Severus frowned as Dumbledore stepped out of his fireplace. Experience had taught him that Dumbledore was a very busy man who only visited if he wanted something. The closest he came to making courtesy visits was checking on Severus when his owls had remained unanswered for too long.

Severus had answered all the more recent letters, therefore ... his sorely needed summer holidays would be interrupted with work. Hopefully Dumbledore’s newest strange request at least led him to a place with nice scenery.

“Good evening, Severus. How are you?”

“What do you need?”

Normally, this kind of directness brought about a chuckle from the old man, but not now. “I need you to check on Harry Potter.”

“Why?” Potter. Why on earth would he need checking on?

“Two days ago, an associate in the ministry informed me Harry had used a levitating charm and received a letter.”

“Threatening him with expulsion, as would happen to anyone. Your point?” Being set some boundaries would do Potter good.

“He hasn’t been seen outside the house since. I won’t bore you with the details, but my informant considers this an irregularity we should investigate.”

The boy was probably sulking about not getting his way for once. “And why does it have to be me?” Severus knew that most members of the now inactive Order of the Phoenix did not know about him, and vice versa, he did not know about most of them. There must be a dozen, at the very last, whom Dumbledore could ask.

“I need someone who is both a teacher at Hogwarts and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You know what is at stake, Severus. You will simply tell Petunia you are there to investigate the instance of underage magic, and then do exactly that. Report to me what you learn while you do so.”

“Dealing with underage magic is the ministry’s job.” He knew he had lost. The other Heads of Houses regularly visited muggleborns to make sure they and their parents knew they weren’t allowed to use magic at home. The only reason Severus rarely had to do that was that few muggleborns were sorted into Slytherin.



**

Using a photography provided by Dumbledore, Severus apparated to Privet Drive. There went his hope for nice scenery – there was possibly no more boring place on earth than this street.

He dreaded having to talk to Petunia.

It would be the first time he met her after Lily’s death, and she would blame him for it, he was sure.

Her hate he could deal with, but not the fact that, for once in her life, she would be right.

The hoot of an owl interrupted his thoughts. Potter’s owl! If he followed the owl, he could find Potter’s bedroom, check on Potter and never have to talk to Petunia.

As the sound seemed to have come from the other side of the house, he walked to the end of the street and inspected the back gardens. They were all fenced in, but not by high enough fences to actually keep him out.

Boring, as expected. He couldn’t even distract himself by looking for potions ingredients. Lawn, lawn, lawn, roses, lawn, lawn ... ah. This must be the back side of Number 4. Severus looked up at the windows. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Looked up again. There was no doubt about it, one of the windows had bars on it. Not the pretty, ornate iron bars some homeowners seemed to hope would keep burglars out, but ugly steel bars that were attached from the outside, in a haphazard way. Stupid thing to do, attaching them from the outside – it’d be easy to remove them the exact same way, from outside.

And the window was on the first floor. The ground floor window below had no such safety precautions.

Strange. If Potter had tried to run away that often, surely Dumbledore would have told him? He did like his little secrets, but he usually told Severus everything he needed to handle a situation.

As he drew closer, Severus could see the telltale flickering light of a TV from the ground floor.

Perfect – that meant the muggles were distracted.

Severus used a levitation charm on himself and floated up to the barred window.

Holding to one of the bars, he cut two others off, putting a levitation charm on them so they gently floated onto the lawn below, making no sound.

Conveniently, the window was open and he climbed inside.

An owl hooted softly.

“Lumos”, Severus whispered.

It was a good thing he had thought to make light, for the floor was littered with toys. Potter really should keep more order ... but as he looked around in the room, Severus couldn’t see any furniture that might be used to keep the toys in.

There was just a bed and a wardrobe.

Careful to not step on anything, he drew closer to the bed.

A mop of messy dark hair. Unmistakeably Potter.

Severus cast a silencing charm and continued his exploration of the room. The wardrobe turned out to contain a very small collection of clothes. They were all good quality fabric, but weirdly large – larger than Severus’ own, almost. Damn teenagers and their ridiculous fashions. He had hated having to wear clothes too large for him as a child, and now here was Potter, doing it on purpose.

There was a TV, but it was broken beyond muggle repair, at least as far as Severus could tell. Someone ought to remove it, the sharp edges of the glass shards sticking out were a safety risk.

He looked back to the bed. Potter sat up and stared at him, lips moving without a sound.

Severus placed a finger on his lips, the universal gesture for silence.

It took Potter at least five seconds to understand. At last, he nodded.

“You were caught using a hover charm”, Severus stated quietly after lifting the silencing charm. “Explain.”

Potter blinked. Stared at him with those terrible green eyes. “It was the house elf”, he said at last, spitting out the words like an insult.

“What house elf?” Surely, a house like this did not have an house elf. The very idea was ridiculous. Even if the house had been inhabitated by a magical family previously ... no, just no.

“He said his name was Dobby”, Potter replied. “He wanted me to promise I wouldn’t go back to Hogwarts. When I didn’t, he threatened to destroy the Dursleys’ pudding. How is it possible they know someone used magic, but not that it wasn’t me?”

“The Dursleys’ pudding?” That wording was strange.


“Pudding. Dessert. You know. It was cream with sugared violets, but that’s really not important. The important thing is that it is Dobby who dropped it on the floor, not me.” The rebellious tone in Potter’s voice started to grate Severus’ nerves.

Severus breathed deeply and emptied his mind of all emotion. He couldn’t yell at Potter. Not with the muggles listening. He really didn’t want to have to talk to Petunia. “What about the hover charm?”

“Dobby used it. On the pudding.”

Ah right, the pudding. “Why is it the Dursleys’ pudding?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Potter asked back cheekily.

Focus. He had to focus. “Did you eat something different for dessert?”

Potter frowned. “No, obviously. Why would that even matter?”

“Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to know exactly what happened. Describe what happened, from the appearance of the house elf until the hover charm was performed. If you give a plausible explanation, you might not be punished.” Not that Dumbledore would punish him at all, anyway.

Severus listened to Potter’s story without interrupting. Only after Potter had finished did he ask: “So the family was eating downstairs. Why weren’t you with them?”

“The Masons were visiting”, Potter replied, as if that explained anything.

“Who exactly are the Masons?”

“I don’t know? Mr. Mason is someone Uncle Vernon wanted to do business with.”

Severus had gathered as much. “So your cousin eats with the family when they have visitors, but you don’t?”

Potter shrugged. “Yeah.”

“And why is that?” Considering who the boy’s father was, it wouldn’t surprise him the least if he had been sent to his room as punishment, but no punishment had been mentioned, and something just didn’t sound right.

“They’re ashamed to have a wizard in the family.”

He should have expected this. He really should have, but for some reason, it had never occurred to him. Perhaps because he had tried his best to forget everything to do with Lily. Petunia had always acted like this towards Lily. Tried to hide her from her friends. Not that she had succeeded, the Evans parents hadn’t supported her behaviour, but now that she was in charge of the household ... of course she would treat Lily’s son like she had tried to treat Lily.

So obvious in retrospect.

Or perhaps Potter was lying to him? But the bars ... Potter might have ran away one time too many, but there was the curious thing: Potter hadn’t tried to run away from Hogwarts. Not even skipped a class, Severus had to admit that, however grudgingly.

How likely was it that he ran away from doting relatives who bought him his own TV?

And Potter had answered without hesitation, meaning that he had either thought of the lie in advance, or it wasn’t one.

He couldn’t have predicted Severus would be the one to question him, could he?

An exploration of the room might yield more hints. Severus intensified his light charm and looked around. “Locked up your owl? I can imagine most animals wouldn’t enjoy your company, Potter, and flee at the first opportunity, but it rather defeats the purpose of an owl to lock it up.”

Potter glared at him. “That was Uncle Vernon”, he hissed. “So don’t you - ” The boy interrupted himself. “Please sir, can you let her out? Please?”

“Why would I do you a favour?” He would do it anyway, the poor animal had done nothing to deserve this, but Potter deserved to suffer some.

Potter glanced to the owl, then to him. “If you – if you let her out, you can ... keep her.”

The owl made an angry noise. Poor thing must feel betrayed. It was considered bad form to sell an owl that had been in your service for a while. They often didn’t change loyalty.

“She’s a snowy owl. Very valuable”, Potter continued.

Was that a tear glittering in those Lily-green eyes? As soon as Severus spotted it, Potter averted his eyes.

Very well. “Don’t be silly Potter. Owls don’t change allegiance. She’d be useless to me.”

“She will!” The boy got up and walked over to the cage. “Please go with him, Hedwig”, he whispered. “It’s no use to anyone if you starve.”

Severus was thunderstruck by how soft and gentle Potter’s voice could sound. So much like ... no, he couldn’t indulge in memories now.

“I don’t need an owl, anyway, Potter. But there’s something else you could do for me ...”

“Yes, sir?” Potter asked eagerly.

“I want your word, on your honour, that you’ll be respectful in class from now on. No talking back. No whispering with your friends. No sabotaging potions.” Potter would obviously not keep his word, but Severus could taunt him about forfeiting his honour. Oh, he would find excuses, of course he would, but watching James Potter try to come up with reasons why his four against one attacks on Severus weren’t cowardly had always been entertaining. “That’s the condition on which I’ll free your owl.”

Potter frowned. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up as if he had thought of a loophole. “Yes, sir. Thank you. I swear on my honour that I’ll never talk back to you in class, or whisper with my friends in class, or sabotage someone else’s potion in Potions, if you get Hedwig out of here and let her fly.”

Ah. The brat had limited his promise to class, which meant he intended to be extra disrespectful outside of class.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Remember that I can still punish you for misbehaving outside class, Potter. Trying to cheat even while giving your word of honour, are you, Potter? Just like your father.”

Potter glared at him, but bit his lip. “I know you’ll punish me anyways. Please, sir?”

“Very well. Alohomora.”

The lock sprang open. Severus cautiously removed it and opened the cage door.

With a delighted noise, the owl hopped outside, stretched her wings and flew a round through the room. She stopped to land on Potter’s shoulder, nipped his ear with her beak, and then she was up and away through the hole Severus had created in the bars.

“When do your relatives usually go to bed, Potter?” He would search the house. That was bound to be less annoying than trying to question Potter.

“Around ten or so. But Dudley watches TV in his room until midnight some days.”

Severus checked his watch. Anytime now. “Do your aunt and uncle check on you before they go to bed?”

Potter didn’t answer.

“You gave your word, Potter. Proper respect. Breaking it so soon?”

“No! Sir. I just can’t think why you want to know.”

“Obviously I wouldn’t have made the effort of going directly to your room if I wanted to talk to Pe- to the muggles, now, would I?”


“Yes, sir. They don’t check on me. Aunt Petunia only opens the door two times a day, and she already did this evening.”

Two times a day? How could he be so sure? Severus’ mother had been quite a bit more distant than Lily’s parents, but she still had sometimes checked on him during the day. And even though he had spent a lot of time in his room when he was forced to stay in the house, he scarcely ever had spent a whole day there ...

The noise of the TV abruptly stopped, and shortly after, Severus heard heavy steps on the stairs.

They waited in absolute silence until the noises from the bathroom ceased and the sounds of a TV could be heard across the hall.

“Will your cousin stay in his room?” Severus asked, quietly.

“Probably. He doesn’t like to move much.”

Good.

Severus went to the door and tried the handle. The room was locked. There was no key in the lock. He gave Potter a questioning glance.

“It’s locked. You’ll have to use a spell. Sir. Or perhaps more than one, I don’t know, there’s a couple locks on the door.”

Severus took a better look at the door. He could see more keyholes than any sane person would put on an ordinary bedroom door.

There was also a small door at the bottom of the door. “Do your relatives have any pets, Potter?”

“No, sir.”

“Wasn’t your cousin jealous when you got an owl and he didn’t?”

Potter hesitated. “No, sir. I guess he’s too scared of magic.”

“Why would he be scared of magic?” Potter’s fault, probably.

“Hagrid, um, used some magic to, um, well, to make my Hogwarts letter arrive.”

A lie. “The truth, Potter, if you please.”

Again, Potter hesitated before speaking. “Actually, it is my fault, sir. I freed a snake when we were at the zoo for his eleventh birthday. It was an accident, sir. The snake told me how it wanted to go see its homecountry, and somehow, the glass disappeared.”

“A snake told you something?” Severus raised a brow. Parselmouths were incredibly rare, and were almost always sorted into Slytherin. And he still got the impression that, somehow, the boy was lying to him.

“Well, I couldn’t hear it behind the glass, but when I asked it how it was in Brazil, it pointed to a sign that said it was born in the zoo, and somehow ... I don’t know how I did it, sir.”

“Did the snake tell you anything else?”

“No, it just said goodbye and that it was going to Brazil.”

He could check the muggle newspaper archives for an escaped snake. It would have made the headlines. Unless someone noticed magic was involved, in which case the Ministry would know of it.

Severus made short work of the locks. “If the family doesn’t own a cat, then what is this?” He pointed at the small door.

“Um. It is ... a cat flap,sir. Dudley used to have a cat, and this used to be his room.”

An obvious lie. The temptation to use legilimency ... but no. He must not. It was illegal.

With enough patience, he could uncover the secret without such means.

He sneaked through the door and downstairs.

Only when he was at the foot of the stairs did he notice Potter had followed him. Severus glared at him. “Maybe I was not clear enough”, he hissed. “I am finished with you. Go back to bed.”

“I ... I just ... wanted to tell you that ... there’s a creaking floorboard on the way to the front door, it is safer to use the back door.”

“I don’t need your help, Potter”, Severus hissed. He needed peace and quiet to search the house.

“Suit yourself.” Potter slipped away, but not upstairs. Instead, he entered the kitchen.

And Severus couldn’t really do anything about it unless he wanted to risk waking the family. Well, at least the boy was gone.

Using his wand as a source of light, Severus looked around. The cupboard under the stairs caught his attention. Why was there a padlock?

“Alohomora.”

Severus opened the cupboard. Ah. He had found Potter’s school trunk. And broom. Locking away Potter’s broom was a good idea, but why the trunk?

He opened it, and found nothing remarkable. Wand, school books, robes ... wand? “Priori Incantatem”, he whispered.

Mouse to snuffbox. Potter hadn’t used his wand since the exams. And certainly wasn’t capable of wandless magic, so that left accidental magic. Or the house elf story was true.

Under the trunk, there was a mattress. Strange. It looked like there was a bed in here. People kept all kinds of stuff, but ...

Suspicions growing, Severus closed the cupboard door. And there it was. A bolt. The flimsy kind you could just nail to something, but here it was. This cupboard had been used to lock someone inside.

Perhaps, if he asked Potter, there would be an entertaining story about a cat.

He looked for more proof, and now that he knew what to look for, it was easily found. Black hair on the mattress, caught in the roughcast of the walls and ceiling. He took a sample to test later. The initials H.P. etched into the wooden frame of the bed. There was little doubt.

Severus turned away from the cupboard, just in time to catch Potter leaving the kitchen, using the oversized t-shirt he was wearing as a kind of makeshift bag to transport ...

“Accio bread”, Severus whispered.

Sure enough, Potter’s stash started moving, the boy desperately trying to keep hold of it.

Severus ended the spell. “Show me, Potter, or I’ll summon it again”, he hissed.

The boy stepped closer. “Just food. It’s not yours, why would you care?”

It was, indeed, all food. Some bread, some cereals, some oatmeal, some flour ... all portions small enough their missing wouldn’t be noticed.

“No dessert?”, Severus sneered.

“No, sir.” Potter stared at the ground. “I’ll just go back to bed, now, professor.”

“Do that.” He could see, now, why Dumbledore had sent him. Anyone else would just have removed Potter from this house. He himself was tempted to. But the blood wards ...

