Chapter Text
Finally Malfoy had left. The new professor, Lupin, was still asleep in the compartment, unaware of anything going on around him. That meant it was time to assess and help out Harry’s yearly injuries he’d accumulated over the duration of his stay at the Dursleys’.
Purple bruises in the exact place of thick fingers wrapped around his throat. His arm sprained and both littered with shallow cuts of his own making.
Ron winced as he tightened the white strips around Harry’s swollen arm. “Sorry mate, don’t know enough magic to heal a sprain…”
“That’s alright Ron, not the first time my aunt did this. Or Dudley or Vernon, for that matter. At least she didn’t break something this time,” Harry gritted out, tense as his scarred wrist is held still by the fabric, “Would’ve been harder to hide. Plus, that’s more for ‘Mione to learn, yeah?”
Hermione looked up from the book of healing magic with a furrowed brow, continuing to pluck shards of glass from Harry’s other arm, mindful of the rows of cuts. “I’d rather never learn again than have to use these things for you. We should really tell-”
“No, Hermione. We can’t tell anyone. Dumbledore said they’re the only choice so I believe him. We just have to deal with it until we’re seventeen.”
Hermione pursed her lips, but reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Yes… yes, you’re right, of course you are. I’m just worried about you, and so is Ron.”
“It’s okay, ‘Mione,” Ron chimed in, “We can handle it. We all defeated You Know Who two years in a row! We don’t need to tell anyone. Harry, I’m tying it now-”
Harry yelped, then thanked Ron for the warning. Hermione turned another page in the book, then turned it to Harry. “Do you have any scrapes? Other than your arms, I mean.”
“Yeah, my leg. Her dog’s a nightmare. Bit nearly through my calf, and his nails are sharp .”
She murmured an “Episkey!” to it, but Harry shook his head. “Too deep.”
Hermione frowned again and carefully casted the spell from the book. “That any better?”
“Yeah, thanks ‘Mione. You’re the best.”
“Obviously she is, she’s a right genius, even if she’s snobbish and got that cat-”
“Crookshanks didn’t mean to hurt-”
Harry tuned out his friends’ bickering and removed his shirt to reveal the bruises on his back from Aunt Marge’s cane and Duddley’s Smeltings stick. He knew Hermione couldn’t heal it yet, what with the blisters and cracks in the skin, but Ron immediately began to bandage it through a whisper of “Bloody Hell…”
Hermione would probably nick some potions and cream from the Hospital Wing. The train continued north as his two friends calmly kept up a stream of charms and spells, healing the bruises and cuts. Hermione put a glamour over the things they couldn’t heal. Hours passed, and the sky grew dark.
“We must be nearly there,” said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.
The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.
As McGonagall walked Harry and Hermione to the Great Hall, the children whispered to each other. “What did Professor McGonagall need you for?”
“Nothing important. We’re lucky that Madame Pomfrey didn’t insist on a full check up, my illusion spell failed once the dementor came in the door…”
“That would’ve been bad…”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, and decided unanimously to act like nothing was said at all. After, of course, they told Ron what had happened. The three clapped through Hagrid’s introduction as a teacher, and Lupin’s, and they conspired about Snape and Lupin’s relationship.
Everything was fine.
They could handle it.
Severus Snape had been a teacher at Hogwarts School for thirteen years, and never had he experienced the embarrassment and humiliation that that blasted werewolf had brought him with that infernal boggart.
Of course the Potter boy and his two lackeys were star pupils of that idiot. The three were far more trouble than they were worth, always believing they needed no help, like they were right about everything. They couldn’t accept that they weren’t the say all of the universe.
He sighed in frustration, walking through the corridors silently. Then he heard a voice. Little Miss Granger’s voice, specifically, casting some sort of spell. Then Potter, saying something along the lines of it not working.
Severus stalked closer and peered into the room. The surroundings were devoid of paintings, the perfect place for a secret conversation. Most likely plotting their newest foolish adventure. He cracked the door open a bit more.
Potter was sitting with his shirt off, front facing the doorway. There seemed to be thin lines scattered around his chest. Scars? He was far too thin as well, his ribs showing clearly through his skin, making him look extremely malnourished.
Granger flipped through a book of healing charms. Weasley was neatly and expertly unrolling lengths of bandages on a desk. “Honestly Harry, they look awful! At this point, if I can’t find a strong enough spell, I might have to stitch it…”
“Aw, ‘Mione, it can’t be that bad, can it? I mean, it’s not like they hurt much anymore.”
“Mate, hate to break it to you, but if more of those blisters pop, or the cuts open up again, you’ll get infected. This school ain’t the epitome of clean, you know? And since we can’t ask Madame Pomfrey for the right spell, we’ll have to keep bandaging it.”
“Ron, you’re better at healing, you try this…”
Potter turned his torso to look back at the book Granger was displaying, and…
Dear Merlin . There were lacerations all along Potter’s back, blistering and swelling. Not yet infected, clearly, but near it. Deep cuts, folds of skin pulled back, red gashes in his flesh. Old scars are plainly curling around his sides, thick things that had no right to be on a thirteen year old boy. Weasley snapped at the boy to “Bloody Hell, turn around!”
