Harry woke on the morning of his sixteenth birthday with one thought and one desire consuming his mind:

He must present himself to Severus Snape.

He immediately got up, dressed, and began packing, concentrating only on his desire to get to Severus Snape and present himself to him. He was methodical and quick, and had everything in his school trunk within five minutes. He snatched up Hedwig’s cage, not having time to wait for her to return from her nighttime hunting, stuck his wand into his jeans’ pocket, and made his way briskly down the stairs and to the front door, dragging the trunk and cage behind him. He ignored his aunt and uncle’s confused looks and annoyed shouts, marching down the front steps after he had closed the door behind him and sticking out his wand hand for the Knight Bus.

His aunt and uncle had finally roused themselves and he could just hear them angrily opening the front door as he handed a few coins to the conductor and the doors to the Knight Bus closed behind him.

“How far do you go?” he asked.

“Domestic on’y,” was the reply.

“King’s Cross then.”

With that, he moved to one of the chairs that were scattered about the bus and took a seat, arranging his belongings under his legs and gripping the wall firmly as the bus took off with a bang!

xxXxx

Severus Snape awoke feeling surprisingly lighthearted, a sensation he had yet to grow accustomed to. It had been a month and a half since the battle in the Ministry of Magic, a month and a half of being free from a duty in the course of which he had fully expected to die, a month and a half of seeing the unblemished skin of his left forearm, a month and a half since the combined power of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter had finally and irrevocably brought down Lord Voldemort in the atrium of the Ministry.

He stretched languidly and then padded over to the window, looking out over the city of Rennes bathed in early morning sunlight. He had moved to the city two weeks after the battle, finally agreeing to pursue a relationship with Aurélie Dufour. She had been a newer recruit to the Order, one of Albus’ foreign contacts, and they had grown close over a shared love for potions. She had practically pestered him for months about beginning to date, unwilling to accept that Severus would not risk seeing her while he was still a spy. It had taken her only a few days after Voldemort’s final demise to ask Severus to move in with her and her teenaged son in their small house in Rennes. And it had taken him only a few more days to decline the offer, but agree to find a small flat nearby. The way he saw it, he had been given a new and unexpected chance at life, and he was doing his best to take advantage of it. However, he had explained to Aurélie that he felt improper moving in with her before they married, particularly considering she had a son who had not yet been told that they were together, given that they had only just decided it themselves. Besides that, he was still a fairly acerbic and unpleasant man, and he did not want to be living with her when -- if -- she realized it and broke things off.

His reverie was broken by a purposeful knocking on the door to his flat. Knowing that Aurélie would only be up this early if forced, he drew his face into a scowl, wondering who could possibly have business with him at such an hour. Reaching the door, he checked that the wards were intact before checking the peephole. Puzzled at seeing no one, he swung the door open, and his scowl deepened at what he saw.

There was a man -- no, a boy -- kneeling in the hallway just outside his door, his legs folded under him, his hands on the floor before him, and his forehead bowed so low that it nearly touched the ground. On further inspection, he nearly groaned when he recognized that familiarly skinny build and messy black hair. A trunk with an owl’s cage on top was on the floor next to him.

“Potter,” he snapped, temper flaring, “what on earth are you doing?”

To which he heard Potter’s slightly muffled voice answer, “I present myself, Harry James Potter, to you, Severus Tobias Snape, as your slave. Please accept my service.”

Severus’ jaw clenched. Had Potter gone round the twist completely? This had better not be a prank. “Get inside,” he snarled, then whirled and swept towards his fireplace, calling back, “And close the door behind you.” He flung a handful of floo powder at the grate and watched the green flames shoot up. When he turned, he saw Potter approaching with his head bowed, having left his belongings near the entryway. Severus grasped his hand, shoving him into the flames before stepping in himself and calling out “International Floo Connector!”

Three whirling trips and one exorbitant fee later, he was stepping gracefully out of the fireplace of the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts, pulling Potter along behind him by his arm. He released the arm to brush soot off himself, then straightened as he saw Dumbledore enter the room.

“Ah, my boys! What brings the two of you here?” Dumbledore beamed at them.

Severus glanced at Potter and spat out, “Potter might need medical assistance. He appears to have been confunded; either that or the events of the recent past have caught up to him at last and he has cracked. I leave him in your capable hands.” He inclined his head towards Dumbledore, then spun and began to head towards the door to the office, intending to Apparate home.

