The Order’s threats infuriated Vernon Dursley beyond anything Harry had seen before, and the young wizard knew that an enraged Vernon did not listen to reason. He ranted a lot and surprised everyone by making a stop at an inhabited and rather deserted area of the road on their way to Surrey. He ordered Dudley to keep the freak in the car by any means necessary, and took Hedwig away. Half an hour later he returned without the owl. He killed her and left her carcass there for any carrion eater to find. Harry fought knowing what his uncle planned, but Dudley was bigger and stronger, he had no trouble restraining the smaller boy, and land several painful punches while doing it.

The young wizard was in shock at the cruelty of his uncle, Hedwig was an innocent bird, and she had been his only companion in his exile from his friends and those that cared about him. He wanted to howl with the pain of loosing her so soon after Sirius, but he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry, he had not since he was six. The rest of the way to Privet Drive, Vernon kept spouting abuse all the way there, with Petunia and Dudley adding to it whenever the older Dursley stopped to breathe.

At the house Harry’s things, except from his wand –he had been smart enough to have one of the twins’ fake wands with him, so that was the one that went into the trunk- ended in the cupboard, and the boy in Dudley’s second bedroom where Vernon and his son gave him a thorough beating. The young wizard cried himself to sleep, for the losses he had sustained in such a short time.

Despite the beating, the young wizard was still expected to do his chores, so the next morning his aunt woke him up, and had him working all day with no food and barely enough water. Vernon punished him again that night –for no more reason than existing- and this became routine, although occasionally Petunia would feed the boy a piece of toast and cheese. Harry hoped that when he missed his report someone from the Order would show up to investigate, but no one did, and the poor boy began sinking into despair. The belief that he was just a weapon, and that they did not care about him took a firm hold of him, as did his distrust of Dumbledore and as a consequence, the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry missed another two letters, and by the tenth day of his stay at the Dursleys he had become subdued and quieter than usual, resigned to his fate. He hurt all over, and his face was so bruised that Petunia did not let him outside anymore. The neighbors noticed his condition almost from the second day of his stay at the house. They also began noticing that he was never away from the house, and did not go for walks like he did the previous summer.

A few women had started to question Petunia’s claims about the boy being in fights, and the fact that he was a criminal. None of them had ever seen him do anything to point that he was, unlike Dudley Dursley, which all the smaller children –and almost anyone was smaller than he was- feared. They had noticed how badly he dressed, and that Petunia’s claims of taking the boy out of the goodness of their hearts were faked. The smallish boy was dressed worse than a beggar, and it was obvious to anyone looking that had seen the Dursley child, that the boy wore his discarded clothing. A couple of the neighbors had even hinted that it was Vernon who was beating the child. They were obviously right, but Petunia was not going to ever admit it.

The theme of child abuse was in everyone’s minds and mouths, due to a few cases that had been discovered in the neighborhood. One of those cases had tragic consequences for the poor little girl; she was beaten to death by her drunken father.Petunia had warned her husband about the gossip going around, but he was not willing to listen.

That tenth day, Harry painfully made his way downstairs to cook breakfast –after his aunt had woken him up loudly pounding on the door- and begin his other chores. He had everything out and ready to start, but could not help the feeling that something was going to happen. Harry shook himself and looked around, to make sure nothing happened. Everything looked fine, but still the feeling remained as he busied himself with preparing the Dursleys’ breakfast. Vernon and Dudley came down just after his aunt had finished checking that all was satisfactory. She observed him closely, making him fidget, as he swayed a bit, weak with hunger and pain. Harry was beginning to feel ill, and wished he could get the healing potions he had in his trunk. He had come prepared for Vernon’s and Dudley’s beatings, but he had not thought that they would lock his trunk and him in his room after Dumbledore’s warning last year.

“Eat this boy.” Petunia handed him a plate that had a bit of eggs –probably half of one- a strip of bacon, and one lightly buttered toast, then served him half a glass of juice and a full glass of milk.

“Petunia, why are you feeding the freak?” Vernon growled disgruntled at what was a waste of good food in his opinion.

“The neighbors are talking Vernon, and they no longer believe our claims that he’s a criminal.” She told him eyeing the boy nervously. She would rather he did not hear this conversation, as she knew he was not really stupid, as her husband wanted to believe. He could very well use this to his advantage if he managed to escape. But she also knew that Vernon would not want to talk about it at any other time.

“So what? It’s none of their business how we treat the abnormal brat.” He shrugged, and bit his toast. “He’s not like us.”

“Do you think the authorities will care? They don’t know about his KIND, and they wouldn’t understand.” She informed him more than a bit annoyed, Vernon could be so single minded at times.

“We’ll tell them about it. They’ll see, and agree with us.” He could not believe anyone would accept the abnormality of the boy’s kind. In his mind everyone would agree with his view of things, which was much like that of the Inquisitors of several centuries back.

“For the love of God Vernon, don’t be stupid!” She snapped at him. “Remember what his KIND did when he inflated Marge. They did something so people forgot what happened. Do you think people will believe you if you tell them what HE is? The police will think you’re crazy, and lock you up.”

“Petunia, why are you worried? Your friends just gossip, they’ll forget soon enough.” He told her trying to be reasonable, that was the way those women behaved anyway. They were flighty, and as soon as they had something new to gossip about they would forget it.

“Don’t you remember what happened two weeks ago down Dandelion Drive?” She did not want to say the words ‘child abuse’, but if her husband kept being so obtuse she might. Petunia did not want to think she was so abnormal as to be a child abuser, but the truth was she was one, as were all the members of her family, and she knew it was the truth. One she did not want to acknowledge, but the truth none the less.

