When the owl delivered Harry Potter's first Hogwarts letter, sliding it through the letter slot, Harry never knew. The heavy cream envelope, addressed to Harry Potter, the Cupboard under the Stairs, sat on the kitchen table until Uncle Vernon arrived home from work. After he had opened it and read the contents, he threw the letter in the garbage. Nothing was said by Vernon or Petunia. Harry, shut into his cupboard by this time of day, was lying on his pallet. Voices from the telly slipped under the door, but no sounds reached his ears.

The next morning, after Uncle Vernon and Dudley had left the house, Aunt Petunia let him out of the cupboard and left him to make his way up the stairs and into the loo, where he washed and used the toilet. Then he made his way back down the stairs and, after some fumbling, found a bowl of cereal and a glass of water. Today he got breakfast. Tomorrow would be lunch and the next day was nothing. This was how it had always been since the accident.

After eating, he let himself out into the tiny enclosed back garden and sat in a chair on the equally tiny patio, next to the back door where it was shady for the greater part of the day. He remained there until the back door opened and hit the back of his chair, signaling that it was nearly time for him to return to the cupboard. He used the toilet again, and was back in his cupboard before Uncle Vernon returned home from work. No one spoke to him and he spoke to no one in return. Uncle Vernon pretended that the boy was gone and Aunt Petunia and Harry did nothing to ruin his fantasy world. Life was easier that way.

Harry spent weekends locked in the cupboard. Aunt Petunia would bring him a bucket, two sandwiches and a pitcher of water. He would be let out again on Monday morning. Occasionally, the family would leave for the weekend and Aunt Petunia would unlock the cupboard before they left, while Uncle Vernon was waiting in the car. Those were the best times. Harry would take a long bath and wash his hair. He would sit on the floor in the sitting room with the telly on loud, letting the sounds wash over him, and he would eat some of the things in refrigerator, and try to figure out what they were. His favorite thing to drink was orange juice and he would empty the container, knowing that nothing would be said to him. He was like a ghost, living on the fringes of actual life, and as long as he didn't get in anyone's way, no one would notice that he was there.

The summer days slipped away. Dudley left for three weeks holiday with some of his friends. Harry's birthday came and went without him even knowing. His Aunt and Uncle had never told him when it was, all he knew was that he was the same age as Dudley and that Dudley had just turned eleven. Harry had been confined to his cupboard during Dudley's birthday party. Therefore, in Harry's head, he was eleven, but he had no way of knowing if it was true.

Summer was Harry's favorite time of year. He could sit in his chair in the garden in his bare feet and not have to worry about trying to keep warm. He would walk in the grass, feeling the warm earth beneath his feet. He had lain on the grass once, but it had made him itch and Aunt Petunia would not allow him a bath to wash it off. His bath days were Tuesday and Friday, but he was never certain when those days were until Aunt Petunia handed him a towel when she let him out of his cupboard.

One day in the middle of August, he slipped and fell on the stairs on his way back down from using the toilet and didn't get up fast enough to avoid Uncle Vernon coming home from work. He heard the noise of the door slamming come faintly to his ears and knew that Uncle Vernon's little fantasy world was about to end. He heard a roar that he supposed contained words, but couldn't make them mean anything in his head. He felt a large, strong hand grab his upper arm, painfully digging into his scars, dragging him to the cupboard where he was thrown inside, hitting the back wall. The door slammed and the locks engaged. He crawled over to the door and heard yelling and pounding, as if Uncle Vernon were hitting the walls with his fists. At least he wasn't hitting Harry. That was something else that had changed after the accident. He got food more often and he didn't get hit as much. Sometimes Harry thought that it was almost worth it.

~HPSSHPSS~

Severus Snape was furious. Striding from the apparation point, dressed in ridiculous Muggle clothes, he seethed. He did not want to be retrieving Harry Potter from his relatives. The thought of having to spend most of the next two days in the company of said brat before he could put him on the train was almost enough for him to send his resignation to Dumbledore. When Severus had told him as much, Dumbledore had merely smiled at him and said that it was necessary. All of the other teachers were unavailable. Severus snorted. That was so unlikely as to be laughable, but still, here he was on his way to retrieve his most hated enemy's son and take him to Hogwarts. He could feel the migraine starting in the back of his neck and quickly drank a headache potion pulled from the pocket of his suit jacket.

