Harry was absolutely glowing. He was sure only his fifteen year old dignity kept him from bouncing along beside the Potions Master as they hurried through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic building. Well, that, and the glare Snape would give him if he tried.

Snape. Harry couldn’t hide a grin. The greasy git was going to be his guardian. Of course, Ron would be absolutely revolted when he found out, but at that moment, Harry found he didn’t care. He was never EVER going back to the Dursely’s. The thought made him want to sing. But, Snape would glare at him for that, too.

He was smiling so hard it was making his cheeks hurt. But he couldn’t stop. For the first time in ….forever he felt incredible. He was wearing clothes that fit him, and that hadn’t been anyone else’s before now, he was pleasantly full from a delicious breakfast that for the first time in living memory he could finish. And not only had he finished, he had eaten seconds. The thought was so unbelievable that for a minute, he imagined what Hermione’s expression would be when he told her. He snorted and ducked his head, and consequently, bumped right into his professor.

Severus didn’t have the heart to be upset. And, even if he did, he didn’t think he could manage it any how. The boy was literally radiating happiness. He watched as a disgruntled worker stomped out of his office, only to have a goofy grin plastered on his face as soon as he was fully into the hallway. Severus wasn’t too worried though. He wasn’t capable of grinning, no matter how happy the boy next to him was making everyone. He could only imagine his face was blank, as that was the closest expression to pleasant he possessed. ‘And besides,’ he thought to himself, ‘this may very well work to my favor.’

He gently guided his charge over to the elevators through the golden gates. Without hesitation he selected the lift with the fewest amount of people, and quickly pressed the button for Level 1: Minister of Magic Office.

Truthfully, he had been a bit worried about bringing the boy along with him in case he was recognized, but yet again, the boy had surprised him. His already long hair had been lightened to a deep brown, and his eyes darkened to a green so deep it was almost black. Except for his nose, the boy could have been his son. He was most distressed at the odd thumping that thought caused in his chest.

He also suspected the child’s mood kept would-be worshippers away. For that, he was grateful. He was not sure he could be civil to both the boy and his adoring public at the same time, and unfortunately for most, the boy took precedence. He glanced down at him, only to resist a smile. The child was still grinning like a loon, even after all this time. In all honesty, it had only been a few minutes, but really, the child could calm down any day now.

The cat on his T-shirt was still enjoying his back rub, and Severus shook his head, bemused. Harry was incredible, even without knowing the prophecy that dictated his existence. For the first time, Severus could see that Harry actually had a chance. More than a chance, really. Voldemort was cruel and vindictive, and yes, he was powerful. But Severus knew beyond a doubt that even now Harry could defeat him, hands down, even on one of Tom’s good days. The thought was distinctly frightening.

He quickly disembarked when the elevator pulled to their stop, and used his lengthy legs to quickly reach the end of the corridor. An indignant “Hey” made him turn at the door though, and he paused to watch Harry stretch his admittedly shorter legs to match his stride, panting up the aisle.

“Running would have been easier, you know,” he offered the boy good naturedly as he drew near.

He watched, amused, as Harry sniffed, and stuck his rounded nose into the air. “Running would have been undignified.”

Severus snorted, and ushered the boy ahead of him.

There was a young, blonde witch sitting at the receptionist’s desk, apparently absorbed in her work, but not enough so that she could not ask them for their names and if they had an appointment. Severus paid her no mind, and marched Harry across the richly decorated waiting room to the door of the inner office. The sputtering girl had just enough time to lay the sheets of parchments she was studying on the table before Severus threw the door open, and greeted its occupant with a smirk.

“Minister, sir, I’m so sorry,” the blonde girl was saying. “He just barged right in, and didn’t even give me his name. I’m sorry. I could call security – “

“No, no, Miss Ethridge, its quite alright. Mister Snape here has a habit of making an entrance.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go on, out with you. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Still looking wary, Ms. Ethridge retreated to her desk, closing the office door behind her. Harry wandered over to a bookshelf, gazing at the barely legible titles, and wishing he could pick one to read. Or attempt to, he thought, squinting at the curly script.