Severus used a shrinking spell on the trunk and its contents, put it into his pocket and closed the cupboard door. He locked the padlock and hesitated.

Now, the evidence of them keeping Potter’s school things from him was gone. He could just leave, tell Dumbledore everything was in order, and let Potter suffer as he deserved to.

But deep down, Severus knew he couldn’t. Potter was an annoying, disrespectful, spoiled – alright, not spoiled – brat, but still a child.

So he went back upstairs.

Potter was busy filling the cereals into a vaguely bowl-shaped broken plastic toy. Severus discreetly placed a spell on it that increased the quantity somewhat. Not enough to be noticed.

“Your school trunk. I expect you to do your homework.” He placed it among the assortment of broken things and undid the shrinking spell, then slightly covered it in some toys he found on the ground.

He took one of the oversized shirts from the wardrobe and put it over the empty owl cage, locking the padlock again.

A wave of his wand, and the collection of locks on the door locked again.

“Thank you?” Potter sounded surprised more than anything.

“Get your homework done”, Severus told him, then apparated to the garden. The last thing he did was a repair spell on the bars in front of Potter’s window, locking the boy in again.


After apparating home, he lost no time in flooing Dumbledore.

The man was still fully dressed. At least he hadn’t had the time to sleep. Severus would have been very angry if this task had been foisted on him even though the headmaster had enough time to do it himself.

“I take it you found something amiss?”

“When I entered the back garden of Number Four, Privet Drive I saw bars on one of the upper windows. Potter’s room. There’s also additional locks installed on the door of his bedroom. He expressed worry that his owl would starve, and offered to gift it to me if I would rescue it. Need I continue?”

Dumbledore had the decency to look shocked. “Is he injured?”

“I didn’t see any injuries, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. If you want me to protect him still, I demand that you move him.”

He didn’t like the grave look on Dumbledore’s face one bit. “Severus,you know, the blood wards ... as long as they don’t beat him ...”

“He’ll run away, I am sure of it. He would have while I was there, after I opened the door of his bedroom, if I hadn’t been in the way. They don’t feed him adequately.”

“I shall write to Petunia.”

“Nothing you write will change the fact that she hates magic. It is a wonder they didn’t turn the boy into an obscurial.” That seemed to make an impression. But Severus had more. “Besides, I have reason to believe the blood wards do not work as well as you think they do.” And he recounted the tale of the house elf. “I happen to know that Dobby belongs to the Malfoy family”, he finished. “The wards might prevent anyone from entering with harmful intent, but let’s say he was put under the imperius and told that he needed to hurt Potter to keep him safe? His actions resulted in harm to Potter. What extent of harm do the wards allow? We cannot know.”

Dumbledore listened, frowning. At last, he nodded. “House elves. Of course! How could I be so blind! You are right, Severus. We have to move Harry.”

Harry woke at sunrise. What a weird dream he had had! Snape had come to investigate because of the hover charm, and then he’d let Harry out of the room and ... but had it really been a dream?

He grabbed his glasses and put them on.

There was one of Dudley’s old shirts over Hedwig’s cage. And there in the corner – his school trunk!

Why would Snape do something this nice?

He probably couldn’t imagine that Harry actually liked his schoolbooks and wanted to get his homework done.

Harry went to Hedwig’s cage and looked. She was gone. The padlock was still there, but Hedwig was gone. Free. In exchange for a promise he’d only have to keep if he could go back to Hogwarts.

If he could go to Hogwarts, it would all be worth it.

If.

But Snape’s visit showed that Dumbledore cared, right? Snape had said something of a punishment. No punishment could be worse than not going back to Hogwarts, so it didn’t really matter. He’d gladly do anything they wanted, even go to the Forbidden Forest again, if he could return to Hogwarts.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a strange noise behind him. When he turned around he saw it was Snape, standing there. Now, in the daylight, he looked ridiculously out of place, like aconite growing out of the pavement.

Harry recalled having seen some dandelion growing out of the pavement in front of the Railview Hotel. It had been a nice sight, the bright yellow flower amidst all the gloom.

Snape in Privet Drive was ... less nice, but much more out of place.

And, for some reason, Harry felt hopeful at the sight of him.

“Get dressed and ready to leave, Potter. I suppose your possessions are all in that trunk?”

Harry stared at him. This must be a dream! His possessions – they were all in that trunk, but did that mean he was going somewhere for ... longer?

“No dawdling. Alohomora!”

The locks on his door opened with soft clicking noises, all at once. Harry opened his trunk, grabbed his robes and tiptoed to the bathroom, locking himself inside.

He decided to take a shower. If it woke anyone, they could take it out on Snape. Opening the locked bathroom door from the outside was possible, but would take them a while.


After a quick shower and changing into his robes, Harry brushed his teeth and packed his toothbrush. It was ancient – relict of some dentist visiting the primary school – but he didn’t want to ask Aunt Petunia for a new one. Hermione might be able to get him one ...

A knock at the door made him jump.

“Potter, hurry up.”

Oh, just Snape.

Weird, a couple weeks ago he would have considered being caught by Snape the worst thing that could happen.

Snape hadn’t explained where they were going – to Hogwarts? – or why, but Harry figured it couldn’t be worse than being imprisoned in Privet Drive. Regular prison might be worse, but he was too young for that, he was pretty sure. Besides, if it was anything unpleasant, Snape would have gleefully told him, right?

He stepped out of the bathroom. “Where are we going, sir?”

“Outside, where we will wait for your ride in an orderly fashion.” Snape gestured towards the stairs.

Harry walked down, stopping in front of the cupboard under the stairs.

“I shall retrieve your broom. Grab some bread and get out.”

Snape didn’t have to tell Harry twice.

Since he was going to leave and the Dursleys couldn’t harm him, then, Harry dared to pour himself a glass of orange juice to go with the slice of bread onto which he put a slice of cheese.

He emptied the glass as fast as possible, then walked outside to eat his bread in the morning sun.

How had he never noticed what a nice time of day early morning was? Must be because he usually spent it in his cupboard.

Or, admittedly, asleep.

Snape stepped out of the door, holding his Nimbus 2000 and looking extremely out of place.

“So, where do we go?”, Harry asked again.

“I will go back home. You will go live with – ah, there they are.”




A light blue car was driving towards them. It stopped and a tall man with thinning red hair got out and waved to Harry.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. The man was wearing a robe!

He strode towards them. “Good morning, Professor Snape. And you must be Harry. Ron told us so much about you!”

Harry shook the man’s hand. “Um, who are you?”

“Oh, I thought Professor Snape had told you. I’m Arthur Weasley.”

“There was no time to explain.” Snape took something from his pocket. “This is Potter’s school trunk and the cage of his owl. I trust you can end the shrinking charm I placed on them.”

“Yes, of course, but - ”

“Good. Your broom, Potter. And now off with you.”

Snape stood there staring at them until Harry was sitting in the passenger seat and Mr. Weasley started the car.

Only when Harry looked back one last time did he see Snape walk away.

“Professor Snape didn’t tell me anything at all. Can I stay at your place for the summer, sir?”

“Nothing at all? Well, the most important thing is that you will live with us, now. You know our younger boys, and then there’s our daughter, Ginny. But of course, you’ve met her, too, haven’t you?”

“Live with you? For – forever?”

“Until you are grown up”, Mr. Weasley confirmed. “Like our other children.”

“Your other children? Sir?”

“No need to call me sir. Yes, Harry, you will be a part of the family from now on.”

What? This couldn’t be happening. Or could it? It was even better than Hagrid telling him he was a wizard! “That’s – that’s great. But why?” Just yesterday, he had thought he was in horrible trouble because of the house elf, and now ...

“From what Ron told us, you weren’t happy at your relatives’”

“I wasn’t, but - ”

“And this morning, Dumbledore sent me a message saying that he urgently needed a family to foster Harry Potter. He didn’t explain much, but ... did your aunt and uncle mistreat you, Harry?”
Harry hesitated. “I guess. It’s just that ... no one cared, before.” They had adressed the letter to his cupboard. And he wouldn’t have gotten Dudley’s second bedroom after if it wasn’t somehow wrong to make him sleep in a cupboard. “I mean, Hagrid did ... tell them he didn’t like how they treated me and all, but no one said I could live someplace else.”

“We do care, Harry. If Dumbledore hadn’t contacted me, we would have come to check in on you, anyway. We all were very worried when you didn’t answer Ron’s letters.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Stunned, Harry let himself sink into the surprisingly large seat. Live with Ron! It was like a dream.

“You won’t have your own bedroom”, Mr. Weasley explained. “I am afraid you will have to get used to a lot of changes, but Dumbledore assured me you wouldn’t mind having to share a room with Ron.”

“Not at all.” Harry felt a big grin spread all over his face. Then he remembered something. “Uh, won’t Ron mind?” Dudley hadn’t taken the news of losing one of his two rooms well ...

“Ron is used to sharing rooms with his brothers. I am sure he won’t mind, once we explain the situation to him.”



The sun had fully risen by the time they passed a sign with the name Ottery St. Catchpole on it.

Harry enjoyed the view from the window. There were fields of some kind of grain, some already harvested, green hills and a house now and then.

Other children of his age had probably seen a lot more different landscapes than he had, Harry thought with a pang of jealousy.
It wouldn’t be at all remarkable to them.

“And here’s the Burrow”, Mr. Weasley announced.

Contrary to the name, it was not a hole in the ground. There was a small building of roughly hewn stone, on top of which there were several stories made of wood, and they looked like they only just so managed to balance on top of each other.

It must be held together by magic, there was no other explanation.

“Wow.” He would love living here. There were chickens in the yard! Aunt Petunia would have a heart attack at the sight of an animal that wasn’t kept in a cage!

Harry had only just gotten out of the car when he heard a voice call out his name.

Ron ran towards him. “Harry! You’re here!”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Harry grinned. “And I – I can really stay? You won’t mind?”

“What? Are you kidding? I’ve been pestering Mum and Dad to go check on you all this time!”

Mr. Weasley got out of the car. “Has your mother told you everything?”, he asked in a rather serious tone.

“I guess? That Harry’s relatives are crap and he’ll stay with us?”

“Yes about that, Ron.” Mr. Weasley looked rather uncomfortable. “You know his relatives will not change. So ...”

“He’ll stay forever?” Ron looked delighted at the news.

“Yes, that’s the idea.”

“Come, I’ll show you my room – our room!”

Dazed, Harry followed Ron to the bedroom they would share. It was below the attic, and Ron explained Dumbledore had done something to make it larger.

There still wasn’t much space – not much more than he had in the dorm at Hogwarts – but Harry didn’t mind. He had never really used the space in Dudley’s second bedroom, anyways.

“You can get your own decoration, if you want”, Ron said slowly, gesturing at the walls, of which three quarters were covered in Chudley Cannons posters. “But the Chudley Cannons are really the best team!”

Harry suppressed a chuckle. “It’s alright, Ron. I love it.”

Before Ron could reply anything, Mrs. Weasley called them downstairs for breakfast.

And what a breakfast that was!

It was almost better than breakfast at Hogwarts. Or no, it was better – Harry actually had the time to eat everything.

There was scrambled eggs and sausages and toast with marmelade. Orange juice, milk and hot chocolate ...

“You don’t eat that kind of breakfast everyday, do you?” Harry asked when he was so full he could hardly move anymore – which was after just trying a bit of everything.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. “I didn’t know what you liked, dear, so I just made everything. Do you like the sausages?”

She was about to put another piece of toast on Harry’s plate, when he hastily shook his head. “No thanks, madam, I’m full.”

“What?!”

“It is all delicious, but I really can’t eat any more.” Harry blushed. “I, um, am not used to eating a lot in the mornings?”

Mrs. Weasley frowned, and for a moment she looked like a sabre-tooth-tiger. “You can come talk to me about your relatives anytime you want”, she assured him, her face softening, and Harry let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. She wasn’t angry at him, but at the Dursleys. “But I won’t ask any questions if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Thanks, madam.” That suited Harry just fine. He really just wanted to forget the Dursleys.

“And you can call me mum. If you want to.”

It must be a dream, but he would enjoy it as long as he could.

Weeks passed, and Harry accepted that it must be real, as he hadn’t woken up yet. He had settled into a pleasant routine, doing mostly the same things as Ron and his brothers.

After breakfast, they were assigned some chores that were a lot more fun than at the Dursleys’ – de-gnoming the garden was Harry’s favourite, but he also liked feeding the chickens. Everything, really, as he always worked together with Ron and they could chat and joke all they liked.

Then there was lunch, where he got to eat as much as he liked and was pressured to eat pudding, too.

In the afternoons, they were free to do what they wanted. Sometimes, Harry read Ron’s comics about Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle and pointed out hilarious mistakes the author had made in the portrayal of Muggles to Ron. Sometimes they waded around in the pond – it was too small for real swimming, but nice enough to cool down on a hot day – and sometimes they’d play Quidditch.

After the first few days, the Weasley parents treated him just like one of their own and seemed to often forget he wasn’t, which suited Harry just fine.

Only Ginny, the youngest and only sister, remained distant. After her mother had pointed out to her that she shouldn’t stare at Harry, she seemed to be almost afraid of him. Whenever he entered a room, she’d vanish from it, and they basically only saw each other at meals.


It was one of those afternoons where Percy had locked himself in his room to study some and couldn’t be cajoled out.

Harry had suggested they ask Ginny to replace Percy as Quidditch referee, but had been overruled.

“She’s too young”, Fred had said.

“And a girl”, Ron had added.

“So what? Hermione is a girl, too.”

Ron seemed weirdly surprised, as if he had forgotten that obvious fact. “Well, anyways”, he had said. “She’s too young.”

Harry didn’t bother to point out that Ginny could only be a year younger than them if she was going to start Hogwarts this year. It must be some weird sibling thing he didn’t understand because he only ever had had Dudley.

Still, it did uncomfortably remind him of how Dudley had excluded him from everything. But it must be different – after all, Ron was a good person, and surely the Weasley parents wouldn’t have tolerated really nasty behaviour, right?

So they played without referee, and Harry was having fun, when suddenly, one of the twins shouted: “Oy, Ginny! Spying on us, are you?”

She wasn’t, not really. She must have stood between some bushes for quite a while, but it couldn’t be called spying when they were outside and knew she must be somewhere.

Ginny blushed so much she resembled a ripe tomato, and Harry said, weakly: “Well, you could just have let her play referee.”

He wasn’t sure anyone had heard him. One of the twins dove downwards and snatched something Ginny had been holding, a cuddly toy, it looked like.

“Give her back!” Ginny shouted. “Give her back!”

But the twin – Fred or George – threw the toy to his brother, and before Harry could say anything else, Ginny had ran away.

Harry didn’t like how they behaved, but they’d call him a spoilsport if he said something. He knew how they talked to Percy, after all, and wasn’t keen on taking up that role.

“Crybaby”, Ron said disdainfully. “I bet she’s running to tell Mum.”

Going to tell an adult had never ever occurred to Harry, since he was usually the one who got punished. “Perhaps you should just give it back”, he suggested to Fred and George. “So you won’t get in trouble.”

“Trouble is our second name!” one of them – Fred? – proudly announced. “Let’s continue.”

They used Ginny’s toy as quaffle now, Harry realized with unease. “

“I need a break”, he announced.

After landing, he stood there, staring at the ground. Really, he should stand up to them. That they were (almost) his only friends wasn’t an excuse. Neville had stood up to them. Neville braver than him!

He’d apologise to Ginny, later, he decided. At dinner.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Mrs. Weasley was drawing closer surprisingly fast, her expression thunderous. “Stop that, immediately!”

“We’re just teasing Ginny a little!” Fred – or George – claimed, tossing the toy to his brother.

This one time, though, he didn’t catch it, and it fell to the ground.

Now Ginny, who had trailed after her mother, started crying in earnest.

