Professor Snape sneered as the staff meeting came to an end. Another wasted evening pandering to the old fool’s useless questioning and diversions. Have the student’s letters been sent out? (like they aren’t auto-filled and sent by the school’s magic) How are the Sniggleshrews developing, Pamona? (like he hasn’t asked at literally every meeting this summer despite them taking 3 years to mature) No, we simply don’t have the funds for new brooms, Rolanda (despite there being more accidents every year due to faulty equipment). Yes, the DADA professor has been decided (with no mention of who it might be or when their new colleague might show up, like every other year). The lemon obsessed idiot even ignored the board’s missive about renewing the wards. Again.
What idiocy.
Severus ignored the other staff members loitering about and gossiping after the meeting, sweeping out the door in long strides, past the great hall and out into the dimming sunset. He didn’t have time for this. Poppy needed supplies, the Dark Lord wanted veritaserum, Albus wanted to re-hash what he’d seen at the graveyard for the dozenth time and none of them would leave him alone for longer than five minutes to get anything done. It was already August for Merlin’s sake! Did they all forget he was a full-time professor and Head of House?
He stomped walked down from the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest. He was determined to get some harvesting done while he still could. Before he was called away for another meeting. There were 3 herbs he knew would be in season and he was running low on acromantula silk. It was always a pain to go in that part of the forest since it was so overrun, but he would never pay for off-the-shelf spider silk with a fresh and free supply so close.
Deciding to get the silk first before it got dark and unnecessarily dangerous, he entered the forest.
Later that evening, about halfway through his last herb patch, carefully trimming the pistoles from some dew flowers and manually pollinating the plants along the way, Severus jolted in surprise at a sudden frantic flapping and loud hooting.
He looked up confused at the sight of a great big snowy owl – the Potter brat’s owl? – agitated and continuing to flap its wings while on a low branch. Had that idiot sent him an owl? What the hell for? Didn’t the arrogant brat learn anything at the end of the tournament? He was supposed to be laying low not harassing his professors and likely gallivanting off with his friends every day.
Severus scowled at the bird. He just knew it was going to be some sort of prank. Maybe an itching charm laced into the parchment or a pimple-skin hex on the wax seal. It was just like James Potter’s son to try something like this during such a dangerous time and over the summer hols no less! No sense of respect or responsibility. Fully intending on ignoring the bird, Severus turned back to the dew flowers, but before he could bend down the bird started flapping and hooting, making a great racket.
“Fine! Fine! You bloody bird. I’ll take the damn letter.”
Severus put down his tools and grabbed his wand to counter whatever prank he might find before stepping forward. Though oddly enough the bird did not quiet down with his approach.
It was then that Severus noticed the owl was not, in fact, carrying any letter or package and instead was staring at him strangely.
Right as he made eye-contact with the bird, Severus felt a pang in his chest. He stumbled a bit at the unexpected pain before, with his next breath, he felt a sudden intense wave of magic soar over and through him. Gasping at the overwhelming feeling of fear and desperation that accompanied the magic, Severus’ knees gave out and he dropped to the soft forest floor.
Still sitting in the dirt but slowly catching his breath, Severus stared in shock at the owl. Not quite believing what had just happened.
Potter’s owl had called to him – with a familiar’s call.
Severus could feel his heart beating rapidly as his adrenaline spiked and his mind raced frantically.
Potter’s owl was not a pet but a familiar. Obviously, Potter’s familiar.
Potter’s familiar sent him a familiar’s call. That was the only explanation for the emotion-infused magic he’d felt.
A familiar’s call is ancient magic only used in dire emergencies by the familiar to get help for their owner.
Potter was in grave danger.
Severus jumped to his feet and quickly grabbed the bird off the branch, leaving his pickings and pruning supplies on the ground. He knew he needed to inform Albus immediately but there was no time. Every second counted. Who knew how long it took the bird to find him and familiars only make the call when their owner is facing death.
Not knowing what kind of battle he would be going into, Severus tucked the unresisting owl under his arm and sharply turned, apparating to 4 Privet Drive.
Only to stop and stare incredulously at the perfectly silent and peaceful neighborhood. He didn’t even see Albus’ guard, though perhaps they were doing their jobs for once and staying hidden? But if the Dark Lord’s forces had attacked, surely someone would have noticed. Death Eaters were not known for their quiet maneuvers. Though that did not mean it never happened.