His ecstasy had subsided a bit. Oh, he was still happy, make no mistake, but he was also a bit confused now. Snape had said he needed to make a family call. So why were they in the Minister’s office? Harry wasn’t sure how he felt being so close to the man who had so obviously favored him, until the night after the tournament when Harry had reported Voldemort’s return. He had been adamant that Harry had been lying. He wasn’t sure how to voice these concerns to Snape, but it didn’t matter. The Minister was speaking.

“Well, Severus, I haven’t seen you in some time. How have you been? What brings you so far out of your musty dungeons?”

Severus did his best not to sneer. It never did any good with this man. “I won’t bring up the fact that you haven’t seen me since our mother’s funeral because you were too busy pursuing a political career, as that would only lead to an argument, surely. However, the simple fact is this: I require a favor.”

The Minister’s eyes twinkled with an intensity to rival the Headmaster’s. “Of course, of course, brother. You can always come to me if you need anything.” His large brown eyes flickered over to Harry. “And our young guest? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Severus bowed. “How foolish of me. Harry,” he extended a hand to the boy, who immediately stepped over to stand beside him. “This is my brother, Cornelius Fudge. Neil, this is Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?” The sitting man asked in confusion. It was a minute before Harry understood why. Hastily, he allowed his features to morph back into their original appearance, and barely suppressed grin when the portly man only smiled indulgently. “Chocolate Frog, Harry?” he asked, pulling a bright blue basket full of the sweets from his desk drawer. “I’ve never been able to resist one myself.” He snatched one up for himself and unwrapped the magically enhanced chocolate. Letting the wrapping fall to his desk, he caught the hopping frog and deftly bit off its head. Of course, to Harry this was perfectly normal behavior, and so with a further grin for his professor, who only rolled his eyes, he selected one for himself, and settled in a chair in the corner of the office. Not that everything was forgiven, of course.

“Now,” said the Minister of Magic. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Severus was never one to beat around the bush. “I need to obtain guardianship of Harry as quickly as your influence will allow. It has to be done quickly and with the least amount of communication necessary. I have reason to believe that Harry is in more danger at his current place of residence than anywhere in our world.”

Brown eyes pierced obsidian. “I don’t understand.” For a moment the resemblance Harry had been trying to find was blatantly obvious. “Couldn’t Dumbledore handle this for you?”

Snape’s face was determinedly blank. “He is precisely the reason for the necessity of haste and discretion.”

Cornelius was once again confused. “I thought Albus doted on Harry?”

With a rustle of robes, Severus leaned over the desk. “Apparently, not anymore.”

The two men stared deep into each others eyes, and Harry, recognizing Legimency, reached for the chocolate basket. This could be a while.

~*~

“Come in, Mr. Malfoy.”

The blonde boy gulped, and tentatively pushed open the heavy wooden door. The circular office was just as it had been the last time he had seen it. The ancient looking desk still sat in the same place, Fawkes’ perch was still where he had last seen it, all the cabinets were still filled with all the same things, but the familiarity was NOT comforting Draco.

Because this wasn’t the same Draco walking, no, trudging through the headmaster’s door. The old Draco would have walked in as if the office was his, sat in whichever seat he pleased and damned be the one to tell him different.

But this Draco, this Draco inched into the office and stood pressed up against the closed door, trying not to draw attention to himself. Which was utterly pointless, when you considered he had the complete and undivided attention of the most powerful, observant, manipulative being on this side of time. Of course, our little blonde refugee didn’t know that, and so, trembling slightly, he held the long, curling sheet of parchment over to the man who represented safety, forgiveness, and second chances.

He hoped.

The professor was intently staring at the long list of names. Draco studied his face, or the thin sliver of it he could see. He was not generally a gifted reader of facial expressions, but he could see, quite clearly, that the professor was a tad perplexed.

He didn’t think that was a good thing.

“It’s a list of names, Headmaster. Of the entire house, really. We’ve, none of us, I mean, we don’t want, You-Know-Who – “

“Headmaster!” Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. A portrait of an elderly woman with a moustache panted heavily in her frame. “The Great Hall – “ she wheezed, “flying food,” more panting,” house elves screaming – “ She wheezed and coughed with an intensity that made Draco fear for her health. “The Ravenclaw quidditch team, Headmaster, they broke into the kitchens and stole a turkey the elves were preparing for dinner. The Great Hall sir,” she moaned. Draco thought she shuddered. “It’s become an all out battlefield.”