“I’m sorry”, Harry mumbled.

“Back to the house, all of you!”

When they got to the house, it turned out that Mr. Weasley was home.

“Oh shit”, Ron mumbled.

“Your mother tells me you used Ginny’s puffskein as bludger.” Never before had Mr. Weasley looked that angry – or really, at all angry.

“That’s not really - ” Ron began.

“Yeah”, Harry admitted. He felt miserable. Ginny hadn’t done anything to him, it was just like Malfoy stealing Neville’s remembrall.

“It was Fred and George’s idea”, Ron insisted.

“I will deal with them later”, Mr. Weasley replied.

Harry mechanically went along with everything he was told, though he wasn’t quite sure why he needed to bend over the kitchen table.

And then, a sudden pain made him realize what was happening. He was being hit.

The pleasant dream he had thought himself in during the past weeks had turned into a nightmare.

Tears streamed over his face. Even as Harry told himself to not be silly, that the Dursleys had smacked him around too many times to count, he still couldn’t ignore the humiliation he felt.

He had thought Mr. Weasley liked him! Had even considered perhaps calling him “Dad” someday.

When he was finally told to go to his room, Harry just quietly trudged upstairs. His bottom hurt, but that was nothing compared to how betrayed he felt.

He couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t stay and smile and pretend it hadn’t happened. He had managed with the Dursleys because ... well, he didn’t really know why. Perhaps because he had hated them just as much as they hated him.

Harry took his poach of money, his invisibility cloak, his wand, a photo with both his parents on it and the wooden flute Hagrid had gifted him. Hagrid. Could he go to Hagrid?

But the only floo address he knew was that of Diagon Alley, and their shopping trip there had taught him to be very careful.

Perhaps it was better to fly away on his broom? But Ron had told him that his father’s Ford Anglia could fly. He’d catch Harry in no time at all.

And they would expect him to use the broom.

Even if they suspected he had used the floo, they wouldn’t know where to start looking, he could be literally in every magical household in Britain.

Despite everything, Harry felt bad enough about taking even what little floo powder he needed to leave some sickles under the couch as he sneaked through the empty living room. The house was chaotic enough no one would notice the money hadn’t been there before.

He threw the powder onto the fire, stepped inside the moment the flames turned green and said, very clearly: “Diagon Alley.”

This time, he didn’t panic as the fireplaces swished by, and when he finally stepped out, he found himself in the Leaky Cauldron.

He briefly considered renting a room, but then decided against it. They would recognize him instantly, and even if they’d give a room to a twelve year old, they’d tell on him as soon as Mr. or Mrs. Weasley asked.

Sleeping on the streets wouldn’t be pleasant, but not so bad, if he could find a place under some roof. It was summer, even if it got cold at night, he wouldn’t freeze to death.
And it was only a couple weeks until school would start.

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.

Severus soon realized that his genius plan had some flaws. For one, he wasn’t nearly as good as lying to himself as he had once been.

His mind just wouldn’t let him forget that he would take Potter to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore would surely take him back to the Weasleys, for who else was there?

Hermione Granger’s parents might not even want to take a boy who, to them, was no celebrity but just their daughter’s friend.
And even if they would agree to house him, even if they agreed to have the whole teaching staff of Hogwarts invade their home to put up the necessary protection spells, they wouldn’t know what hit them if Death Eaters paid them a ‘visit’.

No, that wasn’t an option.

Surely there were others – Augusta Longbottom wasn’t at all intimidated by the attack on her son and her daugher-in-law, she’d be delighted to raise the Boy-Who-Lived.

But Severus just couldn’t make himself believe that was what would happen. Not without any confirmation from Dumbledore.

He threw some floo powder into the fire of his room at the Leaky Cauldron. “Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office.”

Dumbledore was actually there – a rare occurence – but unwilling to listen.

“Now, Severus, I am sure Harry will happily return to the Burrow once we explain to him that Mr. Weasley treated him just like his own children and cares about him very much indeed.”

“Are you actually insane, or just very good at pretending to be?” Severus shot back tartly.

“You must understand, Severus, that Harry isn’t nearly as bitter as you yourself are.”

Bitter? This had nothing to do with bitter, it was a simple matter of brains. “If he does fall for the old ‘They beat you because they love you’ lie, he’s more damaged than I thought. Please. Can’t we at least agree on an alternative guardian with whom you’ll place him if he doesn’t want to go back?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “I honestly cannot think of anyone, Severus. The Grangers would be the obvious choice, but it would be unkind to expose them to a risk they cannot possibly understand, or ward against.”

“What about, say, Augusta Longbottom?”

“It is hard enough to raise one child on one’s own, I couldn’t ask her to raise another. Especially since you will certainly admit that Harry is much more of a handful, as it were, than Neville.”

“Well, yes, but if she hasn’t changed, the old harpy is well capable of - ” Oh damn. That was exactly the problem. The woman was an old harpy, emphasis on old, and would likely agree that a good spanking would improve Potter’s behaviour.

Severus valued his holidays. They should not be wasted on having to search for Potter once again.

“Come on, there are hundreds of people who owe you. Can’t you think of a single family?”

Dumbledore sighed. “I might be able to, but I really don’t think it will be needed. Is it possible, Severus, that you are just procrastinating?”

“What? How dare you imply! I am –” But no, he wouldn’t reveal his plan. Not before it had worked. He knew that Dumbledore was impressed by his intelligence, and he wanted to keep it that way, not reveal half-baked plans that might be complete nonsense to him. “Well, thank you for nothing.”

If he could be sure about anything, it was that Dumbledore was under no illusions regarding his personality and wouldn’t be the least bit surprised – or insulted - at such a rude goodbye.

What now? He had to find a way to fool himself.

Since Dumbledore wasn’t of any help ... perhaps if he convinced himself he wouldn’t hand Potter over to him?

What would Potter want?

If Potter looked into the Mirror of Erised, what would he see?


Severus did not really like having to make use of his empathy – he tremendously enjoyed the luxury of not having to – but living with a very irritable father had taught him how to predict and plan around the feelings of people he hated.

Failing to empathise with Potter meant he would for sure fail to empathise with the Dark Lord – whom he hated a little bit more – and then he could just go kill himself upon the Dark Lords return.

He could do this. He had to.


After a hour of telling himself that he would send Potter to live with the Grangers, that everyone who would attack the boy was in Azkaban, that the Dark Lord would not return anytime soon, Severus apparated to the owl post office in Hogsmeade and sent an owl.

Or rather, tried to.

“Ah. The recipient has put up protective wards.” Wiggling his eyebrows, the employee added: “You are not, perchance, molesting a witch who doesn’t requite your affections?”

Helpless embarrassment at the insinuation – had he molested Lily back then? He’d only wanted to apologize – was quickly replaced by righteous anger. He knew that boy. This was no legitimate concern, just taunting.

“Shut up, Higgins. Count yourself lucky you aren’t my student anymore, or you’d lose Ravenclaw the house cup all on your own.”

Higgins grinned. “I do count myself very lucky indeed.” Then, switching back into his helpful employee persona: “Here’s your money back, sir.”

Severus flooed back to the Leaky Cauldron, went to his room and tried to convince himself of things he knew to be untrue once again.

After another hour of attempting to lie to himself, he realized that he was imagining James Potter. A boy who would use his invisibility to play unfunny pranks on people and would not waste a thought to the Grangers’ safety.

Perhaps that was what he was doing wrong.

He oughtn’t think of Potter. Just of a child, all alone and unheeded. A boy who had been starved by his relatives, and beaten by the family who had promised him a better home.

Severus breathed in and out very slowly. He could do this. A child, sleeping on the streets ...

The next attempt at sending an owl failed likewise, and after attuning himself to the fears and hopes of a child who had to spend the night in the streets, he was growing rather worried. Even assuming that no one who meant harm would find the boy, there was still the cold – the summer had gotten rather rainy - and the lack of food.

He had to succeed, and fast.

And think of some more plausible lie than sending the boy to live with the Grangers. Think, Severus, think.

This time, when he closed his eyes, he saw his own younger self, roaming the streets, hungry, cold and wet ... and the solution was obvious.

He could take the child into his home.

Dumbledore would not approve, not at all. So he would have to run. Have to hide.

Focusing on this thought, he summoned fantasies of camping in the forests of Albania. Teaching the boy to brew polyjuice potion at a campfire. The boy laughed, green eyes shining with mirth, and suddenly, Lily was there.

Now!

“Expecto Patronum!”

There it was. Lily’s patronus. His patronus, now. Could he risk using it to lure the boy here? No – not yet. He could not risk failure.

Severus scribbled a hasty note to the innkeeper – he had only told the man he was looking for a runaway student, and this request would seem quite strange, but it was the only thing that was remotely likely to work.

***

The night brought rain and storm, so violent that, when the sky turned from black to leaden gray, Harry was thoroughly drenched and very, very cold.

He should have brought his cloak – the warm winter cloak, that was. The invisibility cloak made him invisible, but that was pretty much it.

When he made his trip to the Leaky Cauldron, his mood brightened for a moment. Through the window he could see a half-eaten treacle tart beckoning him.

Harry snuck to the door, found it half open and inched through it.

Then he saw it. A muddy footprint he had left. If he walked all the way over to the treacle tart, he would be noticed for sure.

So he retreated.

After a couple of hours, the floor at Fortescue’s was muddy enough he could risk drinking out of the tap and using the toilet there, but the place still empty enough no one could bump into him if he was careful.

The Leaky Cauldron, on the other hand, with so many people preferring a hot meal to icecream, was full until late in the evening.

Harry was just about to start another raid when he had to sneeze.

He had gotten a cold. If he now walked into an almost empty inn and suddenly had to sneeze... no, he couldn’t risk it. He would just have to go without food for the day.

Tomorrow he’d have to risk it, he figured, to get something to drink, if nothing else. He had survived days without food at the Dursleys, this was no different.

Harry settled into his alley for a wet and cold night. The stack of old issues of the Daily Prophet was soaked, now, but still softer than the ground.

Another sneeze rattled his body. If this got worse ... perhaps he should return to ... but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t bear it.

Maybe it was better to just die, he thought darkly. Who would care, anyway?

Hermione and Ron, that’s who.

Mr. Weasley had seemed nice at first, too ...

But Hermione and Ron had risked their lives to help him with the Philosopher’s Stone. He mustn’t think so badly of them.

Ron had tried to get his father to leave Harry be, he faintly remembered.

Not that it had helped any.

He had thought he had a family. Parents, especially.

Of course it couldn’t be. It had felt too good to be true, and it was. Freaks like him didn’t get families.

As the sun sank, so did Harry’s mood. The rain was falling faster now, and more drops managed to get past the shelter of the house walls.

Darkness had well and truly fallen when Harry saw a light at the entrance of the alley.

It looked magical. Faint and shimmering and lovely, like a ghost.

And then it drew closer and Harry stared in awe. A doe. A ghostly, silvery doe with large, gentle eyes.

She bowed her head, and Harry touched her soft-looking ears. His hand went right through them, but he felt a bit warmer inside. More hopeful.

The doe lifted her head again, turned and walked away. No, she waited. Looked back. Did she want him to follow?

What if he couldn’t trust her? But she was so lovely. Nothing that lovely could be evil, surely?

He drew his invisibility cloak safely around himself and followed her. If she led him somewhere dangerous, like Knockturn Alley, he could always turn away, right?

But the doe did not lead him to Knockturn Alley, nor anywhere else where he didn’t want to go.

Just to the tables outside Fortescue’s. They had been chained together for the night, and the unceasing rain was dripping off them where the awning of the ice cream parlor didn’t protect them.

And there, under the awning, protected from the rain, sat a piece of apple pie on its cardboard plate, almost untouched, as if the person eating it had realized after one or to bites that they didn’t really like apple pie.

Harry snatched it, then looked to the doe.

She lowered her head as if in greeting, then faded and vanished.

“Oh. Thank you.”

He took the apple pie back to his hiding place and savoured it. It tasted so lovely, of cinnamon and apples, he couldn’t imagine how anyone could have abandoned it.

Or maybe it just felt like it because he was so very hungry?

After the apple pie he felt full, and even a bit warmer. Despite the rain, sleep came fast that night.


He woke before sunrise.

The doe had returned. “Thank you”, Harry said. “For the pie, I mean.”

She inclined her head as if nodding, then turned around, beckoning him to follow.

Perhaps she had found some more food? Harry considered asking her who she was, (because the question what she was would be horribly rude), but it didn’t seem like she could talk.

This time, she stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. The sign at the door said it was closed, but there was light inside, and on a table close to the door, there was a quarter of a treacle tart, surrounded by crumbs, as though someone had picked at it and not really liked it. Something Harry could hardly comprehend.

He was about to sneak in when he heard footsteps.

It was all he could do to jump out of the way before a group of people poured in from the Diagon Alley side of the brick wall portal.

They all wore rags – not that Harry could judge them for that – and a few of them hid their faces. The men were badly shaven or had full on beards, the women ... some of them had beards, too, like Vernon’s sister Marge, and those with long hair didn’t seem to comb it often or at all.

Did they come from Knockturn Alley?

When they had passed, the treacle tart was gone, and Harry realized that those people must be like him – well, older, obviously, but living on the streets.

Perhaps scavenging for food in Muggle London would be easier?

Muggles would never suspect someone being invisible, after all.

On the other hand, he knew what was where in Diagon Alley. Muggle London he had only seen briefly when Hagrid had taken him here.

The thought of going to Muggle London made him feel unsafe. Perhaps because the Dursleys might be there – not that it was likely, but they could.

No, he just wanted to stay in the magical world. Preferably hide in a little, dark hole. That would suit his mood best.



Harry was glad the doe had faded away just when the people came trampling through the backyard. She was his secret. He didn’t want others to know about her. They would ... he didn’t know what adult witches or wizards would do to such a strange, ghost-like being, but he was rather worried they might try to capture her, keep her in a cage, if they could. She was, after all, very beautiful.

Deciding that he needed to find more sources of food, he went to Knockturn Alley. During the day and while being invisible, it couldn’t be that dangerous, right?

He passed by Borgin&Burkes, walking deeper and deeper into Knockturn Alley.

There didn’t seem to be any places selling food.

Finally, he saw a food vendor. The smell of grilled meat emanated from the stall.

There was a sign that said “Soy-Boy – Just Like The Real Thing!”. And if one was in any doubt as to what that meant, there was a drawing of a smiling boy who cut himself up with a butcher’s knife.

Harry shuddered.

Even if it was really soy, he didn’t want to taste something that allegedly tasted like human flesh.

Deciding to stick with Diagon Alley, he turned and fled.

But where was Borgin&Burkes? Where was the shop that sold poisonous candles? He should have paid more attention to his surroundings.

Severus paced. Never more than three steps before he had to turn around. His patronus ought to be back by now. Even accounting for the boy not following her immediately ... there weren’t such long distances in Diagon Alley.

He had instructed the doe to return and alert him if the boy was in grave danger. She would also hide from other people, but there couldn’t be all that many people walking around this early, could there?

“I’ll find him”, he vowed.

Lily’s sacrifice couldn’t, wouldn’t be for naught.

He would find Harry and make sure he – Harry? Had it come to that?

Severus pushed back his annoyance at this new development, the memories of Potter. Yes, Harry. Why not. He was, after all, Lily’s son. Whom she’d named Harry. Severus ought to think of him like that.

And find him.

**

Gryffindor or not, Harry began to feel afraid. Knockturn Alley was gloomy even in broad daylight, and there wasn’t that much light to be had today, with grey clouds covering the sky.

He had just passed a shop that sold “Lust Potions – For when you can’t be bothered with romantic blathering” when he saw a light.

The doe!

There she stood, strangely out of place among the glass shards, dirty paper scraps and bones of questionable origin that littered the alley.