“Ron, it barely hurts!”
“A blister might burst, and you know we can’t nick the stuff for that! We’re lucky enough that no teacher bothers with locks or secrets ‘round ‘Mione! Pomfrey’s already suspicious that her creams are going missing!”
“ Madame Pomfrey, Ron. And Harry, do as he says, he knows the most about these things, you know it!”
Potter grumbled to himself and straightened his back again. Severus let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Where had the boy gotten those? There was no way a teacher had given those to him. “In any case, Harry, we can’t let you play quidditch in this state. If we can’t find a way to improve it before the game, we will make you sit out.”
Potter squawked in indignation, but Severus found himself agreeing with the girl. Weasley looked vastly uncomfortable, but he nodded firmly. “What?! Why should I get punished for Marge and Dudley’s usual business?!”
“Harry-”
“‘Mione, I can and have played through worse. You would’ve let me play through the sprain if it wasn’t healed!” Potter shook his wrist to prove a point, and Severus’s eyes widened in concern. He’d had a sprain? Severus had made him do things for Malfoy’s potion during his last class! Did any of the other teachers know?
Weasley took a deep breath. “The weather is going to be awful Harry. We can’t let you go out in a storm like this. We’ll… we’ll make up an excuse of a fever, yeah? So they won’t ask questions. ‘Mione could do it, right?”
“I could, easily.”
“I… fine. Just remember not-”
Weasley and Granger spoke in unison then. “Not to tell a teacher.” Granger continued, “We know Harry. We can deal with this. Together, alright?”
Potter nodded. “Yeah… Together. I’ll sit out if it’s not better, but if I won’t get infected or pop a cut, I’m playing, okay?”
“I can agree to that,” Granger conceded.
“Yeah, mate,” Weasley said, a bone deep exhaustion suddenly weighing on all of the teens. Weasley finally looked through the book Granger was holding and murmured a common spell for blisters.
“Hey, this one works! Write it down, ‘Mione, we need to remember-”
“I’ve got it, Ronald!” Granger snapped huffily, scrawling down the book’s contents on a piece of parchment, “Sorry, sorry. This here is a spell for light nicks- ooh, a spell to bandage wounds instantly! Ron, look here…”
Severus snuck away then, deciding he’d heard enough. He had plenty to think about now. Potter had gotten heavy scars from people named Marge and Dudley. They were definitely muggles, as the wounds looked to have been made by a stick or cane. Severus remembered the sight of a cane mark easily enough.
Dudley… That was the name of Lily’s nephew, yes? She had told him so in a letter, just before- Well. But that meant that Potter had been with Petunia. Lily had adamantly stated that the boy should never live underneath her roof.
Why would Dumbledore put him there of all places?
It was clear that he’d been severely abused in that house. Abused… The boy hated the spotlight, didn’t he? Despised it, was the only word to describe Potter’s obvious feelings. The child shied away from authority, seeking instead to do things by himself. Severus had thought it was arrogance. He just had never lived with an adult who could or would help.
The other children, too. Weasley was one child of seven. The first, Head Boy, the oldest. The second was the Quidditch Captain. The third the smartest and most ambitious, then the twins being loud and rambunctious. After Weasley himself was the only girl, the baby of the family. Had he ever gotten attention all to himself?
And Granger, the muggle born, parents entirely unused to the world their daughter lived in, constantly having to prove her worth though clearly being superior to her peers in intelligence and skill. Did any of the so-called “Golden Trio” have an adult to rely on? Or were they all alone, left to deal with things even an auror wouldn’t regularly experience?
Severus himself had failed these children. He had made baseless assumptions and had been blinded by his own beliefs and favoritism. They needed someone to trust, and he failed. He had failed Lily. He refused to fail her again. He refused to fail the children again .
The first thing Severus did once he returned to his office was write up a new lesson plan. He had to do what he could to help from the sidelines while Potter, Granger and Weasley still didn’t trust him. He wrote down his ideas quickly.
A potion to heal bones? A salve for the nasty cuts along the boy’s back? Yes, that would do. A Star Grass Salve or the Essence of Dittany. The first one, to dip Granger’s toes into creating healing potions. Then the second as a challenge to the class? He should allow partners, no need for Longbottom to mess up and damage the boy further.
Malfoy would most certainly act up, playing up his most definitely healed hippogriff wound to shirk responsibility. After what Severus had seen ingrained on Potter’s skin, after what he had learned, he lost all sympathy for the foolish boy and his whining. Potter clearly shouldn’t have to deal with that boy’s nonsense.
The first Hogsmead trip was steadily approaching. But far more terrifying, Potter would soon be out on his broomstick practicing for his match. Severus still had a few weeks to get the students to brew the things necessary for Potter.
He had time. He would make this work. For Lily- No.
For his children.