Professor Dumbledore rewarded her with a blinding smile. “I assure you, Madame Herefew, if the house elves are involved, the students will be set straight fairly soon. One of them will have the sense to notify Professor McGonagall, I’m sure. I don’t like abandoning my students when they require my help,” he said, gesturing towards Draco.

Madame Herefew squeaked, eyes widening fearfully. “But Headmaster, you don’t understand. When I fled, Peeves and the Ravenclaw captain had Deputy Headmistress McGonagall strung up by her ankles, upside down over a giant bowl of pumpkin juice. I assure you, the only one who can handle this is you, Albus.”

With a heavy sigh, the Headmaster relented. “Very well.” He turned bright blue eyes to Draco and said, “If you would take a seat, Mister Malfoy, I will return shortly. I trust you and your housemates can wait until then?”

He found himself nodding before the headmaster had even finished speaking. He scampered over to a squashy armchair and sank into its depths, trying his hardest to portray to the old man that wild hippogriffs couldn’t drag him away.

He must have succeeded, too, since the sounds of soft chuckling drifted into the office as the Headmaster turned to leave.

~*~

“Well, that certainly explains a few things.”

Harry started, frightened out of the oh-so-animated conversation he was having with a portrait on the far wall of the Minister’s office. The brothers (Harry still wanted to know how that happened) sat facing each other in front of the grand desk. Snape waved his wand and then suddenly there were bottles floating across the room.

“Care for a drink, Harry?” called Neil, pouring a strong smelling clear liquid into a glass tumbler.

“He’ll have no such thing,” snapped Snape. He deftly plucked an amber bottle from the bunch and cast a cooling charm to it. The now iced butterbeer floated over to him, and Harry accepted, tuning out their now continuing conversation for his with the portrait.

“You said magic comes from the earth?” he asked the wizened old man.

“I did.” He turned away to gaze at the odd sunset behind the large boulder he was perched on. It certainly didn’t look like any portrait Harry had ever seen. While Harry was used to the slightly crinkled canvas the portraits were painted on all through Hogwarts castle, this was painted on something that looked rather like animal skin. He vaguely remembered learning that animal skins were used for paintings and maps in the early centuries, but Harry doubted that this one was prepared right. For one thing, little sprigs of hair stuck up around the edges, soft looking brown hairs that reminded Harry of a rabbit he had once seen in elementary school. For another, the skin looked fresh, like, alive. Harry tried not to think about that, but it was disconcerting.

He shifted restlessly. Didn’t this portrait know you were supposed to talk to carry on the conversation? Honestly! Why’d he say hello if he wasn’t going to carry on his half of the exchange?

“So, uh, how do wizards get it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice respectful.

It was still another full minute till the portrait deemed it worthy to look at him again. “Wizards, unlike muggles, have a deeper connection to the earth that we walk upon. And while we have easier access to magic than other humans, we are still vastly less connected than other magical beings, such as goblins and elves.”

The teenager cocked his head to the side. “So, on, like, the magical totem pole, witches and wizards are actually near the bottom?”

Crinkly portrait eyes looked at him. “Not near the bottom, child, are the bottom.”

“But, what about giants?” Harry asked. “They don’t use magic, do they?”

He was gifted with a portrait smile. “Exactly why one mustn’t think of the distribution of magic in terms of highest to lowest, or a totem pole, as you said.” With a serene smile, the wizened man lapsed into silence once more. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation and let out a huff.

“Er, sir?”

“Still here?” The man asked, eyebrows raised. “My, you’re the first to speak to me this long in nearly two centuries. Of course, he was a bit older and was asking pointed questions about power and such, but he had it too.” He nodded a bit to himself. “Yes. See, the distribution of magic can be better understood if you think of it as a web. The different species’ access different types of earth magic, but they also sometimes overlap. Do you understand child?”