This time he didn’t hesitate at all before following her. And sure enough, she led him out of Knockturn Alley and to a small space between two houses where there was a barrel, apparently repurposed as wastebin. Someone had sawed a hole in its side, but the flat side on top had been used to stick a candle on it, and next to the candle, there was something miraculous – an almost full bag of chips from a muggle fastfood chain, and next to it, a cardboard cup with plastic top and plastic drinking straw.

“Thank you”, he said hastily, and as he had feared, the doe faded until he couldn’t see her anymore. Perhaps if he asked, she’d keep him company? He must think to ask next time.

For now, he would appreciate her gift.

He lifted the cup – it must be almost full!

Harry took his loot back to his hiding place and ate slowly, savouring every bite. The fizzy drink turned out to be lemonade, though it wasn’t nearly as sweet at the one Mrs. Weasley made.

When he had finished the drink, he sneaked into the toilets at Fortescue’s to refill the cup with tap water. Perfect!

His giddiness didn’t last long, though. The sneezing didn’t start again, instead he had to cough, which was worse.

When evening came, every tiny movement exhausted him, and he didn’t even want to go look for food, just sleep.

After sleeping for a couple of days, he would feel better. He always had, at the Dursleys. Though Aunt Petunia had at least brought him water to the cupboard, back then.

It had felt very unfair, because Dudley got hot chamomile tea and all, but now Harry almost missed it. Almost.

Sleeping on the streets wasn’t forever, he reminded himself. He would soon be back to Hogwarts, where he got a soft bed in the hospital wing if he got sick, and healing potions and everything.

That was, if he managed to survive. The lack of food wasn’t a problem, but if he got too weak to get water ...

But he couldn’t come crawling back to the Weasleys now. They hadn’t even looked for him. Or had they? He had done his best to stay out of sight when he didn’t have to find food.

Not that it mattered. His dream of finally having a family was shattered. All he would get if he returned was a place to stay, like Privet Drive.

Tears stung his eyes. Why couldn’t he get over the childish wish for a family? He was twelve now. Old enough to know miracles didn’t happen in real life.


Without him noticing, it had gotten dark. He was almost asleep when he noticed a light.

The doe!

Warmth filled his chest. She, at least, cared.

“I don’t feel so well”, he said apologetically, still reaching out for her ears that looked so soft and fuzzy, and again, his hand passed right through.

She stepped away a bit, beckoning him to follow, and Harry couldn’t find it in him to disappoint her.

He really needed something to eat, to get his strength back. Well, that was what Petunia told Dudley when he was sick, anyways. Harry didn’t feel like eating something, but he could always store it for later.

With slow steps, taking breaks to lean against the nearest wall, he followed the doe to the Leaky Cauldron.

As usual at this time, it was closed. Or so the sign said. The door was still a bit open, someone had even put a piece of wood between the door and the frame.

Perhaps they needed to keep it open after hours in case someone wanted to return to Muggle London?

He was reluctant to enter, but it seemed perfectly empty, and the doe clearly wanted him to go inside.

She had never led him astray, and he didn’t want her to give up on him and leave.

Inside the pub, she turned yet again, walking up the stairs.

Harry hesitated. Should he really? It was dark, and he was invisible, but if he got caught in the area that was only for paying guests, he would really be in trouble.

On the other hand, everyone would be asleep, wouldn’t they?

The doe was patiently waiting for him on the first landing, and at last, he decided to follow.

Up and up she led him, to a room that must be under the roof, as there were no stairs up from it, only a hatch with a ladder next to it.

When the doe stood exactly in front of the door, Harry could read the note attached.

“I’m busy tonight. If you can rent the room to someone else for the night, do so, I could use the six galleons. If not, I’ll pay. See you tomorrow noon.”

Harry squinted, reading in what little light the doe emanated. There was something added in a different hand.

“You kidding? No one books a room at ten p.m, this isn’t Knockturn Alley. I won’t clean while you’re away and you pay five galleons.”

It must be long past ten p.m., then.

Harry’s body was shaken by a new bout of coughing, but he kept his mouth shut and tried to be quiet about it, even though that made his chest hurt terribly. Not that it didn’t hurt when he wasn’t coughing.

The doe nudged him with her nose, which made him feel a pleasant warmth, and reminded him how cold he was.

She pointed her head at the door once more, and Harry saw that the key was in the lock. The person who had rented the room must have left it there so Tom could let someone else in.

Harry tried the handle. The door wasn’t locked.

He didn’t dare use his wand for light, but the doe walked through the room, showing him that there really was no one in the bed, or anywhere else. She showed him a door that led to a small bathroom, which was, likewise, empty.

“Thanks”, he mumbled, sitting down on the floor and leaning against a wall. “I wish I could do something for you.”

The doe made a movement that looked oddly like her shaking her head. Then, she jumped onto the bed and neatly folded her long legs, looking at him expectantly.

“You want me to sleep in the bed?” It made sense, he figured. But he was cold and wet and the bed would be dirty.

Or he could get out of the wet clothes and wrap the warm blanket around him ...

Deciding that he had nothing to lose and had to do all he could to get better, Harry let the invisibility cloak slide off his shoulders.

The person who originally rented the room probably wouldn’t mind, he hoped. Just in case, he counted six galleons and put them on the nightstand.

Removing the t-shirt and jeans wasn’t as easy as it would have been with Dudley’s old things. What he wore now had all belonged to some Weasley boy or the other, and while they weren’t as skinny as him, the wet clothes still stuck to his skin.

No wonder he felt sick.

When he was finally out of his clothes, he was so tired he almost forgot to take off his glasses.

“Please ... stay?”, he begged the doe.

Sleep claimed him quickly.

Severus let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. Finally. He had expected for the boy to lock the door, but he clearly had underestimated how weakened Harry was already.

This would require careful planning. And he would have to stay in his uncomfortable hiding place among the roof beams for a while longer.

He had a good view from here, at least.

Why had Harry placed money on the nightstand? He couldn’t expect it to protect him against anything. Severus knew a few ancient warding rituals, and none involved galleons. Not that a boy this age was likely to know about it. Especially with the upbringing he got.

After some very uncomfortable minutes, Severus was sure the boy was asleep and, placing a silence charm around himself, lowered himself from the roofbeams onto the armchair with its faded purple and green flower pattern.

There was that. What now? Staying in the room meant he would be immediately alerted when the boy woke.

Or just wake him and give him pepperup potion, which he clearly needed?

On the other hand, Harry wouldn’t trust the doe patronus anymore if he felt betrayed by her.

And it always paid to plan for the future. Severus had always been a bit too impulsive for a Slytherin, but you didn’t spend ten years under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore without learning something.

Severus had thought of himself as cunning, but had soon realized that he was a mere beginner.

Albus Dumbledore did not make plans, as such. Instead, he kept his options open. He never needlessly offended someone who might become useful in the future. He ensured that people owed him favours, the more, the better. Severus liked to think that there was some genuine kindness in the man, but at least his treatment of Lupin had not been just that.

After all, Dumbledore had been rather unkind to Severus in ensuring Lupin’s continued presence at school. The maths was easy. There was only one werewolf who could be won over to Dumbledore’s side, but there were lots of future Death Eaters.

And still, Dumbledore had tried to keep that door open, too. Severus would never have come to him to ask for help had the old man not acted like he felt empathy for him after the werewolf incident, if he had not assured Severus that he could always come to him and talk.

Yes, it was better to keep all doors open.

A true disciple of Dumbledore, Severus wasn’t even sure himself if he was driven by kindness or cunning when he silently left the room.

**

Harry woke from a nightmare in what felt like the middle of the night. He was covered in sweat and shivering with cold, despite the thick blanket.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, this time, his coughing produced disgusting phlegm. Harry reached for his shirt and wiped his mouth with it. He couldn’t leave traces on the bedding.

The doe was there, nudging him with her nose.

“Thanks for staying”, he muttered in between laboured breaths. His chest hurt horribly. He had no idea how late it was. Perhaps he should get dressed and out before dawn?

But he just couldn’t bring himself to move. Not when the note at the door had said that there wasn’t even any danger of someone entering the room to clean.

The doe faded, but Harry didn’t have much time to be disappointed before sleep claimed him once again.

When he woke the next time, the doe’s nudging seemed somewhat more urgent. “You mean I ought to leave?”

She inclined her head, then faded.

Harry struggled into his trousers, only kept upright by fear. When he tried to put his shirt on, he heard the door creak.

Damn!

He looked around for his cloak. Where had he left it in the night? He was sure it had been on the armchair!

“My apologies, I didn’t know the innkeeper had - ” The man who had entered stopped speaking, and Harry knew exactly why.

It was Snape.

Of course it was Snape who’d find him in this state. Of course. The only thing Harry could rely on was his bad luck.

“Back to bed with you, Potter.”

No questions? No accusations? “But - ” Harry could think of a dozen good reasons why he shouldn’t. The fact that Snape had slept in that bed was at the top of the list, but there were more. His attempt at a reply was interrupted by a bad bout of coughing.

“No buts.” Snape stepped closer. “You are obviously unwell. Does your chest hurt? Not just now, but all the time?”

“How’d you know?” Had Snape cursed him somehow? Part of Harry knew the illness was more likely to be the cause of it.

“It seems you acquired a case of pneumonia.”

Pneu- what? Harry recalled having heard the term, but wasn’t quite sure what it meant. “So what?”

“You could die before the term starts. Then Madam Pomfrey won’t be able to help you. She’s a healer, not a necromancer.”

Harry didn’t want to believe Snape, but his chest did ache quite a lot more than it ever had. And he definitely did feel sick and weak.

He sat down on the bed. “What do you want, Snape?”

“That’s Professor Snape to you.” Snape sounded more weary than angry. He must have been up all night. Busy, the note on the door had said. “As you have probably deduced from my presence, I have been tasked by Headmaster Dumbledore with finding you. It was implied, though not explicitly stated, that he would prefer you to stay alive. So if you would kindly get back into bed?”

Harry wanted to refuse, out of sheer stubbornness, but his body had other ideas. Now that the worst threat was a scolding from Snape, something he’d endured and survived several times, the fear that had kept him going was gone.

He simply collapsed.

“Not quite what I had in mind, but it will suffice.” Snape drew closer, lifted Harry’s legs onto the bed and covered him with the blanket.

“Don’t you want to take me to Dumbledore?” Or, more likely, to the Burrow. Where he’d end up in any case, just as he had always ended up back at the Dursleys after his, in retrospect, very badly planned attempts to run away.

“You are clearly in no state to be taken anywhere. Just stay in bed and take your potion.” Snape took a small vial from his pocket and held it in front of Harry. “This is a potion against pneumonia. It will need some hours to really take effect, so don’t expect to feel better as soon as you would with pepperup. On the other hand, you will not smoke from your ears, which I am sure is a relief.”

“How do I know it’s not something else?” The vial wasn’t labeled. It could contain anything at all.

“Potter. If I wanted you dead, I could just have left you out on the streets. Or have let you return there.”

“Could still be something to knock me out”, Harry grumbled.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “So now you choose to doubt my word when, not so long ago, you risked your life on a message written by me?”

“What message?” Was he thinking slower than usual, or was Snape playing one of his nasty games again?

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind ... sound familiar?”

Oh. The potions riddle. “That was different. You didn’t know I would be there.”

“No, indeed not. The only reason the bottles didn’t all contain poison was because Dumbledore thought it unsportsmanlike. After all, I expected Quirrell, and only Quirrell, to be there.” Snape glared at him. “If I taste a drop of this, will you drink it? Your recovery will take longer with a lower dose, but that’s not my problem.”

It had never occurred to Harry that Snape might have lied on the riddle. He was right, though, he was just as likely to lie in writing as in person. “Uh ... okay.”

Snape knelt next to the bed, opened the vial, held it high over his head and let a drop fall on his tongue. “There. I am, obviously, still alive. And awake.”

“Sorry, sir”, Harry mumbled. Perhaps he had been rude to suspect Snape might want to poison him. After all, both Voldemort and Dumbledore had told him Snape didn’t want him dead.

“Just drink it.” Snape pressed the vial into Harry’s hands, and Harry held it to his lips, then gulped it down as fast as possible. It didn’t burn like pepperup potion did. The only taste was one of ... forest air?

It did seem to ease his breathing.

“You gave me your word, Potter. I released your owl, and now you will obey me, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir”, Harry ground out between his teeth. Perhaps he shouldn’t have made that promise, seeing as Snape had taken him away the next day anyway ... but then, Snape might not have done that if he hadn’t ...

“Speaking of which, I think that is she.” He walked to the window and opened it.

Something white swooped into the room and sat on one of the roof beams. Hedwig!

Snape closed the window again. “I will now go downstairs and order something to eat for you. Vegetable broth, I think? Or do you suppose you can keep something more substantial down?” Snape looked at him questioningly.

What? Since when did Snape care about him getting food? He hadn’t cared at the Dursleys’, he certainly didn’t care now. Did he think Harry would starve without food? “I’m not hungry.” He didn’t think he could drink broth, even. Perhaps water.

“Very well. Stay put.”


Harry was terribly confused. Why was Snape being so ... well, not nice, but less nasty than usual. Or so he supposed. He hadn’t met the man outside school before, after all.

He had been rather okay at Privet Drive, too, but Harry had thought that was because he needed Harry’s knowledge on the Dursley routine.

Hedwig looked like she’d never been away. Harry had to admit he hadn’t thought of her much while he was in hiding. She was, after all, an owl, and well capable of hunting her own food.

The way she was looking down on him, it didn’t seem like she felt neglected. More like she thought she needed to watch over Harry.
It made him smile.

Soon, his thoughts were interrupted by Snape’s return. “Here’s your broth.” Snape placed the tray on the nightstand, then stared at Harry. “Don’t startle, I will put an enlargement charm on your pillow.”

Harry was glad he had been warned when the pillow grew fatter and fatter, putting him into a sitting position without him doing anything. He hastily tucked the blanket behind his shoulders so it wouldn’t reveal his naked chest.

“There. Can you eat without assistance?”

“I guess so? Sir.” Harry reached for the tray, but Snape was quicker.

He took the tray and gingerly placed it on Harry’s lap. “Now eat.”

It felt weird. More than weird. This was Snape! And he talked exactly like Harry would have expected him to, but his actions just didn’t match.

Harry had seen his fair share of horror movies – back when Dudley had still been scared of them, he’d delighted in making Harry watch them – and Snape doing this typical villain thing where the villain did something that could have been nice but in a horrible way, like stroking the head of a child he’d just murdered, would have seemed fitting.

But Harry was alive, the broth was not poison – it smelled like broth and Harry had already eaten two spoonfuls when the thought occurred to him – and Snape was not using a creepily sweet voice, just his ordinary gruff one.

He hadn’t yet finished the broth when he felt exhausted by the mere act of eating. He let the spoon glide back into the bowl and leant onto the oversized pillow in his back, trying to get some rest.

Snape, who had sat down in the armchair, got up and took the tray away, placing it back on the nightstand. The pillow shrank to its previous size, forcing Harry to lie down again.“How do you feel? Does your chest still hurt?”

Did it? “Not as much as before.”

“You do seem to breathe easier. Still, my expertise is in potions, not in healing.” Snape frowned. “Perhaps I should take you to St. Mungo’s.”


St. What?

“The magical hospital.”

“That’s not necessary, sir, I feel much better, really, doesn’t hurt at all.”

Snape raised his eyebrows. He clearly didn’t believe Harry.

“You are aware that means you’ll stay here with me?” When Harry didn’t answer, Snape continued: “Any particular reason you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“I just don’t feel like dealing with people who’ll ask if I am really THE Harry Potter, okay?”

“That is hardly more important than your survival. Very well. I have things to do. Is there anything you need before I leave? An additional blanket, perhaps?”

