Unsaid

Chapter 1

Harry Potter wasn’t a normal boy.

And he knew because of a school assignment when he was seven. His teacher, Miss Rogers, handed all the students a pieces of paper with a simple tree drawn upon it. Harry examined the paper with interest, slowly reading the words written above the bare branches: mother, father, sister, brother…

“This is a family tree,” Miss Rogers announced and Harry quickly looked up. Miss Rogers wasn’t a very nice teacher. She always seemed to be sucking a lemon between her teeth and her eyes were sweep across the room, glaring at anyone who seemed to not be giving their full attention. “Fill out the names of your family members and answer the questions below. I will be grading you on your penmanship and spelling. Begin now and make sure to finish before the end of class.” She ended abruptly and began to sweep across the room, staring down any child who wasn’t avidly writing on their paper.

Harry looked down at his own assignment and quickly filled out a branch labeled Me. He looked hopelessly at the other remaining branches, not knowing what he should write. He knew he had a mother and father. He knew that they had died when he was a baby in a car crash, but he had no idea what their names were. He remembered asking his Aunt Petunia about them, but she would just yell at him to stop bothering her. The Dursleys were always bothered whenever Harry asked questions.

Just as he was looking for more branches for his aunt and uncle, he felt a shadow come over him. “Potter, what are you doing?” The words felt sharp from Miss Rogers’ mouth and Harry tensed.

She never seemed to like him and always took every opportunity to criticize him. Harry knew it was probably because Dudley accused him of cheating on the second day of class. He had been looking at Dudley’s paper, but he wasn’t cheating. Miss Rogers didn’t seem to care and moved him to the front of the class. He had hoped, at first, that it would be better to be farther away from his cousin. But it only gave the teacher more chances to pick on him.

Harry chanced a glance up at his teacher and met her narrowed eyes. “I…uh…don’t know-”

“Did you not listen to my directions?” she snapped and Harry knew Dudley, if not the whole class was looking at him now.

“I-I did. But I don’t know…my parent’s names…” He bit his lip, knowing he sounded completely stupid.

Miss Rogers made a noise like she had spat air between her lips. “You don’t know? Well, then I suggest you ask them.” She rolled her eyes.

Harry felt like sinking into the floor. “I…um…live with my aunt and uncle.” He heard a short laugh behind him and he knew that was probably Dudley. He lowered his voice, hoping Miss Rogers would understand. “They...uh…don’t really like…talking about them.”

His teacher’s eyes were so narrowed that he wondered how she could see him. “Well, I suggest you ask them politely and do not stutter or stumble with your words. You will complete this by Monday.” She turned abruptly and leaned over another student’s desk.

Harry thought it was rather odd that she did not reprimand him more, in fact, she gave him two more days to work on it. Normally, she would have made him stand in front of the class or do something else humiliating. He looked at his empty paper feeling better about it already.

-

Harry knew better than to talk to his aunt or uncle that afternoon after he and Dudley walked to the Dursley house. Well, it wasn’t much of a walk as Dudley chased him the entire way back. Aunt Petunia was furious to find Harry rushing inside, forgetting to take off his shoes at the front door. She ordered him to his cupboard until dinner. He sat in the dark space, listening as Dudley said that Harry was reprimanded again in class. He was expecting the sharp knock on his door and her voice yelling that he would not get any dinner tonight.

He scooted away from the door then and pulled out his homework, wondering if she would be in a better mood tomorrow. Harry knew better than to ask Uncle Vernon. At least Aunt Petunia didn’t act like she was angry at him all the time. In fact, last week she was almost pleasant when he helped her clean the kitchen. He was much better at crawling along to floor to wash under the counters and along every corner. Because the chore was finished early, she let him play outside by himself. It was made even better because Dudley was at a friend’s house.

Harry traced the branches of the family tree. Saturday always meant chores, which he never looked forward to. But if he was good enough, Aunt Petunia would at least tell him his parent’s names and maybe some other things. He looked down at the questions: How big is my family? What do my parent’s look like? Do I look like them? What fun things does my family do together?

Harry didn’t know how to answer the questions. Should he say that his family had three people? Even though his parents were dead? Or should he include his aunt, uncle, and cousin? Harry didn’t want to do that, especially since he wouldn’t be able to answer the last question with the Dursleys. He knew they had fun together a lot, but it never included him. Or worse, it was because he was somehow miserable.

But what Harry really wanted to know was the answer to the second question. He had never seen a picture of his parents and certainly they have never been described to him. He knew that his Aunt Petunia was his mother’s sister, perhaps they looked alike.

Harry really didn’t want to imagine his mother looking like his aunt. Mostly because he didn’t find Aunt Petunia to be very pretty. She was thin with a long neck and was always frowning or making horrible simpering faces to Dudley as she coddled him. Harry wished his mother would have black hair, like him, and she would be as pretty as Mrs. Carlson, another teacher he had seen walking around the school. Mrs. Carlson was very nice to Harry. On the first day of school, she spotted him lost in the hallway and led him to class. She even excused him in front of the teacher.

Harry lay in his bed that night trying to strain his memory to see if he could remember what his mother looked like. He fell asleep before he could.

-

The next morning brought bright prospects. Aunt Petunia woke Harry up early so he could help her with breakfast. She seemed to be in a good mood, because she taught him how to cook bacon on the stove. He burned a couple pieces, but she didn’t seem to mind too much and let him eat them.

Awakened by the smell of bacon, Uncle Vernon and Dudley came bumbling downstairs and quickly devoured the bacon and toast that was laid out. Harry kept an eye on his aunt, so that when she stood up, he quickly volunteered to wash the dishes. He usually had to wash the dishes, but he knew she liked it when he asked first.

By the time he had finished, Uncle Vernon and Dudley had left, leaving his aunt to sip tea while looking at the neighbors out the kitchen window. “Aunt Petunia?” He asked softly, folding the dirty dish rag, “Can I ask you something?”

She quickly looked at him, more than a little suspicious. Harry never asked them anything, if he could manage. He waited for some sort of response, but she merely continued to stare down her nose at him.

“I have an assignment for school and I was wondering if you could help me?” She might be more willing if she knew it was for school.

“Can’t you do your homework by yourself?” She snapped and turned her head back to the window. Harry didn’t bring up that she was always helping Dudley do his homework every night.

“The teacher said I should ask you about it,” he said. His aunt frowned, but looked away from the window

“Fine, where is it?”

Harry was deeply relieved, Aunt Petunia didn’t look happy, but she was willing at least. He quickly ran to his cupboard and found the paper. He noticed in the hallway that Uncle Vernon and Dudley were watching morning cartoons. He was glad that they were distracted. Homework assignment or not, his uncle would just get angry and lock Harry in his cupboard for even asking about his parents.

He quietly handed the paper to his aunt, whose face became very pinched while reading it. “I just don’t know…their names,” Harry murmured softly. “My teacher said to ask you,” he said again.

Her eyes flickered to the other room and he worried that she would call out to his uncle. She was silent for a very long time, and Harry was too afraid to say anything. She sighed briskly. “Lily,” she spat the name like it was disgusting, “I don’t know his name.” She quickly handed the paper back to Harry. “Now go put that back, I don’t want to see it anymore.” She abruptly stood up and went to the sink to rinse out her cup.

Harry held the paper very closely, unsure if he was really this lucky. Lily, he had never known. And though he could tell that his aunt was now doing her best to ignore him, he had to ask. He just had to. “What did my mum look like?”

The cup crashed into the sink, she had dropped it. Uncle Vernon’s voice rose from the other room. “Petunia? What was that?” She was silent, glaring at Harry who suddenly realized that he shouldn’t have said anything. But his uncle was already walking into the kitchen, his face scowling as he looked at his wife. “Boy!” He turned to Harry. “What did you do?”

Harry didn’t answer but immediately fled to his cupboard. Not two minutes later, Vernon was banging on his door, yelling at him for asking inappropriate questions. It seemed to go on forever, but Harry was grateful to already be inside, so the shouting was muffled. He knew he wouldn’t be let out for the rest of the day, but that really didn’t matter. 

He dug under his bed until he found a pencil and carefully filled out his mother’s name, Lily Potter. He didn’t have his father’s name, but there seemed to be no way to get that. So he filled out, Mr. Potter, instead. It wasn’t complete, nor did he have any idea of how to answer the questions, but Harry propped it up against his wall. He knew he wouldn’t be able to turn it in, but lying in bed, he found he rather liked how it looked.

-

Her name was Lucy Jameson and she had moved from America during last summer. Everyone in Harry’s class was a bit frightened by her, as she was taller than the rest of them. She also spoke very loud and instantly gained many friends from the girls in the class. She had never really talked to Harry, but he suddenly found her sitting next to him during the lunch hour.

No one ever sat next to Harry during free times. It was widely known that Dudley and his friends loved to use Harry as their punching bag. But there was Lucy, pulling out her sandwich like she didn’t have a care in the world. “I don’t think Miss Rogers should have yelled at you this morning,” she said around ham and mustard. Harry shrugged, still not sure what to say. He had never really talked to anyone during lunch, let alone a girl.

“I didn’t turn in my homework,” he murmured.

Lucy sighed dramatically. “I know, but she still shouldn’t have yelled at you. I heard what you said last week to her.” She paused, her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “So…where are your parents?”

Harry stared at her, no one had asked him that, though he was fairly certain everyone knew he lived with his aunt and uncle, because Dudley often bragged about how pathetic Harry was at the Dursley’s. Lucy was staring intently at her sandwich, like she was afraid to look at him. “They…uh…died when I was a baby. A car crash,” he offered silently.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry frowned. “Why?”

She was looking at him again and chewing on the crust of her bread. “I dunno. Isn’t that what you say when someone dies?” Harry shrugged, but she just continued anyway. “My mom died when I was a baby too. My dad died just last year, my aunt and uncle don’t like to talk about it either.”

“Really?” Harry hadn’t met anyone who had the same family situation like him before. “You live with your aunt and uncle?”

She nodded, pulling off the rest of her crust and putting it back into her bag. “Yeah, that’s why I moved here last summer.”

Harry had the sudden impulse to ask her a lot of questions. Like if she lived in a cupboard, if she got any Christmas presents, if she got beat up by her cousins. “Do you live with any cousins?” he ended up asking.

“Sarah and John, twins.” She frowned. “They’re only two and really annoying. And I have to babysit them all the time.”

Harry smiled, he couldn’t imagine being older than Dudley and having to take care of him. He couldn’t remember when Petunia used to hand feed her son, but he knew it must have taken hours. But at least the babies couldn’t chase Lucy all the time.

“Yuck, oatmeal cookies.” She pulled out the offending objects. “Do you want them?” Harry gladly took the snack. He had always made his own lunch, but only after Dudley’s was prepared. It meant no sweet of any kind was left over.

“Why did you pack them?” He asked.

Lucy gave him an odd look. “My aunt did, she always packs my lunch. I told her I don’t like oatmeal, but she forgets.” She frowned at Harry and he realized that I just asked one of those dangerous questions. He had done it before, in the first year of primary school with another boy who was trying to be friendly. Harry had come how blurted that he slept in a cupboard. The boy thought he was lying and they got into an argument. “Do you make your own lunch? Why doesn’t your aunt?”

Harry quickly looked away, no longer hungry. “I like making my own lunch.”

Lucy shrugged. “Okay. Do you want to come over to my house after school?”

Harry was shocked; no one had ever asked him if he could play with them. “Why?” he blurted.

The girl seemed fairly surprised. “I dunno. Why not?”

Well, there was Dudley, he tended to beat up anyone who got close to Harry. Of course, a girl had never approached him before, so Lucy may be safe anyway. He also wasn’t sure his aunt or uncle would like it. They never seemed to like Harry talking to anyone. “My aunt probably wouldn’t let me.”

Lucy frowned. “Well, ask her then.” She pulled out a scrap of paper and quickly wrote something down. “Here’s my address. Go home and ask your aunt if you can play. Then come over.”

Harry dissected her messy handwriting. It was only a street away from school. The lunch bell was ringing Lucy was gathering her stuff. “Why?” He asked again.

She shrugged. “Cause you’re nice and there is this tree in my backyard that I like to climb, but no other girls want to climb it with me. See ya!” She waved quickly, leaving Harry alone again.

Unsaid

Chapter 2

It was an alarm.

Severus Snape stared at the phoenix feather that had just appeared on his desk. He hadn't seen one in almost seven years, but it's hard to forget the bright, fiery luster of the smooth feather. In moments though, it flashed into a pile of dust and Severus knew he should answer it quickly.

He took a moment to set the papers he was grading aside. He wiped away a pool of ink that formed from keeping the quill too still. He had been surprised at the abrupt presence of the feather. After a brief, fruitless effort, Severus gave up. That paragraph was rubbish anyway, even for a first year.

Making sure his wand was secured in his robes, Severus quickly stepped to the fire and flooed to Albus Dumbledore's office.

The headmaster was writing when he stepped through the flames. Dumbledore looked up and nodded. "Good, Severus, you're here. I need you to do something important for me."

"Is it an emergency?" Severus had not seen the phoenix feather since the war had ended. It was the quickest way for Dumbledore to alert a member of the Order of the Phoenix of something that required immediate action. With the Dark Lord long defeated and many Death Eaters in Azkaban, or forced into hiding, there was little cause for alarm for many years.

The headmaster seemed to read his mind. "Yes, though I don't know all the details of the case. This could just be a harmless scare."

"Well, what is it?" he drawled, wondering if the old man was simply pulling his leg.

"Harry Potter is missing."

Severus couldn't hide his shocked expression. "What?"

Dumbledore sighed patiently. "Harry Potter is missing. However, I don't know if he is in any danger. I do feel it is important enough that I should send someone to find him and bring him back to his aunt's home."

"How do you know this?" He knew Dumbledore has taken precautions over the boy, but he didn't think he had gone as far as to place tracking charms on him.

The headmaster folded his hands. "I have methods of knowing when he is home and when he is not. Naturally, he is out of the house as much as any normal boy, but I believe it has been quite some time now."

"How long?"

"About thirty hours. I would have been more attentive earlier, but I knew his guardians have not contacted the police. So I thought it was nothing to be concerned about. A contact nearby, Arabella Fig, did visit their home just a few hours ago and it has only just now reached me that they are unaware of his whereabouts." He handed over a carefully folded parchment and Severus scanned the words, a few jumping out at him: weren't pleased to talk to me…unsure when exactly he left…not very cooperative…unwilling to mention details…perhaps caused by an argument…consider sending someone to search for him.

"He ran away," Severus deducted.

"So it would seem."

Dumbledore was staring at him intently and though Severus had planned the evening for grading papers, he knew the headmaster had other ideas. "You are sure we should interfere?" He knew the answer, but he reallydidn't want to go running around all night, searching for a brat who decided to run away from home.

"There is a small possibility that he could be in real danger. But in any case, he is still a child that has been alone for over a day. Considering his guardians do not know where he is, it is doubtful he is at a friend's house."

"I seriously doubt Harry Potter would be roaming the streets for thirty hours." Severus couldn't imagine the Boy-Who-Lived would want to rough it out on the streets instead of being coddled by his relations or at least one of his many adoring fans.

Dumbledore held up his hand, as if to stop Severus' train of thought. "Whatever the case is, I would appreciate you going out tonight and returning him back to his aunt and uncle."

"I have plans for the evening," he quickly said, hoping to nip this in the bud. "Perhaps you should send someone who does not have lessons tomorrow morning. Surely this-" He glanced down at the letter, still in his hand. "-Arabella Figg would search him out herself."

The headmaster was staring deeply at him. "Arabella is searching for him, but she is only one woman and a squib of limited resources. And," he noted emphatically when Severus attempted to open his mouth, "if Harry unfortunately is in some kind of danger, it would be best to have someone I trust to be there and take care of the matter discreetly."

"Discreetly? Don't want the Prophet finding out where you have hidden the precious Golden Boy?"

"Severus, please." The headmaster sighed. Severus had not noticed that his voice had been rising. He really had no reason to be trying to defy Dumbledore. But he really, truly, did not want to meet Harry Potter tonight. Or any night for the next blessed years until the boy had to come to the school. "I only meant that Harry has been living with his muggle relations. Though he may have heard of magic, it is probably very limited. Naturally, his exposure to it is non-existent. I only ask that if you do decide it is imperative that you perform magic, do it discreetly so as not to alarm him."

Severus frowned. "I have not assented to this mission."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Do not think of it as a mission, but a favor. I am worried for his well-being and it would be greatly comforted to know Harry is back in his own bed tonight. Please, Severus, for a friend?"

He hated the manipulative old headmaster with such viciousness at times like this. He did not care a whit that Dumbledore was concerned for the boy, but the man had done a great many favors for Severus and to deny him would be… indecorous. He still maintained a long silence before finally giving in. "Where does he live?"

-

Severus Snape stared at the house of Harry Potter. The address and other information were folded into the pocket of his muggle jacket, which was transfigured from his robes. Dumbledore had told him that Harry Potter's aunt and uncle were not very open to strangers, so perhaps it would be best not to question them as Mrs. Figg had tried.

Severus knew he should go to the squib's house, but he was purposefully dragging his feet. He had even walked to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds to apparate instead of flooing directly to Mrs. Figgs fireplace. There was no point in him trying to memorize the look of the street or house. It was identical to any house or street surrounding it, a typical satellite town in the London commuter belt. Knowing there was little else to make excuses over, he made the short walk to Arabella Figg's home.

The woman was of a meek appearance, and she sighed dramatically when he came to the door. "Thank goodness! It's about time someone came. We need to make a plan!" She quickly ushered him in. It was a cramped space and smelled equal parts of cabbage and cats, one of which immediately tried to rub against Severus' leg the moment he walked in. Unappreciative, he kicked the feline away, leaving it hissing in the corner. The woman was still talking. "Now, I've asked some neighbors, but no one seems to have a clue as to where he has gone to, if they know he is missing at all. Sometimes I just don't understand those Dursleys. Got into a great fit when I was asking them about him. Thought I was being far too nosey, for Pete's sake!"

Severus ignored her for the most part and found the perfect spot in the room farthest away from any furniture. There were far too many cats around and a disturbing amount of cat fur layered on every surface.

"Are you even listening?" she snapped.

"No," he answered automatically, leaving her gaping at him. "Now, where have you searched? I want to do this as quickly and as efficiently as possible."

She scowled at him. "I've checked the neighborhood, of course. I figured I would head west to some playgrounds I've seen them walk to. You can head east, to his school. It's not far, just a few blocks. But I really just don't know-"

"That is fine. I will signal to you if I have found him. Otherwise, I will meet you back here in one hour." Glad to get that over with, he quickly walked to the door, shoving aside another cat. He paused, just before leaving. "Try to look for other clues of his presence and report them to me if we are both unsuccessful."

He left and stalked quickly across the pavement. He didn't really care what Mrs. Figg did. He was going to find the damned boy, return him home, and be back in his office before midnight. Though the night wasn't doing either of them any favor, Severus could at least use his wand. A simple searching spell would be greatly needed, though only truly effective when the person missing is nearby. His wand would heat up in his hand the nearer he came.

The streets of Little Whinging were quiet as Severus walked to Potter's primary school. The searching spell was still unresponsive as he approached the building. Not that he thought the boy would take refuge at the school. There was a shoe lying on the sidewalk, but Severus deemed it too large to be any student's at the school.

Just as he was passing a street near the school, his wand flared briefly in his pocket. Briskly walking down the lane, he felt it giving more flickers of heat. It wasn't enough that the boy might be in sight, but he was heading in the right direction.

Turning a corner led Severus to a tree-filled park. His wand was steady now and he entered the area, trying to see into the shadows, made sharper by the few lampposts. His wand suddenly burned and he looked up to find a boy staring at him from under the next lamp. It only took a moment for Severus to recognize the boy as Harry Potter. Though very unkempt, he was bathed in enough light that the scar on his forehead stood out starkly.