“Ah… the little girl? That has nothing to do with us, the guy was a good for nothing drunkard.” He dismissed her worries. He rarely drank; he was only trying to either beat away the boy’s freakiness, or to show him his place in the world.

“Vernon….” She sighed; he did not want to see he was wrong, that they had been wrong in treating the boy so badly. “Catherine from number six is working at a centre for abused children.” There, she said it, and she could see the boy was paying attention to what she was saying. She also knew he might not do anything against her as he needed her to keep him protected, but her husband and son were another matter. “She knows what we’re doing to the freak Vernon. I heard her talking to Mary from number ten and Sheena from number seven yesterday. She was planning to report us, I don’t know if she has already.”

“Let them come.” He told her with complete confidence that being the freak’s guardian gave him the right to do what he wanted with IT. “He lives here, I’m his legal guardian, we can do anything we damn well please with IT.”

“We can’t Vernon. I… I didn’t know before the little girl got killed. But I’ve investigated, and talked to Catherine a lot. There ARE laws against beating and starving children. We can go to prison, and they can take Dudley from us should they see how the brat is right now.”

“Go to prison? For putting the freak in his place? That is completely insane, he is not a child.” He had never considered the freak human, much less a child. But hearing his wife was making Vernon start to worry. He had not been aware of that. He did know he could not tell anyone about the boy’s freakiness, because people would think him insane.

“He’s one to both our authorities and theirs Vernon.”

“Do you…”

A loud groan and the sound of something heavy falling interrupted Vernon. The sound came from the garden. Harry immediately had his wand out, and signaled for his uncle to stay put –not that Vernon obeyed- and went cautiously outside to investigate. He might not like them, hate them actually, but he did not want them dead. He worried that a Death Eater might have been able to get through the wards. Harry noticed that his uncle was turning one of his interesting shades of purple at the sight of his wand, and he trembled knowing that a painful punishment awaited him. As he came out, he noticed there was a dark robed figure lying on the ground trashing weakly trying to sit up. With a mighty effort it did, and Harry gasped recognizing his potions Professor. The wizard was bleeding from several wounds and one side of his face was bruised. The boy approached him still cautious.

“Professor Snape?”

“Potter?” Severus asked shocked. His emergency portkey brought him to the Gryffindor’s house?

“Why did you stop our remedial potions last term Sir?” He asked something that he suspected no one else would know to confirm the wizard’s identity. The man sent him one of his patented glares.

“They were not remedial potions, they were occlumency and you, arrogant boy, looked into my pensieve Potter.” He growled with barely controlled anger that the memory of the boy invading his privacy brought.

“I’m sorry Sir, for looking, and for having to ask. But I needed to be sure of your identity Sir.” This got him a raised eyebrow.

“It seems as if you do use whatever passes for your brain at times idiot boy.”

“I…” He did not get to say anything else because his uncle had recovered his speech abilities after realizing the freak knew the older one. It sent him into a rage.

“Who the hell is he freak?” At these words the vampire looking freak, seemed shocked, but he did not care at the moment. “And what’s one of your KIND doing in my backyard? I thought I made it clear that I don’t want any of your abnormal friends to set foot inside my property.” Vernon bellowed as he grabbed the boy, shook him hard, and punched him on the face; ignoring the dangerous look that crossed the older freak’s face. He sent him sprawling to the ground besides the older freak. He made to grab the brat to hit IT again, only to find himself facing the older freak’s stick. “Put that away, I know you can’t use it.” He told him confidently.

“You seem to be under a misconception… muggle.” His voice hid barely controlled loathing. He had issues with anyone hitting children, and it seemed this… man was used to beating the smallish Gryffindor around. He might not have liked Potter, but he was not about to let the man hurt him more than he already had. “Some children cannot do magic during the break, but I can assure you that Potter will be before I leave. Know that I am a grown and fully trained wizard. I am under NO such restriction. Nor am I one of those goody simpletons that claim to be the child’s friends. Provoke me and there won’t be anything left of you to find.” The huge muggle paled and began trembling at hearing that. The huge killer whale that was behind him and that must have been Potter’s cousin if he was not wrong, grabbed his behind and went running into the house.

‘Cowards, too brave against a defenseless child, but put them against someone their size or bigger and they run worse than rats.’ Severus thought disgusted.

Severus had been completely shocked to see the muggle hit Potter, and to see how much magic was reviled in that house hold. It was not something that would have ever occurred to him, Gryffindor's Golden Boy was supposed to be worshipped by the muggles, but he should have known better. His own experience with his magic hating father should have made him realized that not all muggles wanted wizards or witches at home. He then turned to look at the Gryffindor, his eyes taking in his condition. He looked no better than a beggar with those huge and ratty clothes he wore. He was too skinny, slightly ill, and it was clear that beatings were the norm for him. There were many bruises showing on the skin that was not covered by the tent like t-shirt. The Slytherin sighed, sweet Merlin! He had been so wrong about the-boy-who-lived. Potter was abused by his family, not pampered. Why had no one noticed before?

“Potter, are you all right?” He could not keep the concern from showing in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Harry responded as he sat beside him, and avoided looking at his eyes. He was ashamed that Snape had to see him in that condition. He might not live through the humiliation at Hogwarts. Yet Snape might not tattle on him, the Professor defended him from Vernon already, and he never spoke about what he saw during occlumency. “What about you Professor? You’re bleeding.”

“I have been better.” He admitted with a small grimace. He knew his injuries were not life threatening, but that did not make them hurt any less. “I need to borrow your owl boy. For some reason only clear to the Headmaster, the emergency portkey he made for me brought me here instead of Headquarters.”

