The day started off as any other day at Privet Drive usually did, but Harry quickly came to call it the day. It was the day that changed his whole life.

It had started innocently enough. It was a slightly cloudy July morning and it was promising to become a stifling afternoon. The people living along Privet Drive got ready to go to work, completely ignorant that one boy living in their street was a very special boy.

Harry had been woken up by his aunt’s unfriendly voice as she banged on the door of his cupboard and ordered him to make breakfast. Harry did so with ease thanks to years of practice.

All around, it was an uneventful morning and Harry wasn’t surprised as he got ordered to get the post after Dudley refused to do it. Harry had learnt to accept that Dudley never had to do anything. It was part of the rules of life.

Harry went to the front door and picked up the post that had fallen through the letter box. He was never very interested in the post because there was no one who ever wrote to him, but one letter looked unusual enough to raise his interest. It was big enough to be visible behind the usual bills. Harry pulled it out of the pile and examined it. The texture was much rougher than that of normal envelopes. Wondering who received such a letter, Harry moved his eyes to the address written on the front.

Wide-eyed, he stared at the green letters.

It was for him! They even knew that he slept in the cupboard under the stairs!

“Boy! Where is the post?” his uncle bellowed from the kitchen and Harry jerked.

He had taken too long.

Quickly, he moved towards the kitchen, only to stop in his tracks.

Only yesterday, Dudley had stolen the biscuit Ms Figg had given him because Harry had wanted to save it for later. He wouldn’t make the same mistake two days in a row.

Hurriedly, he went to his cupboard, stuffed the letter under what his relatives considered a mattress and went into the kitchen.

“What did you do to the post?” Uncle Vernon asked and eyed the letters suspiciously as Harry held them out.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

“Don’t think we will let you get away with funny business,” his uncle threatened before he grabbed the post.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said dutifully. It was expected so he would say it, but his mind was with the letter in his cupboard.

He was itching to have a look, but he also knew he would probably not get to read it anytime soon.

 

But it seemed like luck was shining down on him today. His uncle had gone to work right after breakfast and Aunt Petunia had been convinced by a whiny Dudley to go into town and have a look at the newest game console that had come out.

“When we come back, I want everything to look like it does now.” His aunt pointed her long finger right at Harry’s face and he went cross-eyed for a second.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said as calmly as he could. He couldn’t believe his luck!

“No freaky business!”

“Of course not.” Not that Harry knew how to stop the weird things that occasionally happened around him.

She sent him one more sharp look and then let Dudley pull her out of the door.

Harry stood perfectly still for a few more minutes. He then went into the kitchen and crawled onto the countertop to looked out of the window. They were gone.

He whooped.

Excitedly, he ran to his cupboard and pulled the door open. For a second, he considered reading the letter somewhere in the daylight but decided it was too risky. It wouldn’t be the first time his aunt came back unexpectedly right after leaving.

He switched on the single light bulb that was dangling from the stairs and pulled the door close.

Settling comfortably against the wall, Harry pulled out the letter.

For a few seconds, he just enjoyed the weight of it in his hands. Whatever the reason, someone had written him a letter. That was already great enough for him, but he was a little scared to open it and find out there was another Harry living in a cupboard it was meant for. Pursing his lips, he decided to lengthen the moment as much as his curiosity would let him.

Probably, more than one sheet of paper was in it. The paper couldn’t be that heavy. He turned it in his hands and his fingers bumped something on its back.

Curiously, he flipped it around and stared astonished to see a wax seal. That was it. He had to look. Who in his right mind still send letters that were closed with wax seals?

Harry was careful to damage the beautiful ‘H’ stamped into the wax as little as possible. He had been right. The envelope was filled with several sheets of paper of the same heavy material as the envelope.

Now more curious than ever, Harry started to read.

He let his head drop back against the wall.

Dudley had to be laughing at his expense. Harry had to admit the had outdone himself this time around. Usually, he just tripped Harry or let Aunt Marge’s terrible dog Ripper run free when Harry was working in the garden.

But this…

Harry pressed his lips together. His cousin knew the m-word was forbidden and to write a letter that implied Harry could do it and was a wizard, was just plain mean. Dudley probably thought Harry was stupid enough to go with the letter to his relatives. All hell would break loose. But no, Harry wasn’t an idiot.

It was tempting, of course, to think that he was a wizard and that was why all those weird things happened around him.

Harry stared up at the spider web spanning the underside of two steps.

He had known the letter would probably be a disappointment, but knowing something and it really happening where two different matters. Rubbing his fingers over the rough texture of the paper, Harry closed his eyes. Only, to snap them open shortly after.

Where should Dudley get such expensive paper? And even more importantly, would he use such expensive paper just to get one over his hated cousin? Now that Harry thought about it, there were words in the letter he doubted Dudley knew, even less how to write them.

With new interest, he started to read again.

The supply list posed more questions than it answered. A wand? A cauldron? Potion ingredients? Harry was sure he would have remembered if he had ever seen a shop that sold things like that.

Not, that he would mind an owl as a pet. That sounded cool. He could just imagine his aunt’s face if he ever brought home a toad.

Not being sure what to expect, he pulled out the next sheet.

At last, some answers.

 

Dear Pupil and Parents,

We are glad to inform you that on the 14th July at 11 o’clock an informational meeting will be held for children raised by muggles (non-magical people) to inform them about the magical world and Hogwarts. As you may have noticed, unusual things happen around young witches and wizards and we hope to reassure you in this meeting that this is perfectly normal. We encourage the pupils and parents to attend to make the transition into this unfamiliar world for the children as easy as possible. Hogwarts’ teachers will be present to answer all questions you will naturally have and will offer advice on how to buy everything on the supply list. The meeting will be held in Diagon Alley, but the meeting point will be ‘The Leaky Cauldron’ as the alley is difficult to enter for non-magical people. We will enter Diagon Alley together. For the address see below.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy headmistress

 

Harry’s eyes flitted down and he frowned. The meeting was somewhere in London.

This was all rather complicated.

He chewed his bottom lip. Even if this wasn’t a practical joke, he still couldn’t show this letter to his relatives.

They would tear it to pieces, burn it and flush the ashes down the toilet; or something equally destructive.

But looking at the papers in his hands, Harry knew he could never ignore this. He just couldn’t. This deputy headmistress had spoken about unusual things.

This was it. He just had to go.

He scratched his head. Somehow, he would have to get to London without the help of his relatives. They would rather stop him than help.

And so, he started to plan.

He had a week till the meeting. Till then, he would have to take care of all the problems.

 

The following week was torture for Harry. Time passed at a snail's pace and whenever he nicked something his heart almost beat out of his chest, whether it be the map of London his aunt kept in the kitchen cupboard or a cereal bar he needed for his supplies.

