Chapter Text
“Harry!” a horse-faced woman screamed, seated awkwardly on an ugly pink armchair.
“Yes Aunt Petunia.” replied a tiny, malnourished boy who looked about eight. His face revealed a lilac bruise and an angry red scar, giving the child a rather eerie look.
The woman recognised the bruise with no reaction before demanding a long list of chores to be completed by the mere adolescent.
The boy, Harry, complied. As he always did.
His Uncle, Vernon, was thankfully away on a business trip in Mallorca, so Harry did not need to be so careful around the house. Of course, there was Dudley but Harry could escape him most of the time. His uncle, he could not.
After the chubby child and his mother had eaten the delicately prepared meal Harry had conjured, Harry asked for his aunt’s scraps.
She refused.
Harry hadn’t eaten in 5 days.
Fatigued, Harry went to bed. Well, it wasn’t exactly a bed. A small bundle of blankets and worn pillows were sprawled out in the restrictions of his cupboard underneath a small staircase. It was then, as the Dursley’s grandfather clock chimed once more, he remembered it was his birthday.
For Harry, birthdays meant very little but the thought of growing up was comforting. One day, he could escape his estranged relatives.
Harry was only left to his thoughts for a few moments before a small crash sounded at the door.
He peered out the ventilation shaft to see a man.
A strange-looking man at that. He wore strange clothes that resembled almost a long cloak but with a collar. Strange.
Harry shrunk back into the corner of his cupboard to avoid discovery. The man could be a burglar which didn’t matter to Harry of course but he still wanted to avoid attention.
All of a sudden, Petunia hurried down the stairs.
“You!” she cried. “You freak! How dare you come into my house?”
Her face contorted uglily in utter disgust and unwanted familiarity with this shrewd man.
This surprised Harry. The word, freak, was usually reserved for only him.
“Believe me it is not a pleasure for me either, I just need to collect the boy.” the man replied, looking rather disgusted with the word, ‘boy’.
Great, Harry thought, another person hated him.
“He’s in the cupboard,” she uttered, pointing with a witch-like finger at Harry’s hiding place.
“What on earth is he doing in there?” the man asked, smirking.
“Well, I don’t keep freaks in rooms. He doesn’t deserve it that rotten boy.”
The man grimaced and followed Petunia’s finger towards to cupboard, slowly.
“Do you mean to tell me he lives in there?” the man asked.
“Yes Snape,” she spitted.
He walked learnedly towards Harry. Harry felt his heart rate quicken. Was this man going to hurt him? He suddenly remembered a time when Vernon had not remembered his existence for two weeks. Harry avoided cruel punishments because of a loose python at the zoo Harry happened to have come along too. Maybe it would work on Snape. But he was so tired.
He tried anyway.
Snape looked in the cupboard, eyes scanning for any signs of life. He found a couple of defaced toy horses but nothing else.
“He is not in here.”
“Yes, he is.” Petunia hissed, annoyed.
She walked behind Snape, peering in whilst trying her best to keep maximal distance from the man.
“Oh, he’s done that thing again-” she huffed, hand stuffed onto her forehead.
“What thing?” Snape asked, bluntly and unattended.
“He disappears sometimes. I think the brute goes invisible. It’s annoying when he needs to get stuff done or Vernon needs to discipline him.”
Snape noted the mention of disciplining, filing it away but not wishing to ask her about it yet. When Dumbledore asked him to collect the boy he was most irritated. He expected to find an arrogant boy. He expected to find James Potter, he admitted to himself. Now, he didn’t know what to think. What he had gathered of Harry’s treatment was worrying and his apparent talent as disillusionment was unheard of as a form of accident magic.
“A child can make himself invisible.” Snape laughed coldly.
This was going to be a long night, he sighed to himself.
“Such freakish things,” Petunia commented.
“Magic,” Snape replied.
“We had hoped to force it out of him. I mean if Lily wasn’t a witch then she wouldn’t have got herself killed, would she?” Petunia scoffed.
“Force it out of him? For heaven’s sake, he is a wizard and Lily- well her death was not at the fault of her unique talents.” Snape remarked coldly. “How dare you even speak about her?”
At this, Harry had decided to reveal himself, partly in fatigue and partly because this man had known his mother.
His mother was a witch.
Immediately, Snape noticed the boy’s appearance. It was alarming, he looked so thin and deathly pale. That was apart from the momentous collection of bruises and old scars scattered across his neck and cheek. His face was cautious but immediately he noticed his eyes, Lily’s eyes. The boy looked incredibly exhausted as if on the verge of passing out. It made Snape feel sick.
The poor boy, Lily’s son. He should have protected him.
“Harry-” Snape gasped, crouching down. “Are you okay?”
Harry attempted a nod, his hands shaking. A surge of rage flourished in Snape’s body.
“Petunia, what have you done to him?” Snape asked, infuriated.
“It was Vernon.”
“Well, have you fed him at all?” he asked,
She did not reply.
At this, Harry collapsed into Snape’s arms. Snape felt momentarily awkward before he stood up and walked out of the house.
“Harry is needed, he has work to do-” Snape heard Petunia call out at him.
Snape decided he would have to take Harry to St Mungo's for a full analysis of his health. He wondered when the boy had last eaten or drunk. Snape didn’t like the hospital but Snape did not know enough spells to fully detect his physical situation let alone his mental state.
The medical staff all looked haunted at the sight of the sick boy but immediately ran a set of diagnostic spells.
