, helping to ease some of the tension that had built up.

There was a moment of silence before Severus smirked faintly, a hint of the usual bite in his voice. "Though you would think with the amount of sweets you consume, you would not be so...diminutive for your age."

Harry blinked, surprised at the quip that seemed so unlike Severus, especially given its lack of venom. He accepted the potions, studying them curiously before tucking them into his pocket. Meanwhile, Alfie had finally managed to push the quill off the table, pouncing on it with a triumphant mewl that was ridiculously out of proportion to his small victory. The scene was so innocently amusing, it helped Harry feel calmer, a bit of levity in the tense situation.

Severus leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "You will also find a potion awaiting you at breakfast every morning," he continued. "I suggest you take it and not waste my ingredients. They are not cheap, Potter."

"Understood, Professor," Harry responded, mentally preparing himself for the new regimen. He found himself strangely appreciative of the concern, gruff as it was, emanating from the usually cold Potions Master. All the while, Alfie continued his victorious play with the fallen quill, an incongruous but soothing background to the serious conversation.

Severus studied him for a moment longer, then leaned forward, his voice dropping to a softer tone that was rarely used outside his personal quarters. "Now, about what you told Albus," he began, his gaze never leaving Harry's. "Was all of it true? Did you really go to him, and he turned you away?"

Harry looked up, meeting Severus' gaze directly. The question hung in the air, heavy and full of implications. He could see the uncharacteristic hint of concern in Severus' black eyes, the unusual softness in his voice. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Yes," he confirmed, his voice sounding small and a bit lost to his own ears. "Every word. He didn't believe me, he didn't listen..." His voice trailed off, the hurt and betrayal flaring up again.

Severus was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, there was a cold edge to his words, though not directed at Harry. "I see. That is... regrettable."

He paused, the weight of his words lingering in the room. For a moment, he looked every bit the fearsome Potions Master the students knew him to be. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

At this point, Alfie, who had been so gleefully engaged in his play, seemed to sense the shift in mood. The kitten stopped in his tracks, looking over at Harry with wide, concerned eyes. He trotted back to Harry, his small tail high in the air as he jumped back onto Harry's lap. Purring softly, Alfie nudged his small head into Harry's hand, seeking to offer his own brand of comfort.

Harry, still reeling from the surprising display of empathy, watched as a multitude of emotions flitted across Severus' usually unreadable face. Disbelief, anger, and, if he wasn't mistaken, guilt. His hand found its way into Alfie's soft fur, the gentle rhythm of stroking the kitten helping to ground him.

"Potter," Severus began, sounding uncharacteristically weary. "I want you to know that... I was not aware of how Albus handled this matter. Had I known..."

He didn't finish the sentence, his grimace saying more than enough. Harry simply nodded in response, his throat too tight for words. This was a side of Severus Snape he had never seen, or expected to see.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds in the room being the soft ticking of the clock, the distant rumble of the castle, and the comforting purr of the kitten in Harry's lap.

Then, with a sigh, Severus got to his feet, his gaze lingering on Harry. "Go assure your friends I haven't turned you into potion ingredients, Potter," he instructed, his voice once more adopting the familiar stern tone. "I will see to it that this matter is addressed. You have my word."

With a final nod of acknowledgement, Harry watched as Severus Snape turned and strode out of the room, his billowing robes a stark contrast to the calm stillness of the hospital wing. As the door shut behind him, the room suddenly felt a lot emptier.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. The past few days events had been nothing short of unexpected and, if he was honest with himself, downright shocking. He gave a small glance down to Alfie, who was still purring contentedly in his lap. The little kitten's innocent and carefree demeanor served as a stark contrast to the emotional whirlwind that was currently Harry's reality.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he gently scooped up Alfie and stood up. The kitten, seemingly unaffected by the movement, continued purring and looked up at Harry with bright, inquisitive eyes. Harry smiled faintly, finding the tiny creature's tranquillity soothing.

