Harry was shocked at just how true to his word Remus had been, about allowing him to use the phone and providing him with stationary, as well as taking him around town the following day, once he was settled into their villa. The pair had had a marvelous time walking up and down the cobbled roads nearby, and Remus had been sure to get Harry appropriate street clothes, as well as purchasing a new uniform for the upcoming school year, which was due to begin in less than three weeks. It was a great comfort to Harry, as they ate their Chinese takeaway later that evening, that Remus lived and taught at the school, so he would always be around to make sure that he was all right.

Ron and Hermione came to the house at the beginning of the following week, and Harry showed them his bedroom—which was situated at the top of the house, with its own en suite bathroom, and had two generous windows on each side. Harry next showed them the garden, and Remus had made sure that he had pocket money, so the three of them ended up walking the ten or so minutes into town, where they ate at a burger restaurant and went to a movie. It was a lovely day for the three friends, and Harry wondered if he would ever return to Surrey, and into the ill-suited environment that the court system had deemed appropriate for him as a baby.

Harry and Remus took the pair of them to the train station later that evening, where Ron would ultimately return to Devon and Hermione to Hampstead. They waited for the train to arrive, and for Ron and Hermione to be safely upon it before they waved goodbye and began the drive home for the evening. Harry would miss them, he knew he would, but it was a comfort knowing that he would be around them full-time again in the next few weeks.

"Have a nice day?" Remus asked.

Harry nodded, making sure his seatbelt was in place. "Yeah, it was nice. We saw a new film playing in town. We had fun."

"What did you see?"

"Matilda," Harry said quietly. "Hermione liked it. Ron and I agreed that the title character is a lot like she is."

"Ah, yes. It was a bit after my time, I'm afraid, to appreciate it when I was very young. But it is a good, worthwhile story nevertheless."

"I never thought I'd see a character actually worse than Snape," Harry said with a laugh, and Remus, although knowing that Harry should treat his professors with respect, was pleased to see him so happy again. "That Trunchbull had a mouth on her. Reminded me of Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge..."

"I never met his sister," Remus replied. "What was she like?"

"Like the rest of them—content to spoil Dudley and smack me around whenever something went wrong, no matter how remote," Harry said, his tone candid. "She's a dog breeder, you know, and whenever she'd bring a new generation to the house, she'd take bets to see how long it would take for it to attack me at her command. Her favorite one was Ripper, and he would regularly attempt to use me as a chew toy."

Remus's hands clenched at the steering wheel at hearing this latest tidbit of abuse that Harry was subjected to, and made a mental note to file it away, once Dora came by to take another report from Harry and, of course, from him. "Was she the one who's dog ran you up the tree, and Dudley just laughed at you instead of seeking help from an adult?"

Harry swallowed. "Yes," he replied. "Of course, when they did manage to find me, all they could do was complain that the house was filthy and they were hungry. Had they not sullied up the house themselves, or actually picked up a cookbook or a telephone, they could've made sure that both those things weren't a problem..."

"Well, rest assured you won't have to go back there again," Remus said consolingly. "Now that you're sixteen, you've retained some rights within the legal system."

This was news to Harry.

"I have?" he asked.

Remus nodded. "Yes. But there's no way, with all the evidence that Scotland Yard's managed to collect already, that they'll be sending you back there, or letting Vernon and Petunia out of their holding cells."

Harry sighed. "Poor Dudley," he muttered sardonically. "Aunt Marge likely has custody of him now, I'll bet."

"I thought you said she was content to spoil Dudley. You're not worrying about his safety now, after all he did to you, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Remus, of course I'm not. Dudley will be spoiled rotten, just as he always is, although that aunt of his will likely mount a defense for Vernon and Petunia. She may be a dog breeder, but she has a mouth on her, one that pretty much forces you to listen, whether you want to or not."

"Well, thankfully none of them knows where you are, other than Scotland. But Scotland, if you recall, is a pretty sizeable area, so it's not like they'll be able to just stick their grubby little paws in here and make a play to collect you."

"Doubt they will, now that all this trouble has come up," Harry remarked softly. "Of course, unless they really want to make it seem as if they haven't done anything to me, although my physical, emotional, and mental states say otherwise. Not to mention my body—it's a roadmap, Remus, and it's not a pretty one. Each bruise, each burn, each cut—they all tell a different story about what's happened to me over the years. And, with each wound, my trust broke within the system just a bit more. I don't understand why we had to wait so long for precious evidence to be gathered. The authorities should've stepped in immediately when they got the notion that there was something wrong at Privet Drive."