Tightening his hand around his wand and pacing towards the shadows in front of the house, Severus was startled again by the owl’s rustling. Dropping the wriggling bird, Severus watched as it glided up and into an open window on the second floor.
Potter must still be inside then. Good.
Uncomfortable with how silent the night was, Severus opted for a silent unlocking charm for the front door and he tensed for a fight before slipping in and putting his back to the wall.
Silence.
No. There was a disgustingly wet snore coming from upstairs.
But the hallway was untouched. Peeking into the orderly front room and kitchen briefly, Severus paused at the bottom of the stairs.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think the bloody bird had taken to its owner’s propensity for pranking. But that simply wasn’t possible. The magic of a familiar bond was too pure and he knew what he’d felt was a genuine familiar’s call which meant Potter really was in danger.
Severus was tempted to send a patronus to Albus but it was still too quiet. If there were Death Eaters here, perhaps under a silencing charm upstairs, he needed the element of surprise. He was lucky to have entered the house unnoticed.
Stepping carefully up the stairs and trying to avoid any creaking in the wood, Severus came to the second floor and peered down the hallway curiously. It was practically normal except for a single rather overly-locked room with a cat-flap in the door. Some sort of storage room perhaps or holding money and important items? He’d left the muggle world behind over a decade ago but he knew some muggles didn’t trust their banking system and tended to hoard cash.
Putting the strange room to the side for now, Severus carefully crept up to each door. Listening and peering in cautiously. The first room was the source of the snoring and when he peaked in, housed two adults fast asleep. Obviously, Potter’s relatives, though the man was disgustingly overweight, and he had no idea how the woman was sleeping through that snoring. The second room was definitely a boy’s room as evidenced by the video games, toys and overall mess. Though not Potter’s. The teen in bed must take after the whale in the other room because he was also rotund and snoring though not as loud as the father.
Closing the door quietly, Severus faced the only other room in the hallway. Creeping carefully forward he pressed his ear to the door as he had the others. Nothing. Though there could be silencing charms up as he’d noted before.
He tensed and gripped his wand tightly. Whatever he found inside, he needed to be prepared to cast quickly and accurately. Who knows who was inside or in what state he might find Potter, if the boy was even still alive.
Counting down and carefully wrapping his hand around the handle, Severus burst into the room with his wand up. Only to be faced with a silent and dark bathroom.
What the hell? Where was Potter?
He remembered the other room with the odd locks. Potter must be on the second floor because that’s where the bird went but what would Potter be doing there at this time of night?
Repeating his process of pressing his ear against the final door Severus was gratified to hear something. It sounded like the bird rustling again. That was a good sign. A) No silencing charm B) Correct room if that really was the bird C) Less likely enemies were present if the bird was still alive.
Though also a bad sign since D) More likely Potter was dead if the Dark Lord’s followers had already left.
Again, preparing to face the worst, Severus swiftly entered the room only to stop dead and gape.
For one, it was another empty room but secondly, it looked more like a dungeon cell than a bedroom. An obviously lived in cell.
A plain mattress with no bedding or pillow on an iron bed frame. A plain rickety desk with what looked like a small door used as the table-top and a single three-legged stool. Off to the side was a lopsided wardrobe missing a door, empty except for a box of old and dusty children’s toys.
As off-putting as the interior decorating was however, it was not the worst thing about the room.
The worst was the obvious evidence of violence.
Blood stains on the mattress, smudges on one of the walls in the shape of handprints, a bucket obviously used as a toilet… Suddenly the owl hooted again, drawing Severus’ stunned attention to where it stood in an open cage in the corner.
“What… Where is Potter?”
He’d think about the room later. Right now, he still needed to find the boy.
Potter’s owl flew out of the cage and Severus reflexively held out his arm for it to land on. Tugging his robes in one of its claws, the owl leaned back towards the door. Clearly it wanted to lead Severus to Potter, but then why had it gone to the second floor in the first place?
Following the owl’s insistent tugging back down the stairs and halfway down the short hall, Severus was shocked again to come face to face with a small boot-cupboard.
No. Please, no.