Just as soon as he was seen, Potter immediately ran for the shadows. "Stop!" Severus shouted, but the boy was gone.

But, with his wand still heated, it didn't take long for the man to follow him between the trees. Even without the wand, the boy was obnoxiously loud and the sound of him scrambling up one of the larger trees was deafening. Severus stopped at the foot of the tree, trying to make out the boy's shape in the shadows. The lamppost was too far away to be of much use.

"Potter! Come down from that tree immediately. You are to be returned home, now!" He was already angry and he really didn't want to climb a tree after some insolent brat. The boy didn't answer Severus and the man hissed through his teeth. "You can come down now or I can force you down. Trust me, you will not find it pleasant if I must forcibly return you to your aunt and uncle."

A brief silence, and then; "How d-do you know me? Did my uncle send you?"

His voice was soft and Severus had trouble hearing him. It only made him more irritated. "I was sent to return you. Now, come down. Now."

There was some shuffling in the branches and Severus noticed that the boy seemed to be climbing only higher. Gripping his wand in his pocket, he reminded himself that he had promised to not use magic unless necessary. However, he was quickly losing patience.

"You can… trust me, Potter. Do not give me trouble and climb down, so that I can return you." Even if the boy had already given him plenty of trouble this night.

"I can't trust you, I don't know you. Go away." The boy's words were still soft and almost inaudible.

Severus forced himself to count to ten. He would not jinx Harry Potter. He would not curse Harry Potter. He couldn't help but remember his old fantasy of never having anything to do with Potter until he was damned with his presence in school. He had imagined the scene so perfectly. He would scowl at the boy from the head table, to make sure Potter knew of his hatred. Then in class he would take every opportunity to show everyone the boy's many flaws.

He had not imagined to be coaxing the Boy-Who-Lived down from a tree like some spooked cat. "Look, Potter, I don't have all night. There are many important people who demand this task of me. Now, come down."

"Important people, like who?" He couldn't tell if the boy was being snarky or just dense.

"Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, for one. I would rather knock you from the tree and drag you home that return to him without completing his request."

"Who? Hogwarts? What are you talking about? Go away!" There was more shifting and Severus was surprised to see that the boy was getting a little closer.

"Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardly, you idiot. Can't you even remember the school your parents went to?" His urge to start shouting was only diminished by how the boy seemed to be coming closer.

"My parents? Did Dum…Dumblybore know my parents?"

Severus could see that the boy was only a branch away from being in grabbing distance. "Professor Dumbledore, and of course he knew your parents. I knew your parents. But this is all irrelevant. Are you coming down?"

Potter seems to be eyeing Severus. He was sizing up the man and staying just out of reach. Even in the sparse light, the man could see his hands were white, clutching the branches. "You knew my parents?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Did I not just say so?" he spat.

The boy seemed unaffected by his tone. "Really? What where they like? Did my mom have black hair? What is my dad's name? Where they tall? Was-?"

"Stop asking such idiotic questions. I do not have the time to chit-chat when you should have been home yesterday."

Potter looked to be weighing something over in his mind. "If I come with you, will you answer my questions?"

Severus glared at him. "You must not give me any more trouble."

The boy took that as an assent and quickly scrambled down the rest of the branches. Taking the opportunity while he was distracted, Severus sent a quick signal to Mrs. Figg. Once Potter was securely on the ground, Severus took a sharp hold of his elbow and began to take long strides out of the park.

"Ow, that hurts!" the boy complained, but Severus really couldn't care less. He was well on his way back to being back in the privacy of his study, vehemently slashing through first year potion's essays. "I thought you were going to answer my questions!"

"You can obviously still talk, can't you? But if you say anything as obtuse as before, I will not hesitate to gag you. Will you stop lagging?" Potter seemed to be intentionally dragging his feet on the pavement. He then noticed that the boy seemed to be missing a shoe and limping on the bare foot. "Where are you shoes? Are you always so careless?"

Potter was taken aback. "Oh, my cousin was chasing me and it fell off."

In the light of a lamp, Severus could see the tiny ankle was noticeably swollen and had a yellowish bruise. "Did you sprain it?"

"Umm, I don't know." He seemed a bit uncomfortable as Severs knelt down to poke at it. "It doesn't hurt too much," he said defiantly, but it was undermined by his flinches at Severus' careful prodding.

The man sighed deeply, feeling like his night was steadily growing in length. Still kneeling, he turned around. "Get on, you can't walk on that." He felt sickened by the idea of having a Potter ride on his back, but it was even more repulsive to carrying him in his arms. Of course, this would all be solved if he would just levitate the boy. But he had a feeling Dumbledore would flay him.

"Umm, it's alright. Really." But the boy wasn't even standing on that foot and Severus' patience was wearing ever thinner.

"Get on, now." His tone seemed to do the trick and the boy scrambled on. It was awkward and uncomfortable, as Severus had never held a child on his back before. It was only made worse by how Potter was also perfectly inept. "Give your legs, you idiot!"

At least the boy was light. Despite being almost eight years, he weighed of a child much younger. Severus began making purposeful steps back to Privet Drive. It was certainly the best progress all evening.

"Can you tell me about my parents?" The voice was soft and after such a silence, Severus was startled to hear it.

"Why?" he snapped. He had no idea why Potter was so stuck on that topic, seemed perfectly ridiculous at such a time.

"Cause my aunt and uncle don't like to talk about them." He said it in such a rush that Severus barely comprehended it before his next words. "What's my dad's name?"

"What? How could you not know your own father's name?" Severus severity was cut slightly since he could not turn his head enough to look at the boy.

"I told you, my aunt and uncle don't talk about them. I asked, but my aunt said she didn't know and got angry." He scoffed, as if he was the one being so deeply troubled tonight. "D'you know it or not?"

Severus rolled his eyes, but it was completely useless on Potter. "James. James Potter. Anymore questions to showcase your lacking intelligence?"

The boy was also unaffected by the question. "Really? James? Well, that's a nice name, I guess. Lily's better though. It's prettier. Was my mum pretty?"

The small hands were digging uncomfortably into Severus' jacket. He tried to shrug his shoulders, but the boy wouldn't move. "Why do you care? Loosen your hold. Are you trying to strangle me?"

The boy only gripped harder. "But was she pretty? Did you see her?"

"Of course I've seen her! And what does it matter if she was pretty? She had long red hair and fair skin and was slim. Now loosen your grip!"

The hands loosened, but only to wrap his arms around Severus' neck. At least it was a slack grip this time. "Red hair? Well, I suppose my dad had black hair then. I bet she was pretty, though."

Severus shifted his hands, his arms already aching. "You are completely daft." There was a brief, glorious silence and Severus saw the school coming into sight. Only a couple more blocks, thank Merlin.

"Did you know my mum? Was she nice?"

He made a noise akin to a growl low in his throat. "Lily had many friends and was a top student," he growled out.

"How about my dad? Was he popular?"

"I do not remember much of your father," he snapped, unwilling to progress that conversation.

He felt Potter resting his chin on his shoulder. Severus resisted the urge to shove him off, knowing it would only induce the boy to strangle the man's neck with his arms in response. "Do I look like my parents?" His voice was softer now.

"You…have you mother's eyes," Severus relented, hoping he was near the end of this torture. There was very little blood left in his arms and he could only just make out the sign for Privet Drive.

"Really?"

Severus really didn't feel like humoring him any longer, but the boy seemed to have decided to drop asking any more questions. Complete silence reigned as Severus walked up the front steps to Number Four. Without a free hand, he kicked the door until he heard movement from inside, followed by cursing.

"What in the hell? Who is there? Stop trying to knock the door down!"

The door was wrenched open by a very large, purple-faced man. Severus could only just make out a thin woman behind him, before most of his vision was obscured by two beefy arms seizing the boy from his back. Potter was mostly unresponsive and Severus noted that he must have fallen asleep. Well, he was certainly awake now and being shaken by his uncle.

"You little freak! Go running off, did you! Just think you could escape after being such a pain in the arse, did you!"

"Sir," Severus interrupted loudly, having to be heard over the man's shouting. "I would like to ask you a few questions."

The uncle didn't seem to hear him, only shaking the boy harder until Potter managed to wriggle his way out of the grip and duck behind Severus. The man didn't know why the boy would go to him for safety, but it gave him the opportunity to speak with the enraged uncle.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dursley. But I was sent to retrieve Harry Potter, because it was noticed that he was missing. I would appreciate an explanation for what happened."

Dursley then decided to direct his anger at Severus, possibly because Potter was still cowering behind him. "You! Who are you!? Coming into my house in the middle of the night for god's sake! You give that boy to me! He has caused plenty of trouble, but this is intolerable!"

The uncle tried to lunge for the boy, but Severus automatically reached around to push Potter out of the way. He needed to keep the obviously short attention span of this obese man. "I am Professor Severus Snape. I was sent by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore." Between speaking and keeping the boy securely behind him, he managed to catch the eye of the woman behind Dursley, Petunia.

"Vernon!" she shrieked and the man, miraculously, stopped. She squeezed past him, the small entry way was hardly big enough for the man. In the shock of it all, she seized Potter from behind Severus. "He ran away. That is all. He is an unthankful brat that ran away. Now please leave. We want nothing more to do with you." She practically threw Harry to his uncle and tried to slam the door on Severus.

Not pleased with the inadequate explanation, he managed a foot in the door. It was only for a moment, but he saw the massive man hurling the boy into some sort of cupboard under the stairs. Even when Petunia managed to shut the door on him, it couldn't hide the great yelling of the uncle.

"No food for two months, you idiot freak!"

-

Severus walked slowly towards the Hogwarts castle, having just apparated from Privet Drive. He had to report to the headmaster, though he certainly wasn't looking forward to it. If he had felt fatigued earlier, he now felt ready to fall asleep on his feet. The brief conversation, if that grotesque man was even capable of 'conversation', had completely drained him. He did not want to go and talk with the headmaster, he only wanted to go back to the dungeons and take a rather potent sleeping potion.

His legs were against him as he found himself somehow climbing the staircase up to the headmaster's office. He must be entirely too exhausted, because he didn't remember even saying the password.

"Ah, Severus, back so soon? I trust everything went smoothly?" The old man had the gall to smile at him with that damned twinkle in his eye. He resisted the urge to glower at him.

"I am now convinced you are seriously delusional, Headmaster," he muttered, deadpanned.

Dumbledore frowned. "Severus? Were you able to find the boy?"

"Yes," he answered shortly.

The old man seemed to be waiting for more, but Severus wasn't feeling generous. Eventually Dumbledore gave out. "I trust you returned him home?"

"Yes."

The headmaster closed his eyes, like he was speaking to a petulant child. Severus found he really didn't mind acting a little immature at the moment. "Was he safe?"

Severus rolled his eyes and snorted, but he didn't answer right away.

"You're being very trying tonight, Severus," Dumbledore stated.

The younger man glared opening. "I'm being trying? What else do you want from me?! I found the blasted Harry Potter! Cowering up a tree like some mangy cat, absolutely refused to come down until I mentioned his parents. His parents!" He started pacing, suddenly having to burn excessive energy. "Practically emaciated! Skinniest runt I've ever seen, wearing absolutely filthy oversize clothes. And he would not shut up about his damned parents. Had a sprained ankle, apparently from his cousin. But then I got him home. Great Merlin! His uncle is the fattest man I have ever seen! He immediately tore the boy from me and started to shake him. Violently! I have no idea what was going through their heads. They were absolutely furious. Like Harry bloody Potter had committed some obscene crime of returning home to them! The gall of them was unreal. They practically shoved me out the door. But I saw that fat man cramming Potter into some cupboard under the stairs, raving that the boy wouldn't be fed for two months! What in the seven hells, Headmaster, is going on in that house?!"

Severus knew he was ranting like a banshee and by the end of his tirade, he was breathing hard. It hadn't really hit him while he was with Potter, or even while he was walking back to the headmaster. But truly the most disturbing part of the night was how completely and utterly wrong it was from Severus' idle imaginings of the boy's life. This was the blessed golden son of Lily and James Potter, the boy who destroyed the Dark Lord and was revered around the world. That boy in the tree, that boy being manhandled by his uncle, was not Harry Potter.

Dumbledore waited patiently as Severus fumed. The younger man was eternally grateful, for if the headmaster spoke too soon, he would simply start screaming his thoughts again. After he finally got his breathing under control, he met the other man's calm eyes.

"Severus, what do you think needs to be done?"

"What?" He was ashamed at how soft and tired his voice suddenly sounded.

Dumbledore leaned forward, lacing his fingers. "You would not bring these concerns before me, unless you thought something must be done about the situation."

Severus stopped, trying to collect his scattered, exhausted thoughts. "He should be removed from his aunt and uncle." It was the first thing that he could form into words.

The headmaster raised his eyebrows. "Really? What is your basis?"

He looked at Dumbledore, disbelieving. "Did you just grow deaf?" He seemed to be running out of breath again.

The headmaster sighed. "I understand your concerns, and I comprehend your worries."

Severus scoffed. "I am not concerned or worried for Harry Potter."

Dumbledore continued to speak, as though he didn't hear. "But your view may be slightly clouded. That home is the safest place in the world for Harry Potter. It will take considerable evidence for me to remove him."

Severus forced himself to calm down. "I know what I saw, it wasn't… healthy."

"And I will take it into consideration. In the meantime, I would advise you to gather more evidence. You have seen only a small moment in Harry's life. Perhaps it isn't all as it seems."

Severus could feel his lips forming a taunt line. "No, I refuse to move any further into Harry Potter's life. In fact, I would like to forget completely about it and go to bed." He even started to turn around when Dumbledore's impatient voice stopped him.

"Do not mistake me for being unconcerned. I am merely trying to digest what is best for Harry. Both you and I know that Lord Voldemort, for all appearances, has been defeated. But we both know that such a mysterious death can't be all it seems. Harry needs to be given the best protection, but he also needs to be cared for. What you have suggested, certainly sounds less than care, but we must be cautious."

He paused, as if waiting for Severus to come back into the conversation. But the younger man didn't quite feel capable at the moment. Eventually he managed. "Are you suggesting something?"

Dumbledore leaned back, stroking his long beard thoughtfully. "What seems the best course, is to communicate with Harry, something which I have neglected these many years. A letter, perhaps."

"So you plan to write him a letter?" It sounded like a dubious course of action.

The headmaster had a dangerous twinkle in his eye. "No, you will."

Severus repeated the words several times, making sure he had heard correctly. "Why would you suggest such a ludicrous thing?" He eventually managed.

Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Not so ludicrous. By far more ludicrous for me to send young Harry a letter. He has little to no knowledge of me. But you, Severus, he has met. And from what I could gather earlier, he might have an interest in you. Perhaps he's willing to confide in you."

"I refuse," Severus stated bluntly.

The headmaster pretended to look surprised. "Really? You seemed so passionate before about the matter. I would draw the conclusion that you would be quite willing to dig to the bottom of this."

The young man sighed, closing his eyes against an oncoming headache. "I was not passionate. I am simply tired because I have been running around for several hours after a full day of classes." When Dumbledore didn't immediately speak, he continued: "I've have played your little game all night and I refuse to carry on."

"Surely you don't think this is a game?" Severus denied him an answer, only because he knew the headmaster would continue. "Severus, I would not toy with you."

"Of course you would. You have always enjoyed placing people as pawns on your master chessboard," he spat.

"Then trust me."

Severus stood his ground, but the headmaster seemed to refuse to speak more. The younger man certainly didn't want give him the pleasure of an answer. So instead, he left. He tried to slam the office door, but the damned thing seemed to have a charm on it. So he made due with stomping his feet like a child all the way down the spiral staircase.

Harry Potter lay quietly in the darkness of his cupboard. His ankle was throbbing and his head was hurting worse than ever. He knew that he was in more trouble than he had ever been before and that he probably wouldn't see daylight for at least a month.

He wondered about school. The Dursleys had taken him out as a punishment before, but never for more than a week. He wondered about food too, but he knew Aunt Petunia would give him some through his cupboard door… eventually. He hated being in trouble, he hated being in the cupboard. But somehow, he wasn't angry.

He was angry yesterday, or was it two days ago? He couldn't remember, because it felt like a year ago. He had come back to the Dursley's home, ready to ask his aunt if he could play with Lucy. But Aunt Petunia was out running errands and Uncle Vernon came back early. Well, his uncle just laughed in his face, as did Dudley, of course. And then Harry said it wasn't so weird that someone wanted to be his friend. Well, the laughter turned into an argument and Harry was in his cupboard.

He waited until after dinner, when they were all watching the television, before making his escape. He could sometimes do it, just press lightly on the door, and the latch would come undone. He had never tried it when the Dursleys were still awake. But the sounds from the television were loud enough to hide the sound of the front door opening.

It was great, at first. Harry had never run away from the Dursleys before. But it felt wonderful and the night was still warm. He ran all the way to Lucy's house, but they were already eating dinner. Harry thought about ringing the doorbell, but he could see them through their window. He just didn't like how Lucy sat at the table, recounting something with wild hand-gestures while her uncle listened carefully and her aunt tended to her cousins. It really bothered him how they looked at her and he didn't know why.

It began to turn into one long nightmare. Suddenly the night was cold and Harry didn't know where to go. The school seemed like a good option and he had huddled next to the building until sunrise. He'd figured he would just go to class and then go back to the Dursley's house. It would be like normal.

But then Dudley showed up on the playground and chased Harry off the school grounds. He suddenly didn't care anymore and just went to a nearby park. He always liked it, because there were a lot of trees to climb and Dudley was really bad at climbing trees. He had fallen on his ankle, because of Dudley, so it was harder to climb his favorite tree. But he spent most of the day hiding up there, ignoring everyone who passed.

By the time it got dark, Harry was thinking he was going to die. He was hungry and thirsty and very cold. He thought about returning to the Dursleys many times, but his head felt fuzzy and he wasn't sure what to do anymore. He didn't like the dark. It was so hard for him to see at night. So he abandoned his tree and went to the nearest lamppost.

Then he saw the strange, terrifying-looking man. But he hadn't been too bad, in the end. He had even carried Harry, which was nice. And even though he was dressed in black, he was so warm that Harry had dozed off.

But that man was gone and Harry couldn't even remember his name. It was weird, something like snake? Slivering Snake? That didn't make any sense, but some of the things the man said didn't make much sense either.

He knew Harry parent's though, and even in the darkness of his cupboard, he fumbled for the family tree and a pencil. Carefully, since he couldn't see very well, Harry wrote: James Potter. With something sticky he found in the corner, possibly old gum, Harry stuck the paper to the ceiling, right over his bed. Lying back down, he looked at the dim outline of the family tree and felt very pleased.

-

It felt like months before Aunt Petunia started giving Harry food again, and he cleaned the plate in record time. She was disgusted by his hunger, but otherwise left him alone. That was the one thing Harry liked about punishment, at least the Dursleys just ignored him. Dudley used to try and bother him, but he was far too large to fit in the small cupboard.

Harry spent the next few days sleeping or massaging his ankle. It hurt all the time, but at least he didn't have to walk on it. He had little to do, but he often found himself looking at his family tree and daydreaming about the dark man who brought him back to the Dursleys. He wondered how the man knew who he was or knew where to find him. He had never met him before and he was sure the Dursleys had never either. Though, Aunt Petunia seemed to understand what he was saying. Harry couldn't remember what the man said while he was trying to avoid his uncle's hands. It was nice that the strange man had helped Harry, even if Aunt Petunia had grabbed him anyway.

Harry wished he could remember the man's name. Then maybe he could look him up in the phonebook and ask him to take Harry away. Maybe he lived nearby and Harry could go over to his house to play. Maybe he even had a picture of Harry's parents.