"You're not wrong, Harry, you're not wrong. Unfortunately, that's just not how the system works. At least, not at the moment."

Harry tilted his head back then, staring at the roof of the car, and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing full well that it was a protective gesture. "Well, then... It sounds like someone has to step in and do something about it," he said quietly.

. . .

Severus gazed at the preliminary chemistry experiment he always did just before the school year was due to begin. He would brush up on the various texts of the future assignments he would put forth for the dozens of students that passed through the doors of his classroom over the summer months so as never to forget key ingredients and such. Severus looked down at the beaker filled with green liquid and put it into the pot and, once he was satisfied that the experiment was complete, unplugged the Bunsen burner and set the concoction into a safe container to save for another time.

Checking the time, he knew that, if he continued with his thought process on all the assignments he had in place for the following year, then he would surely be late to the staff meeting. He shook his head, pulling down the sleeves of his lab coat and hung it on the peg on the back of his classroom door, before making a grab for his formal teacher robe and made a grab for the notes he had taken for the very purpose of the meeting. Slipping out of his classroom, he made his way down the corridor and towards the staff lounge, where the meetings for professors were always held, either when school was in or out of session.

Severus opened the door and walked leisurely inside the staff lounge, taking his seat in the middle of Albus, the headmaster, and Minerva, Professor of History, who had yet to arrive. Filius and Pomona, Professors of English and Horticulture respectively, gave greetings to Severus and he nodded his head at the both of them. He surveyed the rest of the table, noting that Remus, the Physical Education Instructor, was also missing; high-flying, Rolanda, who was the school's coach; Dolores, the rude Russian Literature Professor that everyone seemed to hate even more than him; Gilderoy, the flamboyant French instructor that Severus had never liked; and Sybill, the school's Graphic Design and Arts Professor, who had a spacey look on her face, which was really just the usual.

Albus breezed into the room precisely one minute before the meeting was due to begin, with Minerva and Remus just behind him. Albus and Minerva took their seats on either side of Severus, while Remus took his place between Filius and Rolanda. Albus stood for a moment before his chair, which he always did before meetings, to ensure that quiet was called and that attention was given to him. He was a decent headmaster, Severus supposed, although his methods and certain bouts of favoritism over the years frequently got on his nerves.

"As you all may have noticed," Albus began, once quiet had been achieved, "Minerva and I were very nearly late to our meeting this afternoon, as we were closeted with Remus, for a rather important discussion."

"What's going on, Albus?" Filius squeaked, and Severus turned to look at the small man, who just so happened to be the smallest professor on staff, and was even smaller than most of the Secondary School beginners.

"I'm afraid, Filius, that there was a great tragedy happening right under our noses, and only now that it's gotten too terrible to ignore, that the proper authorities have stepped in at last," Albus said, and sat down heavily in his chair, his normally twinkling blue eyes looking troubled. "It seems as though young Harry Potter was in dire straits back in England."

"Oh, surely not," Dolores replied, her toad-like expression taking on one of disdain. She loved giving young Harry detention, especially when he called her out in class, as he had done frequently the year before, as Russian Literature was a graduation requirement, to be taken during the pupils' eleventh year.

"I'm afraid so, Dolores," Minerva cut across her, narrowing her brown eyes slightly at her fellow professor; Minerva, bless her, was one of the most outspoken people on the staff against Dolores's methods, which, Severus had to agree, were, quite frankly, downright medieval in nature.

"Now, now," Albus said, knowing full well that Minerva was in the right, but could hardly hire a professor that the School Board of Governors had elected; this had been the case for Gilderoy as well, who had been on the staff for nearly four years. "Remus requested to be the one to tell you what has befallen young Harry. Remus?" Albus said, inclining his head at their recluse physical education instructor, who hadn't taught there in nearly three years.

Remus sighed; his shoulders slackened slightly at that, and Severus noted that the man looked even more exhausted than usual. "As you all know, I have a direct connection with Harry, as I was best friends with his father growing up," he began, and Severus lowered his gaze, so as his fellow professor wouldn't see him sneering. "Upon his birth, my late friend Sirius Black and I were made Harry's godfathers. Unfortunately, when Tom Riddle murdered James and Lily in cold blood nearly fifteen years ago, Sirius was accused of mass murder, and I wasn't in a proper financial position to take Harry. As such, Harry was put into the care of Vernon and Petunia Dursley; Petunia, if you recall, was Lily's elder sister, but the sisters bore no love for the other, so, unfortunately, Harry was seen as an unwanted burden more than anything else."