Four broken bones and two fractured. The scars would not all fade entirely- particularly the one on his back. He hadn’t eaten a complete meal in weeks. Somehow he had obtained a mild concussion and he had a terrible fever. The boy was also quite filthy with no hygiene obtainments. His hair was matted and he had some teeth near-rotten.
The boy who lived seemed to have hardly survived.
Harry awoke a few hours later and immediately panicked. Had he gotten sick? He couldn’t get sick. Vernon would kill him because they would ask questions. He found himself not being able to breathe very suddenly. He reached for some water but dropped it almost a second later which sent the sounds of shattering glass to ricochet across the room.
The man stepped into the room mildly dramatically and hurried over to Harry.
“Excuse me, but can I go now? I have to get back to my uncle and aunt. They won’t be very happy with me.” Harry asked, half-timid, half-polite.
“You need to rest, so you can get better,” he replied.
“I’m sorry, you don’t understand-” started Harry, his breathing quickening again. He felt like choking and gripped onto his sheets. His head felt heavy and everything seemed to be spinning.
Snape started to reach towards him but this only resulted in a sudden retortion from Harry. He offered Harry his words of comfort instead. He had no idea what to do.
After maybe thirty minutes, he calmed down and Snape fetched a nurse.
After an assessment of Harry’s current state, the nurse decided to talk to Snape outside.
Her face was harsh and the strained hospital-lighting did her no favours. Her eye bags and wrinkles were prominent but Snape was under the impression that she wasn’t very old but most likely over-worked.
“He’s very damaged in more ways than one,” she said, looking through the crack in the door at the heap of the boy
“I know physically and mentally,” Snape muttered.
“Not just that, social interactions will be incredibly difficult and tormenting after what he's endured. Responding to touch, for example.”
“Yes, he seemed to flinch at any opportunity of contact,” Snape admitted.
“I would have thought he would be incredibly well taken care of. He is, of course, the boy who lived.”
Snape thought at this. Dumbledore. Dumbledore must have known of the terrible muggles. He had mentioned a pair of eyes watching the boy- Mrs Figg or something. Dumbledore had known of this. The idea was as terrifying as it was horrible.
Snape walked back into the room.
“You will never have to see those Dursleys again. Ever. Do you understand? You are safe.” he smiled.
Harry’s eyes lit up.
“Where shall I go?” he asked.
Snape thought about this for a second.
“I’m sure many lovely magical families are willing to adopt you.” he ushered.
“But who would want me?” Harry asked, inquisitively.
Snape then explained everything.
“So, I’m like famous here?” Harry asked. “And I’m a wizard.”
Snape nodded.
“For something, I did as a baby and can’t even remember?” he asked.
Snape laughed, Harry had not adopted his father’s lack of modesty.
“Yes, well you did defeat the Dark Lord,” Snape said subtly. “He was not a good man at all.”
“So, he’s gone? The one that killed my parents?”
“Yes, you mustn’t worry.”
“Okay.”
“Harry.”
“Yes.”
“Happy late birthday.” Snape beamed unnaturally, holding out a small wrapped gift.
Looking extremely confused, Harry accepted the gift.
“You got something for me?” he asked, startled.
“Yes of course.”
Harry opened it excitedly to find a framed picture of a pretty woman with fiery red hair and beautiful green eyes.
“Mum,” he whispered.
“Yes.” Snape smiled painfully. “How did you know?”
“I see her in my dreams sometimes.”
“Interesting.”
Just then, they heard the echoes of laughing and shouting in the hallway.
A small blonde boy around Harry’s age with a small cast around his wrist was laughing gleefully with two parents. A gorgeous and classy woman with the same blonde hair and grey eyes and a tall, broad man who resembled his son apart from his brown almond-shaped eyes.
The man noticed Snape, “Severus, what are you doing here?”
“Uncle!” the boy smiled, almost skipping up to him.
They all, then, noticed the fragile-looking boy perched anxiously on the small bed.
“Who’s this sweet boy?” the woman asked.
“Hello Draco,” Severus smirked. “This is Harry Potter, I believe I spoke off my order’s to take him to Diagon Alley yesterday.”
“Hadrian Potter!” cried Malfoy, running to the bed. “I’m Draco Malfoy! It’s an honour to meet you.”
“Yes, you too. You can call me Harry by the way.”
“Okay.” he beamed, happily.
“I am Narcissa and this is Lucius. A pleasure to meet you Mr Potter.” the woman smiled sweetly.
“Nice to meet you all too.”
“Unfortunately, the boy must rest right now but thanks for coming in to say hello,” Snape said, ushering them outside.
“Rest Harry,” he added. “We can leave soon,”
—-
Narcissa pulled Snape aside from his son, “What on earth happened to that boy?”
“His muggle relatives were very abusive,” Snape replied grimly.
“How did Dumbledore allow this to happen? Did he know?” Lucius asked.
“He knew.”
“That bastard-” Lucius grunted.
“What is to happen to the poor boy now?” Narcissa asked, anxiously.
“I do not know. I was hoping he could stay with someone. At least until the start of term.” Snape said.
“Oh yes, I forgot, He looks so much younger,” Narcissa said.
“Yes, he is circumstantially underdeveloped due to such neglect. When I found him he hadn’t eaten in weeks.” Snape sighed.
“That is so cruel,” Narcissa uttered, disturbed. “We, of course, could take him in.”
“Lord knows the manor is too big for just the three of us.” Lucius agreed.
“And Draco would love a friend.” Narcissa thought out loud.
“That would be lovely. I trust you to care for him well. He deserves it.” Snape remarked.
“It’s settled then,” Lucius stated.
“He is set to leave in a few hours or so.”