Feeling Alfie's comforting warmth against his chest, Harry quickly got dressed into his usual Hogwarts robes. Once he was finished, he carefully tucked the kitten into the collar of his robes. The little furball seemed to find this arrangement quite pleasing and settled comfortably against his neck, purring even louder. It was almost as if the tiny creature was trying to reassure him with its soothing vibrations.

Harry took a moment to look at the two potions Severus had given him. He uncorked the first one, the emerald green nutritional potion, and took a tentative sip. It tasted surprisingly sweet, like honey and mint. The pastel orange potion, however, tasted distinctly like butterscotch, a flavor Harry quite enjoyed. He downed them both, replacing the empty vials in his pocket.

Feeling a renewed surge of energy from the potions, Harry gave Alfie one last pat before setting off from the hospital wing. The kitten's soft purring against his neck was a comforting presence as he made his way through the winding corridors of Hogwarts.

His thoughts were a whirlwind as he headed towards the Gryffindor common room. He had so many things to tell Ron and Hermione. And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like he wasn't facing his problems alone. With a sigh of relief, he realized that despite everything, he was feeling surprisingly hopeful.

Harry's feeling of optimism was abruptly disturbed when he rounded a corner and found himself standing face-to-face with a squat woman in an emerald-green, velvet suit. She had a toad-like face, surrounded by a halo of curly, mouse-brown hair. Her bulging, frog-like eyes were framed by a set of incredibly thick, pink spectacles that appeared to magnify them grotesquely. She was Dolores Umbridge, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, though Harry was just seeing her for the first time.

"I was not informed of your late arrival, Mr. Potter," she said in a voice that was falsely sweet, tinged with a certain level of condescension that instantly rubbed Harry the wrong way. "Where, pray tell, were you last night?"

Harry blinked, surprised at the confrontation. "In the hospital wing," he answered truthfully. He noted a hint of curiosity in her eyes but chose to ignore it. After all, she was just a teacher, even if she was an unnerving one.

"The hospital wing?" she repeated, her toad-like eyes narrowing suspiciously. "And may I ask what caused you to end up there?"

"I had a bit of a headache," Harry lied smoothly, not wanting to reveal too much to this stranger. Alfie, feeling Harry's discomfort, purred softly against his neck, a comforting sensation that allowed Harry to keep his cool.

"I see," Umbridge responded, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. Her gaze then landed on the lump under Harry's robes and she frowned. "What's that under your robes, Potter?" she questioned, gesturing at Alfie's hidden form.

"Just a scarf, professor," Harry lied quickly, hoping she would buy it.

"Hmm," she said, her eyes narrowing as she studied him a bit longer before smiling falsely once more. "Well, Mr. Potter, I do hope you start to take your studies more seriously. After all, you wouldn't want to end up in the hospital wing again, would you?"

Her sugary sweet tone was at odds with the sharp edge of her words. Harry, however, gave her a polite smile. "Of course not, Professor Umbridge," he replied.

"Very well," she nodded approvingly. "Off you go then."

Harry gave her a small nod before continuing on his way, Alfie purring softly against his neck. As he turned away, he had to resist the urge to look back at the woman. Something about her unnerved him. It wasn't just her appearance or her voice; it was the way she seemed to look at him, like he was an interesting specimen under a microscope.

Shaking off the discomforting encounter, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor common room, where his friends were no doubt waiting for him. He knew he had quite the story to tell them - from his odd meeting with Professor Umbridge to the unexpected side of Severus Snape he'd witnessed, not to mention the existence of his furry little companion.

As he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he glanced down at Alfie, who was nestled contentedly in his robes. Harry couldn't help but smile faintly, the warm purr of the kitten against his skin reminding him that he wasn't alone.

The Fat Lady gave Harry a surprised look when she noticed the odd lump under his robes, but she opened up after he whispered the password. The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with chatter, students sharing their experiences of the previous night's feast and their excitement for the upcoming school year. But the noise died down when Harry walked in. People watched him with curiosity and concern, some whispering quietly amongst themselves. Harry ignored them, his eyes scanning the room for two familiar faces.