The house at number 4 looked exactly like the other houses on Privet Drive. Perfect lawn, perfect hedges and a sparkling clean car sitting in the drive. The perfection almost made Severus's headache come back. Stupid Muggles, trying to beat nature into submission. Severus strode up to the door and knocked, firmly. A few moments later, a tall skinny woman opened the door.

"Hello, Petunia," Severus sneered.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Petunia nearly shrieked. Severus wanted to do a silencio on her.

"I'm here for Harry Potter. He must have shown you the letter from Hogwarts stating that someone would be here to retrieve him today."

Petunia turned a ghastly shade of red. "He didn't get the letter."

Severus arched an eyebrow at her. "And why would that be? I know for a fact that the letter was opened. Perhaps you would care to explain who in your family was opening Mr. Potter's mail and then not showing it to him."

Cringing, but not answering him, Petunia opened the door wider, allowing him to enter. The house was spotlessly clean; the only thing that looked out of place was the rather large lock on the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

Silently, Petunia led him into the kitchen and out the back door where, sitting in a worn chair, facing away from Severus, was none other than the Wizarding World's saviour, Harry Potter.

"Mr. Potter," Severus said, hands on his hips, but the boy had no reaction. He was probably so used to being waited on hand and foot that he didn't think he had to respond. "Mr. Potter!" he said somewhat more loudly, and it was then that the boy moved. He didn't jerk or turn his head, he simply got to his feet and turned to face Severus. What Severus saw set him back a step with an involuntary gasp that sent all his preconceived notions crumbling around his feet.

A wash of rage swept through him and he rounded on Petunia. "What have you done?" he roared.

"It was an accident," she started, but stopped speaking when his eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to her.

"An accident," he hissed. "When?"

"Three years ago."

Severus looked back at the boy for a moment before turning back to Petunia. "Who else was hurt?" He cocked his head at her. "You obviously were not hurt, so I can only assume it was your husband that was damaged trying to protect him?"

Petunia shook her head. "No one else was hurt." She whispered.

"So you're telling me that an eight year old boy was alone and there was an 'accident.' Is that correct?"

Petunia nodded, her eyes on the floor.

"Would you care to tell me exactly what caused this accident?"

"He was cooking dinner and there was an explosion," Petunia whispered.

"He was cooking dinner," Severus repeated. "You had an eight year old cooking dinner."

Petunia didn't move. Severus took a step closer and growled at her. "Did you, by any chance, take him to hospital to be treated?" His voice was low and menacing. Petunia shook her head.

Severus took a step back, afraid that if he stayed where he was, he would hex her into oblivion.

He tried to tamp down the anger, but his voice was laden with it as he shouted. "You were trusted to take him in! You were supposed to keep him safe and healthy! This is LILY'S SON!"

Shaking with rage, he turned back to look again at Harry. He looked at Harry's ravaged face, the scars traveling down both his left arm and leg, and shuddered to think what was underneath the ridiculously oversized and filthy shorts and t-shirt he was wearing. "What exactly is wrong with him, beyond the obvious?"

"He is blind and nearly deaf. He can only hear very loud voices and many times cannot understand what is being said. He doesn't speak."

Severus slowly approached Harry, who had not moved from his spot next to the chair. Severus could tell that Harry was anxious only from the fact that his knuckles were white where his hand gripped the arm of the chair and from the fine, almost indiscernible tremours that shook him constantly.

Severus knelt in front of Harry and gently put a hand on his arm. Harry flinched, but didn't move away. "Harry," Severus spoke clearly and slowly. "My name is Professor Snape. I'm here to take you to Hogwarts, a school for magic."

Harry looked confused and Severus turned his head to look at Petunia. "Does he know that he's a wizard, Petunia?" Her eyes were wide as she shook her head. "We never told him. That word has never been allowed to be spoken."