Dreading what he might find, Severus unlatched the door and gently pried it open, thankful for the meager street-light coming in through the front windows. And there he was. Curled in the fetal position, Potter was quite obviously beaten bloody and laying on what looked like an old, ratty crib mat. Scratched on the inside of the door were the words ‘Harry’s Room’ and sitting in an organized line off to the side were a couple broken crayons and a half-melted toy soldier. Severus couldn’t quite see the far end near Potter’s feet but it didn’t matter.
Gods almighty. How was this possible? Seeing both rooms and Potter himself, Severus knew he was looking at abuse and quite bad abuse at that. But how?! Albus had been telling everyone for years how wonderful the boy’s home life was and that he was raised just like his father (i.e. spoiled rotten).
A loud and wet sounding inhale brought Severus out of his musings.
Two cloudy green eyes were peering up at him from the darkness. Harry whimpered slightly before flinching. Clearly this hurt the boy further as another keening whimper escaped before those green eyes rolled back in their head and the boy passed out.
Alarmed, Severus jerked forward to quickly run an emergency diagnostic scan before cursing and swiftly conjuring a stretcher. It took some maneuvering, but he eventually got Harry laid out flat without jostling his injuries too much. He understood why the bird called for help now. Harry’s injuries were severe enough he might not have lived through the night if left untreated.
The bird had moved over to sit beside Harry’s head on the stretcher but Severus paused outside the house before apparating. Where should he go? Albus had to have known. He explicitly said he’d checked on the boy (obviously not, or worse he did and didn’t do anything) and then there were the guards (which he still didn’t see outside). Abuse like this wasn’t rocket science to recognize. Plus, wasn’t the squib supposedly his babysitter growing up? No, Hogwarts was out, he couldn’t trust Albus right now. He wanted to trust Poppy but she was a trained nurse for Merlin’s sake. There was no way she didn’t notice injuries and malnutrition (because of course, that must be why the boy is so small for his age), or even evasive behavior. St. Mungo’s was out too simply because of the boy’s identity.
Severus rubbed his face vigorously before pulling on his hair.
Fine. He’d have to risk it. He quickly grabbed hold of the stretcher and owl before apparating.
There was only one healer who he would trust to ignore all outside influences and political ramifications when it came to a child’s welfare.
Narcissa Malfoy.
~~~
Narcissa Malfoy, although outwardly a high-society woman above such plebian pursuits as a career, was a born healer.
Having had to give up her dream upon her engagement to Lucius, Narcissa, instead turned to self-study. She scoured every pureblood library she could get access to for medical journals and healers spells, all the while, maintaining her position as a society queen.
Between organizing business dinners for Lucius and hosting tea parties for politicians’ wives, she made a name for herself over the years as the most discrete and best qualified healer on the British Isles for under-the-table medical issues.
Perhaps driven by her own miscarriages and subsequent inability to carry children, Narcissa especially adored children and some of her most frequent customers were pureblood mothers bringing in one troublesome child or another who had gotten into father’s cursed books or contracted some embarrassing illness or other. Though she was skilled enough to handle serious injury as well.
Severus could never be sure how much of her business Lucius knew about but Narcissa would help. If for no other fact than she abhorred child abuse.
Sitting on his couch at Spinner’s end, Severus anxiously waited for Narcissa to arrive. He’d left a message with one of the Malfoy house elves before trying to stabilize Harry. He’d done as much as he could but he needed someone with more experience – especially for the punctured lung and inner bruising.
The fireplace flared green before a serious Narcissa stepped out already wearing a plain healer’s smock with her hair in a tight bun.
“Where’s my patient, Severus? You said there was an emergency?”
Severus led her upstairs before pausing outside the guest room door.
“Cissa, I am trusting you with something that I am not sure your husband might approve of. If you would like to avoid the storm this might cause, I will not think less of you for leaving now.”
Narcissa glared at Severus. “Lucius has no say in my business and although I did not swear it in front of a council, I take my Healer’s oath seriously. Now let me in.”
With a sigh, Severus opened the door and stepped inside the room “Just know that his relatives did this to him and no, I did not know until tonight.”
Narcissa gasped at the boy in bed. He had a black eye, split lip, bruising from what looked like a choke hold and although he was covered in a white sheet, she had no doubt there was more if Severus had called her in. But more than all that, she noticed the scar on his forehead. Harry Potter.
