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Minerva McGonagall didn’t trust Albus Dumbledore enough to ensure that James and Lily’s son stayed safe on Privet Drive, so she and her wife, Poppy Pomfrey, set about buying the house next door to keep an eye on little Harry. The process of actually purchasing the house and getting it prepared for them to move in took time, however, so by the day they’d moved in it had been several months since James and Lily died. Several months in which she had been worrying about Harry and also working on getting Sirius Black a trial- she firmly believed he would never betray James- he was like a brother to him, and closer than his own blood had ever been. He adored Lily and she’d seen the way he looked at little Harry- that wasn’t the face of a murderer, and she’d seen her boys when they were pulling off pranks- Sirius Black was not that good of an actor.
As she and Poppy pulled into the driveway with their boring new minivan and their boxes full of things that they had to carry in the muggle way, she noticed that everyone walking about or working in their gardens was white, and her stomach sank. Harry was half-Pakistani and looked it, and in this sort of gentrified, dreadfully humdrum neighborhood, that couldn’t be making things easier for him. She’d already magicked her way into the records of every children’s therapist in the area, and none of them were seeing a Harry Potter, which wasn’t a good sign either- he’d lost his parents less than four months ago, and the poor child probably had no way of understanding the tremendous changes that had gone down in his life. So, she and Poppy would be there.
“Alright dear,” she told her wife as they set the last of the boxes inside the house. “Why don’t you just close the curtains and spell everything where it belongs while I go check on Harry.” She wiped her hands on her muggle skirt, straightened her cardigan, and made sure her hair looked presentable- she didn’t want Petunia to shut the door on her immediately, although she would bust it down if she had too. She left her new house, shut the front door, and walked over to the Dursley’s boring, symmetrical home.
As she passed the carefully tended flower beds, she caught sight of one little footprint in the soil in front of them, and a knee print in front of that- much like the positioning one would use to do the gardening. She recognised that footprint- it was just very slightly larger than the foot she’d bought little quidditch booties for six months ago as a present for James and Lily’s second anniversary. She picked up her pace and, upon reaching the door, tried not to make her knock sound too desperate.
“Hello,” Petunia Dursley opened the door with a painted smile, but upon recognising Minerva (even in muggle clothes) as one of the teachers Lily had praised so fondly and who had brought her her Hogwarts letter, it fell right into the scowl which was her natural expression.
“Ah, so… nice… to see you again, Mrs. Dursley,” Minerva greeted, trying not to sound as displeased as she felt at the lackluster reception. “I’ve just bought the house next door with my spouse (no need to put her off right away, and besides that, same-sex marriage wasn’t yet legal in muggle Britain), and I was wondering if I could check on Harry.”
“He’s fine,” Petunia snapped, her scowl deepening and just a hint of fear glimmering in her eyes. “I’ve got things to do, so good day now.” She clearly wished the witch anything but a good day.
“I’ll be seeing for myself, thank you,” said witch responded firmly, and Petunia blocked her way.
“Now, this is nonsense- we still live in a democracy, after all!” she cried out shrilly. Minerva raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Actually, it’s a Constitutional Monarchy within the framework of a Parliamentary Republic,” she corrected, vowing to get Harry into a better primary school than wherever Petunia had gone. “And I’ll be checking on him now.”
For the Dursleys, it really was the absolute worst moment for Vernon, inside the house, to lose his temper.
“That’s not how you sweep a floor, boy!” he bellowed, and a little voice that Minerva recognised all too well (although, despite the conditions, his language abilities had definitely increased since she’d last seen him) whimpered in response.
“I’m sowwy- please no cupboard,” he begged, and this was when the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts completely lost her temper. She barreled past Petunia just in time to see her foul, corpulent husband backhand Harry as the child went flying back with a crash, landing on his wrist, which bent at an awkward angle. Later, when she’d calmed a bit, she would remember to thank her lucky stars that she was married to a healer, and one of the best at that, but for now she was five feet and seven inches of intimidating rage. To throw sweet Harry- her sweet Harry, in a cupboard!
She ran up to him, stunning Vernon with a very painful, very powerful spell, and he shot backwards with a bang. She stepped gently up to a child she thought of as like a grandson, trying not to startle him. She noticed he was already out of nappies, which was unusual for a child not yet two. There was a large bruise blooming on the side of his face where Vernon had hit him, and his wrist was bent at an odd angle, but his large green eyes, full of silent tears, were looking at her with a spark of recognition.