“Severus!” Dumbledore called after him. He paused and turned his head, noticing that Potter had begun following him, a few paces behind. He sneered at the boy, then noticed that Dumbledore’s face looked mildly concerned.

“Severus why don’t you accompany us to the infirmary? You can give Madam Pomfrey the full story and while we wait for her diagnosis you can tell me all about Rennes.”

Severus crossed his arms but jerked his head in a nod, and waited for Dumbledore to precede him out the door. Dumbledore shot a patronus out of his wand as they headed towards the revolving staircase.

They trooped through the empty halls of Hogwarts in silence, both adults glancing back on occasion to see Harry following a couple of paces behind Severus with his head down. When they entered the hospital wing, they found Madam Pomfrey waiting for them. She bustled over and attempted to lead Harry to a bed, but he dug in his heels.

“I must present myself to Severus Snape,” he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Dumbledore blanch. He watched Madam Pomfrey force Potter to swallow a sleeping draught, levitate him onto a bed, and begin casting diagnostic spells, then spun to face Dumbledore.

“What is it?” he demanded. “What do you know?”

Dumbledore shook his head, an expression of disbelief on his face. “It can’t be…” he trailed off, then his eyes snapped to Severus’. “What exactly happened?”

Severus crossed his arms irritably but replied, “I heard a knock on my door this morning, and I answered it to find Potter… bowing… in front of my door. He said, ‘I present myself, Harry James Potter, to you, Severus Tobias Snape, as your slave. Please accept my service.’ He is clearly… mental, so I dragged him inside and brought him here for you to deal with.” He frowned. “I have no idea how he even found me.”

Dumbledore ran a hand wearily through his hair. “This is most unexpected,” he mumbled to himself.

“Albus, fill the rest of us in, will you?” Severus snapped impatiently.

“Severus, Harry is your slave.”

Severus stared at Dumbledore, dumbfounded, for a moment, before beginning to protest. “That is impossible, Albus. Slavery was outlawed in the 1500’s. And besides, slaves are born. Neither of his parents were slaves, and he certainly has not been my slave for the past sixteen years.”

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. “You never were much of one for history, Severus. I am afraid it is entirely possible, though highly improbable.” He looked suddenly thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “What is the date today, Severus?”

Still whirling over what Dumbledore had said, it took Severus a moment to process the question and answer, “August 6th.”

Dumbledore nodded. “We have a bit of time then. Not much, but a little.”

“Albus--” Severus began.

“In a moment, Severus. I will explain everything,” Dumbledore interrupted.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey finished with her spells and turned towards the two men. “I can find nothing physically, or mentally, wrong with him, Albus.” She looked slightly puzzled.

“Thank you, Poppy. Would you excuse us, please, for a moment? Harry will be fine, but there is something I need to discuss with Severus that concerns Harry. If we require it, will we be able to wake him?”

The matron looked a bit startled at the headmaster’s request, but she answered, “Yes, it is only a mild sleeping draught. You will be able to wake him with Enervate, and there is an antidote in the cabinet. Severus will recognize it.” Then she returned to her office, a confused look on her face.

Dumbledore faced Severus again, who was looking distinctly unhappy and impatient. “Listen carefully, Severus, and I will explain. This is very important for you to know, now.”

Severus only nodded as Dumbledore continued, “Slavery was indeed outlawed in 1554, or at least the practice of breeding slaves was. The intention, I believe, was to allow the practice to die off. However, by the late 1570’s or early 1580’s, wizards had found a way to slightly modify the spell. They began using the geas as a way to pay back serious offences or debts. It was originally used for quite major offences; it is actually the ancestor of our modern version of a life debt, although at the time it was used, one could say, in reverse. For example, if your neighbor killed your son, you could demand his own son as a slave in repayment. However, as you stated, a slave must be born and so they could not take a son already in existence, and as you may or may not know, wizards would only accept true slaves, often called servant slaves, who were male wizards. They would not accept females or squibs. So once the spell was cast, it essentially became the next magical male descendant who would be accepted as the slave.

“By the mid-1600’s, the practice had turned into a way for more powerful nobles to take advantage of the less powerful nobles, forcing them into a debt bond even for minor debts. At around the same time, the spell was modified just slightly to allow for a continuation of service even if the slave died young. The first magical male descendant became a slave for life, no matter how long they lived, but if they died before they had served for seven years, the next magical male descendant would serve, but only for the remainder of the seven years, and so on until a full seven years of service was received.