He didn't have many toys in his cupboard, but he did have a few broken crayons. On his family tree he drew a picture of his mother, giving her bright red hair and lime green eyes. He didn't have black, so he gave his father silver hair with a pencil and tried to darken it with a brown. It just ended up looking like silvery brown. Since Harry couldn't remember asking what color his father's eyes were, he gave him green eyes too. He gave his parents nice big smiles.

Harry liked looking at his drawing. He wished he had a mirror, thinking that maybe he could imagine his mom or dad if he could look at his eyes. It made him sad, so he tried to remember anything about them. Sometimes, when he was concentrating for a long time, he could see a bright green flash. He wasn't sure what it was, but he supposed it must have been the car crash.

-

Harry thought it would be summer before the Dursleys let him out. When Aunt Petunia did little more than shove him out the door so he could walk to school, he was glad to know it was still spring. It must have been early, because the sky was still gray and he could hear Aunt Petunia just starting to make breakfast.

Harry felt happy just to be outside, even though he would be hungry all day at school. As he was going down the steps, he almost stepped on a letter poking out of the door mat. Harry thought this was very strange, since the postman knew to put letters through the slot. He picked it up and was ready to slide it through the door when he noticed the address. To Mister H. Potter.

He flipped it over, looking for the return address, but there was none, just a wax coat of arms. Something with a snake on it, but he really couldn't tell. Harry suddenly realized that he was staring at his letter on his aunt and uncle's doorstep. If they saw it, so soon after his punishment, they would probably take it from him. Shoving the letter in his pocket he ran to school.

He didn't stop until he was on the playground, which was completely empty. He hurriedly sat on a swing and took out his letter, just staring at it. He had never gotten a letter before in his life. He was almost afraid to open it, as if the contents would reveal it was some other H. Potter. He suddenly felt a little sick with worry and anticipation, but it could have been his stomach complaining from no breakfast.

He slowly opened the letter and pulled out the small piece of paper. It was very short:

To Mr. Potter, Number 4, Privet Drive

It has been requested of me to determine the exact conformation of your living arrangements in the house of your relations, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Please return a letter dictating your disposition of the present living arrangements (i.e. room, board, basic welfare). It would be only to you benefit to be hasty in your response.

Sincerely,

Professor Severus Snape

Potions Master

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

P.S. To return correspondence, simply leave it under your doormat, preferably with an edge visible.

Harry was very confused by the letter. Most of it involved words he didn't know, but he did recognize the name, Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With sudden joy, Harry grinned broadly. It was the man that found him in the park. It was the man that knew his parents. He even remembered him mentioning Hogwarts, but that sounded like a very silly school. Perhaps that was where magicians went to learn how to pull rabbits out of hats or make coins appear from behind your ear. He had no idea what a Potions Master would do, but he decided to think about later.

Kicking slightly, Harry let himself swing back and forth while reading the letter over and over again. For his first letter ever, it wasn't much, but Harry liked it anyway. Mostly because it was from Severus Snape, the man who knew his parents. He wanted to write back to him right away, but he would need a dictionary first.

Class seemed to drag on much longer than normal and Miss Rogers could tell that Harry wasn't paying attention. She made him read from the board almost every time, much to everyone's amusement. Harry knew he could read well enough, but even from the front row, the words on the board seemed to get jumbled together.

During lunch, when everyone went outside, Harry stayed in. Miss Rogers was not pleased, but even her glares and occasional remarks weren't enough to scare him away. Harry took the largest dictionary from the book shelf and went to his desk to read the letter. It still took the entire lunch hour before Harry was sure he understood everything about the letter. He wasn't sure why Professor Severus Snape wanted to know about Harry's life with the Dursleys. It was pretty lousy most of the time and not very interesting.

-

Severus Snape had just gotten an owl at breakfast, much to the interest of his associates. Most of them were trying to look over at him and Professor McGonagall, who sat next to him, was trying to read it over his shoulder. "Hmm? A letter? How unusual. Who is it from?"

"It is nothing of importance." He quickly folded up the envelope and put it in his robes. He glanced over to Dumbledore, who was drinking his pumpkin juice casually. But Severus could see the old man's eyes twinkling at him.

Suddenly not feeling very hungry, Severus excused himself from the head table and quickly made his way to the dungeons. He slid out the small letter, glancing at the return address. Harry Potter, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. He couldn't believe the boy had somehow written back to him. He hadn't told Dumbledore that he had finally decided to send a small note to Harry Potter, but he had no doubts that the headmaster knew.

It had really been just a spur of the moment decision. He had just been writing other, important, correspondences at his desk when he thought of what he would say to Potter in a letter. Then he wrote a letter. There was very little thought, though he did take care to instruct the owl to leave the letter under the front mat and return once another was put there.

Severus locked his office door behind him. He had plenty of time to sit down and contemplate the letter before morning classes. If there was anything of importance, he would bring it to the headmaster. If there was nothing, then he would simply burn it and continue as normal. He opened the letter, already grimacing at the terrible penmanship.

Dear Professor Severus Snape,

How are you? I hope you are doing god because Im god. Thank you for when you helpd me it was nise. Do you life close? I could com over and play if you life close. The Dursleys dont care much somtims if I go away. I have a famly tree in my cuborred. I put it abuv my bed. It is god becuse you gave me my dads name and what my mom looks like. I drew a pichur of her on it and I draw another one for you. Does it look like her? Do you know what my dad looks like? I hope he has blak hair because I drew him with blak hair. I used to have a frend called Lucy but now she doesnt like me becuse Dudley hit her. Can we be frends? My faforit color is green. What is your faforit color? Can I se you agan?

From,

Harry

The spelling was atrocious and Severus read it several times before he decided he understood what was written. There was next to nothing of what he requested in his initial letter, just the mindless ramblings of an eight year old. He looked at the bottom to a circle bearing red scratches and green dots. He supposed it was the 'pichur' of Lily, though it was shameful that such a scribble would be a representation of her.

He put the paper on his desk, rubbing his eyes and wondering how on earth he thought writing to Potter would yield any results. But it sat there and seemed to be looking right back at him. So glanced at it again, somehow feeling there was something off about it. He found it then: I have a famly tree in my cuborred. I put it abuv my bed.

A cupboard? He remembered when he was so rudely shut from the Dursley house, the uncle had been shoving the boy into a cupboard under the stairs. He had thought it was just a form of punishment. Could there be a bed in there? If that was true, this situation was seriously disturbing. It required further investigated, he decided.

Severus was halfway in his drawer, ready to grab another piece of parchment to write a letter. But just as he was putting the heading, he suddenly thought of receiving another illegible correspondence. He smirked to himself and pulled out another paper, heading Spelling Practice.

The weather was getting quite warm and Harry was glad to be outside more. Dudley was outside more too, which meant Harry must always be on his guard for him. But the tree in the backyard was enough to deter his cousin for now. So, after Dudley got bored of chasing Harry and went to go find his friends, Harry settled himself to read his newly arrived letter.

He was shocked when he first saw that his return letter had disappeared and every morning he had carefully checked under the front mat for another. He wasn't sure how the letters were coming and going. Just this morning he checked and there had been nothing. After checking he had gotten to the sidewalk, but he remembered forgetting his lunch on the table. Then there it was, as he walked back to the front door, though he knew he definitely hadn't seen it earlier.

To Mr. Potter, Number 4, Privet Drive

Upon pursuing the atrocity that was your last correspondence, I have concluded that you are in dire need of penmanship lessons. So I have included a short spelling assignment, which consists of all of the incorrect words from your previous letter. If you do not comply to complete that assignment with the highest standard, I will not be reading the reply.

It was still written with all those words Harry didn't know, but he thought he got the idea of it. Harry looked at another piece of paper in the envelope and the long list of words. He didn't think he misspelled all of those words and he could swear that he hadn't used some of them at all. He turned back to the letter.

I must advise you to observe all my requests as I list them. I am dumbfounded by your lack of understanding, which was apparent in your response. I specifically require that you record your activities with your relations and the manner in which they express their behavior towards you. If I have not made this as painfully clear as possible, then describe the place in which you reside in the home, and if the Dursleys meet your daily nutritional requirements. I will be most displeased if you are unable to comprehend such simple instructions.

He frowned. Was he asking for Harry to talk about his cupboard? Or if the Dursleys fed him? This was very strange.

Do not bother to ask me any more ridiculous questions. I do not have a residence nearby your neighborhood, nor in your country, at the moment. Do not go through the inconvenience of trying to befriend my acquaintance.

Sincerely,

Professor Severus Snape

Potions Master

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

-

Dear Professor Severus Snape,

I dont no why you want to no abot the Dursleys. They arnt rely nice. I sleep in the cupboard undr the stares. It is smal and has a loc on it. I dont like it wen they loc it but sometimes its ok. I get food evry day not when Im bad. Im punishd rite now because Dudley calld me a freak and I got mad. He hit me and uncl Vernon yelld at me for geting in fites. Uncl Vernon calls me freak to and I dont like it. Can you come back and see me again? Im outsid more because its warm. We culd play outsid then Dudley wont hit you then for being my friend.

Harry

Severus was standing outside the headmaster's office, wondering if he should really be doing this. Potter's last letter was troubling, to say the least, and he knew it
was time to show it to Dumbledore. He was not looking forward to the confrontation, as the old man would probably make him do something about it. And although Severus was willing to send formal letters to the boy, he definitely wasn't ready to do anything more personal.

But the door was opening, revealing the headmaster looking at him curiously. "Ah, Severus, I was wondering when you would enter. Thought perhaps the door was stuck." He grinned good-naturedly and stepped aside.

Severus entered the office, but cautiously. He wasn't ready to present this information. "I have something of importance that you should see." He looked down at the slightly crushed letters in his hand and, with sudden foreboding, he handed them to Dumbledore.

"Hmm? So you have been in contact with Harry."

"You know I have," Severus snapped. "Are you going to read them?"

Dumbledore waved at him calmly and sat down, carefully reading through the child's handwriting. Severus knew he should sit down, but he found himself resisting the urge to pace. He clutched the back of one of the chairs to steady himself. This was absurd.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

The headmaster took his time in replying, obviously rereading the letters over again. "This is…troubling," he finally intoned and Severus let out a sharp breath.

"Troubling? The boy is sleeping in a closet." He tried to keep his voice normal, but he knew Dumbledore could always see right through him.

"Most troubling then," he conceded and placed the letters carefully before him. "I am curious what you were replying to him with."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Dumbledore pretended to look nonchalant, but the younger man could see he was being toyed with. "Oh…just wondering. He seems awfully interested in you, especially in this first one."

Severus had forgotten that he included the first, entirely unhelpful, letter. "He is just a boy." It was the only thing he could think of.

"Indeed." He stared at Severus for a very long time and the other man felt more than uneasy from the gaze. "Well, I suppose some personal intervention is required." He stood up, folding the letters and placing them in his robes. He casually took out his timepiece, though Severus had no idea how he ever read the mysterious celestial markings. "Perhaps afternoon tea today with the Dursleys would be beneficial for everyone." He gave Severus a pointed look. "Don't you agree?"

Severus was frowning. "I support you in this endeavor. I, on the other hand, have classes to prepare for tomorrow. So if you will excuse me." He knew that leaving would only prompt the headmaster to call him back. He was not disappointed.

"Severus, you know I expect you to come with me."

He turned quickly. "Of course I do, but that doesn't mean I will bend to your every fancy. I have done enough dirty work for you in the past month. Now I must insist. Exams are approaching and there are plenty of first years waiting to explode my classroom any day now."

"You do realize the impracticality of my going alone. I may have the letters, but I was not the one to incite them." Severus refused to budge; he refused to be played by the headmaster. Both men stood at a standstill for several, silent moments, before Dumbledore finally broke it. "You have already come this far, Severus. It is not like you to give up on a task half-completed."

Severus really hated the old man at times.

-

Harry was dozing in his cupboard when someone knocked on the front door. He ignored it and tried to go back to sleep. It couldn't be ignored, though, when someone was knocking on his door. That shook Harry quite awake. Only Aunt Petunia would knock on his cupboard, and those were usually sharp knocks, followed by her orders for him to get out of bed.

This was a soft tap, and then; "Harry? Are you in there?"

Harry didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded like an old man's. He couldn't open the door; there was only a latch on the outside. The voice seemed to realize this and slowly opened the door.

"Ah, so you are. How are you today, Harry?"

A very old man with a very long beard and dressed in purple robes was looking into his cupboard. Harry was startled by his appearance and wondered if he was dreaming. No stranger had ever seen him in his cupboard; the Dursleys wouldn't allow it. Especially a man dressed in purple robes.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled. It was a very nice smile, Harry decided. "Oh, so rude of me. I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts. Sorry to disturb you, but would you mind joining us in the parlor? We have many things to talk about."

He moved out of the doorway as Harry stepped out, somewhat hesitantly. The old man was nice, but kind of scary. His name did sound a little familiar though. When Harry stepped into the hallway, he instantly smiled. "Snape!" he greeted excitedly.

The other man looked a little caught off-guard. "Professor," he quickly corrected.

Harry paused. "Professor," he repeated, suddenly feeling awkward. He had written the man letters, but he guessed that didn't make them friends yet. And Snape was also wearing black robes, which looked very strange on him. Dumbledore was still smiling at Harry and placed a hand on his back, steering him into the living room.

Aunt Petunia was there, her lips so tight that it looked like she might burst. Harry was glad that Uncle Vernon was out with Dudley. He would probably be already screaming and trying to throw the two men out of the house. It would take more to make Aunt Petunia that angry.

Dumbledore sat down in one of the chairs and made himself comfortable. He motioned for his aunt to sit as well, but Aunt Petunia refused to budge. She was glaring at the old man so much that her eyes were slits and her lips were a hard line. "Come now, let's all have some tea and a nice chat, yes?" But everyone was standing, staring at him. Harry looked at his aunt, who was still unmoving. He was surprised she hadn't said anything, but she looked almost too scared to. 

Harry finally took a seat at the couch. It wasn't very often he got to sit on it, mostly because the Dursleys didn't like his company, but also because Dudley would always shove him off. Dumbledore smiled widely at him and Harry couldn't help but smile back. Even if he was wearing purple robes, he was nice.

It seemed to promote everyone else to move too, though Aunt Petunia looked as rigid sitting as she was standing. Snape sat down next to Harry, though he looked kind of annoyed about it.

"Tea?" Dumbledore repeated and suddenly he pulled out a stick from his robes and made a flicking motion. Harry thought he was going to fall out of his chair when an entire tea-set appeared, complete with biscuits and scones. Aunt Petunia gave a soft scream and went very white.

"Whoa," Harry breathed, leaning closer, wondering if it was real. He thought he heard Snape scoff next to him. "How did you do that?"

"Don't ask him such freakish things. And don't you dare tell him anything either!" Aunt Petunia finally seemed to have gotten her voice back and Harry leaned back, feeling like he was in trouble. Dumbledore handed him a biscuit though. It tasted real.

The old man looked to his aunt. "Now Petunia, let's be reasonable. Would you like a cup?"

She was pale and her lips were pressed so hard together, they were white too. Dumbledore sighed and merely passed a cup to Snape, who was glaring at it intensely. Harry nibbled on his snack, suddenly wishing he was back in his cupboard.

Dumbledore turned his attention back to Aunt Petunia. "Now, I mentioned briefly when you let us in-" She suddenly flushed, and Harry wondered if she had 'let them in' at all. "-that we have some things to discuss about Harry." He pulled out a few pieces of paper, holding them out to her.

"My letters!" Harry piped in automatically, he could see his handwriting.

Aunt Petunia turned her glare to him and didn't make any motion to take the letters from Dumbledore. He slowly retracted his hand. "Yes, well, my associate here, Professor Severus Snape, has been communicating with Harry. And some troubling issues have been revealed to us that we would like to talk about."

Harry looked at Snape, who was staring hard at his aunt. He had finished his tea, though. Aunt Petunia was still glaring at Harry, but her gaze suddenly shifted to Dumbledore. "He has been nothing but trouble, you know. I wouldn't believe anything in those letters. A compulsive liar! Gets in trouble at school all the time and never listens to Vernon and I." Her voice was shrill and Harry sunk in his seat as she stood up. "Unless you are going to take him off our hands, I would very much appreciate it if you would keep your nose out of our business!"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop her tirade. "Please, Petunia, we merely want to be sure you are taking care of him to the best of your abilities."

"Taking care of him! What do you think we have been doing for the past seven years?! He refuses to obey any rule and doesn't learn from any punishment. It is seeing people like you that will mess him up. I will not let you turn him into a freak like you!" Dumbledore was trying to interrupt, but Aunt Petunia seemed to be in hysterics and Harry wished more than ever that he was back in his cupboard. "If you are going to come barging in here, demanding that I listen to you, then just take the boy! We never wanted him! So take him and leave us alone!" The front door opened and his aunt suddenly ran to the entry. "Vernon," she gasped.

It didn't take a second before there was a great roar and both Dumbledore and Snape were on their feet. Harry slid to the floor, but was suddenly yanked up. He looked and saw that Snape had him by the elbow, though the professor was watching Uncle Vernon enter the room

"What is this!? Who are you? Get out of my house!"

Dumbledore gave a pointed look to Snape and suddenly Harry was being pulled out the back door. He turned and saw Snape close the door securely behind him. Harry sank down on the back stoop and pressed his hands on his stomach, he suddenly didn't feel good.

There was a lot of yelling, though muffled by the door. "Is Dumbledore going to be alright?" He asked, looking up at Snape, who was glaring at the door.

He seemed startle by the question. "Professor Dumbledore," he corrected. "He is more than capable of handling your relations." He seemed to be deciding something, but he eventually sat down on the stoop next to Harry. That was better. Harry didn't like Snape hovering over him like that.

They were silent for a while and Harry could hear the shouting dying down, although occasionally it would rise again. "Are… are you going to take me away?" he whispered, looking at his shoes. They were Dudley's old pair and very worn at the toes.

"Do you want us to?" Snape questioned back.

Harry swallowed thickly. "No, not really." He remembered his aunt screaming about how she never wanted him. His stomach hurt and he felt like crying. He didn't want to cry in front of Snape, though. "I mean, they aren't nice all the time. But they gave me a bed and they gave me food for seven years."

"Do they tell you that?"

Harry looked at Snape, but the man was staring across the yard. He wasn't glaring anymore. "Yeah, they do," he whispered. "But they took me in when no one else wanted me. They said that if they didn't take me, then I would be starving on the streets." When Snape turned to him, Harry quickly looked away. "I don't want to go on the streets." It was awful when he ran away a few weeks ago. It was so cold at night and very scary. His cupboard was small, but it was safe.

They were silent again and every time Harry heard his uncle shout, he wanted cry. Snape didn't even seem to be breathing next to him and Harry suddenly felt very lonely.

"I used to wish that someone would take me away. When I was really little, I used to wish for it every night." He held his knees close to his chest. "But then I thought that someone else might not like me either. I used to be really good with my aunt and uncle. I did all my chores when they asked. I never complained whenever Dudley got birthday presents or Christmas presents and I didn't. But they still didn't like me, so I stopped trying." He let out a shuddering breath across his knees. "I guess I am too much trouble now. My uncle is going to throw me out on the s-street."

He was crying now and felt very ashamed. He pressed his hands against his eyes, trying to stop, but it didn't help. He suddenly felt Snape prying his hands apart and a rough cloth being rubbed across his face. He looked at Snape, who was frowning, trying to rub his snot away with a handkerchief. But it wasn't the same glaring at before. Snape didn't look angry, just unhappy.

Harry found himself reaching out and burrowing his hands and face into dark robes of Snape's shoulder. His chest was hurting now, like it was bursting and he cried even harder. It seemed to last forever and then he felt Snape's hand resting on his shoulder. It felt large and warm and it made it all hurt less. Harry felt himself slowly stop into hiccups.