This was shocking news to Severus; young Potter, who had never particularly been adept at chemistry, or any other sciences for that matter, would use his science class time to mouth-off to him in class. Among other things, Severus was convinced that he would ruin his experiments on purpose, just to spite him. Severus was content to believe that Potter was a spitting image, both inside and out, of his school enemy, the lazy and arrogant James Potter, who had stolen his best friend, the kind and considerate Lily Evans, from him, due to Severus falling in with the wrong crowd as a teenager. As such, after James and Lily were murdered, it was simple enough to transfer his hatred from James directly onto Potter, and young Potter's cocky attitude certainly didn't help matters.

"I first became aware of Harry's abuse—physical, psychological, and spiritual, as that is all Harry has admitted to thus far—when I began teaching here," Remus explained. "Albus worked as a go-between and fostered a relationship between Harry and I, and we became like a father and son very quickly. It is because of this that I took a leave of absence the following two school years, so as to figure out a way to bring Harry away from that environment, which was clearly ill-suited for him. In that time, I was able to hire a solicitor, not just to gain custody of Harry, but also to get my inheritance from my grandparents, which allowed me to purchase an apposite home for myself and for Harry, as the flat I was previously renting was far too small."

Severus felt as if he had been chewing on lemons and smelling rubbing alcohol for years; now, it seemed, as if nothing was true to his previous perceptions. It was as if a window had been opened, and he was smelling the Water of Leith for the first time; the sea air of truth almost seemed to be blasting him in the face, purging him of the lies he had believed. He had believed that Potter had been happy, for lack of a better term, and had been loved in the situation he had found himself in upon the murders of Lily and James. Now, with the truth, over a decade old, falling out of Remus's lips, Severus truly began to consider, almost for the first time, what else he had been blinded to over the years.

"The solicitor was able to bring the evidence to court, and I was immediately approved for custody of Harry as of last week," Remus said, smiling for the first time. "Vernon and Petunia are being held back in England on various charges including abuse and neglect, and Harry will only be given the opportunity to see them again if he chooses to, and when, or if, he decides to take the stand against them in court."

Severus felt as if he had been slammed repeatedly in the gut at the notion that young Potter had been abused so terribly, that there was now an investigation. Not just that, but Potter had been removed from the home he had grown up in. No, not a home, Severus reminded himself, due to the fact that Remus was now mentioning that Harry had lived in the cupboard under the stairs until his admittance into Wartsmoth Academy. Such living conditions could only be described as a prison. At least Severus had had a bedroom growing up, if one could call it that, with its cracked and barren walls, single lumpy mattress bed with a too-thin blanket, ragged curtains upon the solitary window, and a stone floor, with no carpet in sight...

"And now, we'll defer the meeting over to Severus," Albus was saying, which was just enough to pull Severus from his thoughts and snap to attention. "Severus, would you mind telling us your lesson plans for the first term?"

Severus cleared his throat and shuffled the papers in front of him. "Certainly," he managed to get out, his thoughts still on young Potter.

. . .

Harry was waiting for Dora in the back garden of the villa he and Remus were now living in together, for it was a very warm day, and he didn't fancy being cooped up in the house during the conversation. Remus had brought out a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses, a small bowl of ice, a second small bowl of sugar, and a plate of biscuits he'd picked up in town on his way back from his meeting at Wartsmoth Academy.

"You're all right doing this alone?" Remus asked, squeezing Harry's shoulder after he had set the tray down.

Harry nodded. "If things get bad, I know where you are."

Remus smiled. "Of course," he said. "I'll go inside and wait for Dora, and let her know where you are."

Harry smiled back at him. "Thanks, Remus."

Harry watched as Remus nodded at him before turning on his heel and making his way back into the villa. Harry turned and looked around the garden; it was much nicer than Aunt Petunia's back in Surrey; it had cobblestones upon the ground, which formed a path from the little sitting area to the back door, and again, which stretched around the house and towards the gate. There were more stones situated around the various flower beds, which housed rose bushes, thistles patches, heather, Scottish primroses, and a few trees dotting the area, which included wych elms, a birch or two, wild cherry, and hawthorn trees.

"Harry?"

Harry turned at the sound of Dora's voice, and found that she had slipped into the garden via the back door of the house. "Hi," he said casually, getting to his feet and shaking her hand, and then motioned for her to sit across from him at the small table. "Lemonade? Biscuit?"