“I have no owl anymore Sir.” Harry could not keep the pain from showing in his voice. He had really missed Hedwig but knew that at least she was in a better place. “My uncle… killed… he killed Hedwig the day I arrived from Hogwarts.” His voice was filled with emotion at the loss of his beloved friend, and his eyes misted with unshed tears.

The Potions Master’s face darkened with a murderous scowl. Everyone at Hogwarts knew how much Potter loved that animal. She was an excellent mail and companionship owl. Killing the child’s pet so soon after Black’s death was very cruel. The Dursley had to be aware of the boy’s dogfather’s death; Dumbledore wrote to them at the end of term explaining the situation. The barmy old coot was sure they would help the child cope with the loss. It was obvious that those ‘people’ had no intention of ever helping the boy.

“How have you been reporting? I know you must send a letter to the Order every three days.” Severus was frowning; he did not like what he was beginning to suspect.

Severus actually hoped he was wrong for once, but he rarely was.The boy had probably not reported and the incompetent dunderheaded imbeciles that were part of the Order had thought nothing about it. He closed his eyes for a moment and held the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was very common for him when he needed to keep calm. His mind decided to wander from a subject he did not want to contemplate to recalling what brought him to be in the Potter brat’s back yard.

Things had gone bad last night, Bellatrix and three other Death Eaters decided that he was in their way –he had been named second in command just acouple of days after the older Malfoy’s capture- and was a traitor on top of that. They ambushed him in his lab at Riddle Manor when the Dark Lord had been away at Malfoy Manor discussing his plans with Narcissa and Draco. Severus fought his attackers, and would have won, had not a piece of the ceiling hit him on the head almost knocking him out.

Why was it that the small things were the ones that ended hindering him? The bloody piece of rubbish had not even been cursed! It was simple serendipity.The Manor was very old and in much need of maintenance, especially the damp moldy cellar room that functioned as a potions laboratory. The thing simply fell at the precise moment he was under it and under attack so he could not move out of the way. Being led by a Slytherin the Death Eaters did not waste their advantage. His attackers subdued him and forced the experimental potion he had just finished down his throat believing it was poisonous. It was not, but the effect of it was not something he was looking forward to.

“I haven’t reported Sir,” Harry admitted, and his words brought back the Potions Master from recalling the early morning’s event. The boy had taken a bit of time before he decided to answer. “Not even once since I arrived from Hogwarts, but no one has come to investigate.” The boy’s voice denoted his anger at the Order’s members, but also some worrisome resignation to his fate.

“No one?” Severus could not hide the surprise from his voice. This was not good, not good at all. What where those imbeciles thinking? The muggles could seriously injure the boy. By the looks of it they had already hurt him enough to weaken him, and no one would be the wiser. “No one at all?”

“No Professor Snape, they promised, but I guess the world does not revolve around me as you say,” he told him bitterly.

Severus had to hold a flinch. Having his own words thrown back at him had hurt, especially when it was clear that they hurt the child too. But he supposed he deserved it for failing to assess the boy’s real situation, even when he had been in his head –and seen examples that all was not right at his home- part of last term. He prided himself of his observation skills. This time, with this boy, his skills had failed him. Severus had not wanted to see what was right before his eyes.

“Do you have any means of communication with the Order at all child?” Potter looked at his hands and shook his head. If Potter was surprised at the concern reflected on his silky voice he did not show it. “Or a portkey for emergencies?” The boy shook his head again.

“There was Mrs. Figg, she’s a squib, I just found out last year about her after the Dementors tried to kiss my cousin and me. I think she had a floo connection at her house, but I’m not sure though. Her house is three blocks away from here, down Magnolia Crescent. But she had some electrical problems last week and a large part of her first floor was burned, she’s moved to a daughter’s house while hers is under repairs, or so the neighborhood gossipers have been saying.”

Severus stared at the boy in disbelief. What was that group of feeble-minded morons thinking? Potter was the Dark Lord’s main target, and the dimwitted fools left him with only an owl as means of communication? He did not count the squib, simply because the boy was not sure he could go to her for assistance, and three blocks followed by Death Eaters was a long way, it was not probable that he would make it that far. It would also endanger many muggles unnecessarily. For crying out loud! Owls were neither the fastest nor the safest means of communicating. Should something happen –like the predicament they were in at the moment- it would take too long before help arrived, and by then it would be too late!

The boy was left with no means of escaping from the house; Severus could not help but curse the idiots, and include Dumbledore in his curses too. The Headmaster should know better. He had been through more than two wars in his lifetime, and he had been a target in the last two at least, Albus was getting senile. His over confidence in the blood ward was appalling, and in Snape’s opinion –now that he finally assessed the boy’s real situation- it defied reason. A blood ward based on love did not stand a chance of working where there was hate and abuse of any kind.

Dumbledore had stranded the Potter’s boy –and consequently him- with the abusive muggles. Severus’ situation had become dire, and he faced some hard decisions while he had little time to think things through. The potion he was forced to drink was not deadly, not even painful, but the effects were enough to frighten him. They would cause him to loose his mind, himself, and all that he was. Something like that was among the things the intelligent, and controlled wizard feared the most.

The potion was experimental, but on the final stages of developement, almost ready to be released as a working potion. It was a de-aging potion the Dark Lord had especially requested –although the Potions Master still did not know what the Dark Lord wanted the potion for. Once ingested, and the desired age reached, it would allow the drinker to grow up by ageing year by year, unlike the vast majority of de-aging potions around.