He heard the door open and he quickly looked up to see Dumbledore grinning down at him. "Ah, Harry, so sorry about all that." He knelt down and handed Harry a handkerchief. He took it, only because he wanted to hide his red face. "I've had a nice long chat with your aunt and uncle and we have arranged a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" That didn't sound like his aunt and uncle at all, but Dumbledore smiled widely and helped Harry to his feet.

The living room was empty when they came inside and Harry heard Snape follow behind him. "Where are the Dursleys?" The man asked.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "Oh, they have decided to take an early evening stroll around the block. We should be gone by the time they come back." Snape nodded with little expression.

Harry felt very exhausted. He suddenly just wanted to go to sleep. He was headed for his cupboard when Dumbledore gently led him up the stairs. Harry gave him a confused look, but didn't feel like correcting him. Harry had hardly ever gone upstairs, besides for when Aunt Petunia ordered him to have a bath.

But Dumbledore took him straight to Dudley's second bedroom. When he opened the door, Harry saw all of Dudley's broken toys lying about, but also his family tree and letters from Snape hanging just above the bed. "We all came to the conclusion that you are just a bit too big for your cupboard, Harry. So the Dursleys decided to give you your own bedroom." Harry doubted that, but Dumbledore was smiling at him. "I took the liberty of bringing your things up." He motioned to Harry's family tree and letters. He had hung up all of Snape's letters in his cupboard too.

"Thank you, Professor," he whispered, not quite sure if he should believe this. He walked to the bed, touching the sheets that seemed to have been freshly made. No, the Dursleys could never have done this, it must have been Dumbledore. He looked at the old man. "Can I really keep it?"

"Of course, Harry. No one will take it from you."

Harry looked at the paper on the wall, smiling. His own room, it did sound nice. He wanted to lie down on the bed, just to see if it was big enough to stretch out on. He had a window too. He suddenly turned to look at Dumbledore and Snape, who had been whispering to each other. "Are you leaving now?" He didn't want them to go and he walked back to them.

"Afraid we must," Dumbledore smiled sadly and Snape was frowning again. "Though I am sure Professor Snape will keep in contact with you." Harry looked to Snape, who was staring at the floor. "I know you must have many more things you would like to talk about and I'm sure he will be most willing to enlighten you. But for now, it is probably best you return to your afternoon nap. Your aunt and uncle will be back in time for dinner."

They both turned to leave and Harry found himself reaching out and grabbing Snape's sleeve. He let it go immediately, feeling embarrassed. "Are you coming back?" He didn't look up, now staring avidly at the floor. Dumbledore didn't answer, both of them waiting for Snape to speak.

"Perhaps." His voice was soft. Then, after a long hesitation, Harry felt a hand ghost the top of his hair. "Behave yourself."

And they both left.

Severus Snape was having a bad day. This morning, true to his word, a first year managed to blow up her cauldron. He had to cancel afternoon classes and clean up the acidic sludge that built up on every surface. He couldn't even make the student do it for detention; the girl had suffered severe burns and was still in the hospital wing.

He knew, deep down, that he couldn't blame her really. The silly Hufflepuffs needed to always be taken by the hand. Which he usually did, even if it was the form of an iron fist. But he had been entirely too distracted to notice the dangerous concoction that was brewing right under his nose.

Yes, he took on the task of painstakingly cleaning the dungeons with relish because Severus Snape was entirely too distracted.

But it was little use. Retiring in his private quarters, he couldn't even have a glass of firewhisky. He needed to take another sleeping potion tonight and he wasn't about to put himself into a coma. Though it was tempting.

Severus massaged his developing headache and sank low in his chair. He should really be grading papers or trying to figure out how to make up the lost classes. But he couldn't, because every time he had a moment to breathe, he was thinking of that damned boy.

Harry bloody Potter, Boy-Who-Lived indeed. That was not some savior of the world on that back stoop. That was a child crying with his mother's eyes, crying because the relatives that mistreat him, neglect him and evenabuse him just might not want him. Severus didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't the insecurity, that childish, irrational need to be wanted.

But what was Severus expecting? Harry Potter was seven years old and probably thought he deserved to live in a cupboard. He was seven, not seventeen, not twenty seven, not old enough to see that most of the wizarding world would die to call him their son.

Severus looked into the fireplace, realizing that he had been daydreaming again. It was pathetic really. And he entirely blamed Dumbledore. For everything. That old man only lived to torment him, and take great pleasure in it all. Oh yes, Severus remembered what he said while Harry had been gawking at his new room, if it could even be called that, completely overrun with junk as it was.

"Should we really be letting him stay with the Dursleys, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at him with that mad twinkle in his eye. "Do you want to take him?" He had said, far too kindly.

Severus couldn't even answer, even now, if Dumbledore wanted to spring that on him again. But he did admit to having a horrible feeling leaving the boy with those revolting muggles. Dumbledore assured him that Harry could keep the room, but Harry didn't seem to believe it, and nor did Severus.

But what was the point of the room anyway? It would just become another place to lock him away. He had nothing in that cupboard, only that family tree and those silly letters. He owned nothing, no toys, not even clothes. For after seeing his cousin, it was obvious Harry's clothes were all hand-me-downs.

Dumbledore had also informed Severus that the boy knew next to nothing about the magical world. His relations, having such hatred for it, had told him his parent's died in a car crash. Severus groaned, cradling his head in his hands. He could almost imagine James being that idiotic for a car to kill him, but Lily? Never Lily. She was always too clever. She never deserved to die, but her son deserved to at least know how she died.

"Severus?"

It was the devil himself and Severus really didn't want to talk to him. "I am far too busy to chat, headmaster," he replied dully to the head bobbing in his fireplace.

Dumbledore merely chuckled and flooed through, wiping of the ash from his robes. "May I join you?"

Severus glowered at him. "I am sulking. What is there to join?"

"Ah, so you do admit it." He settled himself down in a chair across from him, making himself look far too comfortable. "There really is no reason to sulk. You were not the one trying to make reason with his relatives."

Oh, how quickly they got on the topic of Harry Potter. Severus sighed, feeling like he should somehow pity the headmaster. But in retrospect, dealing with irrational muggles seemed much more reasonable than trying to comfort a child who thinks he isn't loved by anyone in the world, and is entirely correct. It wasn't hard to think which one Severus would rather take over. "I have just come to the extraordinary conclusion that I would have been much better suited to taking on his oaf of an uncle. Next time we have tea with the Dursleys, you'll handle Harry."

"Harry?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter, whatever."

Dumbledore crossed his fingers, getting that contemplative look on his face. "Severus, have you written him another letter yet?"

"No, I have not written him a blasted letter. I saw him yesterday." Really, he was far too tired to be carrying on a conversation. "And what does it matter if I ever write him another letter. I surely wouldn't show it to you again."

"I'm not going to force you into visiting him again, I assure you. I merely ask because, as I informed you yesterday, he knows very little of our world, his world. Though I am sure he was plenty distracted yesterday, I know he will have many questions. He has heard about Hogwarts several times after all. He is sure to be curious." He paused, staring at the younger man carefully. "He will also need to know the truth about his parents."

Severus stared at him. "You can't expect me to write that in a letter."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm not holding you back from visiting him."

"Let me rephrase, you can't expect me to tell him that." Severus stood up and retrieved a headache cure from his stores. It immediately relieved the pain, but he could still feel the tension in his neck. Walking back to the hearth, he was disappointed to see Dumbledore still sitting there thoughtfully.

He sat down heavily, but the headmaster didn't look at him as he spoke. "Do you feel unworthy, Severus?"

"I don't feel unworthy, I am. I gave up all my worth at the age of seventeen in exchange for a curse burned on my arm." He hadn't talked about his Dark Mark for many years, yet it so easily slipped his tongue, it almost made him feel sick. Perhaps it was because of Dumbledore, whom he hated so violently, because the man knew absolutely everything of Severus' weaknesses. It was terrifying, having such a powerful wizard under his skin. And it was also terrifying, because Severus knew Dumbledore would always protect him.

He noticed that the headmaster had been silent to his statement, but when he looked at the old man, he could see pity there. He hated the pity, whether or not he deserved it. "Ah, I see now."

It was not quite the response he was expecting. "What are you talking about now?"

Dumbledore's eyes were smiling, not quite the inane twinkling, but the kind when he really wanted to smile, but he knew Severus wouldn't appreciate it very much. "You thought it all out, didn't you?" He wasn't disdainful, but Severus still felt like he was a child again. "You've known that Harry Potter would come to this school and that you would be forced to meet him, teach him. And you had a plan, a plan to make Harry hate you."

Severus scowled at him. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Dumbledore wasn't even listening. "Oh, my dear boy, you did indeed have it all planned out. You would probably glare at him, give him trouble in class, stalk him outside of class in order to put down any transgression. You would make him hate you and you would feel like you deserved it." He had been slowly grinning, figuring out the puzzle of Severus' life and putting the finer pieces together. But suddenly he frowned, the childish glee leaving him. "You knew that no matter how much he looked like James, he would still have Lily. And you wanted Lily to hate you. Why, Severus? I must ask."

The younger man stared into the fire like it was the most entertaining phenomenon in the world. "I think you know why." His voice had gone hoarse.

Dumbledore sighed. "I do know why, but I don't think you do."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because if you knew, if you truly understood the reasons that make you push away the people you love most, then you would realize the utter incomprehensibility of it all."

Severus looked at the headmaster, but Dumbledore had leaned back, his eyes closed. "That conclusion was obscurely convoluted. What are you expecting me to take from that?"

Dumbledore chuckled under his breath. "I'm expecting you to write a letter to Harry."

-

Harry Potter was having a bad day. He woke up with a headache from all his crying yesterday. Though he should consider it a blessing that the Dursleys were ignoring him, he found it annoying on the one occasion that he actually wanted to talk to them about what Professor Dumbledore said to them. As he recalled what happened yesterday, there were many things he wanted to know. Like how Dumbledore made that tea set, what Hogwarts was, and if he somehow cursed the Dursleys into giving him a room. Because of all this, he couldn't concentrate at all in school and was even sent to the hallway for being insolent.

It didn't help that Dudley was really angry at him for taking his second bedroom, and since Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were unaffected by his tantrums, he took it out on Harry. He had spent most of the day trying to avoid his cousin. He eventually just stayed in his room all afternoon, even though it was a nice day.

It was evening now and Harry felt the cool breeze from his open window. The Dursleys didn't invite him down to dinner anymore, nor did his aunt wake him in the morning. That was fine, though. His groggy uncle and cousin were enough to get him awake in time for breakfast.

He was just considering going to sleep when he heard a tap on the window. He sat up, wondering if it was raining. A very large owl stared back at him and Harry gave a soft scream and almost fell off his bed. He looked at the owl warily, wondering if it was going to come in or just go away.

The bird was looking at him and not moving from the windowsill. Harry then noticed it was holding its leg out awkwardly and there was something attached to it. He wondered if it was some sort of tag. Maybe it was someone's pet that got lost.

Harry approached the window slowly, not wanting to scare the owl. But the creature just stared patiently back at him and did not even flinch when Harry reached for its leg. It was a letter, not a tag and Harry could see his name on the front. He looked back to the owl, which did not move to fly away. Feeling daring, Harry reached out and carefully touched its head. The bird hooted softly and blinked its eyes. Harry smiled, he always wanted a pet. But the Dursleys knew Dudley would quickly get bored of any pet, and then leave his aunt to take care of it all the time.

After a few strokes, the owl nipped at his fingers gently then flew to the top of his dresser where it made itself comfortable. Harry, still smiling at it, went to sit on his bed and look at his letter.

To Harry Potter

If you have any needs, attach a reply to the owl.

Prof. S. Snape

It was very short and Harry was a little angry. He suddenly looked at the owl who was sitting at the top of his dresser, preening itself, and glared. It had little effect and it didn't make Harry feel any better. He liked Professor Snape. He didn't yell at Harry for crying and even put a hand on his shoulder. He liked that a lot, although he knew he should probably be embarrassed for acting like a baby. Harry just wished Snape's letters would be longer.

There was a soft knock on his door and Harry was surprised to find Aunt Petunia standing there with a small plate of food. She was frowning deeply and shoved the plate so quickly at Harry that some of his peas fell on the floor.

"You are to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day," she said in a high voice, like she was mocking someone. Harry didn't know how to reply, but she just sneered at him anyway. "On Tuesday we are visiting Aunt Marge for the Easter break. You tell…them that you will be away from home." She spat the words out and abruptly walked away.

Harry sighed and put his plate of food, already cold, on his bed. He had forgotten all about Easter break. The owl flew down from the dresser and pecked at the rest of his peas. He let it eat, not feeling very hungry. "You know Aunt Marge has these horrible dogs that growl and bite. She likes them when they chase me, because she thinks it will make me stop getting in trouble." The owl hooted softly, now looking at the floor for the remaining peas. Harry smiled as it walked awkwardly. "You are a much better pet. You came from Hogwarts, right? What is it like there? Do they pull rabbits out of hats? Or maybe they pull owls out of hats?"

The bird fluffed its feathers, almost resentfully and Harry giggled.

"I guess I shouldn't ask you, but I don't want to ask Snape. He never answers my questions." He frowned looking at the discarded letter. Despite his annoyance with it, he wanted to put it on the wall. He was sure there was some sellotape around in the room somewhere. He hadn't figured out how Dumbledore stuck them to the wall yet. They just stuck there.

Harry stood up very quickly, frightening the owl back to the dresser. He just had a brilliant idea. He wouldn't send a letter to Snape, he would send one to Dumbledore. The old man seemed very nice.

Harry found an old stationary set of Dudley's next to a bookcase of unread books and quickly went to work.

Dear Dumbly Dimplydor DumpldorDumbltor Headmaster of Hogwarts

Harry frowned, but continued writing anyway.

How are you? My ant sayd I shuld tell you that we ar going to ant Marge for Easter Holiday. I don't like ant Marge because her dogs bit me. Can I come to Hogwarts insted? Snape nevr writs much in his letters and use big words. Do you take rabbits out of hats?

Harry

Harry didn't know what Hogwarts would be like, but Snape had mentioned that his parents went there, hadn't he? In any case, it would better than a week of Aunt Marge's dogs. Harry folded it up, feeling a little bad for not writing to Snape. But maybe if Dumbledore replied back, he would apologize.

-

Severus Snape was walking into the Great Hall just as the owl post was coming in. He saw a familiar school owl fly over him, but instead of stopping at his usual place, it went to Dumbledore instead. Severus thought perhaps he had mistaken the owl. But it was still strange for the headmaster to receive the morning post. Most things sent to him were through more private means.

Severus settled himself down, but was disrupted by uproarious laughter from down the table. He looked and saw that Dumbledore was clutching the letter, nearly crying tears of mirth. McGonagall was looking at him warily, but also trying to sneak a look at the parchment he had received. But the headmaster abruptly stood up and walked to Severus. The younger man knew he should be on his guard.

"I have received a most interesting correspondence. Care to join me in my office after you're done eating?" He didn't wait for a reply, but placed the letter on Severus' plate and ambled off, chuckling to himself like a mad man.

Sprout was looking very interested in the letter, as was McGonagall, so Severus quickly stuffed it in his robes to look at later. Even without reading it, he could recognize the abysmal penmanship of Harry Potter.

Pretending like the porridge was the most delicious food he had ever eaten, he ignored the looks from the teachers around him. He was also distracted by the thought that Harry had written to Dumbledore instead of him. Not that he minded that the headmaster got a taste of the incomprehensibility of the boy's writing technique, but he wondered if he somehow acted inappropriately the last time he saw Harry.

Not that he minded too terribly much if the boy realized that Severus wasn't the friendliest of men. He just wished he knew what actions he took so that he would use them later, if necessary.

He didn't read the letter until he was almost to Dumbledore's office and nearly walked into a wall because of it. It was the most ridiculous letter of Harry's yet. The boy was obviously confused of his relationship with the headmaster and the professor. But the fact that Dumbledore gave the note to Severus was a very ominous sign.

When he found himself at the gargoyle, he knew he had to think of something to say to Dumbledore. The old man probably had in mind to bring the boy to Hogwarts for the holidays, but Severus had very little interest in that. The headmaster would undoubtedly make him take care of Harry. And Severus had a habit of using his precious free time for experimenting in the lab. He wasn't going to babysit a child. But Dumbledore would be expecting that and somehow guilt the younger man into giving into to his demands.

Severus suddenly smirked, or he could catch the oh-so-clever Albus Dumbledore off guard. Perhaps by willingly taking Harry for Easter, he could show the man how very incompatible they were. Severus would no doubt be snappish at the boy for being a disturbance, and thus have to give out punishment. Harry would be very bored in the dungeons and beg to just go home and never want to see Severus again. It would all be over in a matter of days, perhaps even hours if Severus had his way.

Then Dumbledore would never bother him again with Harry Potter and things would go back to the track it was meant to be.

-

Dear Harry Potter

After a deliberation with Professor Snape, we are glad to invite you to Hogwarts for the Easter Break. And I have a feeling that your aunt and uncle would be most accommodating if you were to only mention that you are staying with Mrs. Figg. They will know you are in the best of care. When they drop you off at her home, we will be there to escort you to Hogwarts.

Prof. Snape's vocabulary does indeed involve many large words. But do not fret, I myself will sometimes just nod and smile when I don't know what he is talking about. He doesn't notice, I promise.

I must confess that I have never tried to pull a rabbit out of a hat. I shall practice for you so that you can see it upon your arrival.

Sincerely

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

(though I am rather fond of Dimplydor)

Harry Potter packed all the clothes he had, and his family tree, in a backpack he found in Dudley's room. One of the straps was broken, but Harry could still hold it over one shoulder. He was more than excited, he was ecstatic. And so he couldn't sleep most of the night and woke before the sun came up to pack and repack. He thought of taking one of Dudley's untouched books, but he wasn't really good at reading and probably wouldn't like it anyway.

It seemed like hours before the Dursleys began moving and though they were still mostly ignoring Harry, he could tell they were in a good mood too. He guessed they liked the plan of him not staying the week with them, although Aunt Petunia looked awfully suspicious when Mrs. Figg casually came by and indirectly offered to take Harry for the week.

Harry had hidden on the staircase for the entire conversation and he could tell Aunt Petunia knew something was up. But he guessed the idea of not having to deal with him for a week was too good to pass up. Harry felt a little hurt by that, but he would rather not see Aunt Marge, or her dogs, until Christmas.

The small drive over to Mrs. Figg's house seemed to take forever. When Harry hopped out of the car, Uncle Vernon immediately drove away, leaving Harry standing on the curb. He was glad that he had been to Mrs. Figg's a couple times before, so he didn't feel too awkward going up to her door alone.

Her house smelled the same as always as she let him in and Harry had the sudden fear that he would be spending the week with her instead. He didn't think he could last more than a day going through her cat album. One of her cats rubbed his leg and he flinched. Most of them were pretty friendly, but he was always afraid that one of them was going to bite or scratch him.

"Well, dear, just sit down for a moment. Seems he's running a bit late." She smiled at him and Harry couldn't remember if she smiled at him before. She looked better smiling, because she was always scowling when around the Dursleys.

Harry sat on the couch, wondering how they were going to get to Hogwarts. He had no idea where it even was. If it was nearby, he probably would have heard of it, right? Maybe it was hidden underground. He hoped it wasn't underground; he didn't like the dark.

Mrs. Figg's fireplace suddenly exploded and Harry screamed, falling off the couch. Instead of the room catching fire, a man emerged from the fireplace. "Snape!" Harry gasped, standing to his feet. The man didn't look burned, however, and he was glaring at Harry.

"Professor." He walked past Harry to the kitchen where he talked to Mrs. Figg.

Harry looked back towards the fireplace warily. Was Snape really alright? Maybe his robes protected him. Snape reappeared in front of Harry, giving him a dubious look. "Do you have everything?"

Harry nodded, holding tightly to his backpack.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "We will not be coming back if you have forgotten anything. Are you sure?"