"Yes, thank you," Dora replied with a smile, pouring the drink herself and plunking a trio of ice cubes into the glass. She stirred a heaping spoon of sugar into it and then snagged a biscuit before she leaned back in her chair. "How's it been? Living with Remus."

Harry smiled at that. "A vast improvement," he said quietly. "I can actually act like a teenager, which is nothing short of a miracle. I mean, now I only have to keep my room clean, and Remus and I alternate the laundry and the dishes duties. And we have special cleaners to do the rest of the house, and to do gardening..." He shrugged. "I never knew that it could be like this. I actually feel as if I'm living now, not just surviving."

Dora nodded. "That's really good to hear, Harry." She worried her lower lip for a moment. "And would it be all right if I asked you some questions about Surrey?"

Harry nodded, knowing that that had been coming. "Of course."

"And remember," Dora went on, getting out her notepad and pen and giving a serious look across the table to Harry, "if you're uncomfortable and want to move on, we can. Or, if you've had enough for the day, that's perfectly all right, too."

Harry nodded again, relieved that the rules were still in place. "Thank you."

Dora smiled at him and looked over her notes from the last interview. "Well, last time, we talked about your chores, and what your uncle would do with his breakfast tomatoes," she said, and did her best not to shudder at the memory. "You mentioned that your cousin and his friends enjoyed a game called 'Harry Hunting'. Could you tell me a bit more about that?"

Harry nodded at her. "Sure. Piers Polkiss was Dudley's best mate," he began, and Dora began writing as he spoke. "Him, Dudley, and the rest of the gang would roam the neighborhood, and, if I wasn't inside the house working, or tending to the garden, or locked in my bedroom, I would be evading them at every turn. However, if they couldn't find me, they'd find younger children to bully or beat up."

Dora stiffened slightly at this, but forced herself to keep writing. "They would beat you up, then?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "A lot of the bruises on my arms, around the burn marks, came from that," he told her, his voice devoid of hardly any emotion; Dora knew by now that this meant that he was trying to distance himself from his past, as a means to communicate it to her, without completely falling apart at the seams. "Piers would hold my arms behind my back while Dudley would be shouting orders, and Malcolm, Dennis, or Gordon would take punches or kicks to their unsuspecting victims."

"You?" Dora whispered.

Harry gave a stiff nod. "Yeah. Sometimes me. Or other little kids from the neighborhood that they'd get their hands on if I was unavailable."

"How bad would it get?"

"If you didn't scream and beg for mercy, you'd get knocked to the ground, and they'd put their trainer onto the side of your head," Harry told her bluntly. "They would put pressure on it, telling you that they'd make sure that your brains were splattered all over the pavement if you didn't tell them...stuff..."

"Stuff?"

"That, or make them promises."

"What kind of promises?"

Harry shuddered at the thoughts of it. "Getting on your knees," he said softly then, and felt the hard ground beneath his knees then, as well as his neck being jerked this way and that, followed by the cruel laughter filling his ears, and the tell-tale groans.

"Harry? Are you telling me that your cousin and his friends would make you perform oral sex on them?" Dora whispered.

Harry raised his eyes to hers, and physically felt the pain washing through him; that, coupled with the shame of sharing one of his deep, dark secrets. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he permitted his nails bit bite into his palms all over again. "They'd always wanted to go further than that, because I was 'such a good boy'," Harry went on, a full-body shudder overtaking him then. "But... But..."

"It's all right, Harry," Dora said quickly. "You don't have to..."

"I'm dirty... I'm so dirty," Harry whimpered then, putting his face into his hands, the hot tears splashing onto his open palms. "Who would ever want me?"

"Plenty of people want you in their lives, Harry," Dora said, squeezing Harry's shoulder gently, but he didn't look up at her. "You've got your friends from Wartsmoth Academy, plus there's Remus who risked everything to get you..."

"I don't mean like that," Harry said, forcing the words out of his mouth as he lifted his face from his hands. "I mean... I don't know, a partner, someday. How could anyone take one look at my past and see that I'm anything but damaged goods?"

Dora swallowed. "Listen to me, Harry—this, none of this, was your fault. You were unfortunately failed by the system on such a severe level, to the point where you were broken emotionally and physically. It doesn't mean you're going to stay broken, Harry. It just means that you need to get the tools necessary to pick up the pieces. And, guess what? You don't have to do it all alone."