Snape still talked the same way he usually did – well, the way he talked when he wasn’t angry at Harry, which was rare. Still, it was weird.

“Thanks, but I’m fine”, Harry claimed. Sure, it would have been nice for someone to change the sheet, as it was still a bit damp with his sweat, but the sooner Snape was gone, the better.

“Is that so? Just in case ...” Snape drew his wand, and before Harry could wonder what he was going to do, a large towel floated out of the bathroom and landed on the blanket.

“And I do believe there was a hot water bottle somewhere here. Ah, yes.”

Snape took something Harry would never have taken for a hot water bottle out from below the bed. It was made of metal!

Some spell Snape used made it fill with steaming water. He closed the opening and placed it under the blanket. “There. Don’t burn yourself.” Snape stared at Harry. “Considering that you rarely do as you are told ...” He turned abruptly and summoned another towel from the bathroom. This one, he wrapped around the hot water bottle. “There. Stay put while I am away. Unless, of course, you are attacked. You have your wand?”

“Uh ... it must be here, somewhere.” Harry found it after some searching – under the pillow, where he would have left it had he actually gotten around to fleeing the room.

“Good.”

And then, in a blur of black, Snape was gone. Without using the door. Must be something magical.

Harry considered running away. Briefly, and mostly out of habit. The bed was so soft, and if he wrapped himself in the dry towel, it would also be warm, and he actually had a hot water bottle.

That was something usually only Dudley got. Dudley’s hot water bottle was made of some kind of rubber, or plastic, and had a cover made of fuzzy fabric, which Aunt Petunia usually wrapped in yet another towel so ‘poor little Dudders’ didn’t get burnt.

It really did feel nice. Harry took the towel and wrapped himself in it, struggling out of the still slightly damp jeans.

Perfect. Running away could wait until he had recovered.

“Sorry I didn’t feed you”, he said to Hedwig. She hooted softly in reply, then coughed up a ball of fur, which fortunately didn’t land on the bed or the rug, but on the floorboards.

Looked like she wanted to tell him she could very well feed herself. Was that mouse fur?

Harry was startled from his ponderings when a familiar, faint light appeared. The doe!

He briefly wondered where she might lead him this time, when she jumped onto the bed and folded her slender legs below her.

“You’ll stay?” Then he would stay, too.

It would have been hard to motivate himself to leave the bed, let alone the room, especially now that he heard rain beat against the diamond-paned window.

Severus apparated in an alley close to his house, ran to the house and lost no time in sending his patronus.

Just in case.

He had put some protection spells on the room, but there was only so much you could do if you were expected to return the room in a condition that allowed anyone whatsoever to use it.

Brewing a potion specifically against pneumonia was a lot more challenging than the usually used pepperup, but he couldn’t take any chances.

Should he have caught the boy earlier? There had been lots of opportunities. The first sandwich had lured him close enough to apply a full body-bind ... but Severus hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Blasted empathy.

Potter probably preferred safety to respect and freedom ... or did he?

Severus carefully measured five grains of sundew. An expensive ingredient, as the muggles had destroyed most of its natural habitats, and it had to be collected in dragon reservations and the like for fear of running afoul of the muggle ban on collecting it.

Wasted if Potter didn’t actually have pneumonia, but he couldn’t take chances.

One owl’s feather, kindly donated by Potter’s snowy owl, one gran of fir resin – the recipe called for three, but Severus had found that worked only with low-quality materials. Too high a dose and the etheric oils would worsen the cough and make the lungs cramp up. Most commercially available potions were overdosed in such a way, according to Madam Pomfrey.

When the potion settled, a beautiful, light blue liquid with the pearly sheen that, according to the school healer, only Severus’ creations ever achieved, he felt more at rest than he had for several days.

Nothing better to calm his nerves than some light brewing.

“Professor Snape?”, a frantic voice called.

Damn, the floo.

He hurried upstairs. In the flames was the head of Arthur Weasley.

Severus looked down at the fire. “Is something amiss?”

“No – sorry – I was just getting worried because we couldn’t reach anyone. I just wanted to tell you that Ginny’s puffskein has made a full recovery, so ...”

“Calm down, man. What puffskein?”

Weasley blinked. “Ah, right, you don’t know. I had to punish the boys because they used Ginny’s puffskein as Quidditch ball.”

They what? This was so very like Potter!

“I thought if you could let Harry know that there’s no lasting damage done, he’d not be as scared to return.”

“And make him believe that his actions don’t have consequences?” As if Potter didn’t already act like that.

“The fact that this had consequences is the whole reason you are looking for him”, Weasley reminded him. “Perhaps I am sometimes too lenient with the boys, but not this time.”

Severus really didn’t have the time to argue with Weasley. “Very well. Thank you for the information. I believe I will be soon able to deliver the joyous news to Potter.”


Of course Potter mistreated a helpless animal. Of course he did. A very Potter thing to do.

Or was it?

Certainly, it was something James Potter would have done. Harry Potter ... Severus had to admit the boy seemed to care a great deal about his owl.

Of course a snowy owl was very valuable ... and the boy had actually been willing to give it away to save its life.

Not that that had to mean much. There were plenty people who loved ‘cute’ animals and hated others.

Puffskeins were generally considered the epitome of cuteness. Severus found them rather unsettling, personally. An animal that would stick its tongue into your nose while you slept and had a proclivity for drinking out of the toilet bowl? Not very sanitary, to say the least.

That wasn’t an opinion shared by many, though. Perhaps Potter was more like Hagrid, considering cute animals to be food for his monsters? Hagrid never was outright cruel to his chickens or other boring, harmless animals, though.

Regardless of which it was, Severus would see to it that Potter learnt some respect for all animals.

Since when were the Potter brat’s ethics his business?

Oh, right. Ever since he had considered taking him into his care. Which was only a ruse, of course, but one he had to believe in –

Severus closed his eyes, conjuring an image of Potter in his living room. He had to believe it. He had to.

And anyways, he owed it to Lily that her son didn’t become a completely horrible person.

**

Harry woke up when the doe faded.

Shortly after that, probably the reason why she left, Snape reappeared. “Do you need anything, Potter? Food? Water?” he asked in a tone that reminded Harry uncomfortably of that Aunt Petunia had when he was sick – the implication that he would be kept alive, but no more than that.

“I – I’m ...” Could he risk it? The one trek he had made to the bathroom today had been exhausting. “Can I have a glass of water, please? Sir?”

“Cease the begging, Potter”, Snape growled. “Like I ever denied you food.” He took the tray with the rest of the vegetable broth and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry hid his face in the mattress. This was so much like being back at the Dursleys’. Only that the mattress was softer.

The door creaked, he heard Snape’s footsteps and instinctively cowered.

“There.” Something heavy was placed on the nightstand. “Sit up, Potter, you will take your second dose of potion now.”

Deciding to not anger Snape more, Harry sat up. There was a glass of water on the nightstand, and next to it a pitcher of water.

Snape held out a vial to him. It looked different from the first, but the liquid inside was of the same colour.

Harry took it, cautious to not touch Snape’s hand in the process, opened it and downed the contents.

This time, he didn’t notice much of an effect, but he certainly didn’t feel worse. No poison, then.

Next, he took the water. He hadn’t even noticed how thirsty he was!

Snape watched him all the while, brows furrowed angrily.

Harry almost felt a bit disappointed. But what had he expected? This was Snape. Of course his strange behaviour wouldn’t last. Now he was back to normal, so what? Harry knew how to cope with normal Snape.

It shouldn’t have been humanly possible to fall asleep with Snape sitting in the armchair, watching him, but eventually, Harry did.

When he woke again, the rain had stopped and bright sunlight fell through the dusty window.

And Harry felt ... good. Really good. Good enough to run away. Only when he sat up he realized he didn’t have any clothes on.

“Potter.” Snape was, of course, still in the room. “How do you feel?”

“Um. Fine?”

“Do you feel up to a short walk?”

Harry frowned. What if he said yes? Where did Snape intend to take him?

“I am admittedly curious about your alleged ability of talking to snakes. We could walk to the Magical Menagerie and see if you still possess the gift.” Snape sounded much less angry, now, but that could be a trap.

“What’s it to you?”

“Respect, Potter”, Snape scolded, but there didn’t seem to be the usual venom in it. “I am the head of Slytherin house and therefore rather partial to snakes. The ability to talk to them is relatively rare and I will not forego an opportunity to find out what goes on in a snake’s mind.”

“And why should I do you a favour?”

The change in Snape’s expression was an instant one, and Harry knew he had said the wrong thing.

“So you don’t deem it worthy of acknowledgement that I provided you with food, a bed and two very expensive healing potions?” There was ice in Snape’s voice.

Harry felt his face heat. He actually had – somehow – forgotten about that for a moment. “You just did that because you had to!”

“And your mother only sacrificed her life for yours because she had to. I see. That is why you so recklessly put your life in danger, you do not think doing things because one has to entitles someone to any gratitude whatsoever, do you?”

What? “What do you mean, my mother had to sacrifice her life for me?” The one thing he had thought he could be sure of was that his mother loved him!

“I mean that she could not have lived with herself had she not done it.” Snape turned his back to Harry, folding his hands. “That is, I believe, generally the case with mothers, although there are exceptions.”

Oh, so that was what it was like! Snape had just wanted to scare him!

“You are, of course, correct, that the only possible course of action for any responsible adult is to help an ill child, but nevertheless, I would have expected at least some gratitude.”

Since when was Snape a responsible adult? “I didn’t mean it like that! You hate me! You only helped me because – because Dumbledore forced you, or something!”

“Force me?” Finally, Snape turned around, his face blank. He raised an eyebrow. “Did he, now? How, exactly, do you fancy he did so? Was he, perhaps, standing behind me with his wand drawn? Is that the kind of person you think he is?”

“No”, Harry had to admit. “I – I don’t know.” But something had to have forced Snape to do it, right?

“And if you are so sure I am so very easily intimidated, then why did you suspect me of intending to poison you earlier?”, Snape continued mercilessly.

“Because you hate me, okay? There’s no way you’d just be ... be nice to me just because I’m a child.” Harry tried his best to hide from Snape’s angry gaze, and after some crawling underneath the blanket, his foot touched the hot water bottle. Oh. Snape really didn’t have to do that. Not the towel, at least. Harry had survived plenty burns. Perhaps ... unlikely as it was ... he had really been just ... nice?

He cautiously peered out from under the blanket. Snape didn’t look very angry. And he hadn’t moved towards Harry, so perhaps he wouldn’t hit him. “Okay, fine. I will go talk to a snake for you.”

Snape frowned. “I do not like to repeat myself, Potter. Do you feel up to walking to the Magical Menagerie, or do you not? I am no healer, so I am afraid I will have to rely on your judgement.”

“I’m fine.”

“Very well. Your clothes are in the bathroom. I do believe you could use a shower. Make sure to dry your hair thoroughly. I will be waiting downstairs.”

This time, Snape didn’t bang the door on his way out.


A shower did sound very good. Harry didn’t find any shampoo, but he was used to that, he could just use soap.

His clothes were neatly folded and blessedly dry. After dressing, Harry did feel quite a bit grateful to Snape.

And it wasn’t like it was a lot of work. Just go chat with a snake. He could do that.


When he arrived downstairs, Snape handed him a sandwich. Tomato and cheese, just like the one he had scavenged a couple days ago.

And it tasted just as lovely.

“Before we get to the Magical Menagerie”, Snape said as they stood before the brick wall entrance. “I should tell you that the ability to talk to snakes is not regarded very ... favourably by many people. I will put a spell on us that will make it impossible to eavesdrop, so do not try to talk to any of the snakes there until I say so.”

Was this true? Or did Snape just want an excuse to put a spell on Harry? On the other hand, he’d had plenty time to put a spell on Harry before.

“Okay. Um. Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Snape drew his wand, tapped the brick wall, and the entrance appeared. “Stay close to me.”

Harry didn’t talk on the way, as he was occupied with the sandwich. He did feel rather hungry by now.

When they entered the Magical Menagerie, Harry saw a basket of cuddly toys just like the one Ginny had. He’d get her a new one, he decided. They had really been mean to her.

“Now”, Snape said and gestured towards a terrarium with a snake in it.

“It is asleep”, Harry hissed. “I’m not going to disturb it.”

But just as he spoke, the snake raised its head. And then its other head. What?

“A runespoor. They tend to have three heads”, Snape explained.

Now, Harry could see it, too. There was a kind of stump where a third head must have been. “What happened?”

“Oh, a talking human.” The snake came closer to the glass. “What do you mean?”

“What happened to your third head. Um. I mean. If it is not rude to ask?” Was it? Harry didn’t know. The few times he had seen someone with a missing body part was when the Dursleys had had to take him with them, and he had thought it safer to keep his mouth shut all the time.

Of course there was Professor Kettleburn, but everyone knew what had happened to his limbs, and he didn’t mind talking about it.
“Not at all. We bit her off”, the snake – or rather, he realized now, one of the heads – declared.

“You what?!”

“That may not be in keeping with the categorical imperative”, the other head replied thoughtfully. “But, you see, she was always saying nasty things about absolutely everything we did.”

“We could not stand it anymore”, the first head added.

“You cannot imagine how it is. You can walk away from people who criticise you. We couldn’t walk away from her.”

“Actually”, Harry said. “I think I have a pretty good idea what it feels like. You’re right, I could walk away, but, you see, I’m a child. The adults don’t let me do anything on my own.”

“Ah, yes. You do look rather smallish”, the second head said. “We had eggs, once. I wonder what became of them after we were imprisoned.”

“What does it say?” Snape asked, startling Harry.

“You are right next to me, you must have heard it!”

“As I said, not everyone can talk to snakes. That includes understanding them. So?”

“They bit their third head off because it was always criticising them. And they, uh, miss their ... eggs. They couldn’t take care of them because they were imprisoned!” This just wasn’t right.

“Fascinating.”

“Where are they from? Runespoors, I mean?” The snake he freed must have had an awfully long way to Brazil. Perhaps it would be better to just send them home with owl post or something.

“Burkina Faso. Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious, sir. Are they very expensive?”

“What is the man saying?” the left head of the Runespoor inquired.

“He just told me he can’t understand what you say”, Harry explained. It was great, being able to do something Snape couldn’t. “Um. And he said you’re from Burkina Faso?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to go back?”

“We could see what has become of our eggs”, the middle head pondered.

“But then, we might be attacked by something”, the left head threw in. “You see, child, she” – it gestured towards the stump. “Was the only one who had poison. We did not really think that through. Perhaps we’d better stay here. It is warm and we get enough food. Just a bit boring.”

“Not boring at all”, the middle head said. “I had the most beautiful dream just now before the humans woke us up.”

“Well, I would like some change of scenery once in a while. And some more space to move.”

“Runespoors are very expensive”, Snape said at last. “You might be able to afford one, but I would advise against it. This terrarium is rather too small and it is still too large for your dormitory.”

“Can’t it be made bigger on the inside? She would like that. The left head, I mean.”

“I am sure that could be done. Say goodbye. The shop will close soon.”

Harry nodded. “I have to go”, he explained to the two heads. “It was nice meeting you. I hope I can visit again. Uh, and, sorry we woke you.”

“That’s alright. You are the most interesting thing to happen ever since we arrived here”, the left head said cheerfully. “Do visit soon.”

Just when Harry wanted to turn around, he noticed something at his nose. He froze. It wasn’t a snake, but a ... a tongue? It was pink and soft and wet and ...

Snape snipped a finger against it, and the tongue retreated.

Relieved, Harry turned around to see what animal had attacked him.

There was nothing there, just the basket with cuddly toys.

But .. there, there was a pink tongue and there were ... eyes?

Eyes? “What ... what are those?”, he stammered. Were they ... alive? They looked just like Ginny’s ... exactly like Ginny’s ... what had they done?