 

The night of the 13th July, Harry was as well prepared as he could be. His old knapsack was filled with the map of London, a small water bottle, three cereal bars, four sheets of paper, a biro for note taking, the two pounds he had found on the pavement once, his Hogwarts’ letter, an old baseball cap should the sun beat down on him and the green marble he kept as a good luck charm. Dudley had thrown it away in a fit of temper once because it had been a boring present. Harry had found it against the door of his cupboard and it had been his companion since then.

Harry nervously drummed his fingers against his knees as he sat in his cupboard. His relatives were watching TV in the living room.

Tomorrow morning, it would count. Harry knew that it was unlikely that he would really make it. Two pounds was hardly enough money to make it to London, but he had not dared to steal money. The Dursleys were unlikely to miss a single biro or some paper. Stealing the cereal bars had already been risky, but stealing money would have been madness. He would have to get on the train without a ticket. Harry vehemently banished the image in his head as he imagined the police calling his relatives. He just would have to be careful to avoid that nightmare.

He would leave way before his relatives got up at 4 o’clock. It was a half an hour walk to the train station from Privet Drive. He would try to slip on the first best train to London and then walk. It looked quite far on the map, but Harry guessed it would be difficult enough to get on the train undetected. It would probably be even harder to get on the underground. He would just have to walk.

He glanced at the old alarm he had snuck out of Dudley’s second bedroom. His cousin would probably never miss it. It was a practical object after all.

It was still early, but he should get as much sleep as he could. Determined, he curled up on his mattress, checked one more time that he had set the alarm correctly and closed his eyes.

Harry was so nervous it felt like he had ants in his stomach, and it took him hours to finally fall asleep.

 

Therefore, it only felt like minutes when his alarm roughly pulled him from his slumber.

Harry quickly silenced the loud noise and listened with a heart that beat like a drum. He only dared to breathe again when he was sure there were no noises from upstairs. Immediately, he got dressed and picked up his shoes.

Carefully, he opened the door of his cupboard and listened again. Nodding to himself, Harry grabbed his knapsack and tiptoed to the front door. In front of it, he put on his shoes and unlocked the door. Swiftly, he stepped outside.

He carefully pulled the door close behind him and started to walk.

Today was his day. Today, he would find out whether he was a normal wizard or whether he was just a freaky boy. Either way, Harry vowed he wouldn’t regret trying.

He was still very nervous and feared things would go terribly wrong, but he was also strangely elated. The air was crisp but refreshing, the first light of the day was crawling up the sky and Harry skipped along the pavement.

He reached the station quicker than he had anticipated, but he was relieved. He had forgone using the toilet because he would have needed to pass his aunt’s and uncle’s bedroom. Therefore, he really needed to go.

Thankfully, the public toilet wasn’t locked but it reeked. Only breathing through his mouth, he quickly did his business.

Harry shook himself when he stepped outside again. He was glad that was done.

The station was mostly empty. There was only one business man reading a newspaper and Harry scurried over to the information board. As soon as he knew when the next train to London left, he could hide from well-meaning adults. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Harry grinned nervously to himself. He was lucky. There would be a train in fifteen minutes.

He found a quiet corner out of sight from the business man and got out his first cereal bar. The bar and a few sips of water were his early breakfast. Harry waited patiently.

He watched the train roll into the station and licked his lips. Now, it counted. Harry looked left and right. No one was paying attention to him. Swiftly, he ran from his hiding spot and slipped onto the train.

Harry quickly scanned his surroundings. It probably wouldn’t be safe to just take one of the seats. He had heard that people who usually didn’t have a ticket, hid in the toilet. So, that was out, too. It was too obvious.

And then he spotted it. Keeping watch of the two people dozing three rows further down, Harry slipped past them and ducked under the seats. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but because two seats were next to each other and they had their backs to another two seats, there was enough space for him to hide. He would have to be careful when a person passed him. He would probably have to slip further to the left or right to hide behind the metal construction with which the seats were secured to the floor. Nevertheless, he hoped it would work.

Harry had to hold onto the seats over him to not slip out from under them when the train decelerated. Each stop, the train filled with more passengers and each time a person passed his hiding spot, Harry hid as well as he could and waited with bated breath. 

When the conductor checked the tickets, Harry squeezed his eyes close. His heart beat in his chest like a drum, but like a wonder, he wasn’t noticed.

Harry didn’t know how long his journey with the train took, but when Paddington station was announced, he was soaked in cold sweat. He licked his lips nervously. The train wasn’t as empty anymore, and people would surely notice him. Harry didn’t have much of a choice. In the end, he would just have to be fast. The train slowed and he righted his knapsack on his back. The train came to a stop and he watched several feet move and get in line. It was torturous to watch the people move slowly towards the exit. When he saw only two more people stand in line, he got ready and then ran.

There was a loud call behind him, but Harry just ran.

He almost flew out of the train. When his feet touched the ground, he quickly weaved through the people. He would orientate himself later.

He ran and ran. He slipped through the barrier on his knees and continued on as there were calls again.

He sprinted out of the station and came to a skittering halt. He would have to watch the cars now.

Glancing over his shoulder, he was glad to see that no one was following him. A lot of people were hurrying past him and Harry quickly went out of the way before anyone ran him over. Next to a lamp pole, he opened his knapsack. First, he drank some water. His throat was parched. Then, he took out the map and his baseball cap. By now, the sun was up and he hoped to blend in more when people couldn’t see his face as much. He pushed his bangs out of his face and kept them in place with the cap. With a heavy heart, he took out his second cereal bar. The train ride shouldn’t have made him as hungry. Munching the bar, he unfolded the map. He had already decided on a route at home. Now, he only needed to find the first road he wanted to take.

It didn’t take him long and Harry smiled satisfied. He was starting to hope he could make it. But, Harry had miscalculated just how big and confusing London was. He ended up taking the wrong road twice and the sun beat down on him with unforgiving heat. After an hour of walking, the heels of his feet started to hurt. His shoes were too old to have any padding left, but Harry stubbornly refused to check. He knew that if he took off his shoes now, he would never manage to put them on again.

Feeling parched, he sipped some more water. If he continued to drink with that pace, there wouldn’t be anything left within an hour. He should have dared to steal a bigger bottle.

And so, he walked and walked and walked.

Harry almost sobbed when he reached a road he had marked on his map, only to see that it was impossible to cross. Why did streets in the city have to be so broad?

At least, no one paid attention to him. He felt almost invisible as he walked along the pavement. Harry was getting worried the longer he walked. Could he really make it?

He drank his last water and determined turned left into the next road. He wanted to do it. Today shouldn’t be in vain.