Harry swallowed. "I don't?"

"No, you don't," Dora assured him. "You've got Remus, your friends, many professors at Wartsmoth Academy, and Scotland Yard on your side. We're all here for you."

Harry nodded. "I'll try to remember that," he whispered.

. . .

Severus was brewing in his classroom when Albus showed up. "Can I help you?"

Albus sighed, shutting the door behind him and permitting himself a momentary distraction as his eyes roved along the numerous shelves of books Severus had. "I wanted to speak to you about the staff meeting last week. How are you feeling?"

"About the upcoming school year?" Severus asked, ignoring the fleeting quake inside him, as he knew exactly what Albus was really talking about. "I should think that, if the students took a few moments this summer to study the texts provided, that we'll have a far better school year than in years past..."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Severus," Albus said, knowing full well what his colleague was doing, and wouldn't stand for it. He crossed the room and moved to sit at Severus's desk, and looked through the notes on upcoming lessons that dotted the surface. "I think you know very well to what I am referring."

Severus swallowed, putting the concoction he'd put together inside a proper container, knowing that he could easily use it as an example for a future class. "You're talking about Potter, then, I take it?" he asked, his tone clipped.

"Harry, yes," Albus said, and Severus managed to win the battle against rolling his eyes. "I was wondering how you were feeling about it."

"The circumstances he found himself in?" Severus asked, taking the brew in the container and putting it into the cooling fridge. "That, Albus?"

Albus nodded, leaning back in Severus's desk chair. "You've shown favoritism towards Draco for a number of years, Severus..."

"He is my godson," Severus replied, deliberately not looking at Albus as he took his beakers over towards the massive classroom sink, and turned on the water. "Why wouldn't I show him just a bit of favoritism now and again?"

"Because this isn't just 'now and again', Severus. It was from the time he began at the school when he was eleven," Albus said gently, getting to his feet and moving towards the classroom sink himself. "I believe your emotions towards young Harry are clouded by hatred, not just because of James, but because of Draco's feelings towards him."

Severus sneered at the notion that Draco could actually be manipulating his feelings on Potter. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Albus."

"Oh, I think you do, my boy," Albus replied, his tone candid. "Draco embodies everything you wish you had growing up—two loving parents; a set list of activities; stability, both in financial and emotional matters. And then there's Harry, the physical product of your greatest enemy and your greatest friend, who you initially believed to be everything like your enemy and yet, as of last week, you find that you two are exceptionally similar."

Severus rolled his eyes as the water temperature warmed enough, and rinsed the beakers he still held in his hands. "There are no similarities, Albus."

"You were there when Remus mentioned that Harry lived in a cupboard under the stairs until the age of eleven, when he came to us, to the school," Albus said patiently.

"I had a bedroom, Albus," Severus told him, making a grab for the dish soap and scrub brush, and used them on the first beaker.

"Hardly a bedroom, Severus, and you know it," Albus went on, more firmly. "The way in which you grew up, Severus, was positively horrifying. What was done to you..."

Severus let go of the beaker he held, due to the slipperiness of water and soap, and it shattered on the base of the sink beneath him. He reached into the water to grab it, but, as there was soap everywhere, he couldn't make out where it was, and ended up slashing at his fingers. "Dammit, Albus! I will not discuss it!" Severus thundered, rinsing his hand underneath the warm water, before he stuck the fingers in his mouth.

"Oh, dear," Albus said, shaking his head. "Perhaps let Poppy see to that, Severus—"

"No!" Severus shouted, his fingers slipping from his lips. "I'm fine."

Albus shook his head at him then. "No, Severus, you're not fine. It's plain to see that you're not fine, Severus, and that's all right."

Severus pushed past him, the beaker cleaning forgotten as he made his way towards his desk, and got some bandages and sterile pads to clean and patch up his wound with. "Everything is all right with me, Albus. Don't worry about me," he replied bitterly.

"Severus, it's easy to notice that your very world, and everything you've previously believed in, has been shattered," Albus told him steadily, watching as Severus cleaned up his fingers. "You yourself have believed falsehoods about Harry since he was a boy."

Severus shook his head at him. "I cannot help if I read him a certain way, Albus," he said, his tone clipped as he wrapped the bandages around his now-cleaned fingers.

"You wouldn't permit yourself to read him any other way, Severus. Based on Harry's appearance alone, you allowed your emotions to influence you otherwise. Can't you see that, despite his parentage, he's nothing like James was?"

Severus sneered. "I don't want to think..."