“Mama Mins?” he warbled, lip quivering, and Minerva breathed a sigh of relief- he remembered her. That would make this easier.
“Yes, Harry dear- I’m here, and I’m so sorry it took me this long. But you’ll be safe now.” She felt how light he was with displeasure as she carefully picked him up and laid him against her shoulder, and she noticed a scar, about three inches long, knotted against his shoulder blade, and she carefully cast a sleeping spell on Harry before growling and turning to the stunned man, who she made sure would still be capable of speaking.
“And what, pray tell, is this?” she asked him, her voice low and dangerous with a growling undertone more suited to an angry lioness than a tabby cat. When the man didn’t speak, she entered his mind, using extra care to make sure it was super painful, and she did not like what she saw. Harry’d had his first bout of accidental magic about two months ago (and so young, too, Minerva noted with pride, somewhere deep underneath her all-consuming fire of hatred for the couple in front of her). He’d summoned a loaf of bread to himself, because he was hungry, no doubt, and Vernon had unfortunately witnessed it. He’d gotten explosively angry, face turning red as he picked Harry up by the throat and slammed him against the table! It was lucky that the injury hadn’t been worse, or Minerva would have lost her last thread of self-control and there’d have been a double murder to deal with.
“Alright,” she said tightly, “here is what we are going to do: I am going to take Harry, and I am going to raise him. You are going to make dinner and have us over once a week, and you aren’t going to say a word the whole time, just for the sake of those bloody wards Albus was talking about.” She kept her language (mostly) clean for the sake of Harry, who she didn’t want to curse in front of even if he was sleeping. “You will, by unfortunate necessity, remain his legal guardians, and if there is any paperwork that needs signing, I will bring it to you and you will sign it without question. If you fail to meet any of these terms, you will not like the consequences- understood?”
Petunia, unfortunately, was rather stupid, so she decided to voice a question- a terrible one. “Will we still get the money for taking care of the boy?”
Minerva’s eyes narrowed until they were nearly closed, and her lips tightened into a thin line. “What money?”
The woman finally seemed ready to shut up, but the witch pointed her wand at Petunia’s throat, so she had no choice but to answer.
“Five hundred pounds a month,” she said tightly, and Minnie couldn’t help but shoot a hex at her, causing a very large and very noticeable boil to appear on the other’s face.
“Some care you gave him- and not only will the payments stop, but you will pay back every single one to date by the end of the month or there will be more where that came from.” She pointed to the boil, and somewhere else inside of her, more anger was erupting at Albus- he didn’t have that kind of spare change, so it must be coming from the Potter vaults. There would be a conversation later. Petunia, finally finding some common sense, nodded tightly and kept her mouth shut. Minerva stalked out the door, Harry in her arms.
“Oh, darling, you’re back. How-” Poppy’s face stalled as she saw the little boy. “Harry…”
“Abused, Poppy- abused,” she ground out, and the healer came over to take the toddler.
“Malnutrition, a broken arm, and several good knocks,” she lamented, equal parts sadness and anger. “They’ve managed to do quite a lot of damage in very little time.”
“Well, he’ll be staying with us now, so it won’t happen again- unfortunately, we’ll have to have dinner over there once a week for the sake of those damn wards Albus insists on, but that’s as far as I’m willing to compromise. And I’ve taken measures to ensure the Dursleys behave themselves, and Harry shall never be out of our sight while we’re there.
While Harry was still asleep, Poppy put a bruise balm on his cheek, reset his arm, healed it, and put it in a cast that would have to stay on for a couple of weeks due to how weak the child was at the moment, and mixed a nutrient potion with a bottle of formula she’d brought along just in case. She then took him into her arms and sat in the rocking chair with the little one, and even in his sleep he sought out the bottle and suckled reflexively.
___
Harry slept all through the night (and they’d put a nappy on him- the Dursleys may have forced him to be potty trained far too early, but they weren’t about to have him be waking up to use the toilet), and the next day, he sat up in the conjured crib in Minnie and Poppy’s room and rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“Hello Harry- good morning,” Poppy said kindly as she mixed another potion-infused bottle. “Do you remember me- I’m Poppy, and I’m married to Mama Mins. I delivered you, you know,” she nattered on conversationally, and Harry cocked his head at her.
“Mama flower,” he nodded decisively, and Poppy smiled at the new nickname- the last time Harry had seen her, she’d just been ‘Pops.’ “I stay here?”
“Yes,” she told him, “you stay here- forever and always.”
His little face lit up brilliantly. “No more Vern and Tune-y-a?” he asked hopefully, and Poppy sighed.