He was tempted to eat his last cereal bar, but he was determined to reach his goal first. By now, his feet were numb, but he was sure they were caked with blood.

But he quickly forgot all about his feet, when he saw the road name he had been looking for. With a new bout of energy, he ran along the street and skidded to a stop in front of The Leaky Cauldron.

An uncontrolled laugh slipped out of his mouth.

He made it. He really made it!

Euphoric, he went inside.

It was a dark and slightly seedy looking pub, but its patrons were wearing cloaks, old-fashioned clothes, and was that a wand? Harry could barely believe it.

There were a few children his age with what looked like their parents, but no one was in a hurry, so he quickly slipped into the loo.

He took off his baseball cap and splashed some water on his face. It felt heavenly. Greedily, he drank directly from the tap and refilled his water bottle.

When he felt more like a human being again, he reentered the pub.

---

Severus walked up and down slowly in front of the rows of chairs. Like every year, the school had rented the big room above Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to hold their meeting

“You are quite agitated this year around,” Minerva said knowingly as she looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

“Not at all,” Severus said and forced himself to stay still.

“I’ll admit I am just as curious. The last time I saw Harry, he was still a baby,” the witch said thoughtfully.

“I have no interest in the boy.” Severus knew it was a poor lie. He had anticipated this year like no other. Feared it, dreaded it. Would the boy have anything of Lily? He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He had spent years agonising over this useless question. There was no point to it. He would protect the boy because that is what he had promised he would do. Nothing beyond that. He would see the boy during lessons, and detentions if the boy was unlucky.

“If you say so,” Minerva had that small smile in the corner of her mouth that always told him, she didn’t believe him but was going to indulge him.

Severus scowled at her Gryffindorish behaviour.

“Now, Severus, keep that look off your face. You don’t want to scare the first years even before they enter Hogwarts,” she said with a laugh and Severus took a deep breath. For once, she was right. The muggle-borns would be nervous enough being here tonight. He would save the scowling for the time they threatened to blow up his classroom with mis-brewed potions.

Filius entered the room floating an enormous plate with food in front of him.

“They should be here soon,” Filius said excitedly and the plate settled perfectly on the moderately sized table that was already filled with drinks.

“Quite right,” Minerva said and cast a quick tempus. It was 15 minutes after 11 o’clock.

Severus desperately wanted to pace, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He sighed relieved when he heard what sounded like a stampede of elephants come up the stairs.

The door opened, and lead by Pomona, pupils and adults entered the room.

He would never admit it, but he looked for only one child. One look would be enough to see how insignificant the Boy-Who-Lived really was. Severus expected to spot him immediately, but soon the room was swamped with people and his eyes roamed aimlessly.

The child had to be there. He just had to be.

“Good day,” Minerva said loudly and almost every head turned to her. She had a friendly and encouraging smile on her lips.

“I am glad to see how many of you managed to come here today. Please, make yourself comfortable and have a seat.”

There was a lot of movement in the room as the families sat down.

Severus scanned row after row to search for the one child he was looking for as Minerva held her usual speech. He listened only with half an ear.

He was already starting to wonder whether the boy hadn’t made it as he scanned the last row. It was only a few seconds the boy looked up from what he was writing in his lap, but Severus would recognise these eyes everywhere.

Lily’s son had her eyes. Her bright, emerald green eyes.

Of course, it would be the eyes.

Severus flexed his fingers behind his back. Seeing this child shouldn’t affect him to such an extent.

He tried not to stare. The baseball cap on his head almost completely shielded the boy from his sight. There were only a few moments when he lifted his head enough for Severus to catch a glimpse of his face. It was maddening. Most of the children stared with wide eyes up to their future teachers. Just the Boy-Who-Lived kept his head constantly lowered. He couldn’t help but think that it was odd. If he didn’t know better, he would say the boy tried to be not seen.

There was nothing he could do but wait.

Eventually, it was his turn to introduce his house. It was rare that a muggle-born was sorted into Slytherin, but it happened occasionally. He always hoped to work against the prejudices concerning his house during these informational meetings, but usually, a week at Hogwarts undid most of his work.

When he started to speak, green eyes connected with his and he knew in that moment, he had his work cut out for him. The look in them was too familiar for comfort. The boy looked away first and never lifted his head again during Severus’ whole speech.

Severus then put in an effort to at least pay attention when the parents started to ask their questions so he could support his colleagues.

 

“So, there he is,” Minerva said to him after all questions had been answered and the adults and children started to talk between each other and got something to drink.

Severus looked at her with a lifted eyebrow that meant to say ‘So what?’.

She scoffed.

“Alright, we shall pretend. All of your staring aside, I do wonder who he is here with.” Minerva frowned and Severus let his eyes wander back to the last row. The boy was sitting there all alone. The woman that had been sitting next to him earlier was happily hugging a young girl to her and they moved away to get to the snacks. No one was even looking at the inconspicuous boy in their midst. The baseball cap had probably inadvertently helped the boy to stay unnoticed. It covered perfectly the infamous scar. Not that Severus thought many of the muggle-borns knew the story of the Boy-Who-Lived yet, but not even Filius or Pomona were paying attention to him.

But just as Minerva had implicated, there was no one that seemed to be with the boy.

“He is behaving oddly, too,” Snape voiced his earlier observation.

Before Minerva could further comment, a couple approached her and involved her in a conversation.

Severus quickly calculated his options. It would be unwise to approach the boy today, but his instincts were hardly ever wrong. If he were all alone, it would be completely irresponsible.

His decision was made for him when the boy got off his chair and quickly walked towards the exit.

Severus weaved through the people and silently followed.

It would be just like a Potter to get into trouble before the school year even started.

---

Harry still couldn’t believe it. It was true. He was a wizard! There were still so many things he wanted to know, but he knew he should leave. So far, no one had paid much attention to him. Except for that one teacher in black.

Harry suppressed a shiver as he remembered the vivid black of his eyes as their eyes had locked once. It must have been a coincidence. At least, he hoped so. That man had reminded him of the Grim Reaper. Maybe, he even had a scythe. Harry swore not to cross that man.

He exited the ice parlour and couldn’t help but stare again. Anyone who saw Diagon Alley would have to believe in magic. It was amazing.

His feet still hurt from his long walk, so he searched for a quiet place to sit down. Eventually, he found an empty doorstep of a side entrance and sat down. He stretched out his legs and sighed.

He really didn’t want to think about the long way back. Instead, he took out his last cereal bar and his notes from the meeting. He still couldn’t believe all the things he had heard. He wanted to read everything again, but he was distracted by some of the people that came out of the ice parlour. Some of them, he recognised and he watched with envy as the children pulled their parents this way and that. Even if his parents had been drunks, he wished they were here with him now.