Harry nodded, if somewhat distractedly. “Like centaurs. They’re half human, and half-horse, but they have a deeper grasp of Divination,” he answered, thinking of the time he met a centaur during his first year. While he understood, he was also intrigued by what the portrait had alluded to earlier. Had he spoken to Voldemort? He seemed like the kind of person who’d be interested in power, even at an early age. But no, the portrait had said nearly two centuries ago. The only person he knew of who was that old was Dumbledore…

The portrait smiled wider. “Simply put, yes. You have the right idea. In the same thread, some wizards have a deeper connection to the earth than others, like that young man I was telling you about, and yourself.” He nodded to the sunset. “Yes, Dumbledore, he said his name was, when I asked, of course. And I had to ask twice, mind you. Terribly rude of him, don’t you think? But he had it, a deeper connection than I’ve seen in all my time.” His eyes locked on Harry again. “That is, at least, before I met you, son. Tell me, what is your name?”

Harry blinked, stunned. The portrait couldn’t be saying what he thought it was… ”I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” He looked down at his untouched butter beer, and back up again. “But I think you’ve made a mistake.”

The portrait chuckled. “You do, do you? Tell me, have you had anything unexplainable happen around you lately? Made anything happen without realizing it?” it asked, raising an eyebrow. His smile widened with the understanding flitting across Harry’s face. “Understand it now?”

Harry nodded, dazed. “Merlin,” he breathed.

The portrait chuckled again. “Why yes.” He inclined his head. ”Pleased to meet you.”

Harry stared at the laughing portrait for a minute, before stumbling blindly to his professor. His stunned expression elicited a chuckle from Cornelius, who was initialing a stack of parchments and systematically passing them to Snape. “I take it the portrait’s told you who he is then?”

Harry’s eyes widened further. “That’s really him?”

Neil snorted. “Yes it is, though no one knows where the portrait of him came from, it just showed up one day, during the second minister’s second term. Of course, no one can speak to him long enough to find out if he knows anything about his origin, so they all gave up.” He passed the last sheet to Snape and then pulled out another, smaller stack. While Severus completed his stack, he turned his eyes to Harry.

“You know, truthfully, I’m not sure how I feel about you coming into the family, dysfunctional though it is.” His smiling eyes flitted over to Severus and back. “The whole wizarding world goes absolutely frothing mad when it comes to you. Not to mention that stunt you pulled this past June.”

“It wasn’t a stunt,” Harry replied. His voice was carefully even, but tight. He was acutely aware of what Fudge was doing for him, and knew he could not jeopardize it because the man refused to see reason. But his heart was pounding in his ears and he could feel his face becoming flushed. He just hoped Snape finished his signing quickly, before he said something to mess this all up.

Cornelius nodded. “You still stand by it then? Unfortunate, that.” He pulled another chocolate frog from the basket, and considered the wrapper. “You realize that in the public eye I am going to have to discredit you, don’t you? Officially, I have nothing to go by.”

Harry blinked, and then all of a sudden he was relaxed. He could clearly see a way out of this. But the question was, had the Minister offered it, or was it just circumstance?

“What would it take for me to offer you what I know, officially?”

Surprised brown eyes looked up at him from over a half-eaten sweet. “Officially?” the man blinked. “Well, you’d first have to make an appointment to see me, really, and even then, I can’t take a statement from a minor without a guardian’s consent. And as with a legal matters pertaining to minors, you’d have to submit to utilizing a pensieve, to ensure you haven’t been adversely influenced.” His expression turned curious. “Why?”

Harry stared at the man. Definite Hufflepuff. He looked over to his professor, who was staring at him intently, just in time to see the stack of parchment glow blue briefly and then disappear. His eyes were searching for something, and then narrowed when Harry smirked. Really, he thought the man would appreciate his plan. He wasn’t sure if it was Slytherin or not, but it seemed pretty good to him.

Of course he wasn’t sure Snape would go along with him, but he also couldn’t think of a reason he wouldn’t. But how would he explain it to the man without letting Fudge know. He blinked. Snape had said he was a natural Legimens, whatever that was. He wasn’t mad when Harry spoke to his mind, so maybe he wouldn’t be now?