The concoction would delete any memories of the victim’s adult self. This again was something no de-aging potion did; the memories always remained even if they were not always accessible to the de aged witch or wizard. The potion left only the childhood or teenage memories –depending on the target age -up to the desired age but not a day beyond that. Aging potions could –and did- restore the body, but would never restore the mind, as there was nothing left to restore. The victim would remain a child or a teenager in an adult’s body. As a benefit –dubious though it seemed- the magical levels the victim had as an adult remained.

This potion had no antidote yet, although Severus had made copious notes about the process of creating it in his work journals, of which he kept several self-updating copies in different locations. But they would not be of any use to a clueless child –whatever age he ended being- even when said child had been a potions prodigy, once the retardant potion’s effects wore off, and the experimental potion was allowed to work in around three, or if he was lucky, even four more hours; unfortunately he rarely was.

While there was no antidote, there was a way to safeguard the memories and knowledge. That had been his original plan, but the portkey did not take him to Albus as he thought, and now he depended on a boy he had mistreated, bullied and in general made life miserable for five years. Unfortunately for him the retardant potion reacted badly with apparition, and the Knight Bus was too risky in his condition, so he could not go to Headquarters either way. He also was rather depleted magically because of the fight the previous night. He had energy for some spells, but not enough to make a portkey, and that was only if anyone could portkey out of Potter’s house. He knew there were more wards on top of the blood based one.

His only hope was to create a brotherhood bond with the boy –which he had planned to do with Albus or Minerva, both of whom he trusted- and transfer his memories to Potter in a block the curious Gryffindor would not have viewing access to. Then he would have to wait until an antidote was created, or he grew old enough to have the boy begin transferring his memories back.

While the host could not see the memories he could make gradual transfers to the original owner of them through the bond. That was why he had chosen it as an alternative ‘remedy’ until he could develop the counter. There were some consequences of the bonding, but with Albus or Minerva as his choice of partner he had not minded them. This type of bond would merge his knowledge with the other partner. In this case Potter.

The boy would end having the knowledge of a Potions Master -but most assuredly not the skills- unless Severus had underestimated the brat. The young Gryffindor would even know the Dark Arts, and be well above NEWT level at all subjects. The Slytherin had been the know-it-all of his generation, and lost the Head Boy position because James Potter was popular -and a quidditch hero- while Severus was practically a pariah, even in his own house.

Was Severus willing to give Potter all that for a chance –however meager it seemed at the moment- to recover himself? It was indeed a very difficult question for him to respond. There was also the fact that he would have to entrust his younger self’s well being, education, and protection to the boy. His mind initially recoiled at the thought of the arrogant, spoiled, and… he stopped, Potter was not that. The boy could not be if –as he had attested moments ago- the relatives were neglectful and abusive. Severus had been wrong about James Potter’s son, very wrong. It led him to thinking about what else he had wrong about the Gryffindor.

Besides –and he was trying to be positive, something which was hard for him- Potter would benefit immensely from not only his knowledge and experience, but from the mental blocks the bond created. It might even severe the connection the scar had to the Dark Lord –again one could only hope. Severus knew the whole Prophesy. He was the one at the Hog’s Head when Trelawny made it, and he heard the whole of it, though not even Albus knew he had. Unfortunately young Severus was not as good at occlumency then, as he prided himself to be, and part of it slipped through his shield all those years ago. The Dark Lord had found out the start of it, and targeted both the Potters and the Longbottoms, although the last he did not torture personally. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had gone after them in revenge once Potter vanquished the Dark Lord.

Severus knew Potter was the ‘Chosen One’, and it was one of the reasons why he was so hard with the boy. The fate of the wizarding world rested on the irresponsible brat’s shoulders, and he could not understand why the boy was not making an effort to learn, why he seemed so ignorant of the wizarding world or why he was not being trained. Now he knew it was not the boy’s fault. Dumbledore admitted he kept Potter in the dark, the boy had not even been aware he was a wizard until Hagrid retrieved him to give him his Hogwarts’ letter and take him to Diagon Alley.

The Potions Master had not wanted to believe the old wizard’s words, but he had proof of them now with the magic hating oaf of a muggle. He also could understand now why his methods failed; the boy’s upbringing was the reason. The child did not need any more abuse, and would react negatively to it, just as Potter did. The Potions Master and spy had wanted to challenge the child into proving him wrong, most Gryffindors would react that way. Instead the boy had reacted with anger, disinterest as well as distrust, like a Slytherin would.

Shaking his head he made a decision. He would bond with Potter if the boy agreed. But before doing it, he needed to make sure the younger wizard could protect them not only from the muggles, but from anyone else. He would have to cast a couple of spells to insure the boy could use magic, and was free of tracking and locating spells. He also needed to mask his magical signature, and the bond would help with that. Their magical power would merge, creating different signatures to the ones they had before the bond, unique to them and yet very similar marking them as brothers magically for everyone to see. The way things were for the younger wizard at the moment, he believed Potter would agree to host his memories. The boy after all did have a penchant for helping people in need, and Severus needed help desperately.

Harry had been ashamed that Snape had to see the pitifully small and almost bare bedroom, but he had not been able to convince his relatives to let the professor use Aunt Marge’s room. If he had to stay, then they would be sharing a room period. Petunia did not want anymore of his KIND contaminating her house. Severus vaguely heard this but was too preoccupied with his own problems to pay more attention to the boy and the muggles.