He spotted them almost immediately, sitting at their usual spot by the fireplace. Ron was in the middle of explaining something to Hermione, his hands gesturing wildly to emphasize his point. Hermione was listening intently, her chin propped on her hands, her eyes wide with interest.

They both turned as Harry approached, their expressions quickly changing from surprise to relief. Ron was the first to speak, springing up from his seat and walking over to his friend. "Harry, mate, you're alright!" he exclaimed, slapping Harry's shoulder in a friendly manner.

"I'm fine, Ron," Harry reassured him, giving him a small smile. "Just a headache. Nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't handle."

Hermione, however, didn't seem convinced. She stood up as well, her gaze traveling over Harry with concern. "You missed the feast," she said, her voice filled with worry. "You look a bit pale, Harry."

Harry chuckled at her observation. "I'm fine, Hermione," he assured her again. "Just a little tired. And maybe a bit hungry."

Hermione looked about to say more but was interrupted by a loud mewl from Harry's robes. She jumped back in surprise as a tiny black and white head popped out, its curious eyes looking around at its new surroundings.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, "Is that... is that a kitten?"

Harry nodded, pulling Alfie out and placing him on the table where the kitten immediately began to investigate its surroundings. "Yeah, this is Alfie. He was a... gift."

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him, their expressions a mixture of surprise and curiosity. But before they could ask any questions, Harry began telling them about his eventful night. From the unexpected conversation with Severus Snape to his encounter with the odd new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he left nothing out.

His friends listened to his story in rapt attention, their expressions shifting from surprise to concern to disbelief. By the time Harry finished his tale, they were both silent, processing everything they had heard.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said finally, his voice low. "That's... that's just... I don't even know what to say."

Hermione, however, seemed to have found her voice. "Harry," she began, her voice filled with concern. "You're saying that Snape... Snape was kind to you?"

Harry nodded, his gaze falling on Alfie, who was busy playing with a loose thread on the tablecloth. "Yeah. It was... unexpected."

There was silence for a moment before Hermione spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "Oh, Harry... I'm glad he was there for you."

Before Harry could respond, Ron interrupted. "But what about this Umbridge lady? What's her deal?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. But she's definitely not what she seems."

They sat there for a while, lost in their thoughts, the only sound being the soft purring of the kitten on the table. The weight of Harry's revelations hung heavily in the room, but despite everything, Harry found comfort in his friends' presence.

"So, what happened at the feast?" he asked finally, eager to change the subject.

And so, Ron and Hermione began recounting the events of the previous night, from the delicious feast to the introduction of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Their chatter filled the room, a comforting background noise as Harry sat there, listening to his friends and playing with Alfie.

After the recounting and the long discussion that ensued, the trio found themselves exhausted and famished. Agreeing that a good breakfast was in order, they decided to head down to the Great Hall.

The sight that met them was the usual morning bustle, but it felt comforting in its familiarity. Students were gathered around the house tables, chatting excitedly, their faces lit up by the early morning sunlight streaming through the grand windows.

Harry’s eyes wandered around the hall. They eventually fell upon the teachers' table where Severus Snape was sitting, his eyes hidden behind the Daily Prophet. As if sensing Harry’s gaze, Snape lowered his newspaper slightly. His cold, black eyes met Harry's. Instead of the usual disdain or irritation, Harry found an unreadable expression in those eyes.

It wasn’t kind or friendly, but it was not hostile either. Strangely, it felt comforting, reminding Harry of the promise Snape had made. The potions master quickly hid his eyes again behind the newspaper, but not before Harry saw a slight nod. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but it held a promise.

Despite the revelations and the uncertainty of the future, Harry felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time. He had his friends, he had Alfie, and he had the strange promise from Snape. Whatever lay ahead, he knew he wouldn't have to face it alone.