“However, by the early 1700’s, this began to turn into a practice of breeding slaves again. Masters would order their slaves to breed in case they died young. Around 1750, the practice evolved so that masters would order their slaves to mate with a woman who was carrying the geas, causing their years of service to stack if the slave died young. It did not take long for this to begin to devolve into all-out slavery once again, although many of these slaves would become free as older men, when they were less valuable anyway. In 1810, the breeding of slaves was outlawed once again, more specifically preventing any slave from participating in sexual relations or reproducing this time, and the forging of a new debt bond of slavery was also outlawed. But due to the nature of the spell, the wizarding world had to wait quite a long time for slavery to completely die out.”

Severus was scowling by the end of Dumbledore’s explanation. “I still do not fully understand, Albus. What do you mean by a ‘servant slave,’ and how could Potter possibly be a slave? You yourself said they must be born, and that the practice has died off. If this is your idea of a joke, you have a sick sense of humor.”

Dumbledore sighed. “It is a very complicated subject, and difficult to explain fully. But even before 1554, only male wizards acted as servants for their masters. At the time, they were sometimes called ‘servant slaves’ while women were called ‘breeding slaves,’ and squibs were often killed off. They did not realize at the time that the descendants of squibs could prove magical, or perhaps they did but did not have the patience. Servant slaves were ordered to breed with the women when the master desired more slaves, and the servant slaves were traditionally kept separate from the women and children to prevent over-breeding. Children were raised by the women until they turned sixteen, when the magical men were taken as servant slaves, undergoing the Servitude Ritual, and women were considered old enough to breed. The geas would lie dormant in women and children, and only awaken when a magical male turned sixteen, fully coming into effect after the Servitude Ritual.

“When slavery turned into a debt bond, the same basic principle remained true. The spell was cast onto the offender, or occasionally their son or daughter if the offender was too old to bear more children. The geas would be passed on to their offspring, but remain dormant until a magical male was born. This did not usually take more than a generation, perhaps two, and the owner of the debt bond could sometimes insist, to a degree, that the family of the offender continue trying to have children until a wizard was born. An additional complication was that only a magical male could own the slave, so even if a wizard was born who could fulfill the terms of the debt bond, if no wizard was born to the owner’s family within his lifetime, the geas would remain dormant. If a wizard was born to the owner’s family, the dormant geas would activate in the wizard once the child turned five rather than when the slave himself turned sixteen. Although if the master died without male relatives, ownership would pass to a female relative; only if the master’s line completely died out would the slave be freed.

“However, these rules made it more difficult for slavery to fully die out. Some families had only females or squibs for several generations, forcing great-grandchildren to pay off the debts of their forebears. In my childhood, it was an uncommon occurrence, but not unheard of, for new slaves to be born. Actually, the elder brother of one of the boys in my class at Hogwarts was a servant slave. And it was only a few years before I was born, in 1875, that the law forbidding slaves from reproducing was amended, allowing them to have children but only if they desired to, protecting them from being forced by their masters.

“Once a wizard was born, he usually remained in the care of his family until he turned sixteen, although his future master had legal power over him as a parent or guardian would. The night before his sixteenth birthday, his family would bring him to the master’s house, because once he turned sixteen he would begin to feel the ‘calling’ or the ‘pull.’” As he said this, Dumbledore looked over at the sleeping Harry, and Severus followed his gaze. “They would wake with an uncontrollable desire to find their master and present themselves to him. It is similar in a way to the Imperius Curse, but twists the desires and causes the thoughts to follow, rather than emptying the mind and inserting thoughts. And it cannot be overthrown, not by one born under the geas. It would grow stronger the longer it took the slave to find their master, and begin to cause… unpleasant consequences if the Servitude Ritual was not performed within a week. It took Harry six days to reach you, which means the ritual must be completed today.”

Severus stared in shock for a moment as he processed all that he had just learned. “Albus, it cannot… he cannot--”

“Severus, it is true. It is the only reasonable explanation. It is a highly improbable occurrence -- slavery is considered eradicated in Britain at this point -- but it is not impossible. Lily likely had a squib somewhere in her ancestry.”

Severus crossed his arms, his mind churning and searching for a way out. “Then why was I not his guardian all of these years?”