Severus did notice that the huge muggle had reluctantly assisted him upstairs, as Potter was weak and hurt himself. The smaller muggle –figuratively speaking- and who could only be the boy’s cousin brought Potter’s trunk to the room. Those disgusting people kept it locked in the cupboard under the stairs, which he learned had been his student’s bedroom up until he got his Hogwarts’ letter. Severus had to resort to threats again in order to get the damn thing, and even then, the huge man predicted dire punishments for the Gryffindor because ‘magic’ was mentioned in the house. The Potions Professor definitely wanted to hex those muggles, but prudence dictated that he should avoid antagonizing them too much for the time being.

Despite being clearly embarrassed that he had to see the terrible condition in which he actually lived, Potter helped him to settle as comfortably as humanly possible on that awful thing he called a bed. Then he went to his trunk and surprised him by taking out a small pail -that immediately filled with steaming water- half a dozen clean and soft flannels, gauzes, bandages, as well as a box filled almost entirely by healing potions. All were labelled in the boy’s untidy chicken scratch.

Severus could not help himself –the Potions Master in him taking control- and proceeded to examine each potion. They were perfectly made, and even infused with the maker’s magic to make them more potent. That was a trick that few aside the best and most talented Potions Masters ever learned to do right. He frowned realizing that the child had returned ‘home’ prepared to heal himself. Potter had known he would be abused. Why didn’t he say something? The answer was simple, the boy begged each summer break to remain at school, or be sent somewhere else, but each break he was refused and ordered back. Why say something to people who would not listen?

“These are extremely well made Potter. I assume by the labels that you made them?” He inquired, unable to disguise the small hints of approval and respect in his voice, as he kept checking the potions. The assortment was impressive -similar in diversity to the one at Hogwarts infirmary- as well as the quality, unfortunately they told a very sad story about the boy’s life. That he needed to have such an ample range of healing potions stocked was enough to speak about a life full of pain.

“I… yes, I made them Sir,” Harry responded in a low voice avoiding his Professor’s eyes. He was sure the man would berate him for even trying to make a potion, and actually doing it right.

“I see…” he commented thoughtfully as he checked a few that he suspected the boy had experimented on.

Potter was, from what he saw, talented enough to make a good Potions Master one day -even without the knowledge he was about to gain- if he applied himself to his studies. Severus had misjudged the boy again, and wasted so much potential because of his hatred of a man that had been dead for over a decade. Perhaps Potter could be encouraged to be the one to create the antidote he needed.

“What did you add to these potions? You experimented on them.” The last was a statement, as he delicately smelled and observed the contents of the two vials in his hands.

“Ah…” Harry fidgeted nervously. “Er… I used muggle medicine ingredients Sir, mostly Paracetamol, which is a pain reliever and a slight fever reducer, as well as aluminum hydroxide and simethicone which are used as antacids. They are additives only, and actually make the potion stronger and last much longer.”

The Potions Master raised one of his expressive eyebrows in surprise. The boy seemed to be more knowledgeable about those things than he would have given him credit for. Severus stood corrected. Potter would make an exceptional Potions Master should he ever decide to follow that path. His knowledge would not be wasted on him, and that made the merge the bond created easier to accept.

“I must say it is an interesting result, and you are the first that I know of to combine magical and muggle healing ingredients. It has picked my professional interest and I would like to experiment… but unfortunately that won’t be possible,” he paused to decide whether he would tell the boy what he thought or nor not. He concluded that it would not hurt, and in fact might aid his case. “You have more talent that I gave you credit for Mister Potter. I believe that despite my previous assessment of your potion making abilities at Hogwarts, you should definitely consider a Potions Mastery as a serious career choice.”

“Sir?” Harry asked worried and wide-eyed. Snape was acting un-Snape-ish. The man had just praised him! The young wizard knew the Professor respected his field of expertise too much to suggest someone becomes a Potions Master without meaning it. Harry knew he was not bad, but it seems that he was much better than he expected. His Professor also seemed quite impressed about his small experiments with muggle medicines.

‘I wonder what he would say of the methods Mione and I created to separate each substance from an already finished muggle product.’ The young wizard thought fondly of those hours they spent brainstorming, researching, and experimenting in the dead of the night.

Ron hated the chemistry sessions, and they –Hermione and him- had to be very quiet about it, so no one suspected what they were doing. They had had to develop many ways to separate the chemicals, as only one was often required in each potion. Mione’s parents would owl her all the over the counter medicines they requested, suggested some they did not know about, and sometimes were able to get them the individual chemical ingredients whenever they experimented with new potions.

The Grangers being dentists were science-oriented people, and the children had been able to ask them questions about muggle medicine. The couple of muggles enjoyed doing the research and often sent them books or the notes they took, it was an interesting challenge to their usually tranquil and suburban lives. Magic had been quite helpful, as well as the fact that Harry had simply loved chemistry. He had been very lucky when he was a student in his old elementary school to find a teacher –who considered himself a chemistry nerd- that not only encouraged him to go beyond what was taught to his age peers –next to nothing- but also taught him what he knew. Harry had been above fourth year high school level when he entered Hogwarts, and with Hermione’s help he had furthered his knowledge immensely.

“Are you feeling all right Professor, er… you’re not acting like yourself?” The younger wizard could not help asking. He got what could only be an amused look, and a raised eyebrow for an instant before the older wizard turned serious.

“Mister Potter, I will be blunt, as there is not enough time for subtleties. Last night, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say early this morning, I was attacked by a group of Death Eaters led by Bellatrix LeStrange.” He saw the boy’s features harden with undisguised hate towards the witch; he sympathized, as he too hated the bloody demented bitch. “She accused me of being a traitor, but she did not, nor does she have any proof of my duplicity. In truth I believe the attack was political…”

“Political?” Harry inquired with a puzzled frown on his face.