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming!” A young witch with a brown ponytail hurried towards them, swatting at the tongue. “The puffskeins are getting hungry, sorry – oh my. Are you actually afraid of them? They’re just puffskeins!”

“He was raised by muggles. The idea of an animal that would stick its tongue into his nose must be rather unsettling to someone who has never heard of it”, Snape said coldly. “Come along, boy, they want to close.”

“I’m in no hurry, sir! Just have to feed the puffs. We have plenty muggle-suitable animals. How about a cat?”

Harry heard Snape telling her about the terrarium being too small for the runespoor, but it sounded like very far away.

They’d used Ginny’s pet as a ball! No wonder she’d been crying!

“Come on, boy.”

Harry hurried to follow Snape out of the shop. “Sir, those puffskeins”, he managed to ask at last. “They’re not in a cage, wouldn’t they get hurt from falling out of the basket?” Perhaps they were really, really resilient? But then Ginny wouldn’t have cried so, would she?

“They likely would get hurt by the fall, but even though they look like giant balls, they do have feet and are quite well able to cling to objects, or each other, as the case may be.”

“Oh.” Poor Ginny. Poor puffskein. He had known he should say something!

“I am surprised you were so startled by them. Doesn’t young Miss Weasley own one?”, Snape said suddenly.

“I thought it was a toy!” He could have sworn he had never seen its eyes, but then, Ginny had kept away from him most of the time. “I didn’t know it was alive. It never did that tongue thing, either.” Let Snape think he had been scared by the tongue. That was better than Snape actually knowing what he had done. Snape hated him enough without a good reason, with a good reason, Harry didn’t even want to imagine what he’d be like.

Snape didn’t say anything while they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. He led Harry up the stairs and opened the door.

The bed, which Harry now realized he had left unmade, was made and the sheets looked to be freshly ironed. There wasn’t a wrinkle.
Did that mean they were leaving and had just returned to get his belongings?

“Mr. Weasley told me Miss Weasley’s pet made a full recovery. He hope that fact might encourage you to return”, Snape said, out of the blue.

Harry felt like a rock was lifted off his chest. But return? To the place where his dreams had been dashed? “I don’t want to go back to them.” Not that Snape would care.

“Ah, yes. I thought so. Back to bed with you, then. I will not consider you recovered before the potion’s effect wears off.”

What? But ... that’d mean ... “You are not taking me back?”

“And have to waste the rest of my holidays on chasing after you? I do not think so, no.” Snape turned around, towards the open door. “I will return shortly. It would be better for you if you were in bed by then.”

When the door fell shut, Harry sat on the bed. This was decidedly weird. Was this talking to snakes thing really so important to Snape? He hadn’t been nasty ever since Harry had agreed to do it. Strange.

And now, Snape didn’t even want to take him back to the Weasleys. But what would he do instead?

Would he just let Harry stay here?

Severus went to the bar and ordered a drink. How would he untangle this mess? Now that he’d taken Potter out into public, Dumbledore would likely soon find out. Of course, he had never intended to leave the stubborn old fool in the dark for even as long as he had ... not really. He had only convinced himself that he’d run away with the boy if need be in order to find him.

Now, that idea seemed increasingly unrealistic. The boy wouldn’t even accept a healing potion without suspicion! He’d never accept Severus as his guardian.

Severus smiled, taking a sip of hot butterbeer. He could be rightly proud of that feat of self-deception.

What now? He would have to contact Dumbledore.

And yet ... he had told the boy he wouldn’t take him back to the Weasleys. Which, technically, he wouldn’t. Dumbledore would.

Still.

After finishing his butterbeer, Severus ordered another one.

As he had predicted, the boy was still awake, but had at least followed his advice to go to bed.

“Do you like butterbeer, Potter?”

“Butterbeer?”, the boy asked. “Um. I don’t think I am supposed to drink beer?”

Of course. Staying with the Weasleys wouldn’t have remedied the boy’s lack of knowledge completely. “It’s not like muggle beer. There’s some alcohol in it, but it is generally considered suitable for third year students. Most of it is butter and sugar.” He walked over to Potter and held the tankard out to him. “Consider it a bribe.”

The boy hesitatingly took the tankard. “A bribe? What do you want me to do?” It was strange to get a bribe himself. Dudley had always gotten tons of sweets when his parents needed him on his best behaviour, but the only thing Harry had ever been promised was to not be locked in the cupboard.

“I need you to stay calm and listen. Now.”

“Okay. Sir.” Harry tried the butterbeer foam. It really tasted very sweet.

Snape paced back in front of the fire. There wasn’t much space to pace, so he had to turn around all the time, but he didn’t seem to mind much. “If I had a say in this, I would not send you back to the Weasleys. You ran away once, and I imagine you can do it a second time. I have better things to do than chase after you. However, the Headmaster is convinced that you will be delighted to remain with the Weasleys once things have been explained to you.”

Harry took a sip of the butterbeer. He liked it, he decided. “What is there to explain?” It hadn’t been an accident. Not like the time Aunt Petunia had actually managed to hit his head with her frying pan – she’d come as close to being sorry as she ever had, even taking him to the hospital on the condition that he claimed the pan had accidentally fallen on his head. Mr. Weasley had intentionally hit him, several times.

“Professor Dumbledore will tell you, once I inform him that I have found you.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t know?!” What? That couldn’t be! Snape had clearly said that Dumbledore ... that Dumbledore wanted Harry alive. He’d never actually said that Dumbledore knew he’d found Harry.

“Not yet”, Snape replied silkily. “Stay calm and drink your butterbeer, Potter.”

“When are you going to tell him?” Harry took another gulp of butterbeer. It tasted really nice.

“Tomorrow morning should suffice.”



In the morning, Harry woke with memories that could not possibly be real. Snape buying him a butterbeer. Snape asking if he wanted to eat something. Snape giving him a pepperup potion – okay, that last one could be real, possibly.

Still, it was weird.

He heard voices – that must be what had woken him.

“How did you manage to find him?” Dumbledore!

“Mere luck. I intended to spend the night looking for him, so I wrote a note to Tom telling him I wouldn’t be there. The boy must have seen it while looking for a place to stay. Though I rather doubt he’d have risked it but for the pneumonia.” Snape did not mention exactly when he had found Harry.

“Pneumonia?”

“Ah, you would not know the scientific term. An infection of the lungs. It mostly occurs as a complication of untreated colds.” Huh, strange. Snape hadn’t explained it to Harry, and actually, Harry wasn’t envious. It sounded like Snape thought Dumbledore was an idiot for not knowing the word.

“He did not intentionally turn to you for help?”

Snape huffed. “Obviously not. The boy has an owl, he could have sent for help anytime he wanted.”

“Ah, but perhaps Harry does not know how to do that. He is, after all, new to our world.” Dumbledore drew closer. “What do you say, Harry?”

Harry opened his eyes. It was useless to continue pretending to be asleep when Dumbledore clearly saw through it. “I know how to send an owl. I didn’t want to.” Hedwig hadn’t been there, but somehow, he was sure she would have come if he really had wanted to send a letter. “And I bet Tom would have told you the moment I turned up here without the cloak.”

“Yes, indeed. Why did you not do that, Harry?”

“I don’t want to be sent back.”

“My dear boy, there is no danger at all of being sent back to your relatives. I have learnt from my mistakes.”

“I don’t want to go to the Weasleys, either.” Harry pulled the blanket around himself, feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden. Dumbledore knew why he had run away, didn’t he? He knew everything. So why didn’t he understand?

“But why not? Dumbledore sounded honestly surprised.

“They don’t like me.”

“I am sure that is a misunderstanding. Why, of course, Professor Snape warned me that might happen. You see, Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley treated you as one of their own. Rest assured, their own children were punished just the same.”

Harry knew that. He wasn’t an idiot. Ron had obviously known what was going to happen. Still. “It makes no sense. You don’t beat people you like.”

Dumbledore sat down on the bedside. “It must seem horribly old-fashioned to you, I can see that, but surely you realize, Harry, that parents need to punish their children sometimes? Their choice of punishment was not ideal, but they did it because they love you and want you to grow up to be a good person, Harry.”

“I can be a good person without – without –” He swallowed and didn’t speak anymore, for fear he might start to cry.

“I know that, Harry. But you have to understand their reasons. The Weasley family loves you very much and would be very sad if you didn’t return. In fact, Ginevra is very worried about you.”

He didn’t want Ginny to worry. Not when it was all his fault, in a way. But – it just felt so wrong. “Fine. I’ll go back to them.” A place to stay. Like Privet Drive. It would be better than sleeping in the streets. And he did like Ron and Ginny, and even Percy, though he wasn’t so sure about Fred and George anymore.

Dumbledore got up. “That is settled then.”

“I will return the boy at noon”, Snape said coolly. “Just to make sure the potions I gave him have taken full effect.”

“Splendid, Severus. See you at Hogwarts!”




Harry stared glumly at the dusty floor. He had thought Dumbledore was on his side!

Perhaps Dumbledore was right? Perhaps Dudley wouldn’t be so horrible if his parents beat him more often?
Dudley certainly deserved a beating for how he had treated his series of pets.

But Harry had felt so humiliated and betrayed, it wasn’t something you should want your child to feel like, ever.

He didn’t pay attention to what Snape was doing, so he was startled when the man suddenly talked to him.

“Potter.”

Harry looked up. Snape sat in the armchair next to the bed, and for once, his eyes didn’t radiate hatred.

Well, he wasn’t looking at Harry at all, but staring at the floor.
“You are, of course, aware, that your mother would not have wanted your guardians to cane, spank or otherwise physically hurt you, right?”

What? How did Snape know? Harry couldn’t imagine his parents doing something like that, ever, but ... “How do you know? Sir?”

“She was in my year at Hogwarts. And very vocal about her opinions.”

Had she just told everyone what she thought, whether they wanted to know or not? Like Hermione?
He wanted to ask, but instead blurted out: “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want to suggest a deal. Next time you run away, you will do so to a location we previously agreed on.”

Harry frowned. “So you can take me back faster?”

“No! Listen, you id-” Snape interrupted himself. “Boy. You run to the place we agreed on, I pick you up and take you to my home, where you can hide in an unused bedroom and pretend it’s an abandoned house you had the luck to stumble across. While I continue to enjoy my holidays, merely pretending to search for you. As there’s not much of the holidays left, I can tell Dumbledore I found you just before term starts.”

Snape would take him to his own home? “Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t want to waste my time chasing after you. I do, of course, expect you to be as quiet and inobtrusive in my home as you managed to be on the streets.”

“I’m very good at pretending I’m not there, sir.” And if Snape pretended Harry wasn’t there, too, that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Ah, yes. Except when meddling house elves get in the way.”

“Um, yes.” Why did Snape have to remember that bit?

“What, exactly, did the elf tell you? And what was his name, again?”

Harry repeated everything he remembered.

Snape nodded. “If he ever appears again, do ask him whether he could tell your bed, nightstand or school trunk what the problem is. Perhaps there is a loophole in the command that prevents him from telling you.”

“Yes, sir.” That would be much too easy, wouldn’t it? How stupid would Dobby’s owners have to be to not make sure that couldn’t work?

But he could try it, at least.




When Harry stepped out of the Weasleys’ fire, he almost stumbled over Ginny. She was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, her puffskein on her lap.

“Harry!” She got up, holding the pet close to her chest.

“Um. Hi Ginny. Er, I’m terribly sorry about your puffskein. I shouldn’t have let Fred and George use it as ball.”

Before she could answer, however, someone else stepped out of the fire. “Miss Weasley. Do tell your parents that I accompanied Mr. Potter here, or you shall regret it at the start of the school term.”

When Harry turned around to look at Snape, the man was gone.

“Where did he go?” There wasn’t a fire here, Snape would have had to start one before he could floo out.

“He disapparated”, Ginny stated, as if that explained anything. “Who was that?”

Deciding that it must be a wizard thing and nothing to be worried about, Harry explained: “That’s Professor Snape, the potions master.”

“Oh, so that’s what he looks like!”

Relieved that Ginny finally talked to him – his running away must have shocked her out of her shyness, he supposed – Harry followed her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was busy preparing lunch.

Mr. Weasley made some noises about having been too harsh, but just when Harry got his hopes up he insisted that he hadn’t beaten Harry, just ‘disciplined’ him and that it was just for his best, and so on and so forth.

Harry nodded and pretended to go along with it all, but inside, he felt miserable. The only people who noticed were Ron, who tried to cheer him up by telling him that his dad rarely ever got angry, and mostly just with the twins, anyway, Percy, who thought he was ill and told him he ought to drink pepperup potion, and Ginny. Ginny was the most helpful, she didn’t try to cheer him up, but just told him he could cuddle with Candy the puffskein whenever he wanted.

After getting used to the weird, ball-shaped animal, it really helped to have something to hug.

Perhaps a cat would have been nice. He loved Hedwig and couldn’t imagine not having her, but even though she graciously let him pet her, he could tell she got impatient really fast.

Candy, on the other hand, made a content purring noise when he held her in his arms. She also sometimes tried to eat his bogeys, but now that he knew it was a normal thing puffskeins did, it didn’t freak him out so much anymore.


At last, the holidays ended. Harry was happier about that than he felt he ought to be. His bitter disappointment aside, the Weasleys did give him enough food and never locked him in cupboards.

After a hectical morning, the whole family went to King’s Cross station and through the barrier.

Harry and Ron were to go last.

And crashed right into the wall. Neither Ron nor Harry were hurt, but it took them a while to deal with the shock.

Hedwig was screeching and flapping her wings, so Harry figured she couldn’t be too badly hurt.

It wasn’t long before people started giving them annoyed and suspicious looks.

While they walked back to the car, figuring it was safer to wait there so they wouldn’t be noticed by muggles, Harry remembered what Snape had told him.

“If for some reason you cannot go to Diagon Alley, just send your owl. No need to write a letter. Just tell her to lead me to you.”

Harry opened the cage, then hesitated. What if Snape got angry because Harry hadn’t really ran away? But then, he’d know that. It was the last day of the holidays, after all, it would be stupid to run away now.

Worst that could happen was that Snape didn’t do anything. And he couldn’t get very angry about someone sending him an owl, could he?

Ron, on the other hand ... Harry glanced to Ron, who was trying to get his luggage trolley up the side of the pavement. He wouldn’t notice.

“Can you fly to Snape and lead him here?”, Harry whispered to Hedwig. “Only if he wants to, okay? If he looks annoyed, better try to get ...” Who else was there? “McGonagall, perhaps?”

Hedwig hooted in agreement and took off. She soared high into the sky and soon, she was only a white spot in the distance. “I sent Hedwig to get help”, Harry explained to Ron when he caught up with him.

They waited in the car. Just when Harry began to wonder how long it would take Hedwig to go to Hogwarts and back, and if it really had been a good idea, a very frantic looking Mr. Weasley arrived, followed by Mrs. Weasley, who was red in the face from running.

“There you are! Thank the gods!”

“It’s okay, dad”, Ron said hastily, clearly embarrassed by the fussing.

“Someone must have meddled with the barrier”, Mrs. Weasley said grimly after catching her breath. “We didn’t tell anyone – didn’t want to cause a panic, when most people were going to wait until their children left, anyway, and then we suddenly could get through.”

“How do we get to Hogwarts now?” Would they get into trouble for being late? Would he have to spend another night at the Burrow?

He had so looked forward to seeing Hermione again. Hermione! She’d be worried when she didn’t find Ron and him on the train.

“We will have to take the car”, Mr. Weasley said. Harry didn’t quite get why the man looked so cheerful about the prospect. It would be a long drive to Hogwarts.

Before anyone else could say anything, a dark figure strode towards them. “What appears to be the problem?” Snape drawled.

Snape had come! But where was Hedwig?

