Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Watch where you're going, freak!" Dudley said, shoving Harry from behind.

Harry had been expecting the shove, but he hadn't expected Piers' leg to be kicked into his shins at the same time, so he fell forward heavily.

"Let me help you up, freak," Piers said, grabbing Harry by the hair. It hurt, but Harry was used to that pain too, and he allowed his head to rise with his hair. Of course, that made his face a prime target for Dudley, who kicked him.

Harry had just enough warning to close his eyes before he felt and heard Dudley's trainer crunch into his nose, and tasted dirt that was kicked into his mouth. A moment later Piers let go and Harry's face dropped back to the ground with a painful 'whack!'

The boys around him scattered, and a moment later a teacher grabbed his arm and hauled Harry to his feet. "You are so clumsy," he muttered, dragging Harry away.

Harry had learned long ago not to protest being called clumsy — no one believed Dudley was at fault, and even if they did, Uncle Vernon would just punish Harry later.

The teacher wasn't Harry's, but one for the older formers. Still, he led Harry to the office of the nurse and left him there. "Come in," a voice called. It wasn't the voice of the usual nurse, and Harry frowned. He immediately regretted the move, as it made his nose hurt and his eyes fill with tears.

A new nurse could be trouble. The regular one knew him, and aside from calling him clumsy, she did bandage him nicely whenever he was brought to her. Harry didn't like the idea of some new nurse who might be rougher, or think that he had been fighting and report him to the Headmaster.

Abruptly the door opened. "I said to come in, ch—" She stopped talking when she saw him, and Harry tensed, waiting for her to get mad at him for fighting.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but finally she said, "I'm Nurse Joyce; please come in. Can you tell me your name?"

Harry entered the office, careful to keep his eyes down. "Harry Potter."

"Well Harry, would you like to tell me what happened?" she asked.

At least here Harry was on familiar ground. "I fell down. I'm very clumsy."

"I see. Well let's have you sit in the chair over here and I'll take a look at you."

Harry did as she asked, relieved that she wasn't going to press him further about what happened.

Nurse Joyce's hands were gentle as she put antiseptic and plasters on the scrapes on his hands and knees. Then she looked at his nose, touching it gently and asking how much it hurt. Finally she handed him an ice pack and sat back on her stool. "This doesn't look broken, but I'll need to look at it tomorrow, when the swelling has gone down a little," Nurse Joyce said.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" Harry asked. He was used to Nurse Collins, though he had to admit that Nurse Joyce had been nice.

"Yes," she said. "Nurse Collins is dealing with some family issues, so I will be here for at least a week. Now, do you need a ride home?"

Harry looked at the clock on the wall behind her. He still had time to get home if he walked quickly. Uncle Vernon would be mad if he got a ride from someone. "No, I can make it home in time for dinner," he assured the Nurse.

"Do you have dinner with your family every night?" she asked.

Harry analyzed her tone of voice, but she sounded like she was just concerned about him getting a ride, not anything else. "Sure," he replied, trying to sound like Dudley did when he was bragging about something. No need to make her question him.

"Alright then, I'll let you go. But be sure to keep that ice handy. I want you to keep it on for 20 minutes at a time every hour!"

"I will," Harry replied, again trying to make it sound like he wasn't lying. He would have to get rid of the ice pack before he got home, but he would use it for the whole walk to make up for that. "May I go now?"

"Of course, dear. And be sure to come see me as soon as you get to school tomorrow." Nurse Joyce got up and Harry followed suit, leaving her office quickly. Once outside, he began to walk as quickly as he was able. Running would just make his nose hurt worse, he knew, but if he walked fast he should still be home in time to cook dinner.

Joyce watched through her window as the boy hurried away and then turned back to the desk. She quickly wrote up her impressions and diagnosis of the meeting. Then she looked in Nurse Collins' file cabinet.

Even if she hadn't known his name, Harry's file was twice as fat as any other student in the I-Q drawer. Scanning through it confirmed everything that she had suspected as soon as she saw his fading bruises and skittish reactions. If that boy wasn't abused she'd eat her stethoscope.

Noticing that Collins had annotated every incident with some variation of "student fell due to own clumsiness," Joyce felt bile rise in her throat. It was unthinkable that another medical professional had missed the signs that this boy was abused, and unconscionable to think that she had let it go on for… Joyce leafed back to the oldest record in the file. Three years!

