They say they've been looking for him for hours. It's why they were allowed to follow Mister and Missus Weasley to Hogwarts to help. Extra bodies and extra minds can only improve things, (two heads are better than one and all that). Hermione, the ever practical girl that she is, attempts to use the Four-Point-Spell to find him when they arrive, but even that doesn't work. It's like there is magic working against the spell, her wand had spinning her in circles (as if he's everywhere). After nearly two more hours with no luck, Harry can see Pomfrey's at her wits end; losing a patient is no laughing matter after all.

They've all but vacated the room for a third time when Harry decides to stay behind.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asks with a frown. "I doubt he's in here…"

He shrugs. "I'll do another sweep, it'll keep you all from having to come back and do it again, anyway."

Hermione gives him an anxious smile. "That's not a bad idea, Harry. I do hope we find Snape soon, though. It's awful to think that he might not have his memories and is lost somewhere around here."

Harry agrees with a solemn nod, but, even though he does, he can't help that vicious part of himself that says it's wonderful that Snape could be lost (he deserves it, the git). Hermione reaches out to Harry and runs a comforting hand down his arm. "We'll be back soon. Hopefully with him in tow."

"Go on," Harry urges, "you'll find him."

After one last fleeting smile from Hermione, the infirmary's tall doors close. Walking to the closest bed, Harry flops down with a sigh. He's so tired and looking for a child-sized professor that he doesn't even like is eating up his precious reserve of energy. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, Harry almost doesn't hear the tiny creak from the supply closet a few beds down. Turning his head, he sees it has shifted a centimeter. Frowning, he gets up and walks to it; he bets it's just a draft…

Yet when he reaches the door, Harrys still decides to open it all the way. It's shelf after shelf, the first one just a little higher than midway up his thighs.

How old had Pomfrey said the professor looked? Ah yes, that's right, seven or eight. Eyeing the low shelf once more, Harry considers it from a child's view. While it feels impossibly small to him, it might feel cozy to a scared little boy. Bending down, he peers under the shelf to see a surprise.

Two beetle-black eyes glare out at him.

"Hullo," Harry whispers, crouching down. The boy's face shifts into a scowl as his scrawny arms come to rest on his knees. "I'm Harry," he introduces as he comes to sit criss-cross in front of the child's hiding place. After a pause, in which the child is no more forth coming, Harry thinks to ask, "Can I squeeze in there with you? You've picked a wicked hiding spot."

The boy, surprisingly, shrugs.

Harry takes it as permission and crawls in, wincing just a little at how his elbows have to dig into his spleen just for him to fit. Little Snape's hand darts out, bringing the door closed once more. It takes more will-power than Harry would like to admit to restrain himself from not jumping at the door and pounding on it as if it was going to keep him locked in this tight squeeze forever. Looking to the almost at ease boy, Harry finds it funny how one child's sanctuary can be another's prison. He hates small spaces. Each and every one reminds him of the cupboard he can be and was locked away in for hours and, occasionally, days at a time.

"This is a nice hiding spot," Harry lies.

The little boy scoffs. "I know better ones," he declares.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Harry asks, actually a little curious to see what he'll say.

"My mum has this old traveling chest – we use it as a coffee table – the latch on it is broken and sometimes, I'll go in there. There's also a bush outside my window. I'll climb out and hide there too, if I can't get to the chest or it's too far away," he tells Harry, watching him warily.

"Those are good hiding spots," Harry compliments. "When do you hide there? When you're playing?"

A shadow ghosts across the boy's eyes. "No," he replies. "…When Mum and Da argue," he says after a beat.

"Do they argue a lot?" Harry questions, stomach rolling.

"Yeah, I guess you could say so," Little Snape agrees.

"You know, when I was your age, I didn't have any where I could hide," Harry says to the child without really understanding why.

Little Snape's pale face lifts from behind his arms, eyes glimmering. "Why?"

"I lived – live – with my aunt and uncle. They don't really like me, you see, so when I was little they were always watching me, waiting for me to slip up so they had a reason to toss me in my cupboard."

"That sounds bad," the boy mutters sympathetically.

Harry nods. "It was," he says. "I never knew when they were going to let me out."

"Did they leave you in there long then?" Little Snape asks.

Harry looks away. He doesn't know why he's telling Snape this, it's blackmail, if he remembers. But seeing him as a little boy hiding in a supply closet should keep from using it against him, shouldn't it? At least Harry hopes so. "I think the record was two days," Harry admits.

Beetle-black eyes large, Little Snape exclaims in a half-whisper, "That's sounds even worse than gettin' the belt!"

Harry's heart twinges, a belt, he is certain, is much worse than being denied food and locked in cupboards. "Oh I don't know, I had spiders to keep me company," Harry tries to deflect.

Little Snape frowns. "At least I know Mum won't let him kill me."

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair; it was usually Uncle Vernon who put him in the cupboard… Did Aunt Petunia make him let Harry out? Or did they let him out because they needed their "slave"? He doesn't know and he isn't sure he can give a convincing enough argument to win against Little Snape.

"You know, everyone's looking for you,"" Harry says instead.

The child's nose crinkles. "Who's 'they'? 'cause I don't know them," he hisses with some real venom in his words.

"They're people who want to help you – you had an accident, you see, and your mum brought you here," he lies.

Little Snape studies him. "What kind of accident? Why don't I remember?" he demands.

Harry shakes his head. "I was just called in to find you, I don't know what happened. All I do know is that Madam Pomfrey – I'll point her out to you, when she comes in – wants to make sure you're alright so you can go home."

Suspicious still, Little Snape curls in on himself. "That's all?" he questions.

"It is," Harry says. "Now, why don't we get out of here? I know where Pomfrey keeps her stash of sweets," Harry tells the child, holding out a hand.

"Does she have licorice?" Little Snape asks curiously, his clammy hand coming to rest in Harry's.

"I think so," Harry answers, pushing open the dark room's door and leading them into the light.