Chapter Text
Harry bit his lower lip, determined not to make a sound as Vernon wrenched his arm back. The great walrus of a man punched him in the gut again. He was well aware that the man had broken more than a couple of his ribs already. It was hard to breathe. But at least Vernon hadn’t taken off his belt to use as a whip yet.
All this from a phone call. Hermione had been polite and muggle normal, of course. But it had still been too much of a reminder of that “freak school.” Harry suspected they were angry to realize that he had actual friends who wanted to communicate with him.
Which, honestly, was a huge relief. He had sent multiple owls to Hermione, Ron, even Sirius, but what bland replies he had received in return sounded like they had been written by robots. Something was going on. They weren’t telling him anything real and not knowing why and what was going on was driving Harry spare.
Well, it had been until Hermione phoned. Now he knew. And he was furious. Dumbledore didn’t want them telling him anything? Their owls were being watched? Well, fortunately Hermione was brilliant and not above using whatever means were at her disposal — including muggle alternatives.
He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him that he could exchange phone numbers with Hermione. More importantly, though, he should have asked Hermione for hers so he could call when it was safe. Or, he could have looked her up in the phonebook like she had done.
None of which mattered now, but running over it in his head helped distract from the pain. And knowing he would see Hermione tomorrow as soon as the Dursleys went to work, to Gardening Club, and to torment smaller children, left him with a sense of hope. He could make it through this.
Vernon was being careful to stay away from his face, thank Merlin, so at least he wouldn’t have to worry about hiding that from Hermione. Still, by the time the man was done, Harry lay in a crumpled heap on the hallway floor, just outside his cupboard. For a horrifying moment, he had thought Vernon was going to try to throw him in, but apparently the man had realized his teenage body no longer fit.
After the others had gone to bed, laughing and talking on their way up the stairs, Harry dragged himself up. It was hard to manage the stairs by himself, but he did it. He just needed to get to his rickety old bed and then he could sleep it off. His magic would help him heal tonight, just like it always did.
**********
Hermione was nervous and excited as her mother drove down a lane of identical houses called Privet Drive. When they got to number 4, her mum turned into the empty drive and shut off the car.
“You’re sure they’re home today?”
“He said so, yes,” Hermione confirmed, already halfway out of the vehicle.
“Hermione Jean! Wait for me. I’ll introduce myself to his aunt before we take him off to the shops,” Mum said, making her way to the front door as Hermione impatiently waited before ringing the bell.
It felt like entirely too long before the door was flung open. Inside, her best friend beamed at her, but Hermione gasped in horror when she saw him. He was pale and gaunt, looking like he hadn’t had a solid meal yet this summer, but worse, even though he was just standing there, there was something about the stiff way he held himself that told her he was not okay.
“Hermione!” Harry cried happily.
“Harry,” she replied, but her voice broke halfway through and his smile faded.
“What?” he asked, his voice tense.
Before she could figure out what to say in response, Mum said, “You must be Harry Potter. I’m Hermione’s mum, Jean. I was hoping to meet your aunt.” She was looking him up and down.
Harry’s eyes widened at her words. “She’s not here. But it’s nice to meet you, Mrs Granger.”
“Oh, don’t call me that. It sounds old! Jean is fine. So your aunt is okay with you going with a stranger?” Mum asked.
“Aunt Petunia doesn’t care,” he said with a shrug, though he grimaced at the movement.
Hermione could tell her mother was suspicious, but, after biting her lip, she said, “Well, come along then,” and led the two teens back to the car.
Harry was moving slowly, and, as they got into the car, Hermione realized his breathing was shallow. Her mum watched in the rear view mirror as he carefully maneuvered into his spot.
“I think there’s going to be a change of plans,” Mum said as they pulled away from number 4.
“What kind of change?” Hermione asked, flustered by this declaration. She had been looking forward to showing Harry around her favorite shops.
Staring at Harry in the rear view mirror, she said, “Harry, I think we need to take you to A&E.”
His cheeks turned scarlet. “No ma’am. I’m fine.”
Mum raised an eyebrow at him and Harry blushed harder. “It’s not so bad,” he mumbled.
Hermione reached for his hand, realizing her mum was serious. “Harry, if you’re hurt, we need to get you help. We could go to St. Mungo’s instea—“
“No!” Harry cried in alarm. “The wizarding world doesn’t need to know about… this.”
She knew he was having flashbacks to the articles in the Prophet last year, but she had taken care of Skeeter. Without her, surely it wouldn’t be as bad.
“A regular hospital then,” Mum said, still flicking her eyes to his as she drove.
“They’ll have questions,” he whispered.
“As well they should,” she countered.
Harry nodded miserably, his hand feeling cold and clammy in Hermione’s. “It’ll be okay, Harry,” she soothed.
He glared at her in reply, but Hermione didn’t take it too seriously. He was wincing every time the car hit a bump. He needed this even if he didn’t like admitting it.
It took longer than she liked to get to A&E and actually get back into a room. Harry was sweating and visibly worried, but she and Mum were just as worried about him.
At long last, a woman entered the room. She had dark curly hair, grey eyes, and looked vaguely familiar for some reason. Something about her cheekbones, Hermione thought.
“What do we have here?” she asked.
