Whelp

Someone had put up a Silencing spell. . . . the boy?

Pushing such thoughts away to consider later, Severus banished the spell, then immediately winced as the raw sound of his son's agony swept over him in a wave. He rushed to the bed and tried to gather Harry in his arms. But the boy fought back, much harder than he had when Severus had picked him up downstairs, this time with fists and nails and teeth.

'Shh, Harry,' he soothed, but the boy would have none of it, flailing and kicking as if his life depended on him getting free. 'Harry, stop now, you're safe. Come on, Harry, shush now. Harry!'

At the sharp word, the boy's eyes snapped open and met his. In an instant, Harry sagged against him like a puppet whose strings were cut, reduced to soft whimpers and hiccups. Tears pooled in the brilliant green of his eyes, but did not fall. He boy rubbed them away viciously with his fist.

'What happened, Harry?' Severus asked as he settled the boy more into his lap. 'Did you have a nightmare?'

The boy shook his head quickly but whispered, 'Sorry. M'sorry, sir.'

Frowning, Severus considered the boy's expression. Harry looked afraid, as if he expected a beating. Slowly he said, 'It's all right if you did have a nightmare, child. I won't hurt you. I'm here to help.'

Harry stared up at him, then looked away, shaking his head again. Severus suppressed a sigh. 'If it wasn't a nightmare, what happened? Did something hurt you?'

Hesitating again, Harry nodded. 'All in my bones, sir. Everything.'

Peering closely at the child, Severus tried to figure out what might have hurt him. He knew the blood ritual was bound to make some changes in how the boy looked, on a cellular level, but the change was supposed to happen over time, not all at once. And it wasn't supposed to be painful. He could detect no differences, however. Harry's nose was still small, like Lily's, and his thin eyebrows arched over his expressive eyes. He had high cheekbones, in a narrow face that needed to fill out more, and would, with a decent diet. His hair, dark and fine, bore more resemblance to Severus' own that it had to that of either James or Lily. So what had changed?

'Does it still hurt, Harry?' he asked at last.

'No, sir.'

'Are you sure?' He knew the boy was unlikely to tell him the truth about this matter. He was stoic beyond reason, really.

'Yes, sir.'

With an audible sigh this time, Severus helped the boy back onto the bed, then angled himself so that they sat side by side, but could still see the boy's face. But Harry stared at his hands. 'You remember, I told you that you don't need to call me sir, don't you?'

'Yes, si . . . yes, Father.'

'And how I said I'd rather you looked at me when we're speaking?'

'Yes, Father.' Wide, frightened eyes met his, blinking rapidly.

'Good. Now, I want you to tell me how you made yourself very quiet, so I couldn't hear you when you were being hurt.'

'Father, please, I . . . I didn't do anything!'

He tried to scrabble backwards on the bed, but Severus held him firm with an arm around his thin back. The boy fought him, though, and Severus kept his voice as calm and soothing as he could. 'Harry, it's all right. I'm not angry. I just want to know how you did it.'

'I didn't! Please, sir, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I swear! Please—'

Oh, Merlin. What had those monsters done to this child, to make him fear his magic so? 'It's all right, Harry,' he said again. 'I'm not angry. You're not going to be punished.'

He boy gulped a breath, then hiccupped. Severus patted his back lightly. 'I'm not?' His voice was very small. 'Really?'

'Really. Now, tell me how you created the silence around yourself.'

Though he hunched his shoulders, the boy seemed to relax a fraction. 'I . . . I dunno how, sir. 'Cept that I'm a freak.'

'Harry,' Severus said, letting a bit of disappointment seep into his tone. 'I asked you not to use that word.'

The thin eyebrows drew down over puzzled eyes. 'You mean 'Sir'?'

Severus shut his eyes briefly, feeling the start of a headache. But the boy was so earnest. 'No. There will be times when you may call me, or other adults 'sir.' What I was reminding you of was 'freak.' I will ask you again not to use that word in this house.'

'But I--'

'No, Harry. I will not bend on this. I told you before, your relatives lied to you. You are not a freak because you can do magic. You are a wizard.'

'Magic is a bad word, sir,' the boy whispered. 'You said . . .' His face screwed up in consternation. 'Didn't you say it was?'

'No. You misunderstood me.' Severus kept his voice very soft, gentle, knowing that any sign of anger would frighten the boy and set this fragile trust they were building back immeasurably. No matter the rage he felt rising in him again. Imagine telling a wizarding child that 'magic' was bad and should never even be spoken about! A visit to those Dursleys was in order, for this and their many other transgressions. Immediately, if he could manage it. 'Magic is not bad. Neither the word nor the deed.'