Joyce normally worked at a shelter for abused women and children, and she quickly flipped through her mental list of the social workers at the shelter. Emmy had a lower than usual load right now, and she did well with children in Harry's age range. With luck she would be free to come by the school tomorrow morning.

Emmy had arranged to come in late to the shelter with minimal grumbling and had met Joyce at the school an hour before school started. Joyce had no idea when Harry would arrive, but she wanted Emmy there before him. With fresh, if bland, coffee from the faculty lounge, they waited together.

Joyce had waited to share Harry's file or other details until he arrived. She had her opinion, but she wanted Emmy to talk to Harry and form her own opinion without being influenced by Joyce's.

Though children began to arrive in droves at half past, Harry didn't show up until there were less than ten minutes before classes. Joyce wasn't sure if this was done because he was dropped off late, or in an effort to avoid her inspection, but she greeted him warmly when he tentatively knocked on the office door.

"Come in, Harry, please." Harry started to obey, but froze when he saw Emmy. "This is my colleague, Miss Waters," Joyce explained. "I wanted a second opinion on your nose and your other injuries."

Harry appeared reluctant, just as he had with her yesterday, but he still took his place on the patient chair.

"So, did you make it home in time for dinner last night, Harry?" Joyce asked as she examined his nose. It was still swollen, and there were dark bruises spreading beneath his eyes, but it appeared that Harry had been lucky enough to avoid an actual break.

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"What did you have?" Emmy asked. Harry's nose was warm to the touch, and Joyce suspected that he had lost or gotten rid of the ice pack at some point. She rolled over to the fridge to obtain another one.

"There was roast beef and scalloped potatoes," Harry all but whispered.

Trained to notice such things, Joyce realized that Harry hadn't acknowledged eating those things. She caught Emmy's eyes over his head and knew that she had picked up on his wording as well. "I love scalloped potatoes!" she said cheerfully. "What kind of cheese was it?"

"Cheddar and Muenster," Harry replied quickly.

"Munster!" Emmy declared as Joyce returned with the ice pack and pressed it to Harry's nose. "That's quite sharp tasting! Most children don't like cheese that sharp."

Harry smiled a little beneath the pack, but it didn't reach his eyes. "My cousin doesn't like it, but my aunt does."

"Did your aunt fix something else for your cousin, then?" Emmy asked as Joyce removed the plasters on his hands and checked the scrapes for infection.

Harry immediately shuttered his expression as he whispered "baked potatoes."

"So which do you prefer, Harry? The scalloped or the baked?" Emmy asked.

Harry's eyes darted around the room and finally settled on the clock. "I'm late for class," he pointed out.

"Don't worry, I already wrote a note for your teacher," Joyce assured him. His hands didn't appear infected, so she applied more disinfectant and healing ointment before putting on fresh plasters.

"Do your aunt and cousin live with your family, Harry?" Emmy asked as Joyce switched to Harry's knees. With his trousers rolled up she saw a new large bruise on his upper thigh, but she didn't comment on it.

Harry was silent for a long moment before answering, "I live with my aunt and uncle. My parents are dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Joyce said. She had noticed that the emergency contact in his file didn't have the same last name as him and had wondered if his mother had remarried. An aunt and uncle, however, explained the difference.

"How old were you when it happened?" Emmy asked.

"One." Harry replied. Joyce bit her lip, hiding it by looking down at his knees. If the abuse was coming from within the household, and the presence of a fresh bruise supported that, then it was possible that he had been experiencing this since he was one!

"So you've pretty much always lived with your aunt and uncle?" Emmy asked.

"Yes."

"And you have a cousin! Is he- or she..." Emmy paused.

"He."

"Ah, is he around your age?"

"Yes."

Joyce finished with Harry's knees and pushed back on her stool in the direction of the desk. His devolution to one word answers was a sure sign that he was on guard now, despite the innocuous nature of Emmy's questions.

"It can be nice to have someone your age at home," Emmy said. "They can be like a built in friend."

Harry didn't reply, so Joyce opened his file and looked at the medical contact form again. Contacts: Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Joyce opened the top drawer of the file cabinet and quickly thumbed through the files before finding one for a Dursley, Dudley. She knew that Emmy was still talking to Harry, but Joyce tuned them out as she read through his file.