“Well, I can’t promise you won’t have to see them at all, since we live right next door, but we will never leave you alone with them, and if they hurt you, they will be in big trouble,” she promised, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.
“In cupboard trouble?” Harry asked, and Poppy smiled deviously.
“Yes,” she said gleefully. “In cupboard trouble.” She couldn’t wait to shove them both in the tiny cupboard under the stairs. She pulled Harry out of the crib and pulled out some of the new clothing that Minerva had run to the store for last night- muggle, by necessity, so the little frogs on the onesie didn’t move. She reached for another diaper, but Harry shook his head.
“No,” he said firmly. “Big boy.” Despite how this had come about, he seemed very proud of not needing the nappy anymore.
“Alright,” Poppy sighed and smiled a bit, pulling out the pull-ups they’d bought in case that was his response (even though they’d gotten the smallest size, they’d had to shrink them). “Here- big boy panties for my big little boy.”
“T’anks,” Harry beamed at her, and she smiled when he let her dress him, but frowned when she saw his ribs again.
“You’re welcome, luv- now c’mon, let’s go get some breakfast.”
“Got baba- no get breakfast. Bad Hawwy,” he explained seriously.
“No,” Poppy told him gently but firmly. “Good Harry- Harry gets to eat everyday, three times a day- and snacks.”
“Wow,” the toddler breathed, as if it was some great gift and not the legal requirements for raising a child.
“Alright, Harry dear- how about some eggs, hmmm?” Poppy put him in his high chair- Minerva was off having that conversation with Dumbledore, so she was on Harry duty this morning.
“Eggs good,” Harry said, clapping his little hands, which should have been pudgy but were not. “Yum eggs.”
The witch was busy beating the eggs for a moment, but when she turned around, Harry was scribbling on his cast with a pen that he must have conjured- there was no other way, as all they’d brought with them was quills, and they hadn’t had a chance to go out for biros yet. That was… advanced magic for a toddler, especially as he wasn’t in need or distressed.
“Whatcha drawing there darling?” she inquired, and Harry pointed at one of crudely drawn figures.
“Dinosawr,” he said proudly. “Rawr!”
“Do you like dinosaurs, Harry?” Poppy asked, amused, and their child nodded fervently.
“Hawwy loves dinosawrs,” he exclaimed. “Rawr!”
Oh goodness, the nurse thought to herself. Wait until he hears about dragons.
“Well, you’re a very good artist, little one,” Poppy said, looking at another picture- a little ball with some squiggles on it that could be wings… did he…?
“Snitch,” Harry informed her. Then his expression grew wistful. “Miss dada. He and mama go- they not come back?”
“Oh Harry,” Madame Pomfrey sighed. “They wish they could- they wanted you to be safe and happy more than anything, and that’s what they tried to do. And from now on, you will be.” A tear ran down her cheek as she knelt by the high chair, and Harry reached out a little hand to wipe it away.
“Mama and Dada good. No cry,” he told her softly, and Poppy thought he was very wise for such a little thing (and even though he couldn’t form complete sentences quite yet, the fact that he could string words together at all was pretty impressive).
“You’re right, Harry- they wouldn’t want us to shed tears for them. Now, let’s go make breakfast.” She threw the egg mixture into the pan, and soon it was spread out on the little toddler’s tray as he picked pieces up and put them carefully in his mouth, wanting to eat every bite and make sure none fell.
“You eat too, Ma Flower,” he ordered, a bit of Lily’s stern, confident demeanor coming through as he held out a bite of egg to Poppy in one slobbery fist.
“Oh, thank you dear, but I’m making my own,” she promised, pulling out more eggs and beginning the preparations on an omelette for herself to satisfy him. Harry watched her for a moment.
“Okay,” he said finally, shoving the bite into his mouth. When he’d finished with his breakfast, he started gnawing on a finger, and Poppy pulled it out in alarm.
“What are you doing, luv?” she asked, trying not to scare him.
“Teef hurt,” Harry explained, and Poppy nodded- of course. Baby’s were often still teething at this age.
“Here,” she told him, going to the freezer. “I’ve got something better.” She handed him and ice cold teething ring with a set of colorful keys on it, and Harry shoved it in happily.
“Home,” he said around the frozen toy.
“Yes,” Poppy agreed. “You’re home now.”
___
Minerva came back during naptime, shrugging off her sweater.
“How’d it go?” her wife asked, and Minnie shrugged.