Sighing, he continued eating his cereal bar. It was his last. Today had cost him a lot of energy, but he was glad he had done it. At last, he knew who he was now.

Of course, there were greater problems ahead now. Where would he get the money to buy his school supplies? How would he send an owl to accept? How would he get to the Hogwarts’ Express? And most of all, how was he going to explain all this to the Dursleys?

Feeling familiar desperation well up inside him, he buried his face in his arm. Who was he even kidding? He might have been able to come to London today, but he would never be able to go to Hogwarts. Nevermind, that the Dursleys were going to be furious with him for running away today.

He balled up the empty wrapping and stuffed it into his knapsack together with his notes. He should make the most of today. There was no telling when he would be able to enter the magical world again. Determined, Harry got up and ignored his sore feet. He would see as much of Diagon Alley as he could.

It was tempting to enter the different shops, but since he didn’t have much money, even less magical one, he would stay outside.

There was a bookshop that had moving books in its windows. They looked fascinating, but Harry wondered how people would find them again if they moved wherever they wanted. The next shop had a crazy amount of quills in its windows and the heavy paper his letter was made of. It seemed to be parchment. Harry decided magical people were a little old fashioned, but he still liked it. That one quill writing all by itself was surely useful when doing homework. He moved on to the next shop and his mouth watered. He had never seen such a colourful sweets shop. Immediately, he moved on. The temptation was too great.

He quickly decided that Diagon Alley was the greatest place on earth. The barrel with slippery eyes he had seen in the window of the apothecary had been disgustingly fascinating in their own way. The shop with the broomsticks had been too tempting to stay long, but in the end, he spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the shop selling pets.

The owls were all beautiful, but it was a beautiful snowy owl that captured his attention the most. It was sitting in a strangely shadowy cage secured to the rain drain like many others, but this one stared right back at him. Its yellow eyes seemed to be watchful and intelligent. Harry felt like it knew a lot of things he didn’t. Without thinking, he reached out, but it was too far up and Harry wasn’t sure it would have liked to be touched anyway. Wistful, he looked at it some more minutes and then decided to move on.

While he looked at more shops, which were selling robes, more books and potions, he couldn’t help to think back to the snowy owl from time to time. But then again, he was used to wanting things.

 

He kept wandering. His mind must have wandered, too, because suddenly Harry noticed that his surroundings looked differently.

He shivered. The temperature had dropped several degrees and it seemed much darker than only a few minutes earlier.

Alarmed, he took in his eerie surroundings. Even the people walking along the street looked darker. Harry swallowed and spun around himself once. Where had he come from? And was that a human hand in the window?

He shivered again.

“Oh dearie, are you lost,” a sweet voice whispered into his left ear and Harry jerked his head around. The person belonging to the voice wasn’t sweet at all. The woman’s eyes were comically wide, her hair in disarray and her robes tattered.

“N-No,” Harry stuttered and took some steps back, but he only backed against a clammy wall.

“Are you sure?” she purred and stepped closer.

“Yes, he is quite sure,” a smooth, dark voice answered for Harry. The dark teacher from earlier stepped out from behind the woman and pushed her aside.

Harry almost sobbed relieved. He had never been so glad to see an adult in his life. Even if said adult looked even more like a Grim Reaper now than earlier.

The woman pulled her lips back and hissed at the teacher like an angry cat, but the man lifted a stick, no wand, and she hurriedly stepped back and then turned and fled.  

Harry sighed relieved.

“Knockturn Alley is not a place for first years.” the teacher said darkly and Harry swallowed. It seemed like he was still in trouble.

“I got lost.” he said in a small voice.

“Of course, you did.”

Harry was confused by how exasperated the man sounded, and he kept his head down.

A surprisingly warm hand was placed on his back and he was turned to the left and pushed forward.

“Where is your family?” the man behind his back asked.

Harry licked his lips nervously. Everything had gone so well, but of course, someone had to notice.

“They allowed me to have a look around by myself, but then I got lost,” Harry lied.

“Very well.”

Soon, they entered back into the much brighter street Harry recognised as Diagon Alley.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said and looked earnestly at the man that had saved him. It was hard to tell how his thanks were received since the face looking down at him was completely emotionless. Harry smiled nevertheless at him and then tried to keep going, but the hand on his back moved to his shoulder and held him back.

“I fully intend to inform your family of how terribly irresponsible it is to let a ten-year-old boy walk around freely an unfamiliar place.”

Harry was so done for.

“I could tell them myself?” Harry made it sound like a question and hoped for a wonder.

A single eyebrow moved up and told Harry exactly what the man thought about that.

“Actually,” Harry started and then chewed his bottom lip. There wasn’t a way he could get out of this without telling the truth, was there?

“They are not here.” he said in a low voice as if he hoped, the teacher wouldn’t hear him.

“And where are they if they are not here?” the man asked darkly.

Harry wiped his clammy hands on his jeans.

“They are at home.”

“And where is said home?”

“It’s in Surrey, Little Whinging.”

The dark man stared at him.

“And you travelled here how?”

Was Harry imagining it, or was a vein pulsing on the man’s forehead. He swallowed again.

“And no more lies!” A raised finger was held in front of his eyes.

“I went by train.” Harry bit his lip. He really didn’t want to tell that he had been a fare dodger.

The man frowned as he looked down at him.

“Out with it.”

“I didn’t have a ticket,” Harry said quickly and squeezed his eyes shut. His admission followed a long silence.

“Have you eaten since this morning?”

Harry stared at the man because of the unexpected question. He had just admitted to having done something forbidden, hadn’t he?

A lifted eyebrow prompted him to answer.

“I ate three cereal bars.” Remembering that he had been told not to lie, Harry decided to stick with the truth. Strangely enough, the teacher looked angrier when he lied.

“Very well,” the man said and steered him forward again. They moved into an inconspicuous looking house that turned out to be a small pub.

“Sir?” Harry asked worried as he remembered his two pounds.

“As we shall spend some more time with each other, I do not wish for you to faint on me,” the man said as he chose a table in a secluded corner.

“I don’t have much money,” Harry admitted as he kept standing next to the wooden chair.

“I don’t expect you to. Sit down, Potter.”

Harry blinked. Slowly, he sat opposite the man, who, for some inexplicable reason, knew his name.

“You know my name?”

The man hesitated.

“You resemble your parents,” he finally said. Harry felt like he had just been hit by a freight train. He opened his mouth to answer, but his head was completely empty.

“What can I bring you?” A friendly voice asked, but Harry didn’t even know what he wanted.

“A pumpkin juice for the boy, a butterbeer for me and shepherd's pie for the both of us. Thank you.”