Dudley had been pulled into the nurse's office a handful of times for care; each time with injuries that indicated he had been fighting. There were plenty of bruised and scraped hands, a bite to the finger, and some bruises to his shins. Apparently Dudley was quite the brawler.

But Joyce suspected there was more to Harry's attitude than just a bullying cousin. There had to be something about the adults, either they encouraged or ignored the bullying. There was no other likely explanation for Harry's reactions.

Joyce tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Joyce ask, "so do you walk home with your cousin after school?"

"No," Harry replied.

"Do you have separate friends whom you each walk home with?" Emmy asked.

"No," came the quiet answer.

"Well how do you each get home, then?" Emmy asked, teasing gently.

Harry paused, as though he was calculating a way to answer her with just one word, but finally he sighed. "Aunt Petunia picks up Dudley."

Joyce flashed back to the evening before when Harry had left on his own, apparently walking home. "Do you usually walk home like last night?" she asked.

Harry jerked slightly, as though he had forgotten that she was still there. "Yes."

"Do you wish your aunt would drive you too?" Emmy asked.

Harry's eyes darted again. "I really should get to class."

Emmy caught Joyce's eyes and nodded gently. She had seen what Joyce had, and was of the same opinion about his probable abuse. Harry, ever alert, caught the gesture, and was now glancing rapidly between the two women.

"Harry, I want to tell you something," Joyce began. "You know that I'm not the regular nurse here?"

Harry nodded.

"I usually work at a shelter for women and children. Miss Waters works there too, though not as a nurse. Many of the children who come to the shelter are there because they aren't happy at home. Some of them aren't safe at home."

Harry was refusing to meet their eyes, instead looking down at his bandaged hands.

"Some of them aren't safe because someone hits them at home," Emmy picked up the explanation. "Sometimes they are ignored, or not fed. Sometimes they are yelled at and called bad names. Sometimes something even worse has happened."

Harry blanched, and Emmy and Joyce took advantage of his averted eyes to share another glance. Could he have been sexually abused on top of the obvious physical abuse and probable neglect?

"At the shelter, we try to heal them, give them food, and love, and support. They aren't in trouble when they come there." Joyce said. "Harry, do you know anyone at this school who might need the help of a shelter like that?"

Harry ducked his head, then fidgeted with his hands, and then finally nodded.

"Many times we try to find other family for these children to stay with," Emmy spoke up. "Do you have any other family that you know of, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"Are there any neighbors who you have stayed with? Or friends?" Emmy pressed.

Harry began to fidget again, but finally he whispered, "Ms. Figg."

"Harry, would you mind if I talked to Ms. Figg?" Emmy asked.

More fidgeting, but finally Harry nodded.

"Harry, would you like to go to the shelter?" Joyce offered. She knew there was at least one free bed at the shelter right now.

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at her with cautious hope. Just as suddenly, it was replaced with fear. "No, thank you."

Taking a chance, Joyce scooted back over to his side. He tensed when she took one of his hands, but when she tugged on it gently he finally looked back up at her. "Harry, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that if you don't go home tonight, you'll be in trouble." His hand in her's began to tremble lightly.

"I know you don't want to be in trouble. But I'm here to tell you that you could come to the shelter and leave your aunt and uncle's house."

"Forever?" Harry finally asked, biting his lip hopefully.

This was the moment, Joyce knew, when kids either accepted help or retreated. "Almost definitely," she said. Harry tensed again. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you Harry. Not everyone stays at the shelter. Some go back to their homes, even knowing they'll get hurt. I understand why they do, even though it makes me sad on their behalf. Some kids leave the shelter and go somewhere else, like the streets, or to jail. Some find other family they didn't know they had and go live with them. But, truthfully, some go back home. Only you will decide if leaving now is really leaving forever, Harry."

Slowly, Harry lifted his head and met her gaze. "Okay."

Harry's head was spinning.

Miss Waters had taken him from school in her car. He had been a little worried that Nurse Joyce wasn't coming too, but she told him that she had to speak to the Headmaster for a little bit, and she couldn't leave the school without a nurse, but she promised that she would see him soon.