"And what about Lily?" Albus asked, not wanting to hear Severus's sorry excuse. "What about the woman whom you called your dearest friend? He's her child, too, Severus. Whenever you look at Harry in his eyes, you know full well he isn't James."

"I know he is her child, Albus. I saw the announcement in The Times, a week after Lily and James were married, as well as when Lily had given birth to him. It's not only his name, Albus, but the fact that fame surrounds him, due to his parents being Riddle's last victims. Of course, he was to be killed, too, although the constables got the tip-off from that rat-faced Pettigrew before anything could happen to him..."

"Don't tell me now that you wished for a toddler Harry to be slain alongside Lily and James, Severus," said Albus, condemnation in his voice.

Severus swallowed. "No, of course I didn't, Albus. And I may have been in on the plans myself, but I changed my ways. I've not seen Riddle since I was ordered to give testimony in court, in exchange for immunity."

"Which is why you've still got the position here at Wartsmoth," Albus said. "Were it not for your cooperation, you would have been out of a job."

"And sentenced to prison for following him and keeping silent until after the crime had been committed," Severus went on, the bitterness returning into his tone. "You know as well as I do that I wouldn't have survived in there, Albus."

"Which is why I went to bat for you, Severus. I knew that you didn't belong there. You had been influenced by Draco's own father from the time that you were a teenager. Having someone older take such an interest in you, and nurturing your talents, as well as giving you something akin to the love that you so craved..."

"That ended by the time Riddle was arrested," Severus snapped.

"But it was back on again when you sought comfort after Lily's death," Albus said softly. "I know for a fact that it went on until five years ago."

"He has an agreement with Narcissa, Albus. They've got an open marriage. I will not be made to feel guilty for my preferences."

"Nor to I expect you to, my boy," Albus said. "However, when it comes to the treatment of the students here, I expect you to feel some guilt. You know as well as I do that you've given Harry quite the wringer treatment, for no apparent reason."

Severus looked away from him.

"Is it just because of his connection to James?" Albus wanted to know. "Or is it because you blame him for Lily's death?"

"No, I don't blame him for Lily's death," Severus told him. "Potter had nothing to do with that, and I'm not so completely incensed to think otherwise."

"Then why do you insist on such harsh treatment?"

"Purely educational reasons, Albus."

Albus stroked his beard. "Really, Severus?"

"Yes," he said. "Why?"

Albus sighed. "I'm simply wondering who you're trying to convince of that apparent fact, Severus," the headmaster said with a slight shake of his head, before he slipped out of the science classroom.

. . .

The second time Dora showed up to take a report from Harry, he told her about the house rules while he was living at the Dursleys. These included his time in the bathroom and how many times a week he was permitted to bathe; how long he was to take with specific chores, which included gardening, cooking, and cleaning; and the three-strike rule if he got something wrong within the household, and how he would be punished for it. Harry sat across from Dora as he recounted these things, in the cushioned window seat of the living room; it was raining that day in Culross, and so being outside in the back garden was not an option.

"Explain the three-strike rule to me," Dora said gently, watching as Remus's cat launched herself into Harry's lap, and Harry painstakingly scratched her behind her ears.

"If I would take too long on a task, or do it incorrectly, I would get a small punishment each time it happened," Harry explained as the cat, Valencia, curled up in his lap. "The first strike would mean I was slapped. Strike two, I'd be knocked backwards until I hit a wall or something. The third and final strike, I was hit until I fell to the floor, and Dudley was permitted to beat on me until I collapsed from the blows."

Dora felt sickened at this disclosure, but she wrote down everything Harry told her. "Would they just leave you there, say, if you passed out?"

Harry nodded, the movement jerking his neck ever so slightly. "Yeah. They'd wait until I came to before they'd do anything else. Dudley later said it was because it was much more pleasant because they could hear my moans of pain."

Dora shuddered. "You'd make noise?"

"It started when I was four," Harry said quietly, "the three-strikes rule. I used to scream whenever they did what they did to me. Then, I was able to focus on something in the room—the floor or a piece of fraying wallpaper—and the screams would die down."

Dora swallowed. "Please tell me they never..."

"Splattered me everywhere? No," Harry replied with a dark laugh. "I'd have to clean it up if they managed to do so."

"But, it hurt?"

"Yes—bruising each time it happened, and the migraines were terrible. Dudley even broke my jaw once, about a week before I started Year Nine at Wartsmoth. That's what tipped Remus off to the entire thing in the first place."