“Yes. It was probably nothing more than a power struggle among the Dark Lord’s almost non existent –thanks to you- inner circle, and the fact that Bellatrix has never forgiven me for not joining her and the other’s in Azkaban.” He snorted at that. Blind loyalty to the mad man was not something he ever had, not even when he first joined the Death Eaters. Albus did not have it either, but he certainly was loyal to the light as a whole, not just one person.

“You’re a member,” Harry stated. Snape nodded curtly confirming the boy’s statement. This was really nothing new, he had known since the end of his fourth year that the man was a Death Eater spy, and since the summer after that he suspected he was close to Voldemort. He had to be to gather good information about the maniac’s plans.

“I was named second in command just two nights ago.” The boy actually looked impressed, and… was that respect showing in his eyes? “It is an enviable position, a dubious honour, and quite advantageous for the Order.”

‘It’s also riskier. He needs to be extremely careful with the information he filters to the Order, or he could be easily found out, and the same applies to what he tells that madman. Voldemort will definitely not be pleased with Snape if he’s ever discovered.’ Harry thought, and wondered why his mind had gone in that direction. But he could feel his respect for this man increase more than a bit; he was walking a thin line where a slip would result in a painful death.

“So Vol…” Snape glared at him, and Harry was not completely sure if it was because he almost said Voldemort, or because he started cleaning the Potions Master’s blood and dirt covered face with a soft wet flannel. Although the Professor could use his hands, they were battered too, and the boy was sure they were hurting, so he decided to keep the older wizard from using them too much. “You-Know-Who,” he corrected just in case the name was the problem, “doesn’t know you’re a spy yet. You can go back once you’re healed. He surely wont’ be pleased when he finds out that she and others defied his choice of second. I believe you can use this to you advantage.” The comment earned him another raised eyebrow. Snape seemed to be pleasantly surprised by his way of thinking. It had not been the Gryffindor in him talking, but what remained of the Slytherin.

“Unfortunately going back will not be possible Mister Potter. I was forced to drink an experimental potion…” He began only to be interrupted by a worried and just seconds-away-from-panicking boy.

“You were poisoned?” Harry was alarmed at that. Was Snape dying? He had made his school years at Hogwarts miserable, but he did not want him dead. That was reserved for Voldemort, Bellatrix LeStrange, and Wormtail, although Dumbledore and the Dursley were fighting hard to earn their place in that exclusive list.

“No, I don’t work with poisons in that particular workroom. It is too accessible to other Death Eaters.” The Gryffindor should not be looking so relieved that he was not about to keel over and die. Potter was supposed to hate him. “I prefer to keep the most deadly potions I created for the Dark Lord where I can have a better control of their use, as well as close to their respective antidotes. This potion will not kill me; however, the effects will render me unable to fulfil my duties as a spy, a Potions Master, and a Professor.”

“You need the antidote or the counter…” Harry started to say.

“There are none created yet Potter.” The child was decidedly about to start panicking, and Severus could not blame him. He felt like panicking himself, as he was about to loose that of which he had gotten most proud of about himself in his rather miserable life.

“Professor… I…”

“In less than three hours you will be left with my de-aged self.” He went on ignoring the attempted interruption. His words just added to the shock on the boy’s face.

“De-aged?” Harry squeaked, but Snape went on as if he had not made a sound. The man seemed so calm and accepting of his fate, yet the way his hands tensed told another story. Harry realized that his Professor was afraid of what was going to happen to him.

“I will grow up eventually –year by year- but I won’t be able to recover any memories, the potion erases them completely. I have the opportunity –good or bad, and decidedly unwanted- to relive my life again. Aging potions will only aggravate the problem. You must not let anyone use them on me Potter. My body will grow to the desired age, but my mind will not.” He explained to the child in an impersonal tone of voice even though he was speaking about something that actually terrified him. Only the slight tremor on his hands revealing some of what he felt.

“Merlin’s beard Professor!” Harry exclaimed in shock.

Harry had to admit the man was a genius at potions and probably a few other things, so he could imagine that for someone like Snape –or Hermione for that matter- loosing ones mind would be the stuff to create nightmares. Also, judging from the memories he remembered seeing during occlumency, the Professor’s first try at childhood did not seem to have been any better than his own. Harry could bet his Firebolt and invisibility cloak that Snape was not looking forward to going through it again. He did not like the wizard; the man had done just about everything he could to make his life miserable while at Hogwarts. But at the same time Snape had saved his life before, and not just once. Harry could not leave him to his fate no matter how he had been; he had to help his Professor.

“Is there anything I can do Sir?” The young wizard asked after recovering from his shock. “Hermione is one of the smartest persons I know, and you are among them too. She would be terrified to loose her knowledge. It’s very important to her. I… suspect it must be the same for you, so I… er… understand… sort of. I’ll help you Professor.” Harry babbled surprising the older wizard yet again by his sudden understanding of how difficult the situation was for him.

“There is something you can do for me.” Severus pushed a lock of hair from his face; it was another small sign that he was nervous. “I… am a bit reluctant to request this of you Potter. As things go, I am left with no other choice. We have never been in good terms, but I am man enough to admit that I am mostly responsible for that. I greatly misjudged your home situation, and refused to acknowledge that sons are never the fathers.” Harry gaped at him, and Severus allowed himself a smirk. He suspected the boy never expected an apology, and under other circumstances he might never have given it. But as he said to the boy, he could admit when he made mistakes. That was why he turned from the Dark Lord in the first place.

“Er… it’s ok Professor… I was … er… a brat… sometimes.” Harry admitted, remembering the incident in his third year when they had used ‘Expelliarmus’ on him.