The drive had mostly been silent, though a few times Miss Waters told him how brave he was. Harry didn't feel particularly brave right now — terrified was probably a better word — but he came to like her saying it.

They didn't drive far, and soon they pulled up in front of the shelter. It was smaller than his school, but larger than Aunt Petunia's house. The front windows had bars across them, which worried Harry for a moment.

"We've had people try to break in," Miss Waters said, as though she too could read his mind. "I know the bars make it look a little like we're trying to keep you in, but I promise they are only there to keep the bad people out."

As she looked for a parking spot, Harry wondered if those bars would be enough to keep Uncle Vernon out. They just might be, and he cheered a bit at the thought.

Miss Waters finally parked and led Harry up to the door. She opened it, and cheerfully greeted the large man inside. "Harry, this is Tom. He's also here to keep the bad people out."

Tom smiled at Harry and Harry nodded back. Tom was tall, and big, but Uncle Vernon was bigger. Harry fervently hoped that the bars on the windows were strong.

They walked down a long hallway past many doors, and Harry wondered what was behind each one. Finally, Miss Waters stopped at one and knocked. Nothing happened, and she quickly opened the door and peeked her head in. "We're in luck, Harry!" she told him, beckoning him in. "Exam one is empty! It has the comfiest pillows."

Inside, Harry found a room much like the one he had just been in at school. It had an exam table, a desk and chair, and two other chairs against the wall. There was even a sink on one wall with cupboards beneath and above it. Unlike the Nurse's office at school, this room also had a large potted tree in one corner, fluffy colorful pillows and a bright green blanket on the exam table, and brightly colored paintings on the walls.

"Grab a chair, Harry, and a pillow if you'd like." Miss Waters said. She sat at the desk herself, and Harry felt a bit relieved not to be asked to sit on the bed. He eyed the pillows, and then the chairs, before finally selecting a bright red pillow and taking it over to his seat.

"So, Harry, I need to check in and let my boss know I'm back," Miss Waters said. "Will you be alright on your own for just a minute?"

Harry didn't think he would be, but he nodded anyway.

"Great. While I'm out, do you want anything to eat or drink? I skipped breakfast myself this morning, so I'm ravenous!"

Harry hadn't had anything to eat for breakfast either, but he wasn't sure about taking food from this woman, as nice as she had been. Unfortunately, the mere thought of food made his stomach rumble. Embarrassed, he clasped his hands across it, hoping it hadn't been loud enough for her to hear.

Miss Waters laughed kindly. "Alright, breakfast for both of us it is!" She got up, "I'll be right back!"

While she was gone, Harry looked more closely at the pictures on the wall. They were children's drawings, he realized, done in crayon and marker. In each one with some kind of person in it, they had a large smile across their face.

Harry was craning to see the one above his head when the door opened, and he immediately sat up straight. Miss Waters had indeed been quick, though he was a little disappointed to see that she didn't actually have any food with her.

"They're just finishing up breakfast in the dining hall here," She said, "so I asked Mark to bring us a little of everything!"

Oh, someone else was bringing it. That made sense to Harry.

"So, Harry, I have something to ask you," Miss Waters said. Though her tone was still cheerful, Harry immediately tensed.

"There's a doctor here; Doctor Abraham. He's worked with the children here for years."

She paused, and Harry wasn't sure how he was expected to respond. Finally he shrugged.

Miss Waters continued. "I know Nurse Joyce looked at your nose and your scrapes, but it would be a good idea for Doctor Abraham to look too. And he could look at anything that hurts beside your nose and hands."

Harry considered that. On the one hand, he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to look at him. On the other hand, his shoulder and leg did hurt. Maybe getting them looked at might not be bad. And if Uncle Vernon didn't know about it, he wouldn't be able to complain about how much a doctor's visit cost. A sudden thought occurred to Harry.

"I don't have any money to pay him," he admitted quietly.

Miss Waters smiled. "Oh Harry, you don't have to pay Doctor Abraham! He'll check you out for free, just like a school nurse."

"The school nurse costs money," Harry protested. His uncle had said so, just last night.

"Well, the school does pay them, but you don't have to. Doctor Abraham is paid for by the shelter, so you don't have to pay anything."