“He wasn’t happy about it, but he had no choice but to accept my compromise- otherwise, I would have gone to the governors, and that would not have been good for him. This way, he reasoned, we at least stay near the blood wards- personally, I think there’s no damn use for them, but if this is what it takes…”
“I know,” Poppy sighed. “But at least this way, we get to shove the Dursleys in the cupboard under the stairs.”
“Well my dear, you always were good at finding the bright side- unusual for a Slytherin though it is.”
“Oh, do shut up,” the nurse rolled her eyes, and just then they heard a noise on the stairs. Harry, still in his froggy onesie, was butt-scooting down one step at a time, and the two women’s eyes widened in alarm.
“How did you get out of the crib?” Minerva asked, worrying that it had broken and he was hurt.
“Woke up, climbed out,” Harry made a sort of shrugging motion as he continued scooting gleefully down.
“That’s very dangerous, dear, so next time, please just call for us,” Poppy put a hand on her heart, trying to calm it down.
“Okay,” he agreed genially, reaching the bottom and toddling over to Minerva. “Mama Mins home!”
“Yes, Mama Mins is home.” The witch couldn’t help laughing as she picked him up.
“It’s a nice day out,” she said. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
“Yay!” Harry cried. Minerva went to put him in the new stroller, but he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I push- stroller for Duddey.”
Minerva and Poppy experienced another bout of the anger that had been boiling just under the surface since they’d seen the Dursleys yesterday.
“This stroller is for you,” Poppy said. “And you may sit in it if you wish.”
“Hmm,” Harry cocked his head again, big green eyes deep in thought. “Wanna walk- good at walking, like it. Better than Duddey.”
“Yes,” Minerva agreed. “Much better than Dudley.” Harry meant his motor skills; she meant in general. “Well,” she continued. “You’ll need shoes, then.”
“Shoes there,” he pointed at the Dursleys house. “No shoes.”
“Oh, you don’t need those old things,” Poppy said, referring to Dudley’s hand-me-downs that were too big for him. “We have new shoes.” She held up the pair of quidditch boots they’d bought before they moved in- the one wizard wardrobe item they’d allowed themselves, since they didn’t look too different from any other kinds of boots.
“Yay!” Harry cried again. “T’anks!”
“You’re welcome, dear,” both the women said at once. Harry insisted on putting both shoes on himself, and even though the fastenings (sort of like a magical velcro but without all the hooks and fuzzy bits) were a bit crooked, he looked so proud of himself that they congratulated him and let them be.
They were walking along (and earning quite a few stares- a lesbian couple and their half-desi baby pushing his own stroller wasn’t exactly standard on Privet Drive), Harry happily toddling along, the stroller making a zigzagging path as he stopped to look at this butterfly or that tree or this other nice blade of grass he liked, when a large black dog walked by, led by its owner, who definitely wasn’t from around the area- she was black, for one thing, and with a very noticeable dream catcher tattoo on her chest underneath her low-cut tank top.
“Pa’foot!” Harry cried, and Minerva’s heart broke a little- Merlin, he was talking about Sirius…
“No, darling, that’s not Padfoot- Padfoot’s, um… lost, at the moment, but we’re trying to find him.” It hurt the tabby animagus just to say it, and she felt like she was being stabbed when Harry’s face fell.
“Pa’foot okay?” he asked anxiously, and Poppy forced a smile.
“Yes dear- he will be,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster, and Harry seemed to accept that. Meanwhile, the dog’s owner was listening.
“Oh, have you lost your dog?” she asked kindly.
“Yes,” Minerva sighed. “He looks rather like yours, although a bit bigger- we’re sure to find him though, and he’s very smart, so I’ve no doubt he’ll be fine.”
“Still,” the woman said, “that sucks. Oh, sorry- I’m not supposed to say sucks around the baby, am I? Blimey, I’m bad at this.”
“It’s alright,” Poppy reassured her. “He’s heard worse.” She looked over at the child, who was holding a hand out carefully to the dog who, although not Padfoot, was more than happy to come forward and be petted.
“You just adopt him, then?” The woman’s eyes looked over Harry’s cast and his small form.
“Yes,” Minerva confirmed. “Pretty bad situation he was in.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the stranger ran a hand through her textured hair, and Harry looked up.
“No sad,” he told her brightly. “No more cupboard!” he cheered, although for some reason that just made those funny little frown lines around her eyes tighten more.
“I’m Hawwy,” he stuck a hand out, like he had seen Vernon do through the slats of the cupboard when he was schmoozing clients at a dinner party.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Harry,” she couldn’t help but laugh- having a little boy less than two holding out his hand all formally would cheer anyone up. “I’m Angela.”
