Hidden in Black Robes

Conversations

Dumbledore had quite an enlightening conversation with Minerva. He knew that the Dursley's were not the kindest of people but surely they wouldn't stoop that low, would they?

Minerva had entered his office that afternoon looking furious as if she was going to blow up at any second. "Headmaster, how could you have put Harry with those vile muggles!" she seethed. "I told you they were unfit for the caring of another child besides their own!" she continued.

"Calm yourself Minerva, its Albus and I'm sure they were not that ba-" but before he could finish his sentence, Minerva interrupted him. "Have you seen him Albus, the boy was covered in scars, deathly thin and extremely terrified!" she yelled.

"Severus brought Harry to Hogwarts?" he asked in a calm manner. "Yes, he is currently in the infirmary. But Harry will not under any circumstance be brought back to those filthy muggles and I will see to that personally!"

"The blood war-" he was cut off again. "There will be no point of the blood wards if Harry's dead Albus!" she slammed her hand on his desk in rage. "Well, I suppose that is true. Perhaps I should check the condition of the boy myself tomorrow."

"That would be fine." Minerva replied stiffly. With that, she walked out of his office, tad amount of anger flowing out of her in waves.

Meanwhile, in the infirmary, Severus had just woken up. Noticing the unnatural weight, he saw Harry Potter lying on his chest. Right, he had totally forgot about that, wishing that it had been a dream or something.

Quickly realising the uncomfortable position that he was in, he gingerly placed Harry onto the bed and stretched his limbs. His whole body was sore. 'Never am I sleeping like that again.'

While stretching, he barely noticed the Headmaster standing in front of him staring at the sight. Seemingly amazed at how close he had allowed Potter to be around him. "Good morning Severus. I see that you have slept well."

"If well you mean getting a sore back then I suppose I have." Severus snarled. He did not like mornings and definitely not mornings with Potter (he was only going to use his first name when talking for Potter's benefit he decided) on top of him. Although he had been the one to put him there, he could not understand his past self for doing that.

Sure Potter had been a little upset, an understatement, but this was unnecessary, right? Those big green eyes were hard to resist though he was not going to admit that aloud even until his death. He was taking that thought to his grave.

During his insightful thinking, Harry had opened his eyes, woken up by their conversation. Unfamiliar with the bright sunlight, his eyes squinted as he tried to get a good look of who was talking.

He didn't have his glasses however and everything was blurry. Well the glasses didn't help much since they were non-prescription ones but they were something at least. He could see a tall figure that was dressed in black sitting beside him. Sev'us! He stayed! However, he was talking to a man he hasn't seen before.

The man wore bright pink robes and had a long grey beard. He kind of looked like Santa! He had seen pictures of Santa when Aunt Petunia took photos of Dudley sitting on Santa's lap, laughing. They were hung in the living room for them to admire.

Harry didn't have pictures of him anywhere in Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's house. Why would they even bother putting up pictures of freaks like him on the walls? They didn't even have any.

He didn't think Santa wore pink though. Maybe he was wrong? His relatives always had Dudley write a letter to Santa to ask for what presents he wanted every Christmas but not him. They always told him that they wrote about how he was a freak and a bad boy so he would never get any presents ever.