Hesitantly, Harry reached across the small space between their chairs and touched Snape’s wrist. Instantly, he could feel the connection between the two of them. It wove through the walls and shields the double agent had erected around his mind. It made Harry smile, to know that he could reach the man in a way no one else could. Temporarily putting aside his happy thoughts, he quickly fed his plan through the link.

When he withdrew, it was to find two pairs of eyes studying him thoughtfully. Harry blushed, and could not suppress a small smile. He knew magic wasn’t evil. He did, really. It was just so nice to be able to do it when he wanted to, without sending someone into a howling rage.

“Cornelius,” Snape’s voice brought him out of his inner musings. “If Harry were to meet all of the aforementioned requirements, there is nothing else needed for his account of the evening he alleges that the Dark Lord returned last June to be considered officially given to you, as Minister of Magic?”

Harry shot Snape a dark glare. He knew that man was a Slytherin, and could work circles around the minister, but he didn’t like that the way he worded his question made it seem as if Harry really had pulled a stunt at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. He sat back and pouted a bit when the man did seem fazed by his fierce expression. One of these days, he’d master that snarky Snape glare, and then they’d all cower in fear. Just watch.

The Minister cleared his throat. “Well, really, I’d have to have a witness, preferably an employee of the Ministry, but other than that, no.” His dark eyes flitted between the potions master and his new ward. “What exactly are you two planning?”

“Neil, honestly,” began Severus. “What makes you think we’re planning something?”

Minister Fudge just raised an eyebrow and gave his brother a look that asked ‘Do you really want me to answer that question?’

Severus pointedly ignored the look and plowed on. “Since Harry and I are already here, perhaps you should call in your secretary as a witness.” He pulled out his wand and handed it to Harry. “Removing memories is simple business. It just calls for concentration. Neil, I don’t suppose you have a Pensieve on hand do you?”

“I do.” He stood and retrieved a large stone bowl etched with runes from a cabinet in a corner. Setting it down on the desk he considered his brother. “You’re going to give me a statement, aren’t you?”

Severus moved to stand behind Harry. “Not me. Harry. Your witness?”

While the minister summoned Miss Etheridge from her desk outside the office, Severus turned his full attention onto his new ward.

“Well, Mr. Potter, this is not exactly how I imagined this visit to play out.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “But you do have a way of throwing people’s schedules out the window, don’t you?”

The child flushed. “Not intentionally sir, no.”

Severus huffed. “Of course not.” He carefully tilted the child’s chin up. “And I must say, child, for a Gryffindor, this certainly is a Slytherin mode of action. I’m impressed.”

Twice in one day. He’d impressed this man twice in one day. He felt like he was going to burst. Was this what it felt like to have a parent? He felt his eyes fill with tears and blinked them away. Soft fingers gently swiped at the few that had escaped his awkward hands.

“I don’t believe it.” Harry looked up to see amused eyes on him. “I spend five years telling you how you manage to do everything wrong, hoping for this very same reaction, when all I had to do was tell you when you did something right?” Severus rolled his eyes dramatically. “Goodness, are all you Gryffindors this complicated?”

Harry grinned, despite the tightness in his chest. “Yes,” he managed softly. “It’s a standard trait.”

Severus scoffed, and carefully nudged the boy’s chin. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked softly. At the boy’s steady nod, Snape easily slipped into professor mode. “Before withdrawing a memory from your mind, you must be able to focus completely on the memory you wish to extract. You must bring it to the forefront of your mind and will it to transfer to your wand.” He considered the nodding teen for a minute. “Ready?”

Harry didn’t answer. Instead he pressed Snape’s wand to his temple, like he’d seen Dumbledore do before, and concentrated on that horrible night last June, the one he still had nightmares about. Vaguely noticing that the minister and his assistant were now back in the room and seated, Harry slowly pulled the wand away from his temple. He watched, fascinated, as a thick string of glimmering blue tread came away with the wand, swinging lazily when it broke away. Carefully, he lowered it into the pensieve, and turned a triumphant grin to his professor.

“Well done, Harry,” the man intoned.

Harry beamed.