“Angel,” Harry agreed, catching sight of the wing tattoos on her shoulder blade. “Whee!” He stuck his arms out like an airplane and ran around in a circle, and the black dog followed him, tangling his leash around his owner.
“He’s very cheerful for someone who’s still got a cast on his arm,” she remarked quietly as she went ahead and let Cthulhu off his leash (yes, she had a strange sense of humour- don’t judge her).
“Well, he knows us- we knew his parents before they died, but there was a mixup and he got put into the foster system instead of with us, and we’ve finally managed to get him back after four months,” Poppy clarified their situation a little more, fudging a few details. “We both teach at a boarding school- well, I’m a nurse, my wife teaches tra- trigonometry,” she caught herself quickly. “This is really just a weekend home- wouldn’t have chosen to live here, but we wanted to impress the social worker by being, well… normal.” Part of that was a lie and part of it wasn’t, since any Slytherin knows that the best lies are close to the truth.
“I get that,” Angela nodded understandingly. “Luckily enough, I own a tattoo parlour, so I don’t really have to worry too much about schmoozing a boss, but anything else and I’d have to cover up,” she said, motioning to her chest, and Poppy noticed a tattooed ring on her left forefinger.
“Yeah,” she laughed. “My grandparents weren’t too happy about that, but luckily I fell for a guy instead of a girl- if I had come out to them, I think they would have completely disowned me.”
“Oh,” Poppy gave her sympathetic eyes.
“Oh, no-” Angela rushed to clarify. “I had a decent childhood- nothing like little Harry over there. Strict parents is all, well, grandparents, on my dad's side- found the rebel in me in uni, like a lot of us do, and now we’re just really not on super great terms. But they never beat me, and there was love there, sort of…” she trailed off for a moment. “My in-laws are great, though. I’m telling you, marry a Hispanic person and you’ll never be lonely, hungry, or hurting for good advice.”
“I suppose I’ll keep that in mind for the next life,” the nurse joked, watching her own spouse follow Harry and Cthulhu as they ran around the grassy park.
“Mama flower, look!” Harry suddenly came toddling back, cradling something fluffy in his tiny hands. “Hoot!”
Sure enough, it was a little white owlet. “The nest fell to the ground,” Minerva explained, “and there was no mother around. I mean, every little one needs an owl, right?” She laughed it up for the woman, but she and her wife exchanged glances- it would be good for him.
“You’re wizards, aren’t you?” Angela looked at them, and, for the first time, caught sight of Harry’s scar.
“Oh, are you- is your husband…” Minerva began.
“Oh, him- no, he’s all muggle,” Angela laughed. “I’m the witch- I just went to school at Mahoutokoro in Japan, where my mother’s family lives. My dad died when I was eleven- I'd lived with my grandparents while they were doing humanitarian work, and mum decided there was nothing holding us here anymore, so we went back to Tokyo. Technically, you’re supposed to start as day students when you’re seven, but the headmistress loved my mother so much she made an exception, since she was sure she wouldn’t have let me come unprepared anyway. Of course, they started dating when I was thirteen, so maybe ‘my intellectual prowess’ wasn’t the real reason. So,” she turned to Harry, and the other two women were relieved she didn’t make a big deal out of his scar or ask for the real story. “You’ve got an owl now, huh? You can send mail with it and such when it gets older.”
“Yeah!” Harry said emphatically, still gently clutching the bird to his chest.
“What are you going to name her?” Angela questioned, and Harry cocked his head.
“Dunno,” he seemed very nonplussed by this new predicament.
“You know,” Angela offered, “I always liked the name Hedwig- one of my favourite witches, she was.”
“Hed-wig,” Harry rolled the name around in his mouth. “Hedwig is good. C’mon Wiggy,” he instructed the bundle he carried. “Go home- eat food. I chew like your mama.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary, dear,” Poppy laughed as Harry tried to buckle his new owl into the stroller.
“It was very nice to meet you,” Minerva told their new friend as they walked away. “Here’s our floo address, if you ever want to invite us over for some of that lovely food your in-laws make,” she said, half in jest.
“I might just do that,” Angela laughed. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had a good arepa.”
___
“Alright,” Minerva stroked her chin as she looked around the house. “Are we all ready to go back to Hogwarts for the week?” she asked her wife Sunday morning.