“You were,” Severus agreed and smirked again at the boy’s chagrined expression. “Although probably not as often as I credited to you. You even managed to have me fooled with your ability as a potions maker. It is a shame you never showed it in my class.” He paused, gathering himself and his thoughts a bit before he went on. “I am not a trusting man Potter, and,” he hesitated, “last term you proved to me you are not trustworthy…”

“I’m sorry Professor,” Harry interrupted, looking and feeling contrite. He was really sorry he invaded Snape’s privacy; he knew it had been wrong. “What I did was wrong, I have no excuse… but… and it’s not an excuse Sir. But I knew people were keeping important things from me since the end of fourth year. It was driving me crazy, the Headmaster,” and the anger and resentment in his voice were undisguised, something that surprised the Potions Master. He thought Potter adored and trusted the Headmaster blindly. It seemed that again he had been wrong about his school rival’s son. “Refused to tell me a thing and he even avoided me, so…”

“So you decided to invade my privacy,” Severus could not hide the disapproval and anger in his own voice.

Although Severus could understand now that the boy was desperate for any kind of information and the lack of it –more than the lack of occlumency skills- was the reason why the Department of Mysteries happened. If Potter had been aware that the Dark Lord wanted something, and was trying to make him get it, the boy might, just might have been more prudent. He could hope anyway. Severus was coming to realize that Harry Potter was not the hopeless and brainless Gryffindor he thought him to be, the child actually was showing some Slytherin qualities. This somehow eased his worries slightly.

“Yes, and you don’t know how sorry I am to have violated your privacy. What I am not sorry about is seeing what my father was really like Sir. You have always been right in your description of him and the Marauders. They were cruel bullies, and believe me I would never, EVER want to be like that.” The child told him adamantly. “I’ve been bullied most of my life, so I… I understand.” His tone had become soft, but it gathered strength and resolution to speak his next words. “I also NEVER told anyone, except Si…” his voice hitched, “Sirius and Professor Lupin to ask why they did it, and what were they thinking. Believe me Sir; their answer was so stupid, that I could barely believe it. Being fifteen does not give ANYONE the right to humiliate another person.”

“I accept your apology Mister Potter,” he told the boy graciously. Severus had never expected the Gryffindor to apologize, nor had he expected him to understand and take his side against his beloved father and Godfather. But there he was driving the point home that Severus did not know, and had never seen the real Harry Potter. “As I was saying, I am not a trusting man, but the situation leaves me with no other option but to entrust myself, and my memories to you.” The boy stared at him hardly believing what he was hearing.

“I… I’ll do whatever you need Professor.” He told him, realizing this was something huge. He was getting a big responsibility, and also a chance to prove to Snape that he could be trusted, that he was not his father or godfather. “I… I’ll do my best to prove to you that you haven’t misplaced the trust you’re giving me Sir.”

“Always the Gryffindor Mister Potter, but this time it’s to my advantage, however small it may be.” He actually smiled at the boy. Harry was already earning both his respect and his trust without really working on it. “I am realizing that you’re not who I believed you to be, and that you will indeed do what you can to help me.” The boy looked flustered and it seemed not sure how to respond, so he said instead.

“Well if it’s a small consolation Sir, the Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin. But I had met Malfoy in Diagon Alley. He told me he would be in Slytherin, and well… you can imagine he reminded me too much of my cousin. I wanted to be as far away from people like that as possible.”

“Yes, I can imagine. Draco is extremely spoiled by his parents. I admit I am astonished to hear that you might have ended in my House, but perhaps that could explain why no one was aware of how… trying your home situation really was.”

“I’m sure the Headmaster knows Sir. My Hogwarts’ letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs, and at the end of last term He told me that he was aware that I was not loved,” he snorted, “more like loathed. He said things might not be… perfect, but I would be safe here, ha. From wizards maybe, but it’s not as if Vernon or Dudley aren’t dangerous. They are, especially my cousin. He doesn’t know when to stop, last summer there was a rumor that he and his gang were the ones who beat to death a couple of little kids… they probably did.” He shuddered knowing that could have been his fate. Could still be if Snape did not help him.

“Those are shocking news Potter. I find it hard to believe Dumbledore would let the muggles abuse you knowingly. Despite his actions, the Headmaster does care for you very much.” The boy looked about to protest. “This does not mean that I do not believe you Mister Potter, I do. Albus Dumbledore is too much of an optimist, so much so, that he refuses to believe people are capable of hurting their own blood, despite having seen time and again that it does happen. He simply doesn’t want to see.”

“Well, his blindness has caused me nothing but pain and grief.” Resentment coated his voice.

“Something will be done about that child. I will not leave you defenseless with these muggles.” He told him, and then changed the subject back to the matters at hand. “While there is no way to avoid the effects of the potion, there is a way for me to store my memories and my knowledge in your mind, so that if… when,” he corrected, “a counter potion is created they can be transferred back to me. The old memories will merge with the new ones I acquired during the time I was de-aged, and I will recover myself. The way to do this is through a bond, a variation of the Brotherhood Bond to be precise. This bond is for life, and there is no way to break it. So you must be very sure and willing to do this Potter.”

“I… You… you’re willing to have me as bother?” The Professor inclined his head once to show that he indeed was willing. “I… yes Professor; of course I’ll do this for you, and I’ll do my best to find someone to create a counter potion for you. What do I have to do for this bond?” Harry was a little overwhelmed by the whole concept of being Snape’s brother and of having a brother in general, but that would not stop him from helping the older wizard.

“I appreciate your willingness to assist me Mister Potter. I am in your debt.”