“This young man needs help. I believe his lungs must be compromised. He won’t tell me what else hurts,” Mum spoke up when Harry was stubbornly silent.
The woman — Dr Tonks according to her name badge — frowned. “And what is your name, young man?” she asked more softly, approaching him carefully.
“Harry. Harry Potter,” he said tersely.
To their surprise, Dr Tonks gasped, her eyes flicking up to his scar. Hermione bit her lip. Was this a squib? Or maybe a muggleborn who had given up the wizarding world? It was clearly someone who knew about the magical world.
Before they could blink, Hermione recognized wards going up. “How did you do that?” she gasped. “You don’t have a wand.”
Harry looked up for the first time, his eyes widening at the feel of magic around them.
Dr Tonks smiled in response to Hermione’s question. “I have another kind of focus. And runic stones I’ve placed in all the rooms help, too. If you are a witch, I trust your mother knows…”
“I know all about magic,” Mum answered.
“Good. That makes this easier.”
“But why are you practicing muggle medicine if you’re a witch?” Mum asked, demanded really.
“I feel I can do considerably more good here than in the wizarding world. Now, instead of a physical exam, I can give you a magical scan, Mr Potter, if you would prefer. It will be more precise and less invasive.”
“Just Harry is fine,” he said. “And yeah, that’ll be good. The magic.” He looked upset and Hermione’s heart squeezed, knowing how this whole situation must be affecting him. Harry was always very private about the things that went on at his relatives’ house.
She and Ron had suspicions, of course. Especially after Ron and the twins had rescued him after second year. But Harry had always shut down inquiries about it.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Dr Tonks said, waving her hand as she would have a wand. Behind her, a muggle pen began writing frantically in a notebook. The woman looked concerned when it continued to write past a minute. “This is highly unusual.” She gave Harry an assessing look, making him squirm. “When was the last time you saw a doctor?”
“I’ve never been to one,” Harry answered.
“A Healer?”
“Just Madam Pomphrey at school. She fixes me up when I’ve been hurt.”
When the pen finally dropped, the doctor picked up the notebook and began scanning it. Her face was furious as she looked at Harry. “Is this your guardian?” she asked, indicating Hermione’s mum.
“No. This is Hermione’s mum, Jean,” he answered.
“Do you want them here as we go over your injuries?”
He opened his mouth to reply and Hermione just knew he was going to say no. He was going to pretend this all hadn’t happened. “Please, Harry,” she begged. “I want to know what’s wrong so I can help fix it.”
“The only way to fix it will be to get the authorities involved,” Dr Tonks muttered.
Harry gave Hermione a stubborn look, but something in her face must have told him how serious she was about this, because he sighed and nodded. “Fine. They can stay. But no authorities.”
“As a muggle doctor, my oaths—”
“But you’re not a muggle,” Harry pointed out. “And wizards don’t care about this stuff, do they?”
“They do not,” she admitted, “But I do.” Tsking, she shook her head and said, “You have two broken ribs which have punctured your right lung. It’s amazing you’re walking around with as little air capacity as you have at this point. You have lacerations to your liver causing internal bleeding and a laceration on your right kidney. Is there blood in your urine?”
Harry was quiet for a moment before admitting, “Yes.”
“It’s a good thing you are here,” Dr Tonks said. “Your magic is working to heal you, but the injuries are severe enough that this could have killed you.”
Shaking his head, Harry said, “This wasn’t a bad one.”
Dr Tonks narrowed her eyes, exchanging a look with Mum, who seemed equally angry. “That makes this worse. Harry, who did this to you? Did you get in a fight?”
He paused for a long moment before saying. “Yeah… yeah it was me and my cousin. Happens sometimes. No big deal.”
“Harry. This scan listed out previous injuries as well. Are you saying you fight with your cousin frequently?”
“His aunt and uncle kept him locked in his room with bars on the windows and used a cat flap for food before second year,” Hermione broke in. She didn’t think this was all just his cousin and she wasn’t going to let her friend downplay this.
“Is that true?” Mum asked, staring at Harry.
Opening his mouth with a look in his eye that told Hermione he was planning to lie, Hermione added, “You can ask Ron and the twins. They rescued him that year.”
“Ron and the twins?” Dr Tonks questioned. “The younger Weasley boys?”
“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “You know them?”
“Their brother Charlie was my daughter’s best friend growing up,” the woman explained. “I can only imagine the hijinks involved in a rescue mission. Now, out with it Harry. Is this from fighting or from your aunt and uncle?”
The woman looked intimidating and Harry had gone pale. She added, “You are also suffering from malnutrition and stunted growth from prolonged malnutrition, so there is already a case for neglect at least.”
To Hermione’s surprise, Harry stared at the floor as he said, “My uncle did this. Can you fix it? And then we let it go?”
“I can fix it, but I won’t let it go,” Dr Tonks told him firmly.
“Nor would I,” Mum added.
“I wouldn’t either,” Hermione said, though she knew her word wouldn’t matter for much in the grand scheme of things.
Harry grimaced, but sat still as Dr Tonks healed him magically. The tension drained out of him as magic worked its way through his body. When he was finally able to breathe properly, Harry took a deep breath and asked, “What happens now?”