“All packed!” Harry came into the living room, his stuffed wolf and a number of packs of goldfish crackers stuffed into the ‘Wanda the Witch’ backpack they’d given him to keep him busy. Hedwig, keen and smart and doing very well for an orphaned owl, was perched on his shoulder.
“Great job, Harry,” Minerva praised, as they both made a fuss of him. They were sure to give him lots of encouragement for little things, to help make up for the months where he hadn’t received any.
“Made sweep, too,” Harry gestured to the floor, which was nice and clean save the pile of dirt in the corner.
“It’s very nice, dear, but you don’t need to sweep, remember?” Poppy reminded him gently. “You get to play now.”
“Sweep fun; mamas don’t yell,” Harry declared, and the two women looked at each other.
“Guess we know which parent he got his organisational habits from,” Minerva chuckled- Lily was neat as the head of a pin, but James left every room looking like a hurricane had swept through. They’d noticed already that Harry liked colour-coding his toys in the different bins in the cubby in his nursery, and they focused on that to ignore the part where he was impressed by their lack of screaming at him.
___
Harry meeting Albus Dumbledore was one of the greatest moments of Minerva McGonagall’s life.
“Merlin!” he said, looking up at Dumbledore’s face. The man smiled- he’d always rather thought he looked more like muggle Merlin than muggle Gandalf.
“Merlin’s balls!” Harry exclaimed much louder, looking considerably south of Dumbledore’s face. The headmaster stopped smiling as Minerva quite literally doubled over in laughter.
“We didn’t teach him that,” Poppy swore as Harry smiled, pleased that he’d made Mama Mins laughed.
“It was probably James,” Severus sneered, and Minerva gathered herself just enough to shoot him a warning look to match Poppy’s.
“Severus, be nice,” the healer ordered the young man, glaring hard enough to underscore her point as Harry wobbled over.
“Brew?” he asked, and Severus’ eyes widened.
“How did you know that?” he demanded of the child, and Harry pointed at his hair.
“Oh,” Minerva realised. “It’s the protective gel you put in- Lily used to use the same one when she was working with volatile ingredients.” The young man’s face clenched up at the name of his old best friend, and Harry, whose carbon-copy eyes were watching the man, noticed.
“Wait- what are you doing, you little heathen?” he cried, surprised, as Harry reached out to give him a hug.
“Don’t cry,” the toddler’s friendly little voice told him, and Severus curled his lip.
“I wasn’t going to,” he snarled, but Harry didn’t seem too bothered by his tone (although Poppy and Minnie were glaring)- as far as he was concerned, the dark man hadn’t hit him yet, so the dark man was okay.
“Owie,” Harry said, concerned, and Severus paled as he looked down- the child had noticed his dark mark when his sleeve came up, and the harsh, deep marks he’d cut into it. “Mama flower fix it,” he continued, and Severus tried to slide his robe back down, but it was too late. Poppy had already grabbed his arm.
“Mama flower can fix it,” Poppy assured her child, who already had complete faith in her without the confirmation. To Severus, she whispered “Hospital wing later- you and I are going to have a talk.” He paled but nodded, unwilling to go against one of the two most terrifying women in the school (the other, obviously, was her wife).
“Well,” she declared as she pulled a bottle of salve out of her pockets and rubbed it in, “all better.” But it wasn’t, not really- not that he didn’t do horrible things, but if Dumbledore insisted on having him on staff, Poppy was going to make damn sure that he had a proper outlet for his feelings so they wouldn’t bleed out onto the children.
Meanwhile, Harry had been curiously examining the pocket of Severus’ robes, and a bottle came sliding out. Severus tried to scrabble for it before it hit the floor, but Harry had already almly reached out and grabbed it.
My boy is going to be a seeker, Minerva though proudly, watching him hand the bottle back.
“Boo’slang,” he told Severus, who suddenly looked at him with much more interest.
“Why, yes…” he confirmed. “It is boomslang.” Maybe the child had more of Lily in him than he’d thought…
“Brew?” Harry gave the man a full dose of Lily’s bright green eyes, and he crumbled a bit.
“Well, alright…” he caved. “You may help me- I suppose I might make something of you yet.”
“Yay!” Harry, ignorant of the swirl of emotions behind the man’s occlumency shields, surprised him by reaching out to grab his hand. “T’anks Sevvy!”
“Wait- no, let’s not-” he started, but Poppy was already accompanying them to the lab, and Harry seemed quite pleased with his excellent grasp of the English language.
“Oh, come on,” the medi-witch ordered. “After all, you’ve got things to do… Sevvy.” Funny that it wasn’t the toddler pouting.