Dora's mouth fell open. "They sent you to Wartsmoth with a broken jaw?!" she demanded, her voice filled with shock at the depraved indifference.

"Of course," Harry replied nonchalantly with a shrug. "I wasn't good enough to be given proper medical care. I'm lucky that they got me my shots, however. I think it was because they didn't want Dudley at risk for any infections, despite the fact that he got the shots, too."

Dora gritted her teeth so as to prevent herself from sobbing at this newfound information. "Yes, I see," she said, her voice soft. They spoke for a few more minutes, and then things became too real for Harry, so Dora ended the interview, and watched as he took Valencia out of the room with him and headed upstairs. Dora turned her gaze outside, watching as the rain came down, hard, on the plants of the backyard...

"How was he today?"

Dora turned and watched as Remus walked into the living room, and took Harry's vacated seat across from her. "He was polite, as usual," she told him with a smile. "Cut him off when things got too overwhelming, however."

Remus sighed. "Your superiors must hate that."

Dora shook her head. "Actually, they've been very understanding," she said with a smile. "I've only got a couple more sessions with him, however. Once those are up, I'm obligated to give you some names of some court-appointed psychiatrists. Any information Harry gives them regarding the case, they will turn over to the courts."

"We've discussed him seeking professional help," Remus told her. "He's not against it, but I don't think he's quite ready for it yet."

"I can understand that," Dora replied with a smile, and Remus noted how much it brightened her already lovely face. "We all need our own time to process what happened to us. I saw a counselor starting from the age of fifteen. It really helped me, given my past and all that I'd been through..."

"Harry mentioned that your cousins are Sirius and Draco?"

Dora nodded. "Yes. I was close to Sirius, like you were, and it was just awful when he passed away a few months ago. But, my aunt is where she belongs now for murdering him. She shouldn't have been paroled after what she did to Frank and Alice Longbottom. However, that's what happens when you live in a country whose government believes in rehabilitation over outright punishment."

"Why did you have to see a counselor?" Remus asked, and immediately shook his head, and admonished himself internally. "No, sorry. Don't answer that. That was a personal and highly inappropriate question—"

"Wait," Dora said, reaching out and taking ahold of his wrist, and feeling her heart pounding as they made physical contact for the first time, and felt her cheeks flush automatically from the moment he looked at her. "It's all right. I don't talk about it much, I'll admit, but my counselor told me that opening up to people I trust is beneficial for my treatment."

Remus blinked. "You trust me?"

Dora smiled. "Of course. We've had conversations after every interview session of Harry's, and we communicated by phone during your suit for custody. Of course I trust you, Remus," she said softly then, her voice around his name like a caress.

"So," Remus said, swallowing, "you've been seeing a counselor since you were fifteen?"

Dora nodded. "Yes. I had information about my aunt, Bellatrix, when she came up for a parole period. Her husband and brother-in-law, as I'm sure you're aware of, had escaped prison and were on the run."

Remus nodded. "Yes, it was all over the papers and the news."

"Does the name 'Girl N' ring any bells?" she whispered.

Remus's mouth went dry. "You're 'Girl N'?" he whispered back.

Dora nodded. "Yes," she replied.

She remembered leaving the courthouse, after going over the preliminary questioning in court in regards to her aunt's upcoming parole hearing. She'd insisted to her parents that she was old enough to take the tube home by herself, on her own. Even with her uncle and his brother on the loose, after escaping prison, she had had no idea that they would be after her. As a minor, her name was not included on the witness list, and she was instead referred to as 'Girl N' for security measures.

She had been abducted the moment she had turned the corner, barely a block away from the courthouse, under cover of darkness. For the next seven hours, she was held in a derelict building, with Rodolphus Lestrange standing guard outside, and Rabastan Lestrange doing his best to keep her quiet. His evilness won out in the end, and he loosened the restraints upon her wooden chair after holding her for a couple of hours, tired of merely beating her into submission, in a last-ditch effort to prevent her from testifying against her aunt, his own sister-in-law, in order to get her out of prison. Once the restraints were out of the way, Rabastan did what he did best—murder. In this case, he merely murdered Dora's childhood, but that was enough to get him a life sentence for kidnapping and—

"How did you even...?"

"Recover?" Dora asked with a small smile. "It took years. But I faced my fears when I began working for Scotland Yard. I wanted to catch the bad guys, so to speak. I've met many girls and women, and, to a lesser extent, boys and men, who have been raped, as I was, and it certainly helps to know that I'm not alone."