The waitress left again and all Harry could think was, who in his right mind thought pumpkin juice was a suitable drink? He shook his head. That wasn’t important at the moment.

“You knew my parents?”

“They were generally well-known in the wizarding world.” There was something forbidding about the tone of voice the teacher had used. Harry bit his lip. He would love to ask questions.

“How come you thought you needed to go by train all by yourself?” The man changed the topic.

“I really wanted to go to the informational meeting,” Harry said and drew some invisible patterns on the tabletop.

“And your family wouldn’t take you?”

Harry mutely shook his head.

The waitress returned with their order and Harry’s mouth watered. It smelled delicious and he was hungry.

“Here you go, Professor Snape.” The waitress smiled and left again.

Ah, now the man had a name.

“Enjoy your meal. And why did your family not take you?” Professor Snape asked as he placed his napkin on his lap. Harry copied the professor and pulled his baseball cap from his head. He remembered that it was rude to keep it on when one ate. His hair immediately sprung free, and he pushed it annoyed out of his face.

“They don’t like the m-word.”

Snape stared at him mutely.

“They taught you the slur for muggle-borns?”

“What?” Harry asked confused.

“Which word are you speaking of?” The professor asked him.

“Hm,” Harry put a fork of food into his mouth to buy some time. It was delicious!

“Mr Potter?” The professor asked after Harry didn’t answer for several minutes.

“M-Magic.” Harry was surprised how difficult it had been to say.

Snape just looked at him through unpenetrable eyes.

“Magic is not a bad word in our world,” Professor Snape said eventually. Harry was glad.

They continued to eat in silence for several minutes.

Harry loved the food. It was warm and filled his empty stomach wonderfully. He still eyed the pumpkin juice with trepidation, but he was thirsty and eventually picked up the glass.

“Yummy!”

“Did you think I was going to poison you, Mr Potter?” Snape asked flatly.

“No, I just thought it had to taste weird because of its name.”

“Wizarding children generally like it.”

“Sir?” Harry asked uncertainly.

“Yes?”

“Would you maybe call me Harry? It feels odd to be called Mr Potter like this.”

“You should get used to it. The teachers generally call their students by their family name at Hogwarts,” Snape answered and took a sip from his butterbeer.

“That’s alright. I am not going to go to Hogwarts.”

Harry started when Snape’s fork clattered against his plate.

“Excuse me?” Snape hissed and Harry shrunk back.

“It’s just that my relatives won’t let me.”

Snape picked up his fork again.

“Their opinion does not matter. You will be attending school.”

Harry looked doubtfully at the man.

“They don’t really listen to other people.”

“Oh, I reassure you, Mr Potter, they will.”

The smile on Snape’s lips was positively sinister and Harry suppressed a shiver. He remembered his earlier vow that he would not cross the man.

He was starting to believe him, too.

“But now, I believe, it is time to bring you home and visit your relatives,” Snape said and placed his cutlery on his empty plate.

Harry swallowed. He was going to catch hell for today.

“Okay.” He emptied his glass and watched as Snape waved over the waitress and paid with the weird money he heard about today.

 

Harry almost had to run to keep up with the man’s long legs as they walked through Diagon Alley. He was sad to leave this wonderful place and would have loved to look around some more, but Professor Snape didn’t look like the kind of person that would listen to a child’s whines to stay longer. So, Harry wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew when to keep silent. At least, he tried to.

He sighed as they walked through The Leaky Cauldron. They were leaving this incredible world.

Harry heard his professor curse as they stepped out on the street. He had never seen that many people in one place. Then again, he had never been to London before.

“It’s rush hour,”Snape said and looked down at him, “I do not wish to save you again today.” And with that, the man reached down.

Harry blinked. He had seen adults do it with their children before, but he had never been at the receiving end of it. He quickly decided it wasn’t all bad, even though, Snape walked at a very brisk pace.

Snape’s hand felt warm where it was wrapped around his smaller one.

Harry mused that they had to look like father and son, which was really odd considering that they only met today. Snape seemed nice enough, though. He hadn’t smiled once at Harry and his voice wasn’t inviting and could be quite sharp, but his actions were kind.

So, Harry let himself be pulled along without complaint and wrapped his small finger as well around the bigger ones as he could.

His feet started to protest, but he gritted his teeth. He was really glad when they stopped in a dark alley. Confused, Harry scanned their surroundings. It didn’t look like a safe place to be.

“Ohm, sir?” he asked uncertainly.

“It’s quite alright,” his professor answered and frowned down at him. Harry ducked his head embarrassed when he noticed that he had moved closer to the man.

Professor Snape then held out his hand with his wand.

Harry jumped as there was a loud bang and a purple bus popped into existence.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus,” a nasal voice said. “Oh, hello Professor.”

“Hello, Mr Shunpike.” Snape dropped some coins without further words into the young man’s hand and pulled Harry along.

It was the strangest bus Harry had ever seen. Inside stood an array of armchairs and a spiral stair led to another deck. Professor Snape chose two armchairs the furthest away from any other passenger and Harry sat down.

The conductor hovered near them for a few more seconds, but Harry quickly decided that Snape’s glare was better than that of the evil headmaster of his old primary school as the conductor quickly scampered. Really, it was wicked.

“What kind of bus is that?” Harry asked as he watched the chandelier swaying over his head. Before he could wonder why it swayed, there was a loud bang and everything moved. Helplessly, he clung to the chair he was sitting in, but even the chair skidded away.

Harry wished he had not eaten as much.

All of the sudden, he moved decidedly less.

Coolly, Snape sheathed his wand again. It seemed like Harry’s chair had been glued to the floor and when he loosened his fingers, he noticed that he was glued to his chair, too. Only the bus was still speeding along the roads and Harry decided that, for his own sake, he would not look out of the window anymore.

“This bus is called the Knight Bus. It is a means of transport many wizards and witches use when they travel with children,” Snape answered.

“I am not sure I like it,” Harry admitted. It was still nauseating. Although he was glad that he didn’t have to travel all the way back alone.

“I am not sure anyone does, but it is convenient.”

As if to underline the professor’s words, there were retching sounds that came from the deck above them. Harry shuddered.

He had had so many questions about the wizarding world, but now he felt too tired to ask. Instead, he dozed as well as he could due to the bus’ erratic movements while always feeling the by now familiar dark gaze on him.

“Mr Potter.”

It didn’t feel like very long when he was shaken awake and he stumbled out of the bus.

He immediately recognised their surroundings.

“Where do you live?”

“Number 4 Privet Drive.”

It was awe-inducing to watch Professor Snape mumble some words and watch his wand swivel on his palm and stop in the right direction.

At first, the professor simply continued his brisk pace from earlier, but no matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn’t keep up anymore, and as Snape noticed, he finally slowed down.