He heard a hoot and looked up. Hedwig was circling above them and likely had for some time. Now she darted downwards and sat on her cage.

“Professor Snape, good you are here! There was some meddling with the barrier at platform nine and three quarters.” Mrs Weasley explained the problem.

Snape nodded. “Suspicious indeed. I will inform the Headmaster. As for those two”, he nodded towards Ron and Harry. “How do you plan on getting them to Hogwarts?”

“We can take the car – ” Mr. Weasley began.

“Home, and then we can floo to Hogsmeade”, Mrs. Weasles finished the sentence.

“With Potter’s tendency to get lost, I think it will be much safer if I apparate him there.”

“Are you sure that is necessary? Apparition is so awfully uncomfortable.” Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a worried glance. “Harry seemed rather under the weather for the last week or so, I don’t think - ”

“It’s fine”, Harry said hastily.

“If you are sure, dear.”

**

Severus had not apparated to Hogwarts yet when a snowy owl pecked at his window.

Harry’s owl! How had the boy managed to get in trouble? He ought to be on the train right now!

He opened the window and stared at the owl. “Is Harry on the train right now?”

The owl screeched and flapped her wings.

“I take that to mean no. Is he at King’s Cross station?”

That caused a rather content sounding hoot from the owl.

Weird creatures, owls. Severus knew why he didn’t own one. Their intelligence weirded him out. What if they some day decided to conspire against the wizards who exploited them for free labour?

“Sit on my arm. I will apparate us there.”

Seconds later, he stood in a street near King’s Cross. He hadn’t used the official apparition spot, seeing as he didn’t have the time to place a reservation.

Which meant that he had to walk quite a bit, now.

The owl did not lead him to the train station, however. It was clearly headed elsewhere. Severus ran after it, only slowing his steps when he noticed it had started to fly in circles.

And there was the boy, surrounded by three Weasleys.

**

“Take your school trunk and your owl.” Snape instructed. “No, don’t just touch the cage, you have to grasp the owl.”

Hedwig pushed a feathery wing towards him, and Harry gently took it between two fingers.

“Yes, like that.” Snape grabbed Harry’s arm, and Harry suddenly felt like he was pushed through a very narrow tube.

When the strange sensation finally ended, he was nauseous. “Um, sir, I –”

Snape stepped out of the way, and just in time before Harry threw up.

“As Mrs. Weasley said, apparition is rather unpleasant. One gets used to it. How fares your owl?”

Hedwig was okay. “I’m sorry for wasting your time”, Harry mumbled. “I wasn’t sure Mrs. and Mr. Weasley would be able to get back to us, so ...”

Snape used his wand to put some kind of spell on Harry’s trunk and the cage with Hedwig in it so that they started to float after him. “Don’t be ridiculous, boy. I told you to send your owl. And it is a good thing you did, as the headmaster surely wouldn’t have time to listen to your story later on.”

Strange, the word ‘boy’ didn’t sound nearly as nasty in Snape’s mouth as it did in Vernon’s. “My story?” Harry almost had to jog to keep pace with Snape. They must be somewhere in the forbidden forest. The forest floor was littered with old leaves, and here and there, he could spot mushrooms in all sorts of shapes and colours.

Snape slowed down. “I agree with Mrs. Weasley, the fact that the barrier just happened to close when you wanted to get through is very suspicious. The headmaster needs to know.”

Harry was flabberghasted. He had thought it was a problem Ron and he had to deal with on their own, and now ... “It’s because the adults noticed too, isn’t it?”

“Explain.” Snape stopped walking altogether.

“Well, when we were worried someone might steal the philosopher’s stone, Professor McGonagall just told us not to worry. I mean, we were wrong about who wanted to steal the stone, but ...”

Snape frowned. “You talked to your head of house?”

“It’s not like we wanted to get killed by a three-headed dog. Sir.” Sure, it had been great to get house points for it, but if someone had asked him beforehand, Harry would have much preferred it if an adult had done something about it. “Professor McGonagall said the stone was protected very well, and ... I guess it was, he would’t ever have managed to get the stone without me, but we couldn’t know that!

“I see. And why, exactly, did you not trust your head of house to know what she was talking of?”

Harry thought back to when they’d talked to McGonagall. “She didn’t seem worried at all that Professor Dumbledore was away, and then she didn’t let us tell her everything we knew, and ... I don’t know. I was just sure she didn’t get it.”

“Most people in this school trust that Albus Dumbledore knows of everything that goes on, and rely on him to have the situation well in hand. Your head of house could likely not have provided a more detailed explanation of why she believed the stone to be well guarded than she did.”

“But that’s insa- I mean, that’s not very wise, is it? What if Professor Dumbledore forgot something? Everyone can make mistakes.”

“Certainly”, Snape agreed, and Harry almost stared at him open-mouthed. “However, most are content to believe he is watching over them as a father does over his underage children. And do not children usually consider their parents to be infallible?”

Harry decided to not remind Snape that his parents were dead. It seemed to be more a figure of speech, anyway. Dudley probably did think Uncle Vernon was right about most things.

“I am under no such illusions myself. You are quite right, everyone makes mistakes.” Was Snape smiling? “If you had come to me with your concerns about Quirrell, I could have reassured you in a more effective manner.”

Now that was going to be awkward. And just when they had been getting along so ... not-so-badly, at least. Perhaps it was better to not tell Snape all the reasons why they hadn’t asked him ... “Um. Well. We thought we ought to go to our head of house.”

“Ah. That is the normal course of action with school problems, yes. However ... with anything that concerns Professor Dumbledore’s secrets, you are better advised to ask me. I am usually in his confidence.”

Oh. Was that why Snape had come to talk to him about the pudding incident? “Why? Sir? I mean, Professor McGonagall is the deputy headmistress ...”

“The simple fact that I ... owe Professor Dumbledore a favour or two, and am therefore usually the one sent to do his bidding. Which is why I had to travel to your relatives’ home, in case you wondered.”

That made sense. Except ... “I’m one of Professor Dumbledore’s secrets?” Harry blurted out without thinking.

Now Snape would call him arrogant again.

“Your whereabouts used to be one of his secrets, yes. That is no longer the case, I fear. We will see.” Snape looked at him for a long time, and Harry realized there wasn’t nearly as much hate in his gaze as last year. “You are aware that I do not like you.”

“Yes?” What was he supposed to say to that? Was it even allowed for a teacher to admit that sort of thing? Not that Snape had hid it very well, before. He did hide it better, now. Or was there any hate to hide anymore? This made no sense at all!

“As Professor Dumbledore no doubt explained to you, this does not mean that I want you dead. Whenever you feel that your life – or health – or sanity – is at risk ... you can trust me.”

Harry blinked. This was ... good? But ... “My sanity?”

“I suppose several people have tried to tell you that getting hit by adults who are in charge of you is a sign of love, or care. That’s nonsense. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley do, probably, love their children, but they don’t beat them because of that, they beat them because they’re angry. Or desperate. It is very important not to get confused about that.”


Harry did feel better after hearing that, but why would Snape tell him? “Um. Why is it important, sir?”

“Because else you might arrive at a point where you think it is alright to hurt people you like. And then, you will soon find yourself without any friends at all.” Snape’s face was oddly devoid of expression. “And now, hurry. The headmaster still needs to hear your tale.”

Severus hoped the boy had gotten the message. Though perhaps he had already gotten it before – after all, he had sent his owl because of a problem that wasn’t related to running away.

That was promising.

Really, he should have made an effort to get the boy to trust him earlier. It was so much easier to protect him like this ...

And it hadn’t been so hard to overcome his revulsion at the sight of a James Potter clone, once he had tried. The trick was to focus on the Lily eyes.

On the other hand, it would be foolish to not use the reputation he had built of hating Potter. If, as the possession of Quirinus Quirrell seemed to indicate, the Dark Lord might actually return for good, it would be very useful if it was common knowledge that Severus hated the Potter brat and the Potter brat hated him.

Right now, though, the child was too young to keep a secret, so he would have to make sure Potter actually continued to dislike him. Shouldn’t be too difficult, considering James Potter had hated him for no reason at all, and he had managed to make Lily hate him, too, eventually.

And yet ... it might be safer to focus on getting the boy to trust him, right now. If Dobby was actually acting on his own – and it didn’t seem like Lucius to send a house elf to torment Potter in petty ways – then something bad was going to happen at Hogwarts. And Lucius was somehow involved.

Not a situation Severus wanted three children to try and tackle by themselves.

**

Ron arrived just in time for the Sorting.

To no one’s surprise, Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor. After applauding for her, Ron told Harry that flooing to Hogsmeade had gone okay, but when stumbling out of the fireplace, he had broken his wand.

“Mum says I can’t use it anymore, broken wands are dangerous, but I don’t think I’ll get a new one – not with having to get all those books by Lockhart.”

Dangerous? Harry hadn’t known that. “It can’t be repaired?”

“No, not possible with wands. Something special about them.”

“But you need a wand for lessons ... um, you can use mine?” Harry was pretty sure he could afford to pay for a new wand for Ron, but Ron would never let him. “After I’m done ...” Which sometimes didn’t happen at all.

“You can use my wand”, Hermione informed Ron. “That is, if it works for you. Wands usually work best for the owner, and you need one that specifically chose you to reach your full potential –“

“Thanks! And don’t worry, I had Charlie’s old wand, not like it chose me, anyways.”

**

Severus opted for a tactic of mostly ignoring Potter in class, only commenting on the boy’s work if the concoction produced wasn’t just substandard, but useless or poisonous.

It wasn’t hard to be nasty in his comments, even though he did not hate the boy anymore. Sarcasm was his second nature, and Lily had often accused him of being “mean” back when they still had been friends.

Lily.

She was the only one he had ever listened to about that. He had not wanted her to think badly of him, and so he had tried to rein in his contempt for stupidity, tried to be kind about his criticisms of other people’s work. Tried.

He barely managed with his Slytherins, and didn’t often make an effort with students from any other house.

No, it was not at all hard to continue behaviours that would cause the Potter boy to continue disliking him.

In fact, he thought he was doing it so well that the boy would likely not take him up on his offer again.

His visit with Lucius and careful fishing for information had not rendered any useful results, and Severus had just allowed himself to relax a bit about the house-elf’s warnings when, just on the anniversary of Lily’s death, the triumphant cries of Draco Malfoy summoned him to a scene of crime.

It was, admittedly, only a cat who had been harmed, but the fact remained that she had been petrified, something no student could have done just out of annoyance over her spying for the caretaker.

And, as usual, Harry was in the midst of trouble, claiming he hadn’t done it – which Severus believed – but unwilling to say the whole truth.

Just when Severus wanted to comment on that, the boy’s eyes found his.


There was, or did he just imagine it, something pleading in those Lily-green eyes.

Severus nodded his head, ever so slightly, in the hope the boy would understand.

“While I am sure Potter was up to no good”, he drawled. “I have to concur with the headmaster. If any second year could have done this, then certainly not Potter. His performance in my class has been consistently sub-par. He simply is not capable of such advanced magic.”

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes which betrayed that he had seen through the ruse and guessed at Severus’ intentions, but he seemed to be the only one. Filch seemed mollified, and Lockhart started to explain how Potter’s sub-par performance must be Severus’ fault because in his class, the boy had always excelled.

Fortunately, Minerva agreed that Potter must be innocent, and the children were sent off to their common room.

Severus fled as soon as they were out of sight.

He had just settled in his favourite armchair when the enchantment on his office door alerted him that someone was knocking at the door.

Wand raised, Severus hurried along the corridor, only to almost collide with someone invisible.

“Sorry!”

Oh. Just Potter.

The boy pulled back the hood of his invisibility cloak. “You said I could talk to you.”

“Yes? Is your life in immediate danger?” Severus hoped not. It had been a rather eventful night already and he really wanted to get some rest.

“No, just my, uh, sanity.”

Good. That, he could cope with. “Follow me.”

He led the boy into his office, closed the door securely behind them and gestured towards the visitor chair, then sat down in his own. “Now, what is the matter?”

“I heard a voice. Before we found Mrs. Norris. Hermione and Ron couldn’t hear it.” Harry looked at him, green eyes wide with fear. “You said I could trust you.”

Severus steepled his hands. “You can. What makes you believe your sanity might be in danger?”

“Hearing voices. You know. Ron says that isn’t normal in the magical world, either.”

“Normal? No. Insane? We will see. What did the voice say?”

“That it wanted to kill. It sounded really impatient.”

“Ah.” While that didn’t rule out the possibility of Harry hallucinating the voice, it did make it less likely – after all, people who imagined voices usually had those voices tell them what to do. “So, it did not tell you to do anything?”

“Uh ... no, sir?”

“Can you quote what it said, exactly?”

“Not sure ... I think it was ‘Let me kill’ or ‘Rip, tear, kill’, something like that.”

“And you say your friends could not hear it?”

“Not at all. They believe me that I heard it, though.”

“It also led you directly to the scene of a crime. It is rather unlikely that you imagined it. I do not think your sanity is in any danger.”

“Oh.” Harry looked at him, not quite grateful, more suspicious, as if expecting Severus to punish him for such a needless disturbance.

In fact, it was not at all needless – Severus was quite sure that Harry was in danger, even if it was not immediate danger. “There are a number of magical beasts capable of human speech, but the fact that your friends could not hear the voice seems to hint at a snake.”

“But I didn’t see any snakes!”

“Invisibility is no proof of nonexistence, as you should well know. I will look into the matter.” Severus stood. “And you will now follow me to your common room. If anyone asks, I caught you out after curfew. Understood?”

“Uh. Yes, sir”, Harry replied, and then, very quietly: “Thank you.”

Severus wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

**

It was strange, Harry thought as he climbed back through the portrait hole. He usually wouldn’t even have considered telling an adult about that kind of thing, but now he had, and, even stranger, Snape had actually been helpful.

A snake. Harry had not thought of it, but it did make a lot of sense. It would explain why Hermione and Ron had not heard the voice – they would simply not have recognized it as voice.

Why had Snape helped him?

Sure, he wanted to keep Harry alive. That was nothing special. Even Aunt Petunia (he wasn’t so sure about Vernon) had wanted to keep him alive.

Caring about Harry’s sanity, or lack thereof, was different. Snape didn’t have to. Especially now that Harry was at Hogwarts and wouldn’t ruin Snape’s holidays by running away again.

Was there some secret reason? Some additional reason to owing a debt to Harry’s father, or to owing a debt to Dumbledore?

Hermione would probably say that Snape was a teacher and it was his job, but she must have gone to different schools. In the muggle school Harry had gone to, no teacher had seemed to particularly care how he felt. They’d occasionally keep Dudley from beating him up, and they had gotten the Dursleys to get him glasses, but that had been it, pretty much.

Harry was a bit surprised that he didn’t feel more worried. With the Dursleys, if Vernon was seemingly nice, it tended to turn out later that he had found a good opportunity to make Harry miserable. Platform nine and three quarters and Vernon’s glee about Harry not knowing where to go was only one example.

So he really should be more interested in finding out why Snape did what he did.

But somehow, Harry couldn’t find it in him to worry about it too much. Perhaps because Snape wasn’t happy. Just slightly less grumpy. And then, of course, sending Snape an owl about the platform problem had turned out pretty well for Harry.

He didn’t tell Hermione and Ron about his talk with Snape, and just muttered something about needing some time alone when Ron sleepily asked him why he had left the dormitory.

When they discussed the chamber of secrets and Slytherin’s monster later on, he did mention it might be a snake, and decided to find out if Malfoy could speak to snakes.

**

The first Quidditch match of the season, things were not going well for Gryffindor, and Severus usually would have enjoyed that – unfortunately, though, the thing that was not going well was a rogue bludger which was pursuing Harry relentlessly.

Oh, he would have words with the Slytherin team later on. But for the moment, Severus could not do much more but silently seethe.