“Nonsense Sir, you have saved my life a few times before, it is I who’s in your debt.” He dismissed the debt. It really had not occurred to him that the Professor would owe him anything. The ex-spy gave him an odd look for a few moments before he went on to explain what he was going to do.

“First, I need to cast a couple spells on you. One will remove all tracking, locating, and monitoring spells placed on you. No other spell will ever stick to you, and once cast there is no way to detect it. The caster would believe otherwise until he or she tries to find you. The spell can be modified when it is needed to allow some owls to deliver post or for any other reasons. This allows you to do ALL kinds of magic. With this spell the Department of Improper Use of Magic will never know what you do. Hex the bloody muggles for me.” This brought a smile to the boys face as well as a chuckle.

“Oh I will Sir; I don’t need much encouragement in that department.” Snape smirked at his words.

“The Ministry will never find out, and if they complain there would be no way to prove it thanks to the next spell. It will hide your magical signature, and only those you expressly allow to identify you will be able to do so, that includes owls. This spell comes in handy if you decide to pose as someone else, I created it for that reason… in case I needed to hide, a plan B if you like to call it that.” He could see the boy’s smile widen as he realized how much freedom he was getting.

“Very Slytherin of you Professor,” he grinned. “Thank you; you don’t know how grateful I am for this. You… you have set me free.” Harry’s eyes were slightly misty. Those two spells were a godsend for him, something he would not have ever dreamed off. They not only freed him, but also protected him from the Dursley, Dumbledore, and Voldemort.

“That is not all you are getting child. This is a bond of sharing, so you will know all that I do now, including the Dark Arts, and my younger self will know what you do at this moment; which appears to be much more than I gave you credit for. We will share a mind link, although I am not sure how strong it will be. We both get impenetrable mind shields as our minds are blocked to anyone else but the other member of the bond. No occlumens could ever break through.”

“This bond sounds really good Sir. I wonder why Dumbledore never thought about it? It certainly takes care of You-Know-Who invading my mind and possessing me.” Harry mused.

“The bond is ancient, and not many people know it. It is of Greek origins, the Spartans to be precise. The Headmaster is well read, but not even he knows everything. He has always been more interested in Great Britain’s history more than other civilizations histories.” Severus explained. He had always had a fascination for other cultures, and had studied what he could about several in his almost non-existent leisure time.

“Oh well, it was an idea.” Harry shrugged. “Please go on Sir, I should not have interrupted.” The professor waved the apology away and went on.

“Should you ever decide to use the Dark Arts, I would suggest thinking things through carefully, and weighting what I know of them against your or someone else’s knowledge. Perhaps even do some research of your own? They are dangerous, and can lure those who underestimate their appeal and nature to dangerous paths.”

“I… thank you again Sir, and I promise I will be careful Professor.”

“You better be.” He gave the boy one of his glares to make a point. “I know what you are facing Potter… Harry. I know the whole Prophesy, although no one is aware that I know as much. I never understood, and still don’t, why the Headmaster has not started training you to face that monster.”

“I’ve been wondering the same since he told me it at the end of last term. It doesn’t make any sense,” he agreed.

“Albus rarely makes sense to anyone but himself. He is a sentimental old fool. He might want you to enjoy your childhood or some simpering rubbish like that. It might be a possible reason, but one can never be sure with him.”

“He did tell me that he wanted me to enjoy my childhood, but living with the Dursley there wasn’t much to enjoy save…” He stopped realizing that he was saying more than he was used to.

“Save what child?” He was curious as to what the boy wanted to say.

“Save a hunger and painless day.” Harry mumbled realizing that he could tell Snape. He already knew, and was about to forget it in a little while.

“I understand the feeling,” he agreed and continued with his explanation. “What knowledge you gain from me will give you a greater advantage over the Dark Lord, use it well. I am a Master of more than just potions. Do not fear to be more Slytherin, as we are survivors and know how to take advantage of the opportunities that come our way. It might just give you just what you need to win. Practice and learn as much as you can Harry, recover my work journals, and personal library. You will find many useful things in them.”

“I will Sir. I’ll follow your advice, and again thank you.” Harry told him seriously and determined to do as he said.

“No child, thank you for not being the person I believed you to be. If you were, I would have no hope left.”

Severus gave Harry some more instructions about himself, as well as wrote a letter giving the boy his legal guardianship –the Brotherhood bond would back up this claim- and a letter giving him power of attorney to all his meagre assets. They included his father’s house, his books, his nearly empty Gringotts vault –he was not a rich person, and had never been- some potion ingredients, his personal potion stores, and anything contained in his house and his quarters at Hogwarts –which was not much. The ex-Death Eater then cast the spells on Harry, he already had them on him since he created them one when he was eleven -and discovered he would not allowed to do magic out of school- the other when he realized what a big mistake he made when he joined the Dark Lord and agreed to spy on him and the Death Eaters.

With the spells in place, Severus took out a dagger from his robes –and told the boy the password to access all the secret pockets in it- cut his right palm and the boy’s. They held hands while he chanted the incantation in ancient Greek to create the bond and Potter repeated it. The incantation needed to be repeated five times. At the end of the fifth both were surrounded by a blue light that signified the bond was activated. At this point the participants ended unconscious while the memory transfer occurred, as well as the knowledge, blood, and magical merge took place. These last two made them truly brothers in all aspects. Severus would share the blood of Harry’s mother in a more direct link than that of Petunia Dursley. As the bond activated the retardant potion wore off and the de-aging one acted, leaving a very young Severus able to keep the knowledge he got from Harry. The timing had been perfect, even if it was not planned.