Nevertheless, they soon reached Privet Drive.

 

Professor Snape strode up the path leading up to number 4 with purpose.

“I could go in alone,” Harry proposed.

“You most certainly will not,” Snape quickly shot him down.

“But I don’t think my relatives will be very nice.”

“Neither will I.”

Uh-oh.

Harry decided that if worst came to worst, he would just duck behind the coatrack.

Snape knocked swiftly on the front door.

There were a few beats of silence till the door was pulled open and they were greeted by his aunt’s sour face.

She started when she saw the dark man on her doorstep and her whole body turned rigid.

The moment was tense. Harry could almost feel the air crackle with tension and he wondered whether it was magic.

His aunt and the professor looked at each other mutely. Harry could see the nerve that ticked at the left side of his aunt’s jaw, but that was the only give away of how angry she really was.

Usually, she only looked at Harry like this when he had done something awfully bad. It was a novel experience to see her level that look at someone else. Especially, since Harry thought Professor Snape could easily stare her down.

“Good evening, Mrs Dursley.” His professor said smoothly and the moment was broken. His aunt blinked.

“I found your nephew in the middle of London and I thought it wise to bring him back.” Snape’s voice was as smooth and cold as steel.

His aunt’s eyes formed to slits and Harry ducked his head. She was becoming really angry.

“He ran away.” She said clipped. Now, her glare was directed at Harry and he shrank back further. He was going to get it. He took a step back and a familiar hand settled on his back and prevented him from stumbling backwards off the doorstep.

“I believe this is a matter that should be addressed,” Snape said. “Inside,” he added as if as an afterthought.

Aunt Petunia’s lips tightened.

“I don’t think so,” she said tightly.

“I do think so,” Professor Snape answered and smoothly pulled his wand out of his sleeve. His aunt’s eyes became comically wide and to Harry’s utter surprise, she stepped aside and invited them in.

Mystified, Harry followed on Snape’s heels and wondered how his aunt could have possibly recognised a wand.

“Go to your room. We will talk tomorrow,” His aunt directed at him. Harry opened his mouth to argue but closed it before he said anything. He was already in enough trouble.

Harry sent a wistful glance at Professor Snape, but the man was staring at his aunt as she waved him into the living room. So, he took off his shoes and quickly walked to his cupboard and disappeared inside it.

Immediately, he strained his ears. There wasn’t the slightest sound. Disappointed, Harry lay down. He wanted to listen some more for when Snape would leave, but he was too tired and sleep claimed him quickly.

 

Yesterday must have been a dream. Harry was certain of it. So much had happened and so much of it simply was too incredible to have happened to him.

Harry stared at the underside of the stairs above him. It was a familiar sight, but he felt strangely displaced like something fundamentally had changed.

But it just couldn’t be, could it?

Yawning, Harry sat up and kicked his legs free from the blanket they had tangled in.

He stared at his feet. In the little light that came through the air vent, he could see that his heels were caked in blood. Amazed, he poked at the dried blood and hissed. He couldn’t imagine that pain. He had walked all the way through London. He had found Diagon Alley. And most of all, he had met Professor Snape.

He licked his lips nervously. For some reason, he had not heard a word after he had been ordered into his cupboard and he was dying to know what had happened. Especially, since it would give him some indication of what he had to expect now.

Either way, his relatives would be mad at him, so he decided to get up to get it over with.

Putting his glasses in place, he crawled out of his cupboard and padded into the kitchen. It was strangely bright outside as if he had slept in…

His mouth formed a small ‘o’ as he saw Professor Snape sit at the kitchen table. The image was utterly bizarre and he was tempted to rub his eyes.

The kitchen was in a pastel pink. There were curtains with flower print framing the window. His aunt fitted perfectly into her surroundings in her cream coloured dress and Snape looked like a black hole in the middle of it all.

 It was just utterly bizarre.

“Er, good morning,” Harry said uncertainly.

The professor placed his coffee mug on the table. It was black and Harry knew for a fact that they didn’t own any mugs that were not pastel pink.

“Good morning, Mr Potter.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel bewildered. The day was taking off in an odd way.

He was really out of his depth as Professor Snape continued to look at him. He felt really scruffy, too.

“Maybe a shower is in order to wash off yesterday's events,” The professor said and Harry fleetingly wondered whether the man could read minds.

Harry’s eyes flit to his aunt and she jerked her head towards the door.

Quickly, he scrambled out of the door. He stopped by his cupboard to search for some presentable clothes. They were all too big, but at least he wanted something clean. Satisfied, with what he found, he ran up the stairs and into the bathroom.

He wanted to be done as fast as possible. He was inclined to hope that Snape’s presence meant something good. Hurriedly, he relieved himself and jumped into the shower. Nevertheless, he took the time to get his hair clean since it was sweaty from having been under the baseball cap all day long.

When he was done, he towelled himself and scrambled into his clothes.

Quickly, he ran down the stairs and slipped into the kitchen.

 

Snape was still there.The man waved him over and Harry went curiously. Snape stood up and Harry squeaked when he was lifted to sit on the edge of the kitchen table. He wasn’t that light!

The professor pulled the chair in front of Harry and settled down on it again.

“Give me your foot, Potter.”

That was an odd order all around. Hesitantly, Harry lifted his left foot a little.

A quick tug at his trouser leg pulled it up further.

In the light of the day, his feet really were a sight. Idly, Harry wondered how he had managed to walk at all. Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry’s foot. The spell or whatever the professor did, tingled and Harry had to laugh. When he looked, the dried blood and scabs were gone. Magic was amazing. Interested, he watched as the professor pulled out a small container and as he smeared some gooey mass over his wound. The relief was instant.

“Wow!” Harry exclaimed and wiggled his foot as it was let go. “What is that?”

“It’s a salve you will learn to brew yourself at Hogwarts.”

“I will?”

“If you put in the necessary effort.”

“Of course, I will!” Harry said, “Can I really go?” He asked and looked searchingly at his aunt. Her lips were unnaturally pinched.

“You may go,” she said as if it cost her tremendous effort. Harry’s eyes immediately flitted to Professor Snape and wondered whether he had hexed her.

“If I remember correctly, you wished to tell your nephew something else, did you not?” Snape said casually as he treated Harry’s other foot.

“You will be moving into Dudley’s second bedroom today,” she said and placed a bowl of porridge next to Harry on the table with a clunk.

Now, Harry just had to ask.

“Did you hex her?” He whispered to his professor.

“Not at all. We just had a long, friendly talk yesterday,” Snape said smoothly as he sheathed his wand.

Harry stared at the man and tried to decipher which part of that sentence was a lie. There had to be a lie in there somewhere. Either, the long talk hadn’t been friendly at all, which considering the dark look in the man’s eyes was entirely possible. Or Snape had hexed his aunt, which was just as feasible. 