"And, you're happy?" Remus asked.

Slowly, Dora turned Remus's wrist lose, and permitted her hand to drift down to his hand, where she traced its outline with her fingertip. "I'm starting to be," she whispered, meeting Remus's eyes for a moment with a small smile. "Especially now."

. . .

Remus took Harry to Wartsmoth four days after his last interview with Dora, and Harry was feeling relieved to be seeing Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna. Of course, the notion that he would have to contend with Draco Malfoy for the next nine months, minus Christmas break, was not something he was looking forward to. However, he had dealt with it before, so what would another two years of this bring?

"How are you feeling, mate?" Ron asked, embracing Harry as they met outside the canteen, on the main floor of the school.

"I'm fine, Ron," Harry said, getting out of his arms and embracing Hermione next. "It helps knowing that I won't be going back to Surrey anytime soon."

"Of course," Hermione said gently, clutching at Harry for a moment before letting him go. "I'm just glad that Remus could be there for you during this difficult time."

"Professor Lupin, Hermione," Ron said with a grin.

Hermione rewarded his cockiness with a smack in his ribs. "Shove it, Ronald. You know very well who I mean."

"Oh, dear," said Ginny, Ron's younger sister, as she stepped forward, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom standing on either side of her, with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan following close behind the little group. Ginny looked around at the players in the scenario, and seemed to almost immediately deduce what had gone on. "What has my brother done this time, Hermione?" she asked with a grin.

"He insinuated that I was insulting Professor Lupin," she said, giving Ron a scathing look, to which he put up his hands in surrender.

"I-I didn't mean..."

"Hermione's right," Ginny replied, rolling her brown eyes before turning to Harry. "Hey, Harry," she said, her cheeks flushing as she stepped towards him, and Harry gave her a hug. "I'm really sorry about what happened this summer. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I think Harry's feeling much better than he has been recently," Luna put in, smiling across the space at Harry. "His body language denotes relaxation, which means that he is more at ease with the goings-on in his life right now."

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said to her with a quick smile, before turning to Neville, Dean, and Seamus. "And you three? How's everything going?"

"My holiday was all right. Better than Seamus's anyway," Dean put in.

Seamus sighed. "The Times is just eating up the preparations for the trial," he said, his voice filled with disdain. "I can't imagine what you must be going through."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, well. It sells newspapers."

"Shouldn't be at your expense, mate. This is your sanity we're talking about here," Neville put in quickly, always quick to stand up for Harry.

"Well, I'm glad to know that someone understands," Harry said, and grinned at Neville. He turned at the sound of footsteps behind them then, and he locked eyes with Professor Snape for a moment, before the man hesitated for a moment, something lurking behind those captivating black eyes of his, before he swept past them and into the canteen. "Some things never change, then, I take it," he muttered with a shrug.

It was then that a fellow Lower Sixth Form student came into view; one Lavender Brown, with her golden-brown curls and engaging brown eyes. She was dressed prettily that day; as it was the day before the start-of-term, the students were not obligated to wear their uniforms yet. She smiled at the group gathered; she was wearing pink lip gloss, and she almost immediately turned her full attention to Ron.

"Hi, Ron," she said sweetly to him.

"Hi, there," Ron replied, his voice rising into a higher octave.

Lavender smiled broadly at him then before she disappeared into the canteen.

Ron, looking as if he was walking on clouds, immediately moved to follow her.

"Oh, boy," Ginny said, shaking her head before putting an arm around Luna's shoulders and guided her towards the Year Ten table.

"See you in there, mate," Dean said, and he, Seamus, and Neville walked towards the Lower Sixth Form table.

Harry moved until he was standing beside Hermione, who was watching the interaction between Ron and Lavender at the Lower Sixth Form table play out. "You all right?"

Hermione flushed, before she shook her bushy brown head. "Perfectly all right, Harry. Why wouldn't I be?" she said, almost fiercely, almost as if she was attempting to convince herself of the fact. "The real question is, of course, how are you?"

Harry swallowed then, his eyes moving from watching Ron and Lavender's conversation up to the professors' table. His eyes immediately moved to where Professor Snape sat, and felt his heart pounding in his chest when he found them, but proceeded to beat double time when he realized that the chemistry professor was staring right back at him. "I... I think I'll be all right, considering, Hermione," Harry replied, feeling his knees giving slightly at the look the man gave him, before he turned away, and followed Hermione to the Lower Sixth Form table.