Dumbledore frowned. “Legally, you were, at least in the Wizarding world. There would be a record in the Ministry somewhere saying as much, along with your ownership papers, but it was never pertinent, and there was certainly never any reason to check such a document. The Dursleys were Harry’s guardians in the Muggle world, and the Wizarding world recognizes such claims unless there is a reason not to, particularly for blood relatives. It would be too complicated if every muggleborn or muggle-raised child had to file papers at the Ministry giving their parents or guardians legal guardianship over them in the Wizarding world. He was living in the Muggle world when away from Hogwarts; it was not necessary.”

“Fine. Let us check this document,” Severus finally said through gritted teeth. He strode towards the door, then turned back towards Dumbledore. “Well?”

“Severus, there is not much time. The ritual must be performed today. And if Harry wakes while you are gone, he will--”

“I know the draught that Poppy used, we have at least three hours.”

Dumbledore sighed, then followed his younger colleague.

They returned to the infirmary two and a half hours later. Severus was clutching an official-looking parchment in his hand and his expression was unreadable, while Dumbledore looked sad and old.

“It is worse than I had hoped,” the Headmaster said as they took seats by Harry’s bed. “I had hoped that he may be finishing the remainder of the seven years, that one of his ancestors died young. The circumstances are so terribly improbable, that he would be the first wizard born to the family since the spell was cast in 1799.”

Severus’ unfocused gaze suddenly bore into Dumbledore’s eyes. “You need to tell me exactly what this means, Albus. Leave no detail out.” His eyes were flashing with barely-concealed anger.

“Of course.” Dumbledore blew out his breath and began.

About an hour later, the two saw Harry beginning to stir. He opened his eyes and then blinked slowly, looking around. Once his gaze found Severus, he immediately scrambled out of bed and to the floor in front of Severus, bowing low as he had that morning.

“Please accept my service,” he intoned.

Dumbledore rose and scooped up Harry’s glasses from the bedside table, then beckoned to Severus. “Come. We will perform the ritual in my office.”

Once they had stepped off of the revolving staircase, the two older men arranged themselves so that the three of them formed a sort of triangle in the middle of the floor before the Headmaster’s desk.

Once settled, Severus stated, “I accept your service,” then waited, having been told by Dumbledore that the geas would guide Harry, and by extension Severus, through the ritual.

Harry waited for a moment and then, with his head still angled downward so he met no one’s eyes, stated in a dull voice, “Make a slice across your palm.”

Dumbledore immediately conjured a knife and handed it, handle first, to Severus. Severus took it and sliced cleanly across his left palm, watching the blood well out.

“Draw a circle around my ankles with your blood,” Harry stated in the same voice.

Severus obeyed, kneeling before the standing Harry and smearing his blood in a circle completely around each of Harry’s ankles.

“Draw a circle around my wrists with your blood.”

Severus rose and repeated the process with Harry’s wrists, which Harry had stretched out, his palms facing the ceiling.

“Draw a circle around my neck with your blood.”

Severus suppressed a shiver at the expressionless voice and the strange ritual, obeying Harry’s instructions once again.

Then Harry pulled out his own wand and pointed it over his own left hand, sliding its point down his palm and leaving a deep cut in its wake. He pocketed his wand again and then slid the collar of his baggy shirt aside far enough to expose his right shoulder. Then he pressed his left palm to a spot on his collar bone, not quite to the shoulder, leaving a bloody smear behind.

“I present myself, Harry James Potter, to you, Severus Tobias Snape, as your slave. I will serve you for life. Do you accept my service?”

“I do,” Severus answered, his voice steady.

Then Harry cried out and collapsed to the floor.

Severus looked slightly alarmed, but Dumbledore stepped closer and raised his wand, levitating Harry onto a small loveseat by his fireplace.

“He will wake shortly, once it has fully taken effect,” he explained.

xxXxx

Harry woke to unfamiliar surroundings. He sat up slowly and glanced around, then became aware of a sharp pain on his right shoulder. He glanced down and could make out a small mark peeking out from beneath his shirt collar, perhaps a burn, but could not make out details without his glasses. His glasses were rather suddenly dangled in front of his face by someone, and he snatched them up and put them on, his surroundings coming into focus.

He saw Dumbledore standing near him, with Snape a few steps back. He was on a small couch in Dumbledore’s office. He tried to look up at Dumbledore’s face, but found that he could not meet his eyes, for some inexplicable reason.