Harry nodded again. Snape's voice was kind of mean sounding.

"Okay, we are going to floo to Hogwarts."

"What's floo?" Harry immediately asked and it earned him a stern glare from Snape.

"It is traveling by fire. Now no more questions, we are running late." He approached the fire again and put some powder into it. The flames turned green. "Now step into the flames and say 'Hogwarts'. Loud and clear, understand?"

Harry looked at Snape. "Won't I get burnt?"

The man rolled his eyes and pushed Harry towards the fireplace. "No, now go. I have important matters to attend to."

Harry stood stiff, eyes locked with the strange green flames. "I really won't get burnt?"

"Did you not see me come through? Do I look injured? Now go."

Snape gave Harry another push, and he tentatively walked to the fire. He stuck one hand in and it was warm, but not hot. He quickly took his hand away, it gave him goosebumps. He looked at Snape, who was glaring at him. He didn't know why the man was being so mean right now. "Can you come with me?" He asked softly.

"Oh for Merlin's sake." He took Harry's hand and walked into the flames. It smelled like ash and Harry wanted to cough. He held onto Snape's hand very tightly. "Hogwarts!" And they were suddenly on a rollercoaster, except they had no seatbelts. Harry buried his face into Snape's sleeve, feeling very sick.

When they finally stopped, Harry didn't want to look up, he still felt sick. Snape was moving though and Harry was still attached to his arm. "Ah, good to see you again, Harry."

He looked up to Dumbledore's smiling face. They seemed to be in a very strange room. There were a desk and shelves and portraits, but also a whole lot of crazy looking objects that Harry had no idea what they were. "Hullo," he whispered, suddenly very unsure of himself.

Dumbledore nodded, still smiling to Snape, but the other man was glaring at him. Snape was also trying to get Harry to let go of his arm, but Harry wasn't ready for that yet. He thought he saw one of the pictures move and he hoped that he was just dizzy from the fireplace. He only gripped tighter on Snape's elbow.

"Well, best to get you settled first. Severus, to your quarters, yes?" Dumbledore was still grinning, but Snape seemed to be only glaring harder.

"I thought you had decided on somewhere…less inconvenient," he sneered, he was shaking his arm now, trying to loosen Harry's grip. But one of the pictures was winking at Harry and he was terrified.

Dumbledore, ignoring Snape, followed Harry's eyes. He turned back. "Ah, don't be alarmed, my boy, all the portraits here move. They cannot hurt you and most of them are quite friendly." A man in one the portraits snorted, but tried to cover it up with his hand. Harry decided he should let go of Snape's arm. Dumbledore smiled. "Shall we?" He motioned to the door.

Once in the corridor Harry felt intimidated again. He reached for Snape's hand, but the man avoided him. Dumbledore kindly offered his. "What is this place?" Harry was staring at the many pictures that moved and seemed to look right at him. He thought he also saw the suits of armor move.

"This is Hogwarts. Children come here from all over Britain to learn how to use magic," Dumbledore told him. Harry held on very tightly to the railing of a staircase as it started to move. "This school seems to have a mind of its own, wouldn't you say?"

Harry only nodded, looking at the ground moving around them. He could see some older kids dressed in robes hopping on and off staircases like it was normal. "I didn't know magic was real," he whispered.

Dumbledore laughed. "Indeed it is, but only for those special people. Like you and I, for instance."

Harry quickly looked at him. "I can do magic? Really?"

"Yes, and someday you will come here and learn."

"Like how to make tea pots come out of the air?"

Dumbledore squeezed his hand. "Yes, and much more."

Harry was much more excited to walk through Hogwarts after that. Everything looked so interesting, but Dumbledore and Snape made him go directly to Snape's rooms. It was in the dungeons, but Harry figured it must not be that bad; there were plenty of torches around. Snape wasn't looking too happy when he unlocked the door for them and Harry wondered if he didn't like him staying with him.

Snape didn't seem to have much space, but he did have a sitting room and a bedroom with toilet. He even had a smaller room for Harry, but the man seemed surprised at that. Dumbledore was also surprised, but he kept hiding a smile behind his hand, so Harry wondered if he was acting.

Eventually Dumbledore turned to Harry, still grinning. "Would you like a tour, now that we put your things down." Snape snorted, but Harry nodded earnestly. He took Dumbledore's hand again, but not because he was scared anymore. He just liked it.

-

Severus was glad Dumbledore didn't invite him on their little tour of Hogwarts. He didn't think he could stand much more of Harry's gawking and clinging. He was glad Dumbledore had let the boy latch on to him, but Severus could feel the disappointed looks the headmaster was sending him.

But what could Dumbledore expect of Severus? He agreed to Harry coming to Hogwarts, but he never intended for the boy to stay in his quarters or to let him hang off his arm like a leech. He merely intoned that if Dumbledore wanted to bring the blubbering child, there was nothing Severus could do to stop him.

Deciding that he had enough drama for the morning, he went to his lab to attend to his Enlightening Potion that he left simmering for far too long. He would have to start over and probably work through lunch to make sure it didn't go wrong again.

But he had only begun to chop his ginger root when there was a soft knock on the door. Severus very much doubted that a student would want to come to him during their break, so he assumed it was Harry. Luckily, the keep prying eyes and grubby fingers away, the door was sealed, so the boy couldn't barge in.

Striding to the door, he opened it to the small child. "What?" he snapped.

Harry was trying to see past him into the lab. "What are you doing?"

Snape blocked his view. "Nothing of your concern. Are you done with your little tour?" He sneered, but Harry didn't seem to notice.

"Oh yes! It was really cool and Dumbledore told me all about houses and classes and is there really a giant squid in the lake? And what is Qu-qu-…Qutitch? And why do the paintings move? And are there really ghosts here? Cause I don't know if I like that." The boy's eyes were bright, despite the worried statement. He looked ready to spout more questions so Severus intervened.

"Where is the headmaster now?"

Harry halted, thinking carefully. "Umm, he had stuff to do, I guess. So what are we going to do now?"

Severus rolled his eyes. The boy didn't even seem to be concerned that he just rapidly asked four questions and received no answer to them. "I have important tasks to take care of. You can amuse yourself until lunch."

Harry was downcast. "Oh, are you sure you don't need help?"

"No, now leave me be and do not touch anything." Severus closed the door, locking it again and moving back to his potion. He rubbed his head and decided that he needed to make more of his Headache cure as well.

It was several hours by the time he was done and well past lunch time. He walked out into his sitting room to find Harry sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep. The house elves left a covered platter of food on his table, as was usual whenever Severus skipped a meal. He looked at the food, still hot and noticed that they had also given him pumpkin juice and other food he never ate. Of course they also gave him an extra set of utensils, so they obviously noticed the boy.

The smell of the food seemed to rouse Harry, who looked up and smiled groggily. "Can we play now?"

Severus gave him an odd look. "No, bring a plate and utensils to the table. You need to eat lunch."

Harry looked at the food, surprised. "Where'd it come from?"

"The house elves. Now I'm guessing the fish and chips are yours?" He held up the greasy food and Harry stared at it in wonder.

"Elves? They make food?" He was still staring wide-eyed at Severus and the man wondered if the boy was still half-asleep.

He sighed and put the food at the table. "Come over here, I will not have you slobber all over my rug."

Harry was looking more awake as he examined the food. "Can I really have all this?" He was giving the pumpkin juice tentative sniffs before drinking a little. He suddenly frowned. "Do I have to pay or anything?"

Severus rubbed his head, feeling his frown lines. "No, you do not have to pay for your food. Just… eat it."

The boy suddenly smiled at him and shoveled a pile of peas into his mouth. "You know, Dumbledore told me-"

"Please swallow your food and it is Professor Dumbledore."

"Sorry. Anyway, he was talking about the Hogwarts houses and how my parents were in Giffen…giffen…"

"Gryffindor," Snape corrected, watching as Harry tried to simultaneous shovel food into his mouth and swallow before getting out more words. He wondered if the boy was breathing.

"Yeah, that. So Professor Dumbledore said I would probably go there. And he said that you were in Slythern-,"

"Slytherin."

"Yeah, Slytherin. And he said you were also the head of house now too. So I said that I wanted to be in Slytherin, but I wasn't sure cause I wanted to be in Gryffindor."

Severus snorted into his goblet.

Harry frowned. "Professor Dumbledore laughed too."

"I'm sure you'll be in Gryffindor like your parents. Slytherin wouldn't… suit you." He suddenly noticed that the boy had cleaned his plate. "Do you need more?"

Harry flushed. "Ah, no. I just…eat fast." He paused slightly. "What were my parents like?"

Severus had a feeling that he had wanted to ask this for a long time. "Did you ask the Headmaster?"

He nodded. "He talked about my dad a bit, which was cool. But he told me to ask you about my mum."

Severus sighed. "I really don't think I am suitable source for your mother. We were only friends as children."

Harry bit his lip. "That's alright. Was she… pretty?"

"I believe we have already gone over this. Now I have exams to prepare for. If you are done eating then-"

"Wait!" Severus was already halfway out of his seat as Harry suddenly looked panicked. "I didn't mean that. I mean that if you ever saw me as a baby?"

The man closed his eyes. "No, I never saw you as an infant. Now, I must go to my office. A house elf will be here momentarily-"

Harry was on his feet. "But!" He seemed completely at loss for words. "Can I come?" He settled on.

Severus rolled his eyes. "I really don't want a child in my office. You stay here and amuse yourself."

"But it's so boring here," Harry gasped. "Can I go around the castle some more?"

"No, you are not allowed to go anywhere alone. You are not to leave my quarters."

"Please, I promise not to touch anything. I just want to walk around." The boy was so whiny it was grating on Severus.

"No. Now stop being a bother. Surely you brought something to do in your little pack." He was rubbing his forehead, wondering if it was too early to call Dumbledore to take the child away from him.

Harry sighed. "No," he mimicked.

Severus glared and was glad to see the boy losing his petulant look. "You didn't even bring a book?"

"I don't like to read." His voice was soft.

"Well you can stare at the wall then. Perhaps you should have considered this before inviting yourself to Hogwarts. You aren't going to be pampered here, Potter. Now, I can't spend every waking moment amusing you. I have important things to do. You will stay here and be quiet or else I will force you." With a flourish, Severus strode into his office and locked the door.

-

Harry Potter was bored. And though he had spent many hours in his cupboard from punishment, he hadn't been bored. Not like this. When he was in his cupboard, he was usually worried or thinking about things. Wondering when he would be let out, wondering what was going on in school, worried that he wouldn't get dinner. It wasn't fun, but it wasn't boring.

And Harry Potter didn't like being bored and he thought Snape was just being mean. He wished he could talk to Dumbledore again. He was nice. Harry wanted to look around Hogwarts some more. He wanted to see the lake and the forest and he wanted to go to the highest tower. Dumbledore said he should ask Snape to show him, but Harry had been too afraid to. Snape had been glaring at him a lot and it reminded him of Aunt Petunia. But at least Snape hadn't locked him in his room, though he had basically locked him in the rooms.

Harry suddenly looked to the door that he knew led to the hallway. Had Snape locked him in? He walked carefully over to the door, keeping a wary eye on Snape's office. He put his hand on the knob, seeing if there was any movement. He turned the knob and the door swung open slightly. Harry looked out into the dungeon hallway, suddenly feeling a little scared. He could leave.

"Potter." Harry whirled around to Snape, who had appeared right behind him and was looking very angry. "What are you doing?" He wasn't yelling but his voice sounded dangerous and Harry took a step back. He only realized later that he was stepping into the hallway and that is what probably made Snape shout. "I told you to stay here! What do you think you are doing, you insolent brat!"

Harry barely heard the last words because he was running. He immediately regretted it, but he wasn't going to turn back now. He didn't know where he was going, so it felt like he circled the dungeons ten times before he found some stairs. He looked behind and saw that Snape wasn't there.

Suddenly feeling giddy, Harry raced up the steps and through the hallways of Hogwarts. He wanted to go to the highest tower, so he found more stairs and more after that. He never felt so free in his life. Even when he ran away from the Dursleys hadn't felt this good. He was in a magic school and no one could stop him.

By his tenth staircase, Harry was running out of wind and he had to navigate the hallways to find more stairs. He wasn't running as much, except when he saw kids in robes. He was afraid that the students would tell Snape where he was, so he tried to avoid them. Finally, he found a spiral staircase and quickly climbed it. It wasn't the highest tower, but it was better.

It was a tower full of owls. It smelled like mildew and droppings but Harry didn't care. He walked through quietly, as many of the owls were sleeping. From a large window, he could see all around the grounds, including the lake and some sort of pitch. Probably that wizard sport that Dumbledore mentioned. He could see the sun beginning to set and he wondered how long it had taken him to get here. It felt like a couple minutes, but he guessed it could have been an hour.

Harry wondered where Hogwarts was exactly. He couldn't see any towns, just the large forest and some mountains. The wind was colder here and he wondered if it was a different world. They did travel by fireplace after all. He only had on one of Dudley's old shirts and he felt a bit chilled. He knew he should go back down the stairs, but he liked the view, so he sat down on the window ledge.

It felt like hours passed as Harry watched a few owls come in and out. A couple even came over to him, pecking at his hands. He wondered if they thought he had a letter or something. He was very cold by the time the sun went down and he knew he should go back to the dungeons.

"Potter!" Harry nearly fell out the window, he was so surprised.

But instead he was grabbed by the elbows and pulled to his feet by a very angry looking Snape. He suddenly remembered how scary the man had looked earlier. "I'm sorry!" he blurted.

But Snape wasn't even listening, but pulling Harry from the tower. "I am not going to deal with this kind of behavior." He seemed to be mumbling to himself and Harry gave the owls one last look before Snape was towing him through the school.

Harry was glad to be where it was warm again, even if Snape was hurting his elbow. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to go to the highest tower." He tried to put in, but the man only glared at him and Harry knew he should be silent.

Snape seemed to be muttering under his breath. "Should have never… complete inconvenience… unbelievable…"

Harry suddenly wondered if Snape was going to make him go back to the Dursleys. They hadn't gone downstairs in a long time; they couldn't be heading back to the dungeons. What if the man was taking him back to Dumbledore so he could be sent away?

Harry was very frightened and grabbed onto Snape's sleeve with his free hand. "Wait! I'm sorry! I just-"

"What? Just what?" Snape had whirled around, his dark eyes blazing with anger. Harry felt his hand shaking on the sleeve.

"I just want to stay! Don't send me away, I'll be good. I promise!" Harry didn't want to cry, but his face felt very hot and his chest was starting to hurt.

"Good? I highly doubt that, Mr. Potter." Snape started dragging him again. "Just like your father," he muttered.

"I promise, really! I'll be good and you won't even notice me and I'll be quiet. I'll do what you tell me too and I won't run off again and I'll stay in my cupboard, I promise!" Harry was barely keeping up with the man, but Snape suddenly stopped and he ran into him. "Sorry," he said instantly.

But Snape was quiet and looked like he was chewing on something very sour. Harry didn't know if he should say something or not, but Snape was staring at something very intently, but all Harry could see was the empty hallway.

He abruptly turned around and Harry stumbled behind him. "Where are we going?" he finally asked, wondering if Snape was lost.

The man's voice was low, but very hard. "To my quarters, you idi-… you child."

Harry noticed that the grip on his elbow was looser and he sighed in relief. He knew he wasn't going back to the Dursleys. It didn't seem to take very long to get to Snape's room. "I'm sorry," he said again as Snape pushed him ahead.

The man didn't answer but went straight for Harry's small room. He followed, wondering what Snape was doing. The man picked up Harry's backpack and upended it. Harry suddenly wondered if he was in trouble for not unpacking. There was a dresser in there, but he had never used a dresser before, so he didn't think to unpack.

Snape was sorting through his clothes though, and he seemed to be growling under his breath. He eventually took out a shirt and pulled out his wand. Harry's eyes widened, he hadn't seen Snape do magic yet. He made the shirt shrink and the stains vanished. A rip at the collar disappeared and the shirt turned a crisp white instead of its original faded grey. Harry didn't even know the words Snape was saying. But when the man threw the shirt at him, he caught it, examining it. It looked like new.

"Take off that filthy thing and put it on." Harry was slightly confused, but he took off his old shirt. It had a bit of grim on it from the window sill, but it wasn't that bad. The new shirt did look nice and Harry touched the fabric, wondering when he could learn to do it to all his clothes.

Snape was already handing him some slacks that were also made new. Harry gratefully put them on to and ran into the bathroom to look at himself. He looked amazing, even though he had a few feathers in his hair. Kids at school wouldn't stare at him if he was wearing this. He tugged at his shirt, liking how it wasn't baggy.

Harry ran back into the room where Snape was going through the rest of his clothes. He was frowning, muttering strange words under his breath. Harry watched as faded shirts became bright and ripped trousers mended themselves. When he was done, Snape place the last shirt on the bed. "Now put them away." And he stalked from the room.

Harry followed him. "Thank you, sir!" he said and he wanted to ask why Snape did that, but the man shut his office door behind him.

 Unsaid 7

Severus didn't know what he had been thinking when he decided to take in Harry Potter. He should have fought Dumbledore with all his might and never give in. He should have dueled the old man, should have left the country, anything, before Harry Potter ever set foot inside Hogwarts.

He had been feeling irritated, as his Enlightening Potion was a failure, the ginger root wasn't fresh enough, and all he wanted to do was finally get some work done. But the boy had the gall to escape from him into the school. Surely Dumbledore should have seen this coming. If Harry was recognized by any of the students, his life could even be in danger. The Dark Lord may have been defeated, but there were many sects of evil wizards who would want the glory of defeating Harry Potter.

It had taken him hours to track down the blasted boy. He only made any progress when one of the ghosts had directed him to where the boy might be. He had found Harry practically lounging in the owlery. He could hardly think as he grabbed the boy's arm and it somehow made him even angrier to feel that the skin was frigid.

Severus sat at his desk, not touching the stack of potion essays that he needed to grade. He could feel it again, that horrible sinking feeling. He felt it when Harry had somehow aligned Severus to his horrid relatives.

"I'll stay in my cupboard, I promise!"

Severus let his head rest on his hands. He hadn't felt so entirely dirty since…well, in about seven years. He had become furious again, but not at Harry. No, he was angry with how Harry ate his food as quickly as possible, or at how he cringed whenever Severus raised his voice, or how he was so obsessed with learning about his parents, or how his arm was cold from sitting by the open window, or how his clothes were unbelievably filthy.

Though Severus had really only acted on the last part. For at that moment, he didn't think he could look at the boy unless it was in clean clothes that actually fit him. But Severus was still angry, but he really didn't know who the subject was anymore. He was angry at Harry, he wasn't angry at Harry. It didn't make sense and he wished he could kill Dumbledore.

He didn't know how long he sat, moping, in his office before he finally came out. He was being entirely unproductive and thought he should retire early. He paused at the doorway, spotting Harry reading on the couch.

Well, he suspected he was trying to read. It was a book of critical potion essays from Severus' bookcase. An hour ago he would have been furious at the boy for going through his things. But now he was just exhausted.

Harry looked up at the sound of the door opening, but immediately hid his face, like he was ashamed. Not really knowing what he was doing, Severus sat himself down on the other side of the couch. "I know you probably don't understand a word of that."

Harry flushed and handed the book to Severus. "Sorry." He still wasn't looking up.

The man took the book and placed it back on the shelf. Then, strangely enough, he picked up another book and gave it to the boy. It was some silly fairytale book that he never read. It was some joke present from the headmaster.

Harry looked at it curiously, flipping through the pages. "The Wi-Wizard and the Hopping Pot? The Foun-tain of Fair For-tune?" He read slowly and awkwardly.

Severus frowned. "Did they not teach you how to read either?" He hadn't meant to sound severe, but Harry flinched anyway.