“Okay,” Harry said slowly and hopped off the table when the professor signed to the porridge bowl. He sat down at the table and pulled the bowl closer.

Breakfast was a tense affair. At least for him. Snape calmly continued to sip his coffee from his mysteriously black mug as Harry kept watch of the rigid back of his aunt. He just waited for the other shoe to drop.

Things were going too well, too right, to be true. Such good things just did not happen to one Harry James Potter.

He looked with newfound awe at his future professor. That man was pure magic.

Harry scrapped the last remains of his porridge out of the bowl when Snape placed his mug down.

“There are a few matters, we will need to discuss,” the professor said as Harry placed down his spoon.

“Okay.”

“For one, you will not, under no circumstances, run away from home again.”

Harry shrank back from the dark look he was levelled with. Hurriedly, he nodded.

“I won’t.”

“Good, or I will become very unpleasant.”

Harry nodded again. He could imagine.

“Secondly, someone will drop by mid-August to take you to Diagon Alley to buy your supplies.”

“Someone?”

“It has not been determined yet who will do it.”

Secretly, Harry hoped the professor would take him, but he was probably a busy man.

“I don’t have any money,” Harry said and peeked up through his bangs.

“You needn’t worry,” Snape said after a glance towards his aunt. Harry wondered what that meant, but he figured there was a solution. Snape didn’t look like the kind of adult that simply wished to placate a child.

“Some of the teachers have given me old copies of the current textbooks. They are willing to lend them to you till you have your own since you will only be able to buy them very late.”

Snape reached into his pocket and to Harry’s delight placed a small bundle on the table. A quick swish with his wand and Harry looked at quite an intimidating pile of books.

“Some might have become a little overzealous at my request,” The professor pinched the bridge of his nose and started to sort through the books.

“These are the relevant ones. The rest looks like wizarding children books.”

Harry was glad when the bigger portion turned out to be children books. Eagerly, he leant forward to have a look.

“The pictures move!” he exclaimed.

“They are magical,” Snape explained. Gingerly, Harry ghosted his fingers over the shining and moving cover of the upper book. It felt like a normal book. He couldn’t stop looking and feeling. The book did the freaky things he sometimes did, too. He felt a strong sense of belonging, which was rather stupid considering it was just a book.

“And at last, we hope you would be willing to write us some letters.”

Harry looked up from the books.

“Letters? But what should I write? And who?” He couldn’t remember ever writing a letter before.

“You may address them to me. Just write about what you do. Questions about the books or about other matters.”

Harry could understand to an extent why he should write down his questions, but why should anyone be interested in what he did?

“What I do? I don’t think that is very interesting.”

“You can just consider it an exercise to improve your penmanship.”

Harry blinked. Some adults were an absolute mystery to him.

“Okay.”

“You will need an owl to send these letters and further correspondence.”

Professor Snape got up and left the room. Harry turned to look at his aunt. He had never seen her look so sour and if looks could kill, he would be dead. Harry was a little worried what would happen when Snape left.

The professor returned and carried a big cage into the kitchen, which he placed in front of Harry on the table. He stared at it.

“You are giving me an owl?”

“Out of utter necessity.”

But it wasn’t just any owl. It was the owl Harry had wanted.

Harry couldn’t explain why, but all of the sudden his throat felt tight and he had to fight back tears. The owl was beautiful and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been given something he had wanted as badly. Surely, this was a time to smile, at least, he thought so. Why did he have to fight with tears then?

“You don’t like her?”

His professor scowled.

Harry shook his head and hugged the cage close. He rested his forehead against the bars and closed his eyes.

“I love her,” he whispered when he was sure he had a voice. Harry felt a gentle tugging at his hair and when he opened his eyes, he saw that the owl was combing through the hair that poked wildly into her cage.

“She will need to fly outside to hunt and stretch her wings,” Snape explained as he watched him.

“And she will need a name,” Harry said and finally he could smile the way he wanted.

“Naturally,” the professor agreed.

Harry simply looked at his new companion and watched her battle with the mess that was his hair.

“It should be a great name. A magical name.”

There was a strangled noise from his aunt and Harry unconsciously curled his fingers around the bars of the cage.

“The most names you should be able to find in your History of Magic book,” Snape said and Harry looked at the book the teacher pointed out. He would have a look later.

 

“Now, I believe, it is time for me to leave,” Snape said and Harry sighed. He would have liked it if the man stayed a little longer.

“Mr Potter, if you were so kind to lead me out of the neighbourhood?”

Harry frowned. The professor could do this cool spell with his wand that showed him the way. At least, he did it yesterday, but Harry was more than happy to come along.

“Sure! I’ll just get my shoes.”

Hurriedly, Harry slipped into his cupboard to pick up his shoes.

It was a foolish idea, an impulsive idea, but Professor Snape had given him so much and Harry wanted to give him something in return. Spontaneously, he reached into his knapsack and took his green marble.

The professor already stood by the door and they went out together.

The sun was up in the sky and now Harry was sure he had been allowed to sleep in.

He skipped along the pavement and simply enjoyed the knowledge that he was a wizard.

“Your relatives are rather peculiar. Should they treat you badly, you could write about them as well.”

Harry blinked up at his professor. The sun was right behind him and it was hard to tell what expression he wore.

“I don’t whine,” he said.

“There is nothing wrong with stating a fact,” Snape said after a short break.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. He would simply write what had happened and see where it led him.

Unerringly, Snape walked towards an empty alley and Harry nervously fingered the marble in his pocket. It was now or never.

“Professor?”

He received a look as an indication to go on.

Harry licked his lips nervously.

“I wanted to thank you for bringing me back home and especially for the owl. She is great.”

Snape nodded in acceptance.

Feeling completely out of his depth, Harry simply placed the marble in the hand that was closest to him. Snape’s fingers curled around it instinctively and he held it up in the sunlight. It glowed in a deep green.

“It’s a good luck charm,” Harry explained, and on the spur of the moment hurriedly added, “so you get home safely, too.” It seemed a little stupid even to him, but he simply wanted to give Snape something back.

The look on the professor’s face was inscrutable and Harry felt sweat break out on his brow.

“It really works. It helped me get to London safely.”

Eventually, Snape put it into his pocket.

“Thank you, Mr Potter. I shall keep it safe.”

Harry smiled brightly.

---

Severus toyed with the green marble in his pocket as he made his way to the headmaster’s office. Buying the owl had been an impulsive action. Usually, he quickly reined in any impulsive ideas before they could be acted upon. He feared he had set something in motion he shouldn’t have. The green marble in his pocket was proof of that.

