Severus was lying on a picnic blanket, a glass of lemonade next to him, reading a book and listening to the buzzing of wild bees on a neglected property in Cokeworth that nature had claimed back.

It was as close to happiness as he would ever get in his adult life.

He groaned when a silvery mist entered his field of vision. What did Dumbledore want now? Hadn’t he done more than enough?

“Harry has gone missing. I am waiting at your place.”

Missing? The boy wouldn’t run away from the Weasleys. Someone must have taken him.

Severus’ blood ran cold. Had he gone and caused the death of Lily’s child, too?

But he hadn’t done anything wrong! Lily would have done the very same thing if confronted with a mistreated child, he was sure.

He apparated to his house.

Albus Dumbledore looked like he hadn’t slept the previous night.

“So, Potter’s gone. Any evidence as to who could have taken him? Anything at all?”

“He probably ran away”, Dumbledore replied gently. “The money and wand have been taken from his trunk, his broom is missing, and a little wooden flute Ronald says had sentimental value to him.”

“Ran away? After ten years with those monsters, he ran away from a caring family? Are you kidding me?”

“Apparently Mr. Weasley felt a need to cane him.”

What? “Cane him? Cane Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the saviour of witchkind?”

Dumbledore smiled weakly. “I was under the impression you resented any special treatment he got?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt Potter deserved it.” Potter probably deserved more than he had gotten, actually. “It’s just that I thought the Weasleys liked him.”

“They do. They treated him like one of their own.” Dumbledore sighed. “Your insight is very helpful, Severus. Harry probably thinks along the same lines.”

“Everyone would.” You didn’t hit people you liked. People you didn’t like, sure. But Severus had learnt his lesson on letting his temper get the better of him with people he liked. The very thought of having hit Lily ...

Dumbledore shook his head. “Far from it. Back in my day, I knew a lot of people who attributed their strength of character to the fact their parents had used the cane on them whenever they strayed from the straight and narrow. Personally, I do not think ... well. When I first met Tom Riddle, the man later known as Voldemort, I resorted to intimidating him with a display of power. He might have turned out differently had I appealed to what shreds of empathy he had left, if there were any.” Another sigh. “Hagrid’s father couldn’t possibly ever have spanked or caned him, and look how he turned out.”

True. None of Hagrid’s many failings could have been improved upon with corporal punishment. Well, perhaps his tendency to trust people who ought not to be trusted, but you usually didn’t aim to inspire distrust in a child you were responsible for.

“Please, Severus, you must find him.”

How could he find the Potter brat if Dumbledore himself couldn’t? “Just send him an owl and track it.”

“That is the first thing Mrs. Weasley tried. It lost orientation and came back while still withing her sight.”

“So someone has taken the boy.” Why were they standing here, talking? They ought to do something.

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry is very powerful. It is entirely possible he unconsciously cast a protection spell – and as apparently he views Mrs. Weasley as enemy ...”

They were looking for an invisible boy who couldn’t be tracked by owl? “My own ability to detect an invisible person is limited in range. I would only be able to find him by literally stumbling across him. The boy could be anywhere. Any floo powder missing?” Not that anyone would notice. Even if they had paid attention to it, Potter knew how to disguise the fact he’d taken something.

“In fact, yes. There happened to be only an emergency portion for one person left in the jar after their visit to Diagon Alley.”

He really could be anywhere. Including in a death eater’s estate. “For how long has he been missing?”

“They noticed he didn’t turn up to dinner yesterday evening, but hoped he would return before nightfall.”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure Potter is afraid of the dark.”

“Now, now, Severus, it is not like the Weasleys haven’t had to deal with a child running away before. Most do return when they get hungry or it gets dark, or starts raining.”

Severus could hardly contain his temper at the condescending attitude the old man displayed. “Hungry? A child can easily go a week without food. Rain? Shelter is easily procured, especially with an invisibility cloak.” Hell, if he had had such a thing, he would only have visited home in the holidays to check on his mum, then disappeared again. “Our best chance is to wait for him to board the train to school.” That was if Potter even wanted to return to Hogwarts.

“You must find him, Severus. Without the protection of his mother’s blood ...”

Way to guilt him. As if such manipulation was needed. “I will find him.”

Dumbledore smiled. “I knew I could rely on you. I shall, of course, make my own attempts at searching. Where will you start?”

“Diagon Alley. It is the place he is likely most familiar with.” In the magical world, that was. If the boy took a muggle bus or train, he could be anywhere, but Severus didn’t think that likely. After seeing what Petunia did to him, Severus was confident he would be much more fond of magical places.

“Then I will go to Hogsmeade.”

After some inquiries at the Weasleys’, Severus reserved a room at the Leaky Cauldron by owl, flooed there and immediately disappeared into the room. It was essential Potter did not notice his presence.

At its core, his idea for finding the boy was very simple.

If he had not been forcibly taken, then Potter likely kept away the owls of everyone who entertained thoughts of taking him back to the Weasleys.

The solution was to become a person who did not entertain thoughts of taking Potter back to the Weasleys.

Now, Severus only had to lie to himself and make himself believe it. A daunting task, to be sure, but doable.

He was not a master occlumens for nothing.

Besides, hadn’t he been able to make himself believe that becoming a Death Eater wouldn’t hurt Lily? Quod erat demonstrandum.


**


It was getting dark, at last. The days were so much longer now, Harry thought bitterly, than they had been before, at the Burrow.

The nights, too, seemed longer, now that they were not spent with uninterrupted sleep, but within moving shadows, being woken by the calls of owls and the slow movements of gargoyles on the rooftops.
Harry wasn’t afraid of magic, yet the gargoyles scared him. If those at Hogwarts moved, too, he had never noticed it.

But he could not return. No, he could not. Every time he even thought of it, his intestines burnt with humiliation.

He had fallen for it. Fallen for the pretense of liking him. He didn’t fall for the Dursleys’ attempts at it anymore, not really. Vernon had managed to confuse him with his ‘very special day’ remark on his birthday, but he had known he wouldn’t get a party, or presents.

With Mr. Weasley ... he had fallen for it. Hook, line and sinker.

Tears stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. At least under the cloak, no one could see.

His stomach burnt with hunger. Getting food wasn’t as easy as he had thought it would. The only place that really had outside tables was Fortescue’s, and the only thing he could steal there without being noticed was the cookies people got served with their coffee, if they didn’t eat them, that was.

To get proper food he had to go inside the Leaky Cauldron. And it was so busy there most of the times, he could only really risk it in the early morning or late evening, but of course, there weren’t many people eating there at those times. And he always feared someone might notice the entrance opening with seemingly no one there when he got back out.

If someone bumped into him, his cloak would be no use at all.

When darkness had fallen, Harry went to the Leaky Cauldron. He was lucky, someone had left an almost untouched sandwich on their plate.

Tom, the innkeeper, didn’t seem in a hurry to clear that table, but he did occasionally glance in the direction. Harry couldn’t risk it.

It would be noticed, later on, that the sandwich was missing.

On the other hand ... it was Harry’s favourite kind. Cheese and tomato, no lettuce. His mouth watered just looking at it.

At last, Tom left to do something in the back room, and Harry couldn’t believe his luck. The sandwich was still there, only waiting to be taken.

He inched closer to the table, walking as quietly as he could. Grabbed the sandwich, pulled it under the cloak.

Only back in his hiding place, a dark alley between two houses, he dared take it out and eat it.