"I'm not good at reading and I don't like it when Miss Rogers makes me read from the board," he murmured, shutting the book and putting it aside.

"Why not?" Severus didn't know why he was asking. He could feel a headache coming on.

Harry shrugged. "It's hard to read the board. I can read better from a book, but she always makes me read from the board and it's harder."

Severus suddenly had a very strange thought, and he looked at Harry closely. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he was suddenly reminded of how much the boy looked like his father. Except for one thing. Severus suddenly took the book and held it up. "Read the title." Harry was frowning, but he didn't look like he wanted to defy Severus. He began to scoot forward, but the man stopped him. "No, read it from there."

"Uh, T-Talls…or…Bundle the D-Dald?" He was flushing and hesitating.

Severus looked at the cover, the title in a large blocky print; he would be able to read it from across the room. He frowned and slowly lowered the book. "Have you ever had your eyes examined?"

"I can read! I just can't read good." Harry was starting to get upset and Severus sighed.

"Well, you can't read well. And I didn't mean to insult you, I was merely inquiring if a healer has examined your eyes."

Harry paused. "You mean a doctor? No, I've only been to the doctor to get my shots. They never looked at my eyes."

Severus cast tempus to look at the time. It wasn't too late, he supposed. "Well," he said, standing up. "I think there is somewhere you need to visit. Tell me, have you been to the infirmary?"

-

Harry had once been to the nurse's office at school because he threw up in class. The teacher sent him away and the nurse said he had a fever. Aunt Petunia was very angry to have to come to school and pick him up. She shut Harry in his cupboard and he was so thirsty it was awful. Ever since then, he never went to the nurses, even when he felt really hot and sick in class.

The infirmary at Hogwarts was much larger than the office at school. It had a lot of beds with curtains. There was a boy there, several years older than Harry, with bright red hair. He was sleeping, but his entire right arm was bandaged.

An older women with a crisp white apron came out of her office and gasped when she saw Harry. She immediately glared at Snape. "Severus, what-?"

"I can assure you that Potter is in perfect health and I have done nothing wrong," he quickly interrupted and pushed Harry forward. "I have a favor to ask. Can you please give Mr. Potter an eye examination?"

"Oh?" She gave Harry a curious look. "Well, sit down over here and we'll have a look."

She motioned towards a bed and Harry slowly moved forward. He still didn't quite know why Snape wanted his eyes checked. Was there an illness that made him not be able to read very good? "I'm not sick, Miss," he decided to clarify.

The woman smiled kindly. "I know you aren't, and you can call me Madam Pomfrey, dear." Harry sat down uneasily and flinched when Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and held it to his eyes. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't touch you with it, I just need a look."

She was saying something and the wand shined very brightly in his eyes. She moved it around a bit and the light kept flickering and changing colors. Harry tried not to blink, but he did a couple times by accident.

Eventually she put her wand down. "Well, Harry, you are certainly in need of some glasses." She was writing something down on a piece of paper. Harry rubbed one of his eyes. He had never been told he needed glasses before. He wondered how she could tell. He also thought it was very strange that she put the piece of paper into the fireplace. Madam Pomfrey looked to Snape.

"They'll be here momentarily. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Snape nodded, then looked at Harry, "Stay here," he said sternly and followed Madam Pomfrey into her office.

Harry swung his legs on the bed, wondering what glasses would do. He then noticed that the boy with red hair was awake and staring at him. He wondered if he was doing something wrong and stopped swinging his legs.

"Hey, are you really Harry Potter?" the boy asked, sitting up in his bed. Harry could see that the bandage went around his neck and torso too.

"Yeah, what's your name?" The boy had a friendly round face, but Harry was a little scared. He had never talked to a teenager before.

"Charlie. Hey, come over here for a sec." He gestured with his good arm. Harry slowly stood up and looked at the office door. He supposed it wasn't bad because he wasn't leaving or anything. He stood next to Charlie's bedside. "Well, you really are Harry Potter!"

Harry suddenly felt self-conscious. "Yeah," he murmured. He didn't know why Charlie was staring at his forehead. It could be his scar. The Dursleys always said it was ugly. Harry tried to cover it up with his fringe. "How did you get hurt?"

He shrugged, then flinched from moving his shoulder. "Came across some Ashwinder eggs, exploded on me. But that's not the point, you're Harry Potter. Why are you here? Aren't you seven?"

Harry didn't know why the boy was so interested in him, or how he knew his age. "I'm staying with Sn-Professor Snape for the Easter Holidays."

The boy's eyes only got wider. "Snape? Really? Blimey, and I thought my holiday was ruined from those blasted eggs. But here is Harry Potter, staying with Snape. Wait until I tell Bill and Percy, they will be so jealous that I didn't have to go home."

Now really confused by Charlie's response, Harry felt really uncomfortable. "Why?" He murmured.

Charlie seemed taken aback. "Well, umm, cause you're Harry Potter…Say! Can I have your autograph?" He was digging around his bed stand. "I swear there is some parchment here…"

"Charles Weasley! Stop moving around this instant!" Both boys whirled around as Madam Pomfrey marched towards them. "You said you didn't want to scar, then you must listen to me and stop moving!"

Harry backed away as Pomfrey nearly wrestled the teenager into his bed, then quickly closed the curtains. He could hear complaints from Charlie and sharp reprimands from the nurse. He turned and saw Snape frowning at the closed curtain. "What were you talking about?" he questioned.

Harry shrugged. "He was hurt by some eggs and he wanted my autograph." He noticed Snape was looking at him now, frowning deeper. "I dunno why he wanted my autograph." He rubbed his forehead. "He also knew my name. It was weird."

The fire behind them suddenly flared and a small package spat out. Snape turned around and picked it up. "Come, we need to leave."

All the way back to the dungeons, Harry wondered if Charlie had been hit on the head. Perhaps that is why he was acting weird. He was talking about exploding eggs after all. "Professor?" Harry asked timidly. "Why did Charlie know my name?"

Snape hesitated for half a step. "Many wizards and witches know your name."

"Really? Why?"

The man didn't answer until they were at the door to his rooms. "It is because of something you probably have no memory of. It is not something that is appropriate to discuss at this time." He walked into the living room and sat down in one of the chairs. "But it would be best to avoid other students, we don't want too many people to know you're here."

Harry nodded, he was used to being hidden. The Dursleys like to hide him from the neighbors and it helped if Dudley couldn't find him with his gang. He looked at the package in his hands, it wasn't even burned.

He looked at Snape, but the man was staring into his fireplace, thinking about something very hard. Harry decided he could open the package. It was a pair of glasses wrapped in velvet cloth. He tried them on. "Whoa," he gasped.

Snape looked at him. "Do they fit?"

Harry blinked, really seeing the man now. "Your hair is greasy," he blurted out.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Very astute. Now do they fit correctly?"

Harry touched them and nodded slowly. He looked around the room and felt a little overwhelmed. Everything looked different. He could see the letters on book titles, each stone on the wall, and how Snape's eyes weren't just dark, they were black. "Wow," he breathed, wishing he had glasses years ago. He pushed them down his nose and saw the world go fuzzy again. It was strange, he didn't realize his vision was even blurry.

He walked over to Snape's bookshelf and looked to the very top, where he could read the titles of the books out of reach. "What are you talking about?" he heard the man ask.

"What?" He turned around, and then realized he was saying the titles out loud. "Oh, just reading." He suddenly remembered the book Snape had handed him earlier. He looked to the couch and saw it quite easily. The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He suddenly grinned very broadly. Miss Roger's couldn't humiliate him anymore. Feeling a bit hyper, he hopped over to Snape. "Thank you!"

The man gave him a strange look, possibly because Harry was bouncing. "For what?"

"You gave me glasses of course. I can see now, it's so weird."

"If you had competent relatives, you would have had glasses a long time ago. It is nothing to thank me for." Snape sounded a little angry and was still looking into the fireplace.

Harry suddenly remembered that it was only a few short hours ago that the man was ready to throw him back to the Dursleys. He suddenly didn't feel very happy. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"For what?" Now he turned and was glaring. Harry went to go sit back on the couch.

"I'm sorry for being a burden." He put his feet up and hugged his knees.

Snape stared at him for a very long time and Harry felt very self-conscious. He didn't realize before how piercing his eyes were. He finally sighed very deeply. "Go to bed." He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Harry didn't want to argue, so he went to the bedroom and put on his pajamas. They were softer now and he had forgotten if he thanked Snape for making his clothes better. The man didn't look like he wanted to be bothered, so Harry crawled into bed. When he heard the crinkle of paper, he realized that his family tree was still there. He could see better in the dark with his glasses and he could just make out the faces of his parents. He fell asleep, imagining them smiling at him.

-

The next couple of days were better, but still a bit boring. Harry didn't complain. It was, after all, much better than being chased by Aunt Marge's dogs.

He read through the fairytale book and found it very silly, but it was much more interesting than the potions books that took up the rest of the bookcase. Dumbledore would stop by sometimes and talk with Harry about magic. Sometimes Harry thought he was making stuff up though. How could there be dragons and nobody except wizards would notice them? Dumbledore would also have really long talks with Snape that Harry knew he shouldn't be listening to. So he would go into his room.

To keep him busy, Snape had given Harry a list of words to practice spelling and definitions. He would sometimes look at it, but he mostly used the paper to play with the quill and ink. It wasn't as easy as pencils, but he would pretend to be an old wizard like Dumbledore writing a spell book. He mostly doodled.

Snape also started to let Harry watch as he made potions. Though he had to make sure to sit on the stool away from the ingredients and not move. Harry would sometimes make a comment, but Snape didn't seem too interested. The man would be concentrating very hard and often muttered under his breath. Harry didn't think making potions looked that hard. It looked a lot like when Aunt Petunia made a stew. Though her stew never turned purple.

Harry didn't mind it was a bit boring. It was much more entertaining to watch Snape, cursing under his breath as a potion bubbled, and rushing constantly to the cupboard to grab new ingredients, than to sit around all day.

Finally Harry got the nerve to knock on Snape's office door one afternoon. The man spent a lot of his time there and Harry guessed it was because he was a teacher. When he went in, Snape was at a large desk, with a stack of papers beside him. Harry couldn't stop staring at the bottles and jars that lined the walls, filled with disturbing creatures and objects.

"What is it?" Snape didn't even look up as Harry stood on the other side of the desk.

"Can I go outside today?" He asked timidly.

Snape paused a little while writing and pulled out his wand. He was muttering under his breath and Harry wondered if he was talking to himself or doing magic. A small clock appeared and showed the time to Snape.

"Please, I promise to be good. Can I see the lake?"

Snape sighed deeply and said something very similar to damned headmaster, but Harry wasn't sure. "I suppose I may escort you around the grounds."

But it was raining, pouring really. Harry stood at the large doors of Hogwarts and stared at the sodden ground. If Dudley was being really annoying, Harry would sometimes go out in the rain. The Dursleys never seemed to mind, as long as he avoided tracking mud on the carpet, which wasn't that hard, since the front door was so close to his cupboard. Harry looked at Snape, wondering if the man would let him run around a bit. Harry just really wanted to be outside.

Snape was frowning, but he conjured a small raincoat. "Only for a few minutes." Harry hurriedly put on the raincoat, his hands shaking with excitement. He barely heard Snape mutter: "At least no students will be around."

It was wonderful to be out on the grass and Harry gave a whoop and ran all the way to the lake. He liked to run, except when Dudley was chasing him. He would probably get chosen first for football at school, but the other kids were afraid of Dudley. Harry always wanted to be on a team though, and he pretended like he won some great race once he reached the lake.

He searched along the bank for skipping stones. He had never skipped a stone before, but he had seen it on the television. He threw a flattish stone into the water, but it just plopped in. Looking for something larger, he found a big rock and hurled it in. Once it hit the water though, something seemed to rise from the middle of the lake and fling it back with a giant tentacle. Harry screamed and laughed and ran from the shore. He didn't know what that was, but he guessed it didn't like getting rocks thrown at it.

He saw Snape was still by the doors, staying under the awning. He ran over, though now he was a bit breathless. "You coming out?"

Snape was looking at Harry's legs, which were soaked and covered in mud. "No, I think not."

"Please, I wanna see the Kittich Pitch!"

Snape looked very confused. "You mean the Quidditch Pitch?"

Harry tugged on his sleeve. "Yeah, can you tell me about it?" He managed to get Snape to move a few steps towards the strange field. "How do you play?" He noticed that the man's robes didn't seem to be getting wet.

Snape did try to explain to Harry how to play Quidditch, but the boy was really too hyper to listen. He did catch a few things while hopping around the large pitch. "Do they really fly on broomsticks? Can I have a broomstick?" Harry didn't wait around for an answer, but ran from one end to the next, pretending to be on a broom and scoring goals in the massive hoops.

Eventually his energy gave out and he fell on the ground. It didn't hurt, mostly because he landed in a pool of mud. He sat up and squeezed the mud between his fingers. But Snape was suddenly picking him up by his elbow. "I believe that this has been enough playtime."

Harry wiped his hands on his raincoat, but it didn't help much. "When can I play Quidditch?"

"Not until you are a second year." Snape had turned around and was heading back towards the front doors.

Harry ran to catch up and took Snape's hand, swinging it happily. "I can't wait until I come to Hogwarts. I can come, can't I?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I rue the day, but I have no doubt that you will get your acceptance into Hogwarts."

Harry looked back towards the Quidditch Pitch. "Really? How do you know I'm a wizard? I've never done magic."

"Trust me, Potter, you have performed a great feat of magic, though I highly doubt you remember."

"Was it when I was a baby then?" Snape didn't answer, but Harry felt his hand tighten briefly. Harry squeezed his hand, but the man didn't show if he felt it.

The cool dungeons made Harry shiver. Once in the rooms again, Snape summoned a couple of towels and held Harry back from moving further. "I will not have you tracking mud everywhere." And he crouched down to scrub Harry's head with a towel.

Harry groaned and grabbed the towel from him. "Stop!" Snape just raised an eyebrow and Harry noticed that the man's hair was just as wet. "You're wet too." He grinned and threw the towel at Snape, scrubbing the hair. Surprisingly, the Snape just kept still and let Harry dry his hair. Harry liked that.

Eventually the man stood up and pushed him towards the bathroom. "You need a bath," he muttered.

Harry didn't like baths. When he was really little Aunt Petunia used to scrub him until his skin hurt. When he became older, she refused to let him 'waste the hot water'. He groaned. "Really? I'm already dry."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "No, you will bathe." He began turning on the faucets and Harry was glad to see the water was steaming.

He leaned forward. Snape's bath was much deeper than the one at the Dursleys' and had a couple more faucets. While Snape had turned around, he quickly turned on another and found bright pink bubbles pouring out. "Cool!"

But before he could reach for another, Snape had turned off the bubbles. "Stop playing around and get in, you're tracking mud all over the floor."

Harry eagerly stripped and laughed at his hands and feet, which were covered in dirt, while his chest of completely clean. The water was hot and, sitting, it went up to Harry's chin. He took off his glasses so he wouldn't lose them in the water. He pushed around the few bubbles that remained, while Snape left and brought back some clean clothes.

"Do I need to help you?"

Harry quickly shook his head and dunked beneath the water. Snape handed him a bottle that Harry assumed was shampoo. It smelled like peppermint. Snape left him to finish, but it didn't take Harry too much time to clean himself. He just liked being in the deep bath tub and sneaking a few more bubbles from the other tap when he thought Snape wasn't listening.

Eventually his fingers were pruned and he decided to get out. Once dressed, he didn't see Snape in the living room, but the office door was slightly open. Harry walked in before realizing he should have knocked.

There was a tall student in there, with a red and gold tie. Snape didn't noticed Harry at first, but the student did. "So it is Harry Potter!" He said it so triumphantly that Snape quickly turned around, glaring at Harry.

"Uh…hallo," he muttered, but Snape had already turned back and was ushering the student out of the room. Well, more like shoving, as the boy was trying to get a better look at Harry.

Harry quickly retreated to the living room and waited for Snape to come in. "Sorry!" he said instantly.

Surprisingly, the man just waved him off and locked the office door. "I must remind you not to enter my office without knocking." He sighed. "But I cannot blame you for this instance, it seems like half the boys in Gryffindor suddenly have questions about their potions homework."

Harry didn't know exactly what that meant. "Why did he know my name? Like Charlie? You said it was because of something I did when I was a baby. Was it the magic? What did I do?"

Snape closed his eyes. "Have you always had the habit of asking so many questions and not waiting for an answer?"

Harry thought about it seriously. "I dunno. I've never had anyone to talk to before." Snape was frowning again and sat down on the couch, Harry sat next to him, kneeling so he could face the man better. "Why won't you tell me?"

Snape was silent for a moment. "It is not appropriate for a seven year old boy."

"I'm almost eight. I will be this summer," Harry whined.

Snape looked at him closely then and Harry thought his eyes were very black. But he was giving in, even if just a little. He leaned forward slightly and Harry brought his knees up so he could hold them. "Many years ago there was a very powerful and very evil wizard who spread a wave of tyranny and terror across Britain. He cast so much fear in wizards' and witches' hearts that most people will only refer to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, or the Dark Lord."

"What was his real name?" Harry interrupted.

Snape pursed his lips. "Lord Voldemort…Voldemort," he said quickly and Harry wondered if he was afraid too. "He could control people against their will. He would torture those who defied him and he killed many people."

Harry was hugging his knees closely. "Really?" he whispered.

"This isn't some villain from a storybook, you have to understand. This man was real and most people do not like to talk of those dark times." He sighed deeply and was quiet for a long time. Harry didn't know if he should say something or not.

"What happened to him? Did someone defeat Voldemort?"

Snape was staring at him again and Harry did his best to hold eye contact. "Yes, but in the most unlikely form. It was you, when you were a baby."

Harry's eyes got very wide. "Really? But what could I do?"

Snape shrugged. "No one really knows what you did. But the Dark Lord came to you when you were around one year old, with the full intention to murder you. But you sent his curse back to him and no one has seen him since. That is why people know your name. Children are told about the famous Harry Potter from their cradle. Many books in the Hogwarts library have you written in them. And there are few witches or wizards who would not recognize you by sight, because of the scar the Dark Lord gave you."

Reaching up to touch his forehead, Harry felt really confused. "But how could I be famous? I've been beaten up by Dudley and his gang, I have no friends at school, my clothes are hand-me-downs." He pressed his forehead to his knees. "And I've slept in a cupboard for most of my life. That doesn't sound like some famous person. That sounds stupid."

He felt fingers touching the tip of his hair and Harry looked up to see Snape giving him a strange look. He didn't know what it meant, but he felt the man's fingers trace his scar. He wondered if Snape was trying to understand it too. "For the lack of eloquence, yes-" He retracted his hand. "-it does sound stupid. And though the Dursleys' treatment of you was most deplorable, it does not negate the events of your infancy. Students at this school, for better or worse, will recognize you and act in the most idiotic fashion in order to gain your attention. Perhaps the headmaster had some legitimacy in placing you with muggles, though the particulars are highly suspect."

Harry was rubbing his forehead. "Why?"

Snape gently tugged his hand down. "Because you wouldn't have to grow up in the world where you were fawned and spoiled for something that you had no control over."

"You mean like…Dudley? But that's not so bad." Harry thought about how much he hated his cousin, who got everything he ever wanted. He always wished that his aunt and uncle would turn to Harry instead. He knew he was jealous, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

But Dudley was also the dumbest kid in class, if the teacher was fair, and he was really fat. And he got angry over really stupid things and cried like a baby whenever something he liked broke. Harry thought it wouldn't be that great to be Dudley, but it would still be much better.

"I guess I like not being Dudley," he ended up saying.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Like he didn't believe him.

Harry unfolded his legs. "Yeah, Dudley can't come to Hogwarts and he can't be with you." He smiled suddenly. "I like it."

Those words didn't feel good enough, but Harry didn't know what else to say. It was only when he was in bed later, looking at his family tree, that he really realized it. He was happy.