Swallowing down her questions, Narcissa jumped into action running diagnostic scans and medical histories. What she found shocked her. By no rights should this boy be alive. He had a medical history more extensive than some torture victims. It would take time to go through everything. For now, she focused on the boy’s immediate life-endangering issues. Though the malnutrition was a whole other beast.
After having struggled over the boy all night and into the early morning, using up all of her emergency potions and most of Severus’ private stores, Narcissa and Severus finally sank onto the couches back in the living room. Turning to Severus with exhaustion and tears in her eyes, Narcissa had to ask “How did you not notice, Severus? He has scars and malnutrition going back almost as old as he is. How did no one notice?”
Severus sighed and put his head in his hands again. He was doing that quite a lot tonight. “I don’t know, Cissa. I have no excuse. I was blinded. Blinded by my hatred for James and Dumbledore’s assurances that Harry had a loving childhood. I had to have seen the signs but I didn’t acknowledge them. Even his supposed arrogance was all defensive… Merlin, I should have realized or at the very least questioned.”
Narcissa glared at Severus with her lips pursed but said nothing. Blinking her tears away, she clenched her jaw in an effort to keep calm. This was by far the worst case of abuse she’d ever seen. No doubt it was also mental and emotional with what Severus described of the house but thankfully, it did not seem sexual. Though, they’d have to wait until the boy woke up and perhaps saw a mind healer before they could know for sure. Sexual abuse did not always include forced penetration, which is all that would show up on her scans.
“He is not going back, Severus. I do not care if you or I need to flee the country. Lucius would understand. He is not going back.”
Severus nodded. “I am not even sure if he should go back to Hogwarts. Cissa, Dumbledore had to have known. He’s supposedly had the boy watched his whole life and I know there are Order members on guard at the house. Though I do not know where they were last night. I can’t even imagine what Dumbledore is playing at with all this but Hogwarts, or anywhere Dumbledore can reach him, is not safe.”
The two friends sat together in silence after that, contemplating the horrors they’d discovered and the possible futility of their actions. Finally, as light was starting to stream through the open curtains, Narcissa sat up straight with a determined look on her face. “What about the Dark Lord?”
Severus looked at her like he was suddenly questioning her intelligence but sat back for her to continue.
“You know as well as I that he does not permit abuse…”
Severus nodded. Indeed, that was one of the primary tenets that drew him to the Dark Lord’s side. Until he’d realized the Dark Lord was basically insane and not paying attention to his own ideals in favor of war.
Narcissa looked thoughtful for a moment before hesitantly continuing. “He’s been… different since he’s returned. Less bloodthirsty.”
Severus gave her the incredulous look again to which she smiled ruefully and shook her head. “Not in front of others, mind you. But he lives in my house and I’ve seen a difference. Out of sight of his followers, except Lucius, he seems much more stable than before. Almost like he is acting insane deliberately….”
She looked at Severus seriously, clenching her hands together. “Tell me. Do you know why he wants Harry? Is it more than revenge? Do you think it possible to convince him to put it aside to protect an abused child?”
His immediate response was no, no way. But what other options did they have? Fleeing the country was a lot easier said than done. Was it possible? The prophesy foretold Harry’s ability to defeat the Dark Lord not that he would . If the boy could swear a vow not to do so, the Dark Lord might be convinced to let him live. But would Harry agree? He’s been solidly on the light’s side since he was introduced to the magical world.
“Maybe. It would depend on Harry agreeing to be neutral and the Dark Lord indeed being sane. Even then, its risky.”
Narcissa sighed before standing up unsteadily. She’d been up all night, running on adrenaline and was starting to crash. “Well for now, I need to return and inform Lucius about my emergency patient. Draco will also be waking soon. Although I doubt he will, if Harry wakes, try to keep him calm and encourage him to rest. You know what potions to give him, and floo if you need me. I will be back to check on him before supper.”
Severus stood to see his long-time friend out. Many thought he was closer to Lucius, which he was fine allowing, but Narcissa had been the one to take him under her wing at Hogwarts. She’d been the one to teach him etiquette, help him apply for his Mastery and heal him after dangerous missions for the Dark Lord. She had her own masks to wear and obligations to her husband, but under all that, Narcissa was a truly decent woman and he was glad to have her help.