Severus closed his eyes. "Petunia, I would strongly suggest that you get out of my sight before I do something that I may regret."

With a whimper, Petunia nearly ran through the back door, leaving Severus alone with Harry.

Severus sighed, unsure how to proceed. How was he to explain everything the boy needed to know and convince him that he should leave with Severus? He was trying to formulate the words needed when he was shocked out of his contemplation by a small voice.

"Did you know my mother?" The voice was hoarse from disuse, but the words were clear. Severus looked into bright green eyes filled with cautious hope.

Without a thought, Severus summoned a glass of water from the kitchen, snorting at the screech that followed the sound of the cupboard opening and water running.

"Yes, I knew her. She was my friend when we were children." He spoke slowly and somewhat loudly, handing the glass to Harry. Harry held the glass, but did not drink. "It's water, Harry. Drink."

After drinking, Harry tilted his head slightly to one side, "Will you tell me about her?"

Severus briefly considered his request. Memories of Lily were precious to him and he did not like to share.

However, this was her son and Severus decided that he deserved to know about her. "Yes. Will you come with me to the school?"

There was a short silence. "Will I have to come back here after school?"

Severus took his hand and pulled him closer. "No. I will make certain that you never have to come back here again."

"Then yes, I'll come with you." Harry took a step towards Severus and Severus was amazed at the amount of trust this boy was putting in someone he didn't know.

Severus looked Harry up and down and then pulled out his wand and muttered a cleaning charm on Harry and his clothes. Harry tilted his head again. "Did you just do something?"

"I did a cleaning charm on you." Severus replied. "Did you feel the magic?"

Harry nodded. "It tingled on my skin."

"Well, that's what you should have felt. Do you have shoes?"

Harry nodded and, limping heavily, led him into the house, feeling along the walls until he reached the cupboard under the stairs. When he opened it and disappeared inside, Severus looked in after him. There was a filthy pallet on the floor and a few broken toys sitting on a shelf. It smelled heavily of unwashed boy. Harry picked up a pair of tattered trainers that were several sizes too big and slipped his feet into them.

"Do you sleep here?" Severus had not thought it possible to be even more outraged than he was, but apparently, he could.

"Yes, this is where I live."

Severus wanted to hunt the Dursleys down and use every unforgivable on them. He closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm himself. After a moment, when he had himself back in some control, he looked at Harry again. The boy stood in front of him, unfocused eyes pointed somewhere to the left of Severus's elbow, dressed in the most horrifying clothes he'd ever seen. He sighed heavily.

Severus pulled his wand again, cleaned the shoes and resized them to fit Harry's feet. Harry nearly fell over. "Now what did you do?" he asked, panic in his voice.

"I resized the shoes to fit you."

"Oh," Harry replied, lifting one foot and then the other. "They feel strange."

"Have you ever had shoes or clothes that actually fit you?"

"No, never." As he spoke, Harry's hand reached out to the shelf, grasped a small, broken, green plastic army man, and slipped it into the pocket of his shorts.

"I'm ready," he said.

Severus took hold of Harry's hand. Slowly he led Harry out the front door to the edge of the wards. He stopped, contemplating for a moment how he was to get this child to Diagon Alley, then bent to look at Harry. "I need to take us to a place in London to purchase the necessary items for your schooling. The quickest way to do this is called Apparating. It is a magic way to travel and makes you feel like you're being squeezed into a small tube. The first time is not pleasant. Are you willing to do this?"

Harry nodded cautiously.

Severus reached for Harry's hand, but then changed his mind. "It would be easier if I were to carry you. Will you allow me to pick you up?"

After a slight hesitation, Harry put his arms up like a small child. "Yes."

Severus hoisted him onto his hip and Harry wrapped his arms around his neck. The boy was small and weighed nearly nothing. Severus didn't want to contemplate what that meant as he Apparated them to an alley just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had his face buried in Severus's neck, whimpering.

"I didn't like that at all," Harry said.

"I told you it was unpleasant," Severus replied.

Harry snorted. "Unpleasant." He laughed brokenly, raising his head. "It was horrible."