Harry frowned, ignoring the way the action tugged at his hurting nose. If she was telling the truth, then maybe he should let the Doctor here take a look at him. But also if she was telling the truth, it meant that Uncle Vernon hadn't had to pay anything all the times Harry had been sent to the nurse. Could that be possible?

Harry was pulled from his dilemma by a brisk knock on the door. "Come on in, Mark!" Miss Waters called.

A man entered, carrying two large trays full of food. There were plates of pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, and toast. Bowls of porridge and cereal flakes, and glasses of milk and orange juice were carefully balanced alongside them.

Harry's mouth immediately began to water.

"Harry," Miss Waters' voice broke through his hunger. "I want you to know that your answer won't affect you getting breakfast in the least. Do you understand that?"

Harry nodded.

"Should I have Mark here send Doctor Abraham to us when he is free?"

Harry thought about the food, the cost, and the pain in his shoulder. Finally he nodded. "Yes please."

It wasn't until much later in the evening that Joyce was able to actually sit and talk with Emmy and Abraham. She had stopped at the shelter during her lunch break and reassured Harry before going back to the school, but she hadn't had a chance to speak with the others.

They gathered in Abraham's office at half past four, each with a calming cup of tea and their own notes on Harry.

"What did the Headmaster say?" Emmy asked to start.

Joyce snorted. "Nothing. He didn't even remember Harry. Nurse Collins never reported any suspicions of abuse. The cousin has been brought before the Headmaster, however, for bullying."

"Bullying Harry?" Emmy asked.

"They didn't bother to note the victims," Joyce growled. "But he did say that the parents refused to believe that their son had done anything wrong. The father got right up in his face about it."

"He's likely the additional source of physical abuse," Abraham said.

"Then there was more?" Joyce asked. She had suspected it herself, but it still hurt to think of Harry being abused in that way.

Abraham consulted his notes. "Signs of recent trauma to the upper thigh and abdomen, as well as a strained shoulder. It looks like he was jerked by the arm and slammed into something. I'd guess that's the Uncle, given the angle his shoulder was contorted into."

"The nose and scrapes had to be the cousin or another student," Joyce said. "The teacher who brought him to me said that there were no adults around, though he couldn't identify the students involved as he doesn't teach their year."

"There's also evidence of past abuse," Abraham continued. "There are scars on his back consistent with whipping with a belt. He's had numerous broken fingers that have healed crooked, and I'd wager there are more breaks we just can't see without an in-depth scan."

"Anything else?" Emmy asked tentatively.

"No conclusive sign of sexual abuse," Abraham said. "It doesn't mean that there hasn't been, but he would need to confirm it."

"Well that's a small hope, at least," Joyce said. She knew as well as the others that sexual abuse could be done without leaving a mark, but at least there was still the hope that it hadn't happened to Harry.

"He's still skittish, but he connected with a few of the other children at play time after lunch," Emmy reported. "I called Jennifer at the Station, and she's looking into the aunt and uncle. There haven't been any suspicious hospitalizations, or Harry would have popped up on our radar before. She's also looking into the Ms. Figg he mentioned. The phone book has an Arabella Figg living a few streets away from the address in the cousin's school file; I called and left her a message."

"Anything on the parents?" Abraham asked.

Emmy shook her head. "Jennifer's looking for a death notice based on the time frame he gave us, but nothing yet. He gave a little more detail during the exam - said they died in a car crash - so I passed that on. If that's true, there should be police reports on the accident and probably even newspaper articles. Of course, since Harry was only one at the time, and all his information comes from the aunt and uncle, we're not leaving anything off the table just yet."

"They won't likely report him missing until tonight," Joyce said, thinking back to the day before. "He didn't leave my office until just shy of four, and wouldn't have gotten home until about quarter to half past. While he was hurrying to get home 'before dinner' he wasn't racing, as though it was unusually late."

"Probably staying at school as long as possible to avoid the home life," Abraham mused. It was something they had all seen often enough in their other children.

"If they report him missing Jennifer will have to tell them upfront what happened. If not, we've got three days to alert them." Emmy said. "We'll need to get all of our ducks in a row before then." She looked at Joyce. "Care to stay to dinner?"

Joyce smiled. "Of course!" She wanted to spend as much time here with Harry as possible as he settled in.