Severus decided that he would take another attempt at the Enlightening Potion. It would take the better part of the night and it would be exhausting, but it meant a solid sleep, it was worth the price. He had been taking too many sleeping potions lately and he didn’t want to build up an addiction.

  It was some early hour in the morning, when he was debating adding more unicorn hair to make the color purer, that a scream made him drop the entire jar of powdered dragon teeth. Quickly banishing the concoction before it became unstable and exploded, he found himself running to Harry’s room to find the boy tangled in the bed sheets and screaming.

  It didn’t take him long to ascertain that Harry was in no real danger, just a nightmare, albeit an intense one. His first thought was to unsnarl the boy from the bed sheets. It was not an easy task, as the body would thrash violently whenever Severus touched him. Eventually the man just banished the blankets away.

  Harry sat up, his screams cut off. He looked awake, but Severus approached him slowly. “It’s okay,” He murmured, but his voice was a trigger and Harry was suddenly scrambling under the bed. Severus could hear him breathing heavily. He knelt down. “It was just a dream,” But the boy didn’t seem to be listening.

  He was curled up on his side, tears pouring from his eyes, but he didn’t make a sound. Severus watched him for a few moments and then stood up to light some of the lamps. He lit his wand to have a better look at Harry. The boy’s eyes were unfocused and his glasses were askew, Severus wondered if he fell asleep with them on.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” He whispered.

  “What was it then?” Severus debated dragging the boy out, but he doubted that would help the situation.

  Harry was shaking. “It was screaming and a bright light. A green flash. I’ve seen it before, but that was the car crash. This wasn’t the car crash. This was bad.”

  Severus pursed his lips. He shouldn’t have told Harry about the Dark Lord. The boy was only seven for Merlin’s sake. “It was still a dream. There is nothing bad here.”

  Harry looked at him properly this time. “Are you sure?” But he was still shaking, but his eyes were clearing. “I could hear screaming and I saw a green light. I think someone died. I think someone died.”

  Severus reached out and took Harry’s hand. He found the boy scrambling from the bed and burrowing himself in the man’s robes. He was still trembling and Severus placed his hands on the small shoulders, trying to stop it. He gently tried to push the boy away, but that only made Harry hold on tighter. He resigned himself to being uncomfortable for a few moments before the boy could come back to his senses.

Until then, Severus didn’t know what to say. Harry must have had some nightmare about the night his parent’s died. As unworthy as a death by car crash was, it was more preferable to telling the boy his parent’s were murdered. But perhaps it was necessary now.

  “You do not need to be afraid. You are safe here,” He tried to keep his voice soothing and he rubbed a hand along Harry’s back, to stop the insistent trembling. It seemed to work as the boy gradually stilled. Severus could hear hiccupping sobs now.

  “W-what happened?” Harry choked out. “T-tell me wh-what happened that n-night. D-did someone d-die?”

  Severus ran a hand through the boy’s messy hair. “Are you sure? Can’t you wait until morning,” Then he could get the headmaster to handle this delicate work.

  Harry shook his head, rubbing his face on Severus’ shirt. “I want to kn-know what is r-real and what is n-nightm-mare.”

  Severus felt defeated. He couldn’t lie to the boy, he wouldn’t. Not when he was just a warm weight in his arms. Not when he could barely speak because of terror and sadness. “It is all nightmare. It was all nightmare,” He whispered. Harry looked up at him and Severus could see his green eyes shining. “You have your mother’s eyes. They are so like hers,” He traced the dark eyebrows with his thumb, but he couldn’t touch the scar. “The Dark Lord came to your home when you were only one year old. Your parent’s defended you, they protected you for as long as possible. But they fell against the Dark Lord and perished.”

  “He k-killed them?” Tears fell freely from Harry’s eyes and Severus took the edge of his sleeve and tried to wipe them away. More only followed.

  “Yes, but only because they would not abandon you to him. Your mother gave her life to protect you. She wouldn’t abandon you, she wouldn’t.”

  “What does ‘abandon’ mean?”

  Severus sighed, lowering his soggy sleeve. “It means she would never leave you behind.”

  Harry leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Severus and pressing his face against the man’s neck. “Why did it happen?” He wasn’t crying as much anymore, though his voice was still weak.

  “Things happen, terrible things. And not even the most powerful wizard can predict them or stop them. But take comfort, Harry, this place is safe and everyone around you is protecting you.”

  He felt the small arms squeeze a little tighter. “Are you protecting me?”

  “Yes,” It came easily and felt unexpectedly relieving. Apparently it was also for Harry, as he relaxed fully. “Do you want to go back to bed?” He asked.

  “No, I don’t want to go to sleep.”

  “You will have to eventually,” He sighed and attempted to stand up. He instantly found himself holding the boy with Harry’s legs wrapped around his waist. He wondered how, it seemed so long ago, it was awkward to carry him on his back, yet now Harry felt natural, comfortable even, in his arms. He sat down on the bed, trying to get the boy off him. It didn’t work. So he sat down as comfortably as he could. “Do you want to talk more?”

  Harry nodded slowly. “Can you tell me about my mum?”

  Severus closed him eyes, sighing deeply. He could feel Harry resting against his chest, the boy slowly relaxing in his arms. “I met her when we were children. She lived nearby and I was the first to tell her about magic,” He began.

-

  Severus woke with a splitting headache. He knew it was directly caused by sleeping against the headboard for several hours too long. He groaned under his breath and tried to stretch his limbs, but found himself cut off by Harry using him as a life-sized pillow.

  He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep while talking to the boy. He had forgotten all that he told him, as he systematically went through his best memories with Lily. Memories he never told anyone, until now. He wondered if Harry would even remember them. Somehow it didn’t bother Severus if the boy didn’t.

  Since Harry was fast asleep, it was easy to slowly ease the child off his chest and onto the bed sheets. Severus wondered absently how long they had been sleeping, it felt like only moments ago that he let his eyes drop a little further. The lamps in Harry’s room had extinguished, so it could have been hours.

  When Severus walked into the living room, he knew it had been far too long.

  Dumbledore was seated quite comfortably in one of the chairs, idly flipping through The Tales of Beedle the Bard. There was a breakfast tray beside him and he seemed to be working through a cup of tea. Even without the old man looking up, Severus could tell he knew he was there by the smile that crept to his face.

  Deciding to keep as much dignity as possible, Severus seated himself in another chair, across from the old man, and casually poured himself a cup of tea. “Amusing book?” He asked dryly.

  The headmaster closed the book, but kept a finger in it while he reached for his own cup. “Indeed very. I would say that I am glad you have decided to partake in it, but I have a feeling it wasn’t you reading it.”

   “Very intuitive.”

  “I try,” And he went back to looking through the book, but Severus could tell he was only pretending to read. He wasn’t disappointed when the headmaster suddenly spoke. “I noticed that your laboratory is a bit untidy. I trust there wasn’t a disturbance last night?”

  Severus wondered if the old man made a habit of going through other people’s private lives. “Nothing of consequence,” He murmured, hiding a scowl in his cup.

  “Really? It is quite unlike you to leave ingredients unattended.”

  Severus knew that Dumbledore would continue to tease him until the subject was finally brought up. “Harry had a nightmare,” He said shortly and put his cup down to take a piece of toast. Though he realized his hands were shaking.

  Dumbledore was silent for a moment, his face no longer teasing, but contemplative. “Shall I guess the events of the nightmare?”

  Severus sneered, though at no one in particular. “It was the night the Potters died,” He put down the toast, never being hungry. “Trust me, it is not a lovely bedtime story, telling a seven year old that his parent’s were murdered by a sadistic madman.”

  “I can only imagine,” He said soothingly, but it made Severus only more irritated.

  “Can you? Can you? Because I am beginning to get the impression that you do all in your power not to imagine the person who has to tell Harry Potter why he has no parents,” He rubbed his temple, his headache worsening. “Not that I can’t understand. It is incredibly easier to shove the boy with his ignorant relatives until the day he is forced the information by some half-wit at your disposal. Tell me, Oh Great Albus Dumbledore, what had you imagined would happen when Harry had received his acceptance into Hogwarts and he knew nothing of the wizarding world? Who had you imagined to go and fetch him and pour to him the knowledge that his current life was a complete lie and that the truth is a living nightmare?”

  Severus was breathing hard, though he had barely raised his voice. With a jerking motion, he summoned a headache cure from his personal stores. It came so rapidly that he nearly didn’t catch it. He knew it would be more effective with food, but he was too aggravated to do more than wash it down with the rest of his tea.

  “Feeling better?”

  “No,” He snarled, though his headache was lessening.

  Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. “I do not admit to greatness.”

  “But you certainly think of yourself as pretty damned clever,” He needed another cup of tea, or maybe five.

  “I do regret that not all of my decisions have had the intended effect. But you do realize, Severus, that I am only human. I know you think me of being omniscient, but we are all lost in the dark at times. And many times my best guess must also be my best decision,” He sighed, stroking his beard and his fingers toying with the pages of the book. “The only thing that can be done is to recognize that errors of life and try to move on in a more beneficial direction.”

  Severus scoffed, but he had nothing more to say. He probably would not have rebuked the headmaster if he had more than a few hours of sleep and limbs free of stiffness. He drank his tea, though scalding, and willed himself to say something. But it was Dumbledore who spoke again.

  “I apologize.”

  “What?” It caught him off guard.

  The old man put his book down completely. “I apologize for whatever harms I have inflicted on you. Whatever burdens I have bore upon you. And I apologize for having ulterior motives in my favors and demands of you.”

  Severus gaped, he had never heard the headmaster apologize before. At least not to him, and not so direct. He found himself stammering. “I-I…uh,” He tried to catch himself. “Ulterior motives?” He had always suspected, but he never dreamed the man to admit it.

  Dumbledore smiled, more kindly this time. “I have been watching you these past seven years,” He rolled his eyes, which Severus found to be very unlike him. “Dear boy, I’ve been watching you since you came to Hogwarts as a student. I know your nature to be reserved and closed off in most relationships. But I saw your friendship with Lily and how much it hurt you to be cut off from her. I knew the effect of the war would leave you even more closed, but it disturbed me to see you carrying every mistake, every grudge, and every terrible memory with you these past seven years. When it was alerted to me of Harry’s disappearance, I chose you. Not only because I knew you would be highly qualified, but because I had hoped seeing him would spark the good memories of Lily.”

  “So you planned for him to come to stay with me at Hogwarts all along?”

  Dumbledore laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. It is quite beyond my abilities plan every detail to this moment. I simply had the hope that you would ‘cheer up’, so to speak. I could hardly plan your reaction once returning to Hogwarts. After that, well, the pieces just seemed to fall into place.”

  Severus sighed, finding himself remarkably not angry anymore. “What pieces?” He asked wearily.

  “That perhaps a man with a prerogative to redeem himself in the memory of the mother would, in turn, give comfort to a child so justifiably desperate for it,” Dumbledore grinned at Severus’ unbidden expression of shock. “But when said like that, it hardly encompasses the depth of emotion I would expect when I see the person in question has cradled Harry Potter to sleep after a nightmare.”

"I-I..." Severus scowled. "I was not cradling him."

Harry woke up because he was cold. When he looked around his bed, he noticed the blankets were missing. He remembered most of what happened last night, but he couldn’t remember where the blankets went. Digging under his pillow, he was glad to see his family tree was still safe. Putting it away he wondered where Snape went. Harry knew the man had stayed with him because he woke up several times after falling asleep. It made him feel better to see Snape still there. He thought it helped keep the nightmare away too.

  Only when he was at the door did he hear Snape talking with someone. Peeking out, Harry saw it was Dumbledore and decided it would be okay to enter the sitting room. The headmaster smiled kindly at him and Snape turned around. Harry immediately walked over to him, but he felt embarrassed with Dumbledore there, so he just sat down and took a piece of sausage. It wasn’t warm anymore, from sitting out, but Harry was suddenly hungry.

  Dumbledore leaned forward and poured him some juice. “I was wondering, Harry, if you would like to take a walk with me around Hogwarts? If I remember correctly, there were many more things that you wanted to see. And since tomorrow is your last day, I thought I would give you the opportunity.”

  Harry immediately looked to Snape, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He wanted to be with Snape more, he realized. “What are you doing today?” He asked, maybe they could go together.

  Snape gave his a quizzical look. “Unfortunately, I have many classes to prepare for in the coming week. I will be busy most of the day.”

  Harry was disappointed, but he knew Snape wouldn’t like him hanging around. “I guess, I’ll go with you,” He said to Dumbledore.

  He could feel Snape frowning at him, but Dumbledore only chuckled. “Very good,” He stood up. “Well, you finish your breakfast,” He suddenly pulled out a very strange watch, “Or I should say lunch? Quite unlike you to sleep so late, Severus,” Snape was glaring at him, but Dumbledore only smiled. “I’ll be back later, Harry.”

With the headmaster gone, Harry turned to Snape. He wanted to say something, but he suddenly didn’t know what. So he drank his juice, feeling a bit confused. “It is rude to stare,” Snape said, pouring himself another cup of tea.

  “Sorry,” Harry watched as he slowly drank the tea. “You know, when I was really little, I used to spend more time alone with my Aunt Petunia. Cause Dudley would be at a friend’s house or something. She usually told me not to bother her or made me do chores or something. Even though I was really little and wasn’t very good at chores,” He sighed. “Anyway, but there was some days when she would let me have afternoon tea with her. She didn’t like me talking, but she let me sit with her. She would even pour me a cup and, though I don’t like tea, I drank it anyway. It smelled good and it was quiet with her. And it was the only time I was alone with her. She isn’t so bad when she is by herself.”

  Snape was staring at him and Harry wondered why he even brought this up. The man wasn’t talking so he thought he should continue on.

  “I never thought Aunt Petunia cared about me much. I mean, Dudley would hit me and he would never get punished. Uncle Vernon would yell at me and push me into my cupboard, and she wouldn’t do anything. She always gave me less food or made me give my food to Dudley when he finished first. She never said anything nice to me or gave me any presents or helped me with homework. But I used to think that, whenever we had tea, maybe she didn’t mind me so much.”

  Harry suddenly felt like crying and he pulled his knees up to his chest. He didn’t know why he brought it up, he was feeling so good before.

He was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “I…I don’t ever want to go back to the Dursley’s. Even if every day is like afternoon tea with Aunt Petunia,” He swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to go back there, he kept repeating in his head, and it kind of scared him to think that.

  Snape motioned to him and Harry stood up to stand in front of the man. He felt Snape lock his knees around his and it made him feel a bit better. “It’s okay,” He murmured and Harry realized that he was crying now. He hurriedly wiped his eyes, but Snape took his hands. “It’s okay, Harry, to want more.”

   “I’m sorry,” He said, tasting his tears as they fell into his mouth.

  The man sighed. “If I want you to apologize, I will ask for it.”

  “Can I stay here?” Harry suddenly asked, his tears clearing. “Can I stay here forever, with you?”

  Snape had a very odd expression on his face. “You wouldn’t want to stay here. You can see that I am very busy. And once classes starts again, I will be more so.”

  Harry could feel the man’s hands going limp and he held on to them very tightly. “I don’t mind being by myself, or I could sit with you in your office. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

  “And then I would become your Aunt? Harry, do you want that?”

  Harry could feel himself beginning to cry again. “But you wouldn’t be Aunt Petunia.”

  “I don’t think you quite understand-”

  “But I do!” Harry shook his head. “You are nice to me and you talk to me and you gave me glasses and you don’t yell at me for crying and you let me hug you,” He sniffed. “I like it. I don’t want to go back to the Dursley’s. I like it. I like being hugged when I feel bad. I don’t want to go back to the Dursley’s. I like you.”

  Snape sighed. “You hardly know me. You wouldn’t be happy living with me.”

  “I’m not happy now.”

  The both turned as the door opened and Harry quickly wiped his face as he saw Dumbledore walk into the room. He didn’t want to cry in front of him. Snape quickly stood up and walked into his office. He didn’t even look at Harry.

  Dumbledore watched him leave before turning to Harry and offering him a handkerchief. “Are you alright?”

  Harry ignored the handkerchief and didn’t answer. He was angry at Snape. He didn’t know why the man wouldn’t let him stay at Hogwarts. He frowned, wondering if Snape actually didn’t like him. Maybe he thought Harry was a bother. That is why he wouldn’t let him stay. Harry felt his anger drain and he felt himself crying again. He looked at Dumbledore.

  “Why is he so mean sometimes and sometimes not?”

  The headmaster gently reached out and wiped Harry’s tears away. It didn’t feel the same as when Snape did it. “Severus is a very stubborn man. So stubborn, in fact, that I think he doesn’t even realize it anymore,” He took Harry’s hand and led him out the door. “Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll talk to him and tell him to stop being mean.”

-

  Harry liked Dumbledore and he very quickly forgot his bad mood as the headmaster led his around Hogwarts. He noticed more that whenever they passed students, Dumbledore casually shielded him from view. But some kids still stared at him. Harry didn’t like it, even though he knew why now.

  He took Harry to the highest tower at Hogwarts and let him look over the edge. “Wow, it just goes on forever,” Harry was looking at the lake and mountains and forest. “Where is Hogwarts?”

  Dumbledore stood beside him. “Oh, much too far of a walk from the Dursley house, I assure you,” He chuckled as Harry frowned.  “Don’t worry, this won’t be the last time you will see Hogwarts.”

  “When can I come back again?” Harry asked anxiously. “Next week?”

  Dumbledore laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m afraid not. I was referring to when you became a student.”

  Harry sighed. “But that’s so far away,” He wondered if that would be the next time he would see Snape again. He supposed they could write to each other, but it wasn’t the same.

  “It will come soon enough. Come, it is becoming chilly up here.”

  Harry followed Dumbledore down the staircase, he looked at everything carefully, trying to keep it in his memory. He didn’t want to forget Hogwarts.

  “Harry, how would you like to ride the Hogwarts Express?”

  He looked up at Dumbledore. “What is that?”

  “It is the train that takes student from here to London. It is leaving tomorrow so it can pick up students to bring back,” He smiled. “I can secure you a seat, if you’re interested.”

  Harry’s eyes went very wide. “A train? I’ve never been on a train before.”

  “It is quite lovely, I assure you. And the countryside is beautiful.”

  Harry thought about it carefully. “Can I bring Professor Snape?” He asked softly.

  Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, but Harry could still see him smiling. “Well, you will need an escort to Little Whinging, I daresay. Oh!” He gasped, “I nearly forgot,” He quickly took off his hat holding it out before him. Harry watched curiously as he slowly put his hand in and pulled out a shining white rabbit.

  Harry laughed and clapped his hands. “You can do it!”

  Dumbledore smiled. “Ah, look closer.”

  Harry looked at the soft rabbit, who seemed to be holding something. He reached a hand towards it and it dropped a colorful egg in his hand. It seemed to be made of chocolate. At Dumbledore’s nod, he opened the colorful wrapper and took a small bite. It tasted delicious. He grinned broadly and shoved the entire thing in his mouth.

  Dumbledore laughed, putting the rabbit back in and placing the hat back on his head. “Happy Easter, Harry.”

-

  Harry was so excited to ride the train that he almost forgot it was going to take him away from Hogwarts. It wasn’t until Snape was walking him towards the station that he quickly turned around to get one last glimpse of the large castle. Standing on the platform, he waved to it eagerly. He only stopped when he saw a giant tentacle rise from the lake and wave back. He thought it was very silly, but still frightening.

  “Come on, we shouldn’t delay the train,” Snape softly pushed him up the steps.

  Harry instantly loved the train. It was large and shiny and had individual compartments. He didn’t see anyone else there and he wondered what is would be like full of students. It barely started moving as Snape led him into a compartment and shut the door.