Severus put Harry on the ground, transformed the Muggle clothes he was wearing back into his own robes, and led Harry into the Leaky Cauldron. The main dining room was filled with witches and wizards, and Severus realised that he could not introduce the boy as Harry Potter. As damaged as he was, he would never be able to handle the attention. It was amazing that he was able to interact with Severus as well as he did. Severus thought the boy's magic must have kept him from sinking into complete withdrawal from the outside world. Harry's ability to complain about Apparation gave Severus hope that it might still be possible for this child to develop normal relationships, given enough time and attention. Time and attention that Severus devoutly hoped would be someone else's responsibility.

Severus sat down at a table in the far corner after placing Harry in the chair next to him. He then ordered lunch from Tom and cast a silencing spell around the table.

"Harry, I know that this is going to be new and confusing for you, but there are some things I need to explain before we go to Diagon Alley."

Harry turned his head in Severus's direction and Severus pulled him into his lap so that he would hear him more clearly.

"What did your aunt and uncle tell you about how your parents died?"

Before Harry could answer, Tom brought their lunch to them. If he thought it odd that the child was sitting on Severus's lap, he said nothing. Severus moved the platter to sit in front of Harry and placed the spoon in his right hand, leading his left hand to the bowl. "There is soup and bread in front of you. To your right is a glass of juice. Can you manage, or will you need help?"

Harry felt around the edge of the bowl, sticking the tip of his finger into the soup, presumably to test the temperature. "I think I can manage, sir." Carefully he scooped up a spoonful of soup and leaned forward to put it in his mouth. A small amount spilled down the front of him, but he got most of it in. Severus took the serviette from the table, enlarged it quite a bit and then laid it in Harry's lap. Harry reached for the juice and Severus moved it into his hand. After taking a drink, he wrinkled up his face. "What kind of juice is this?"

"Pumpkin juice," Severus replied. "Is something wrong with it?"

"No, I don't think so, I've just never had it before." Harry took another drink. "It's not bad."

"Is there something else that you prefer?" Severus asked. Harry hesitated a moment. "I like orange juice a lot." Harry said. "But this is okay."

After a few minutes of silence while Harry worked on getting more of the soup inside of him than on his shirt, he said, "I don't understand about the school being for ma…magic, sir." Harry stumbled over the word as he rubbed his finger on the rim of the bowl nervously. "Will you tell me about it?"

Severus told him about the school and about Harry being a wizard while Harry ate the soup and bread. Finally, when the bowl was empty, he sat back, leaning against Severus. "Thank you, sir. That explains so many things that I didn't understand. My aunt and uncle told me I was a freak, because things kept happening and I couldn't explain them."

"You're not a freak, Harry," Severus said fiercely. "You're a wizard. You were doing what is called accidental magic. Most wizard children will start doing accidental magic at about five years of age. You can't stop or control it, it's just the magic in you to beginning to form."

When a searching hand reached out towards his own, he moved his hand to allow Harry to grasp it.

"The Dursleys told me that Dad was drunk and that he caused a car crash. He and Mum died and I was given to them to raise. They hated me for that."

Pushing his anger aside, Severus told Harry the truth. "Your parents were killed by a very evil wizard. When this wizard tried to kill you, the curse backfired. You survived and this evil wizard didn't. As a result, your name is famous and you are now known as The Boy who Lived."

"I'm famous for not dying?" Harry asked, amazement in his voice, his head tilted back, almost as if he were trying to see Severus. He laughed shortly. "That's stupid."

"Yes." Severus agreed. "If I take you out into Diagon Alley and introduce you as Harry Potter, you will be mobbed. Everyone will want to touch you and to know what happened to you."

Harry started to shake. "I can't do that, sir." Tears formed in his eyes. "Please don't make me."

"No, I will not make you," Severus answered. He thought for a moment. "What we will do is introduce you as Evan Snape, my ward. I will protect you to the best of my ability."

Harry seemed surprised. "You would do that? Why?"

"You are Lily's child," Severus said simply. "I could do no less."

Harry buried his face in Severus's robes. "Thank you, sir," he said, his voice muffled.