At first, he had thought he had been mistaken when he had chosen the snowy owl and that the boy had been eyeing another bird in front of the menagerie. Never had he anticipated that his gift could overwhelm the child to such an extent that he was moved to tears. It told him more about the circumstances under which the boy had been raised than he expected the letters would reveal he expected to receive.

“Flibbertigibbet,” Severus said straight-faced to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Albus’ realm. He would bet his considerable collection of potion books that the headmaster only chose these passwords to get his colleagues to say these words in the hope they would complain. Because then, the old man could involve them in a discussion about the merits of the English language. A mistake, Severus wouldn’t make anytime soon again.

“Would you like some tea, Severus?” Albus was sitting behind his grand desk and sipping a cup of tea.

“No, thank you,” Severus said and paced in front of his employer. He couldn’t say whether he was amused when he saw the tracks of the many men who had paced in this place before him.

“I believe your visit went well?” The headmaster inquired.

“To an extent,” Severus said and finally let himself fall into one of the armchairs standing in front of Dumbledore’s desk. He was exhausted and it was only a little after noon.

“They won’t dare to treat the boy badly anymore. Petunia remembers me from her childhood. She knows I don’t threaten idly.”

“There are laws that forbid wizards to hex muggles,” Dumbledore said as he looked at Severus over the rim of his cup.

“There are laws against child abuse as well.”

“Are you certain they abused him? These are serious accusations.”

“And I am not someone who talks lightly,” Severus said sharply. He was too drained from the past twenty-four hours to be diplomatic. “They, at the very least, neglected him and if they didn’t physically abuse him, they certainly abused him emotionally.”

“I had hoped Petunia would come to love her nephew,”

“And I had hoped to spend one lesson without an exploding or melting cauldron,” Severus said sarcastically.

“Dreams are but shadows,” Albus said with a small smile and Severus accepted the cup the man held out to him after all. The coffee at Petunia’s had been dreadful.

They drank silently for a few minutes.

“How do you intend to keep track of the situation?” The headmaster asked and offered a biscuit to his dark potion master.

Severus declined. That really would be going too far. The headmaster might get used to such indulgence.

“I placed a spell on the boy. It will tell me should he be hurt, and I asked him to write regularly what he does during the day. He found that request quite odd, but I believe he will comply.”

“It might be exciting for him to have correspondence with someone from the wizarding world.” There was a familiar twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes.

They had reached the topic Severus both anticipated and dreaded. His involvement with the boy.

“Minerva would probably be the perfect choice to accompany Mr Potter to Diagon Alley to buy his supplies. The heavens know, she has already buried the boy in children books,” he said conversationally. The second he had seen the books, he had known who had been the culprit.

“I fear as my deputy, I will have to ask her to stay at the castle so close to the new school year.”

Severus inwardly called himself a fool. He should have expected that, but there wasn’t anyone else he felt could be trusted with the boy. It would have to be someone discreet simply due to the fact who the boy was. The person would have to be able to protect the boy for the same reason. And of course, it should be someone understanding and patient. Severus wasn’t sure the boy even knew what had happened to his parents, and he should know his own story before he entered school.

There were very good reasons why he couldn’t take the boy. For one, he had never been a patient man. And even more importantly, he was the spy. Since Albus was so sure the Dark Lord would return, it would be detrimental if he became too involved with the boy. Again, he touched the marble in his pocket. He feared that he was already too involved for his own good.

“I could send Hagrid,” Albus mused and Severus rolled his eyes. Of course, he should have expected that, too.

“I am not sure he is the best choice. Mr Potter was raised like a muggle-born and I am uncertain whether he knows how his parents were killed. That topic asks for some tact and sensitivity.”

“I could ask you to take him.” Albus smiled at him and Severus knew the headmaster had anticipated his objections.

“I hardly believe I am very sensitive. Moreover, I am your spy.”

“That you are,” Albus said and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “But after I saw you rage in my office for over an hour on Harry’s behalf last night, I believe things might be meant to change.”

“You cannot mean that.”

“I do. Your pieces of information were invaluable to the order during the first war, but we shall be able to find an alternative when the situation calls for it,” Albus said thoughtfully.

Severus just stared at the headmaster.

“You are not as emotionless as you would like others to believe. I always knew about your unwavering loyalty to Lily Evans and your deep-rooted hate for James Potter. I never expected you would view their son in a neutral way. I anticipated it to be either of the two extremes. I’ll admit I thought you would dislike him since he is said to resemble his father to a great extent, but alas, an old man can be mistaken.”

“I do not care for the child. Moreover, it had been a condition when I joined your side that I had to be your spy. I swore an oath.” The headmaster could hardly have forgotten that.

“Are you sure you don’t care? You swore to protect Harry when he enters Hogwarts and your loyalty to the order. That’s true. I’ll admit I never disabused you of the notion that you had to spy. I asked you to spy, but I did not make it a part of your oath. I considered it too risky. You were in a very overwrought state and did not remember the evening in the right order.”

Severus wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. Albus had used him well. He had manipulated him. He had pulled the strings like a true, cunning warlock.

“Are you certain you were never a Slytherin?” He refused to comment further on his interest in the boy. The potion master leant forward, lifted the teapot from the desk and leisurely poured another cup of tea. He took a careful sip. The tea was still quite hot. He had to recognise the headmaster had outsmarted him and his Slytherin-side was impressed. He did not like it, but he would probably have done the same. He had to acknowledge that.

“We are always more than we appear to be,” Albus said and smiled.

“I won’t fall your schemes easily again,” Severus said and hoped it was true.

“I don’t expect you will. Harry will need someone to watch out for him with certain qualities considering the many enemies he will have. Someone intelligent, determined, resourceful, cunning and not prone to hasty decision-making.”

Severus cocked an eyebrow at that.

“With other words, a Slytherin to boot.”

“It is your choice. Either way, you will be of great service. I just ask you to make your decision before Harry has to be taken to Diagon Alley.”

Severus nodded and emptied his cup.

“The Dark Lord would not be very happy about my deception should I admit to being on the light side,” He said as he placed the cup back on the desk.

“I don’t believe he will be, but I don’t think he will ever learn the value of love over violence. Rest assured Severus, I am well aware of the difference.”

Severus nodded. He knew Albus well enough to recognise his words as a pledge of protection.

“Good evening, headmaster.”

“Good evening, Severus.”

Severus let himself out and pondered his options. He was grateful Albus gave him the option to be more than an invisible protector, but it also scared him to his core. Children weren’t exactly his forte nor was he very loving. Again, he touched the marble in his pocket. It had the perfect size for an emergency portkey. One should always have one for dangerous times.

And oh, who was he trying to fool. As if he would trust anyone else to take the child to Diagon Alley.