"What do you remember of the last week, Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"I--" Harry thought for a minute, and then memories came rushing back. He remembered waking on his birthday with an intense desire to get to Snape, traveling to King's Cross and then using a combination of hopping trains until he was kicked off and working odd jobs to make enough money to buy tickets. He had hardly slept in the last few days. And then--

He glanced at Snape in horror, unable again to meet his eyes and instead looking somewhere around the man's chest.

“I’m a…” he trailed off.

“Severus, perhaps it would be best if you waited in the other room while I explain to Harry. Remember not to go too far though.”

Harry saw Severus nod, then turn and leave.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was clutching an untouched mug of tea with numb hands and staring unfocused at the opposite wall. Distantly, he wondered if this was what it felt like to be in shock.

I’m a slave. I’m a slave. I’m Snape’s slave.

The words were echoing in his mind. Over the past few minutes, Dumbledore had explained exactly what it meant, and how the geas would affect him.

He had to obey any command given to him by his master. It sounded as though he did not really have any choice in this; he would be compelled. His master could punish him in any way he liked for any offence. He could not look any free person in the eyes without being given permission by his master or by the individual person themselves. Dumbledore was not sure whether his master -- Snape -- would be able to just give him blanket permission in the morning or would have to give him permission in each new scenario. He did not truly own anything himself anymore, unless his master gave it to him. But even then, his master could always take it back, so it was a bit more like he might be allowed to use it or borrow it. Fortunately, his family vault and heirlooms were not forfeit to Snape, being held in trust for any of his future heirs, though he still had to request permission to use them himself. But anything that he was given or acquired in his own lifetime would be Snape’s. And if he never gained an heir, given that he had no living relatives in the Wizarding world, everything he and his family owned would go to Snape’s family when he died.

He also had discovered that there was a thick metal collar around his neck, resting at the base of his throat and on his clavicle, just above his sternum. It was rounded and about a half an inch thick, seamless and smooth and cold, but it fortunately did not hinder his neck movements or breathing or swallowing; there was about enough wiggle room between the collar and his neck for him to slip one or perhaps two fingers underneath it. He also had metal bracelets and anklets, around a quarter of an inch thick and a bit flatter than the collar, but similarly seamless and smooth. He presumed that the blood that Snape had smeared around those areas had somehow turned into them, although they looked like ordinary steel. He also had discovered that the mark he had seen on his right shoulder was in fact a brand of the Prince family crest. Fortunately, Dumbledore had assured him that although he could not remove them, he would be able to cover these marks of his servitude, although he did not relish the idea of wearing long trousers and long-sleeved and high-collared shirts for the rest of his life.

But certainly the worst part of his new reality was the restriction on his movement. He would be given relatively free rein of whatever place his master considered ‘home,’ but anywhere else he would need to be within fifty feet of his master. Dumbledore was not entirely sure of what happened if he did try to leave the fifty foot radius, but he had assured him that he would shortly begin researching the exact conditions of slavery.

His life was officially over. And what was worse, there was no way out of it. He could not be sold, the geas could not be broken, he would not even be physically able to harm himself unless it was in protection of his master. Nor could he harm his master in any way; he would be stopped before he could.

He did not even fully understand how slavery could still be possible. Dumbledore had explained all about the history of slavery in the Wizarding world, but he had only been partially listening, half of his mind numbly churning over his new status. Apparently slavery was illegal, but they could not do anything about people already under the geas, or something? He wondered what his friends, the students at Hogwarts, heck the Wizarding world in general, would think about this. He didn’t see any way it could be kept silent indefinitely, so they would probably know eventually. Would he even be able to go back to Hogwarts, were slaves allowed to be educated? His heart sank at that thought.

Dumbledore had left to retrieve Snape from the other room, but he returned now, the dark man trailing behind him. Harry looked up and met Dumbledore’s eyes, relishing in this small freedom, even if Dumbledore had had to give it to him.

“We will be returning to my home, Potter. Have you ever done side-along Apparition before?” Snape asked, his voice toneless.

Harry shook his head, his eyes now focused somewhere near Snape’s midsection. He stood, placing his lukewarm tea on an endtable.

Dumbledore clapped him on the shoulder, and Harry looked back up at the Headmaster. The older man’s eyes looked sad as he said, “It will be ok, Harry. We will figure out the best way for you to live with this. I know you two do not get along, but Severus is a good man.”

Harry only nodded at the reassurances, moving to follow his master out the door.