Oliver Wood, the idiot, decided to continue playing in spite of the clear tampering.

Severus attempted to lift the jinx on the bludger, but a moving object was difficult at the best of times, and there was something unfamiliar about the magic that had been used for tampering with it.

Just when he thought he might be able to untangle the jinx, the bludger hit Harry’s head.

Severus didn’t even notice, at first, that Harry had also caught the snitch.

He walked onto the Quidditch field as fast as possible without his haste being apparent, meaning that he arrived shortly after Lockhart.

“I will have that fixed in no time!” the imbecile boasted, already lifting his wand.

Severus caught his hand and shoved it aside. “Oh no, Gilderoy. You would not want to run afoul of the school rules, would you? They are quite clear. No teacher may heal a student except in a dire emergency. This is not an emergency. Clearly, Potter is still conscious. Is that not so, Potter?”

“Not him, please, don’t let him near me”, Potter begged, quite sensibly.

“He’s hallucinating!” Lockhart claimed.

“As long as he is not dying, he can wait for Madam Pomfrey like any other student.”

Severus stepped between Lockhart and Harry and conjured a stretcher. “There. Wood, make yourself useful and put Potter on that.”

Harry closed his eyes halfway to the castle, and Severus found it hard to hide his worry. The boy had seemed coherent enough, and the bludgers were spelled so they wouldn’t hit too hard ... usually. A bludger that had been tampered with ...

Finally, they arrived at the hospital wing.

“Severus? You here?”

He did avoid the hospital wing usually, and for good reason – his lack of sleep, lack of weight and overall poor health were nothing he could, or even much wanted to change, but the healer just wouldn’t see his point of view.

“Lockhart was tempted to try and heal him – famous Potter always needs special treatment, apparently”, Severus scoffed, ignoring the angry murmurs from the Quidditch team plus Granger who had trailed after him. “I had to make sure the school rules were obeyed.”

“Thank you”, Poppy said, already examining Potter. “You may well have saved his life.” She frowned. “Not just his life, actually.”

Because she would have felt tempted to murder Lockhart if he had managed to kill a student with his incompetence, Severus supposed.

He nodded, turned and left, feeling the stares of some students in his back. Hopefully, they wouldn’t talk too much about his saving Harry Potter.

**

After Madam Pomfrey had healed his concussion and shooed the Quidditch team away, Harry had plenty time to ponder what had happened.

Snape had saved him.

Probably not his life – he was pretty sure Madam Pomfrey was exaggerating – but he would likely have needed a lot more healing if Lockhart had gotten to put a spell on him.


It was weird, feeling grateful to Snape.

He didn’t even like the man. Not really. Snape still was extremely nasty whenever there was the tiniest mistake in Harry’s work in potions, and he had made it all about Harry’s alleged celebrity status even while saving him from Lockhart, but ...

Well, he had saved him.

And this time, Harry had a pretty good idea what might have happened if he hadn’t.

**

Severus’ inquiries yielded no results. No one on the Slytherin Quidditch team admitted to having cursed the bludger, even though he had carefully framed his inquiry in a hint that he might know more subtle methods to achieve such goals.

No one of his prime suspects admitted to it, either, and the prefects claimed to have no idea.

Harry had appeared at breakfast in the morning, so there seemed to be no lasting damage, but things could easily have been different. He needed to find the culprit.

Severus sat in his office, a cup of tea on his desk, and was pondering the possibility of Lockhart having cursed the bludger, when there was a knock at his door.

Some late confession?

But no, it was Harry.

“It’s Malfoy!”, he blurted out.

Severus raised an eyebrow, keeping his surprise well hidden. “Take a seat, and speak in full sentences.”

Harry obediently sat down. “Dobby visited in the night and I did what you told me to, and he told me what Mr. Malfoy is up to.”

“Dobby visited you? Why? And how could he reveal his master’s secret?” It would be much more convenient if the boy recounted what had happened in more detail, but Severus supposed that was probably too much to ask for from a child.

“Turns out he enchanted the bludger – he wanted me to be sent home so I’d be safe.”

Severus nodded. “Highly questionable logic. Continue.”

“I asked him if he could tell the nightstand about it, and he was really happy and said yes, and now I know Lucius Malfoy sent something to the school that he thinks will somehow open the chamber of secrets. He must have given it to some student, but not Malfoy, he didn’t want his son to be involved.”

“Calm down. Yes, that is very useful information. I will tell the headmaster about it. Did the house elf seem regretful about hurting you?”

“I guess. He said he only wanted to break my arm, nothing worse.”

Severus nodded. “He could be lying, of course, but let’s assume for the moment he is speaking the truth ... did he tell you something else about the Malfoy family?”

“They don’t treat him well, but that’s to be expected.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Well, Malfoy is an – a bully, so ...”

“Being a bully does not mean he is incapable of kindness towards anyone. Your father was a bully, too, and yet people claim he gave his life for you.” Severus regretted saying it when he saw Harry’s eyes widen.

There would be questions.

“Be that as it may, I have reason to assume that Lucius Malfoy does, indeed, not treat his house elf well. Which makes it more likely the elf would act against his master’s wishes.” Severus got up. “Rest assured, I will take action. Considering what happened to Mr. Creevey, it is safer that I take you back to your common room now.”


**

His father a bully? Harry’s mind reeled. Surely Snape must be lying? Dumbledore had said they had had a rivalry, but Harry had thought Snape had been the Malfoy in that rivalry.

It would have been easy to tell himself it was just Snape being Snape not so long ago, but now ... now Snape had been so helpful and was walking beside him, looking at him every so often as if to make sure he was still there ...

“What did you mean about my father being a bully?”

“Just that. If it is any comfort, he mostly just bullied me and some other boys in Slytherin”, Snape replied in a monotone voice, as if it had nothing to do with him at all.

“That’s no comfort at all! I thought ... I thought he was better than my uncle!” Dreaming about his wonderful parents had been his only escape all those years, and now ...

“Oh, don’t worry. Your father no doubt spoiled you rotten, and would have continued to do so if given the chance. No need to give up your daydreams of what it would have been like.”

How had Snape guessed? How could he know what Harry was thinking about? “Mr. Malfoy also spoils his son rotten, and see how Malfoy turned out.” He didn’t want to be like Malfoy. If growing up with his father would have meant he would have turned out like him ... “I don’t want to be like that.”

“Then don’t be.”

“Yes but ... I ... do you think I would have been a bully if I had grown up with my parents?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Your mother was ... alright.”

From anyone else, that would have been a rather disappointing answer, but Snape made it sound like the highest praise.

Dumbledore had a theory on what Lucius was up to, but preferred to keep it to himself, because, as he claimed, he might be wrong, and Severus might come up with a better theory if no influenced by his ideas.

A very flimsy excuse for simply keeping all his knowledge to make sure he reaped all the fame, Severus thought.

Still, he did form his own theories.

Whom would Lucius entrust with an artifact that would open the chamber of secrets, if not his own son?

There were a few candidates, sons of Lucius’ friends, but none of them acted in any way unusual.

And of course, Severus couldn’t focus on that alone. He also had to do some damage management with regard to Lockhart.

Which was the sole and only reason he agreed to help the imbecile demonstrate a wizard duel.

Letting the children practise among themselves went about as well as was to be expected, which was not at all.

And, with his sure instinct for catastrophe, Lockhart suggested to let Longbottom demonstrate a spell.

Severus was just congratulating himself on his choice of Draco versus Justin Finch-Fletchley, when Draco did something incredibly stupid.

Conjuring a snake was very tempting for a Slytherin, yes, but bordered on madness if one was not a parselmouth and thus could only hope to keep the snake aimed at the enemy.

“Step back, I will take care of it”, Severus said, drawing his wand, but before he could do anything, Lockhart had waved his wand and flung the snake right into Finch-Fletchley’s face.

“Whoops! Stay calm, it won’t bite unless provoked!”

Well, Severus thought grimly, Lockhart had certainly provided plenty enough provocation for the snake to attack.


Just when he raised his wand to vanish the snake, he heard a noise he was familiar with.

Potter speaking parsel.

Idiot boy!

One purposeful movement of his wand later, Severus had vanished the snake, but the damage had been done.

Not to Finch-Fletchley, who was perfectly fine, but to Harry.

Hadn’t he warned the foolish boy?

**

Snape had been right, after all.

Harry had pleaded with the snake to leave Justin alone, and it had looked at him, quite willing to listen, but for some reason, everyone now accused him of having egged it on.

Well, almost everyone.

Ron thought it was ‘wicked’ and Hermione had run to the library to research some idea Harry’s demonstration had sparked.

Most of the others, though ...


Harry walked the corridors, trying to find Justin to tell him what had really happened, when Snape suddenly appeared in his way. “Potter. To my office. Now.”

So that was it. Mysteriously nice Snape was gone, normal Snape was back. Well, it had only been a matter of time, hadn’t it?

Still, Harry couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Too downcast to try and refuse, he trudged after Snape, only noticing they had arrived in the office when the door shut behind him.

“What were you thinking?” Snape raged. “What insanity could possibly have come over you to reveal to the whole school that you are a parselmouth, after I explicitly warned you of the dire consequences if anyone, even a single person, were to know?”

Harry stared at his feet. “I, uh, just wanted to help Justin.”

Snape sighed.

Something was strange. Right. Snape didn’t usually rage. He talked very quietly and sarcastically when he was being nasty to Harry.


And Snape certainly did not usually sigh.

“Did you not consider”, Snape continued in a weary voice “That even if that snake was dangerously venomous, and even if it had managed to bite Mr. Finch-Fletchley, that I could have easily procured an antivenom?”

“Uh, no, sir. Sorry. There’s some very venomous snakes in Australia.” It had stuck in his memory because it was the only nature documentation Dudley had ever watched voluntarily. The gruesome descriptions of what the venoms did to people had delighted him.

“And you think young Mr. Malfoy has the skill to conjure a snake from outside Scotland?”

Harry blinked. “He doesn’t?”

“Of course not. For an untrained wizard, Serpensortia would just summon the nearest snake. In fact, usually the spell should have summoned the snake you heard when ...” Snape frowned.

“I don’t think so. The snake Malfoy summoned had a different voice ... it seemed nicer, somehow.” More like the runespoor. Or the snake he had freed in the zoo. They just wanted to be left alone and bask in the sun. Oh. “Sir? Is it normal for snakes to be inside Hogwarts? It is pretty cold here at night.”

“Indeed.” Snape’s frown deepened, but it wasn’t an annoyed frown, Harry realized with some surprise. “Snakes usually are drawn to heat and would hibernate at this time of year. Magical snakes are different, but the ashwinder likes more heat, not less ...” Snape shook his head. “I cannot shake the feeling that I somehow failed to notice something very obvious. If you, or your ... close friends come up with a theory, do tell me at once.”

Harry suspected Snape had intended to say ‘your fan club’ before thinking better of it, but the fact Snape had thought better of it was in itself a miracle.

Why would he do that? If he still wanted to be nasty, why not go through with it? Sure, Snape had explaind that he would be the one who had to find Harry if he ran away, but that danger was over now.

Why would Snape care?

Harry suspected that he, too, failed to notice something very obvious.

“Yes, sir. Can I go now?”

Snape nodded. “You may leave.”


At the portrait hole, Harry met a very out of breath Hermione, who had apparently been trying, in vain, to pronounce the password.

Harry said the password and followed Hermione inside.

She was holding her chest, still trying to catch her breath and talk at the same time.

“What is the matter?”, Percy asked pompously. “Do you need Madam Pomfrey?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Then I suggest you sit down and catch your breath.” Percy gestured to the armchair he had just gotten up from. “Unlike the gossip some other students like to share, scientific research is unlikely to go out of date anytime soon.”

Now, Ron noticed, too. “Leave her alone!”, he yelled across the room.

Harry actually had to chuckle. “It’s okay, Ron, I think he was complimenting Hermione, actually.”

Hermione sat down and actually spent some time just breathing. At last, she looked up and gestured for him to come closer. “Harry”, she whispered. “The monster in the chamber – it must be a basilisk.”

“A what?”

“It is in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!” she scolded automatically, then frowned. “I can’t believe you don’t know, but regardless, it is a kind of snake and really dangerous, we have to tell a teacher, I just don’t ... they probably won’t believe me, I mean, if Dumbledore hasn’t found out ...”

“Let’s talk in our dorm”, Harry suggested. There were lots of students in the common room.

“Yes, that’s best. But ...” Hermione raised her voice. “Percy!”

Percy, who had been arguing with one of the twins, turned around. “Yes? Are you alright, now?”

“Not quite. Please come here for a moment?”

He walked over to them. “You do look better”, he observed.

“That’s not important!” Hermione was talking quickly. “Listen, you have to make sure everyone stays inside the common room – it should be curfew soon, anyway, and there’s a monster outside – promise you won’t panic?”

Percy nodded, though he was as pale as a sheet. “I am a prefect”, he said gravely. “Of course I will not panic.”

“It must be a basilisk”, she whispered. “I can’t tell you everything I know, but – you know Slytherin was a parselmouth, and he just loved snakes.”

“No one will leave the common room on my watch.”

“If they have to leave, they should use a mirror to look around corners”, Hermione continued. “I will talk to Harry now, and then we go tell a teacher.”

“I am - ”

“The prefect, yes, and that’s why you are needed here. We will be careful, I promise.”

Harry wondered if he ought to call Ron to come with them, but then he remembered what he was about to tell Hermione and decided to test it on her, first. Ron was more impulsive.

He shut the dorm door behind them. Fortunately, no one had gone to bed yet, so it was empty. “McGonagall probably won’t listen”, he said. “But ... I told you I live with the Weasleys now?”

“Yes?”

“It is a long story, but it’s actually because of Snape. I don’t know how he did it – he visited because I got an owl about underage magic, and actually listened to my explanation, and next thing I knew he tells me to go pack my stuff and that I’m going to live with the Weasleys.” Harry decided not to tell Hermione about his running away, she’d probably disapprove. “Snape is ... well, he isn’t nice all of a sudden, but he’s been ... different. He told me to tell him if there’s any problem, and I’m sure he would listen.” As an afterthought, he added: “He knows I’m a parselmouth, too.”

Hermione nodded. “He is the head of Slytherin, though. Are you sure he doesn’t have anything to do with the heir?”

She was right. After Malfoy, he was the most obvious suspect. But ... “I don’t think he wants me dead. He’s ... I think if he was lying, he’d be nicer.”

Fortunately, Hermione understood what he meant. “Dumbledore does trust him”, she said thoughtfully. “That has to count for something. And we can always tell Percy where we are going, just to be on the safe side.”

At that moment, Ron entered the dorm. “This is the boy’s dorm!”, he complained. Probably just because he felt excluded.

“Oh, shut up. There’s more important things to worry about.” Hermione stepped between Ron and the door, as if to make sure he wouldn’t run out again. “Ron, the monster, it’s a basilisk.”

Unlike Harry, Ron obviously knew what that was. “No way!”, he exclaimed. “No one has seen one since forever!”

“Colin has”, Hermione replied darkly.

“But he’s not dead, is he? Harry you said he was only petrified!”

“Yeah, but I’m no expert on basilisks - ”

“Colin saw it through his camera, that must have protected him – but that’s not important now. We need to tell a teacher. We need to go now. Harry, I think we should use the cloak. And does one of you have a mirror?”

They didn’t, so Hermione went to the girls’ dorm to borrow one from a roommate. Without asking beforehand. “No one would ever believe I suddenly need to check my make-up”, she explained when they were all under the cloak and sneaking through the common room. “It’s not like I even own any.”

Percy had made sure no one got close to the portrait hole, so people were probably wondering why the hole opened without someone coming in, but Harry was sure they’d forget that strange incidence immediately when a teacher told them about the basilisk.