Dealing with Something Unwanted (Harry Potter Fan Fic)
Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's. Don't sue, please.
It was the first day of the Winter Term. Dinner would start soon. All the students had just returned to Hogwarts from the Christmas holidays, as well as the faculty. Albus Dumbledore was enjoying a stroll through the hallways heading for the North Tower. The sun shined in through the windows.
The Headmaster reached the North Tower. He himself only came here during the cold season. The rest of the year, it tended to be too crowded. The view was spectacular. Dumbledore pushed open the door and climbed the long, circular flight of stairs. What he found at the top was unexpected.
A child was huddled, crying, in a corner. Albus immediately knelt beside the child, a boy, Severus Snape. He could just see part of the face, between the long slender fingers and even longer black hair that covered it. He wrapped his arms around the crying boy, rocking him gently. Eventually, when Severus did not stop, he swept the hysterical first year Slytherin into his arms. Standing, he looked down at the child, having a clear view of Severus’ entire face for the first time. A surge of anger went through Albus. The child had been beaten, recently. Who would do such a thing? If it had happened on the train or school grounds, he would have known. The boy had been with his family. Surely, they hadn’t?
Albus was distracted from his thoughts by a whimper from the boy.
“Please, don’t be angry,” Severus whispered. “I can feel your anger. I’m sorry. I’ll fix it, sir.”
“Feel my anger?” Albus repeated as he walked down the tower stairs carrying the Slytherin.
“Yes,” the boy mumbled through his tears.
“I won’t hurt you. I’m angry that you were hurt, not with you. Severus, you couldn’t do anything at your age to warrant this.”
The young Slytherin turned his face into Albus’ shoulder and cried harder at the unexpected kindness.
Some unknown instinct made Albus carry Severus to his private rooms, instead of the Hospital Wing. He laid the still crying boy on the couch in his bedroom. He tucked his favorite quilt around the student, silently wondering how to fix this.
“Severus?”
The boy looked at the Headmaster.
“Who hurt you?”
The boy’s voice trembled. “I...No one sir.”
“Mr. Snape,” Albus took a sterner tone of voice, “’no one’ did not hit you. Who did?”
“I displeased Sedius, my father sir.”
“I can see the bruises on your face. Is that all?”
Severus was silent for a moment. Albus could see the child debating with himself. “No sir. That is why I am wearing this turtle neck.”
“Remove it, please.” As Severus moved to take off the sweater, Dumbledore added, “What did you do?”
“I fought him. When he took me to have it done. Sedius said my behavior reflected badly on him.” He had the sweater off, except where it was bunched up on his left arm. There was bruising around the boy’s neck that looked like fingers. More bruises made their way across his chest and abdomen.
“What did he have done to you, child?” Albus asked softly. From the way the boy was trying to discretely hide his left arm, Albus was afraid he knew the answer. He hoped he was wrong. He would sell his soul to be wrong this once.
The boy silently pulled the sweater off his left arm. He held his arm out to Albus. The Dark Mark was there. It was red, raw and bleeding. Albus guessed it was less that twenty-four hours old.
“You didn’t want this, child?”
“NO!” The boy began to cry again. Albus shook with barely contained fury. The boy’s father had done this to his own son. A first year. Eleven years old.
Severus suddenly darted pass Dumbledore. He dived onto his stomach and skidded under the Headmaster’s bed.
“Severus!” Albus exclaimed, startled.
“Don’t hurt me!”
“Child, I never would.” Albus crouched down at the side of his bed. It took a few minutes, but finally Severus was coxed out from under the bed. Albus tucked him into blankets he conjured onto his couch. Then he went to the fire and called Madame Pomfrey to come to his room.
He returned to sit in the chair next to the couch. The boy was still shaking. Albus gently ran his hand over the top of the boy’s head. “Severus, why? What use does Voldemort have for a school boy?”
“I wasn’t the only one, sir. Malfoy, Crabbe, McNabb and Goyle received theirs as well. They aren’t older, but are good in Dark Arts. They are cruel...sadistic. Sedius said that I could serve his Lord by making potions. If I had known that all the years of extra tutoring and lessons beyond elementary school had been for this, I wouldn’t have. I thought it was because I had showed that I enjoyed potions. Not for this!” The boy started crying again.
Albus heard the knocking at the door. He went to the outer door, and let Poppy in. Severus could hear the soft murmuring of voices before they came into the room.
A few waves of Madame Pomfrey’s wand and the bruises were gone. She started to heal the Dark Mark, but Albus stopped her.
“Don’t. He wasn’t the only one, and if the others see it healed when theirs has not, then they will know he didn’t keep it a secret.” Albus looked down at the dark-eyed boy. “I’m sorry, Severus. It could be your life if anyone knew that Poppy and I know about this.”
“What do I do, Headmaster?”
“Act as if I don’t know, as if you hate me. But come to me, boy. Let me help as much as I can. You will need someone to keep you whole, sane until Voldemort is defeated. You will have to be a good actor, child. You will see things that no boy, no one, should see. Just remember, I am here.”
“Albus!” Poppy exclaimed. “Can’t you keep the boy away from He-Who-Must- Not-Be-Named?”
“The only way to quit the Deatheaters is to die. They made sure we knew that.” The boy was silent for a moment, and then looked up at Dumbledore. “I will,” the boy whispered. “I trust you. If I learn of anything, I will tell you.”