  Harry pressed his face to the window, watching the castle slowly disappear as they headed into the country. “Sit down, you do not need to plaster yourself to the glass,” And Snape tugged off his backpack, putting it up on the luggage rack. He sat down opposite of the boy.

  Leaning against the seat, Harry kept his gaze on the window. He hadn’t really talked to Snape since yesterday. He still felt a bit angry and hurt from what the man had said about not wanting Harry to live with him.  But Harry didn’t want to be angry at Snape anymore, this was the last day for them to be together.

  It still felt awkward though. “How long until we reach London?” He asked softly.

  “Already bored?”

  Harry drew one of his legs up. “No,” He didn’t want the train ride to ever end. He wanted to sit with Snape here until they both became happy. He just didn’t know if the trip was long enough. He looked over and saw Snape had pulled out a book and was reading. “What’s that?”

  He looked up from the book. “It is a potions text. I’m studying it.”

  Harry put his leg down, leaning forward. “Really? But you’re a teacher.”

  Snape rolled his eyes. “There are many new techniques and discoveries being made every day. I must keep up if I want to continue to be a skilled Potions Master and a teacher.”

  Having nothing better to do, Harry came to sit next to him. He looked at the book. It was mostly words, but Snape seemed to have scribbled in every margin. “What’s that for?” He pointed to a couple paragraphs where Snape had completely crossed them out.

  “That is the author being an idiot,” He snapped the book shut. “I doubt you would understand. Now what do you want?”

  Harry drew up his legs. “Nothing,” He muttered.

  “I doubt it,” Snape reached over and slapped his legs down. “You do that when you’re worried.”

  Harry just tugged on his glasses. “I bet I’ll do better at school now. Now when the teacher calls on me to read the board, I can do it and then she can’t yell at me.”

  “You will still have to improve your reading skills, but yes, it will be better,” Snape was looking out the window and for some reason, that bothered Harry.

  So he took Snape’s hand and examined it closely. The man flinched, but didn’t pull away. The fingers were slightly discolored, Harry notice and there was odd scars. Some looked like burns, others like small cuts from a slipped knife. Otherwise the hands were much larger and longer than Harry’s. “Why do you like potions?” He didn’t know much about potions, despite watching Snape make some. Besides, all the other classes sounded much more interesting. Well, besides for the history class, Harry was never good at memorizing dates and names.

  “It doesn’t involve much wand work.”

  Harry poked at a burn at the base of his thumb. “You don’t like wands?”

  “Wands are mostly based on a person’s natural ability with magic. Though with students it matters less, they have not yet learned how to consistently tap into their magical powers. Among adults, however, it becomes very apparent who is magically greater than others. They have all mastered the same skills, but still some rise above others, for no other reason than their birthright.”

  Harry look up, not really understanding a lot of what he said. “It’s unfair?”

  Snape gave a small shrug. “Perhaps you could word it that way. But I find it mostly unrewarding. Potions means technical skill. The ability to memorize and categorize materials and their effects. Experimentation is key and yet dangerous. A great mind is needed to become a great potioneer. And I find a great mind much more powerful than great magic.”

  Harry looked back to the hand, wondering if he would ever be good at potions. He wanted to be, suddenly. He noticed a rather large scar trailing up his wrist. Pulling the sleeve slightly, he had a glimpse of something black before Snape quickly jerked his hand away. Hurriedly, he secured his sleeve down.

  “What was that? A bruise?” Harry was looking at Snape’s left arm, it had looked really big.

  Snape was now rubbing it absently. “It is nothing for you to see.”

  Harry frowned. “Why?”

  “You are too young to know of such things.”

  Harry remembered the last time Snape said something like that. “You mean like Voldemort?”

  The man visibly flinched, the first time Harry had ever seen him react like that. “Ah, yes. Something of that nature,” He muttered and he was still rubbing his wrist.

  Harry took Snape’s right hand then. “Stop, you do that when you’re worried.”

  Snape made a weird noise that Harry could describe as half a laugh. But it seemed to mean that the man was relaxed again. Harry didn’t say anything more for while, just playing around with the skin of the man’s fingers. The right hand was less scarred, but had more grim under the nails. “What do you find so fascinating?” Snape’s voice was dry.

“I’m just memorizing,” He answered automatically.

“Why?”

“Because I want to remember forever,” He looked up at Snape.

The man seemed confused. “You want to remember my hands?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, I want to remember you.”

“It may be a long time before you see me again. But we will meet again.”

Harry sighed, Snape didn’t seem to understand. “There’s a tree in the backyard that I climb whenever Dudley is chasing me. He can’t climb, I think it’s because he’s so fat,” The man snorted, and Harry smiled before continuing. “I spend a lot of time up there when the weather’s nice. I can get really high up, even on the small branches. I like it there because the wind is nice and the noises from the houses are softer. I can see into all the neighbor’s yards and any cars coming down the street. I think about a lot of things up there. I think—thought a lot in my cupboard, but my thoughts felt so stuffy in there. From the top of that tree, I feel better. And I don’t worry as much. I would just imagine anything, that I was flying or at the top of a tall tower or that I was at the top of a mountain. Silly stuff, most of the time. But I can’t stay up there all day, cause my legs will get stiff and I’ll get hungry. It feels awful standing on the ground again, because I’m…on the ground again.”

He looked back to Snape’s hand, trying to remember what his point was. The hands were rougher than Harry’s, though just as pale. Harry thought that his hands would eventually become darker than Snape’s, because he would spend more time outside in summer.

“I want to remember Hogwarts and you and Dumbledore and magic,” He laid his hand, flat against Snape’s. “For when I’m on the ground again.”

-

Severus refused to take the Knight bus to Little Whinging, mostly on the grounds that it would expose Harry Potter’s residence to strange witches and wizards. He also hated the damned vehicle. He wasn’t about to take Harry on a side-along apparition either. Older children tend to have a hard time coping with the sensation, a seven year old would probably end up vomited all over Severus’ robes.

So he took Harry to the underground, then through various buses that would lead them to Privet Drive. Severus had taken muggle public transportation before, though it was very long ago. He had forgotten how painstakingly slow and inefficient it was. Dumbledore had given him some muggle money, but even with Harry’s help, it took some time to get it all sorted.

  Harry didn’t seem to mind the dubious journey through London. He would often shake Severus’ arm in an attempt to show him some odd sight or another. “Can you bring me back here again?” He would say over and over again. For the most part, Severus concentrated on keeping the boy at his side.

  It was evening by the time they were approaching Wisteria Walk and Mrs. Figg’s house. Severus hurried Harry along, wondering if the Dursley’s had arrived home yet. He looked down at Harry, who was clutching his hand. He had been somewhat miserable since arriving closer to his home. Severus sighed, there was nothing he could do to remedy that.

  Mrs. Figg was waiting on the front stoop and waved her hands hurried at them. “About time! They are to be here soon, you know!” She ushered them inside. “Called not half an hour ago,” Once they were securely in the living room, she turned to the window, looking down the street.

  Harry was holding on to Severus’ hand very tightly. “I will see you again, won’t I?” His voice was shaking slightly and Severus knelt down.

  “I will probably owl you at some point. But it may be some time, you understand that, yes?”

  Harry was breathing deeply, but he didn’t look to be crying. “Yeah. Can you-?” His voice broke and he swallowed with a shuddering sigh. “Can you tell me about Hogwarts more and potions and Quidditch?” He wasn’t quite looking at Severus.

  “You must be patient,” He said.

  “Can you…can you talk to me more about my mum or my dad?” His eyes were shining now.

  “You need to calm down, Harry.”

  The green eyes suddenly snapped to his. “Can you call me Harry every day?”

  Severus frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

One hand clutched at his sleeve. “Please, always call me Harry, no matter what. Even if your angry or don’t like me. Please?”

  There was a sharp knock on the door and Mrs. Figg made quick motions for Severus to leave. He quickly stood up and detached himself from Harry. The boy made a whimpering sound, but was now looking at the door. Severus took the opportunity to floo out through the fireplace quickly. He barely saw Mrs. Figg opening the door as Harry turned to look at him.

  Then he was gone.

-

  Severus was breathing heavily when he stepped into Dumbledore’s office. He wondered if he had inhaled smoke. He was grateful that the headmaster wasn’t in and he quickly walked down to the dungeons.

  He had classes to prepare for tomorrow and exams in the next month. When he entered his quarters, he saw the small room still there. He didn’t know what kind of elaborate magic Dumbledore used to create it, but Severus wasn’t really sure he could reverse it. He didn’t feel like trying, in any case.

  He stepped into his laboratory, bringing out ingredients for the Enlightenment potion. He knew he was going to work into the night. Even if it meant he would be at the brink of exhaustion for morning classes, he would concentrate on the annoying potion so intensely that he wouldn’t see that devastated look on Harry’s face. He would forget about the boy, Severus was convinced. He would forget all about Harry Potter and go back to normal. It would be fine. It would be as it should.

He was gone and Harry Potter was ripping the letters from the walls. He stuffed them angrily into his desk drawer. He couldn’t throw them out, but he couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. He took sealed letters that he had written to Snape, all laying so neatly on his desk, and ripped them to pieces, throwing them in with the rubbish.

  He felt like an idiot, he felt angry, he felt sad. Harry used to have hope. The first week, he thought maybe the man was just busy. The second week, he was worried that something had happened. Then the third blended with the fourth and fifth. Harry saw fragments of his letters scattered on the floor.

  The teacher praised me in class for the first time…I’m the best at spelling in class now…Dudley gave me a black eye today…Aunt Petunia cut my hair, but it grew back by the morning. Do you think it was magic?...

  He shoved the scraps away. He had been so stupid, checking his spelling very carefully in every letter. Even rewriting them over again. All in the hopes that some stupid owl would come to his window and take them away. But there was no owl and Harry was beginning to wonder if there ever was one.

  Harry stomped down the stairs, ignoring his uncle shouting at him. It was almost summer, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. The Dursley’s were back to normal. Uncle Vernon locked Harry in his room. Aunt Petunia coddled Dudley and made Harry do all the chores. Dudley was out playing with some friends in the backyard, so Harry decided to go to a park.

  He wanted to go to the one near school, with all the trees. The other’s park meant he would have to pass by Mrs. Figgs house. He had been there a couple times too, but she would just shut the door on him without telling him anything. He didn’t want to talk to her anymore.

On the way, though, he passed by Lucy’s house and she was out front, making chalk-drawings on the sidewalk. He stopped and watched her until she looked up. She hadn’t talked to him ever since Dudley hit her. He didn’t blame her.

  “Hi,” He said softly.

  “Hey,” She answered, sitting back on her ankles.

  They both didn’t know what to say to the other. “Nice drawings,” Harry muttered.

  She smiled, a little. “Thanks. I like your glasses.”

  Harry tugged on them, making sure they were still there. Dudley had made a great effort to break them, and though they’ve gotten a bit bent in the process, they still worked. “I like them too,” He answered.

  “You want to draw with me?” She asked, leaning forward to add another petal to her flower.

  “I’m not good as drawing,” He answered as he knelt down. He didn’t like standing above her.

  “Yeah you are. I’ve seen you drawing during free time.”

  He did, but that was usually Snape or Dumbledore or Hogwarts. He wasn’t very good at drawing, but it made him feel better to be able to remember what it all looked like. “What colors do you have?”

  She had a little bucket. “A lot of them are broken,” She fished around for another color and began to make more flowers.

  Almost all of them were broken, but there was a black one that was untouched. Harry took it and began to draw Snape. Black hair, black eyes, black clothes. He was easy to draw, but only because Harry had already done it so many times. Next to it, he drew himself, even adding in glasses, which he sometimes forgot.

  “Oh? Is that you with your daddy?”

  Harry quickly looked up at Lucy, who was pointing to his picture. He didn’t know what to say, but she suddenly looked panicked.

  “I’m sorry! Don’t cry!”

  But Harry already was and he didn’t know why. He dropped the chalk and pressed his hands against his eyes. Lucy scrambled over and patted him on the back, saying she was sorry over and over again.

  “Lets draw something else? Okay? How about a house?” She was trying to hand him the bucket.

  Harry didn’t want to cry in front of a girl. “A castle,” He murmured, trying to wipe his eyes clean.

  “Okay, a castle sounds cool,” She chose a purple and began drawing a castle with lots of towers.

  Harry smiled a little and took the blue. “It needs a lake and a forest.”

  Lucy was digging through the bucket. “I know! An enchanted forest! Then I could draw fairies.”

  They worked for a long time, covering most of Lucy’s sidewalk and drive. She drew fairies and unicorns and many more flowers. Harry drew broomsticks and wizards in purple robes. After a couple of hours, Lucy was delighted and lay down in the grass to rest. Harry sat next to her. It was very hot and his hands were colored from the chalk. He looked at them, remembering how Snape’s were also colored from making potions. He found his eyes wandering to his first drawings, of him and Snape. He felt sad, but they looked better surrounded by the other magical drawings.

  “He’s not my dad,” He said suddenly.

  “Huh?” Lucy sat up and looked at the drawing too.

  “He’s not my dad. But I don’t mind that you thought he was.”

  She shrugged. “Okay,” A woman came out of her house and called Lucy in for supper. Harry didn’t even realize it was late. Lucy stood up, putting the rest of the chalk in a bucket. “I’ll see you in school, I guess,” She smiled. “We have only a week left until summer. You should come over again,” She ran inside, giving him a brief wave. It hurt Harry, but he knew she wouldn’t talk to him at school. That was okay though, he didn’t want her to get hit by Dudley again.

  Harry walked back to the Dursley’s house slowly, even though he knew Aunt Petunia would be angry at him for not being home in time for dinner. He didn’t know why she cared, they seemed to hate having him at the table anyway.

  Later that night, he sat at his desk and finished up his homework. It was easier now, he guessed it was because he had an easier time in class. He did find himself looking out his open window, absently wondering if there would be an owl tonight. It was warm and he could leave the window open anyway. But he wanted an owl. He wanted a letter from Snape, even though he hated the man. But he didn’t want to hate him and it made Harry feel tired.

-

  The next day at school, Harry was being chased by Dudley and his gang. Dudley had managed to break his glasses that morning on the way to school. Harry used sellotape to fix them, but some kids were laughing at him. He got so angry that he managed to punch Dudley at recess. And now the entire gang was going to kill him. Harry ran all the way around the building and tried to jump behind the dumpsters.

  Instead Harry suddenly found himself on the roof of the school. He clutched the ledge, breathing very heavily. Dudley and his friends came around the corner and he pointed up to Harry. They all shouted until a teacher came. Harry was too stunned to move. He didn’t know how he got there and it kind of scared him.

  Eventually a janitor came up and lead him down the roof stairs. His aunt and uncle were called by the headmistress. Harry was in a lot of trouble and was sent home as punishment. Uncle Vernon could barely contain himself until they got through the door. But without warning, he shoved Harry into the cupboard and quickly locked the door. Then he proceeded to shout at Harry for about an hour.

  Harry tried to argue that he didn’t know what happened. He even demanded to be put in his room instead. Uncle Vernon seemed too enraged to even hear him and, by the time he left, Harry knew he was going to be stuck in his cupboard for a very long time.

  At least his bed was still in there, so he had some place to lie down. But Harry felt awful. The room upstairs was larger and had a window. He hated the cupboard and he didn’t think he should be punished.

  He pressed his face into the dusty pillow, trying not to cry. Above all, he suddenly wanted his family tree. Whenever he felt really sad like this, he would look at it and feel a bit better. Not completely, but better. He wanted to look at his family tree and pretend that his parents were smiling at him.

-

  Severus Snape was exhausted. Exams had been more disastrous than usual. though nothing had exploded, thank Merlin, there had been many close calls and many failing marks. And though he spent many hours on his feet, breathing down the necks of Hufflepuffs, he was still awake at nearly midnight.

  It was the damned Enlightenment potion. Nearly every book suggested that it was impossible to make. Those who had come close had dubious results of its actual effectiveness. But it shouldn’t be impossible, Severus had argued with himself. It is only an evolved product of the Clarity potion, which was used mostly whenever a Quidditch player suffers from a concussion. The Clarity potion improves brain function, but only if the mind was damaged. The Enlightenment potion is meant to focus the mind on only the most important details, even when the mind is working to full capacity.

  It depended entirely on balance and precision. Both important in most potions, but the Enlightenment potion was especially finicky. Not even Severus’ best problem solving could repair a batch once defunct.

  The current concoction before him was failing quickly. There was too much ginger root, or perhaps not enough pixie dust. Severus was grabbing at straws, the pale blue color he was hoping for was fading rapidly to green. It was the beginning to a futile night and Severus felt drained.

  There was a flash of light and Severus thought momentarily that his potion had exploded. But it was a phoenix feather that had materialized out of the air. He stared at it, feeling paralyzed, as it fell slowly down and landed in the liquid. He looked at the potion, almost hypnotized, as the color cleared and became an almost translucent blue. Not quite believing it, Severus transferred some to a vial. He examined it, it seemed perfect. It seemed perfect.

  He had to test it, he was beyond considering of why the phoenix feather appeared in the first place. So he slowly let a few drops land on his tongue. It tasted salty, yet like honey, and he couldn’t quite describe what else.

  And suddenly it was like a weight settled on his chest. A warm, soft weight. And it hurt to feel and to not feel. His hands were shaking and the world was swimming around him. But he saw green, green eyes. They were looking at him. They were looking for him. And the weight hurt and it didn’t hurt.

  Severus was running, though he wasn’t sure why. But he was at the headmaster’s office and Dumbledore stood up at his abrupt entrance. “Severus, good…Are you okay?”

  “No, no I’m not,” He could hardly look up, he was staring at his shaking hands. “What is it? What is it?”

  “Well, I…Severus, you are quite pale,” The headmaster placed an hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. It wasn’t right.

  “What is it?” He kept repeating, his head pounding. The edges of his vision fading into blue, or was it green?

  “It was an alarm. I told them not to place Harry Potter in the cupboard, but apparently-”

  But Severus was gone. He was gone at that name. And if he were in a better mind, he would know that he automatically stepped into the floo. But all he felt was fire that was not as warm as his arms.

  Then he was standing before the cupboard as it unlatched. And there was a boy there. There was a boy.

  And Severus Snape could finally think clearly.

  “Harry,” He whispered in the dark hallway. “Harry.”

  The boy slowly opened his eyes, trying to see Severus. “Am I dreaming?”

  He was tired. “No, but I think I am.”

  Harry sat up and fumbled for the light. His hair was messy and his glasses looked to be broken. “It really is you,” He whispered.

  Severus felt a bit numb, he couldn’t quite remember how he got there. He vaguely remembered flooing, but he must have apparated as well. He felt very aware that he was standing in a muggle household in the middle of the night and Harry Potter was sleeping in a cupboard. He couldn’t move, his legs suddenly feeling stiff.

  “Have you come to take me away?”

  “Yes.”

  Harry smiled and Severus found himself responding. When Harry raised his hands, Severus was suddenly lifting the boy into his embrace. Harry wrapped his arms around Snape’s neck, his legs locking around his waist. Severus looked into the green eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” He whispered to the boy.

  “It’s okay,” Harry pressed his forehead on the man’s neck. “Are we going home now?”

  “Yes,” Severus didn’t know why he kept answering that, but he wasn’t about to let the boy go now. His arms no longer ached and his head felt so clear, it was almost dizzying.

  “Is this what it’s like?”

  “What?” He was trying to gather his thoughts, but all he could think of was leaving. He was more than ready to apparate, he realized.

  Harry’s arms tightened a bit more. “Is this what it feels like?”

  Severus’ thoughts came into clear precision in that moment. And he suddenly understood why Harry kept that family tree under his pillow and drew his parent’s faces smiling. He understood about climbing trees or asking all those strange questions about his mother. He knew what Harry had been asking, or trying to ask.

  Severus Snape held Harry Potter very close, closing his eyes against the messy hair. “Yes, this is what it feels like.”

  And they disappeared.