It had taken only a week to hear back from Beauxbatons after he sent the letter asking if there were any books on muggle electricity that they had. While much faster in responsiveness than what could be expected from Ilvermorny, the results had been equally as disheartening as it had been searching through the library of Hogwarts. Outside of a few mentions contained within the category of “études moldues” as they called it, there was no further information regarding the topic.

In fact, the librarian of Beauxbatons seemed to take great offense in the sheer idea of having anything as outlandishly untraditional as a modern muggle device contained within the walls of their fine, upstanding establishment.

“Bloody frogs,” Remus muttered as he read the offered letter with disdain before throwing it into the fire. “Calling us uncultured for asking for information for research purposes. The nerve!”

“S-so where d-d-do we g-go from here?” Elias asked softly as he curled up on the armchair which had replaced the hard wooden chair he had previously occupied in the classroom. It wasn’t a perfect transfiguration by any stretch of the imagination, but he was certain Professor McGonagall would have been proud of his attempt anyways. Especially since he had butchered the pronunciation of the spell no less than a dozen times and even set the chair on fire once before finally managing to get the spell out properly. The awkwardly shaped, overly stuffed, blue denim chair was horribly lopsided, but it was his nonetheless.

“I believe we must wait for either my application for a Portkey to Edinburgh to be approved so we can go to the muggle library there or our letter to Durmstrang to be responded to,” Remus said with a wry smile as the armchair across from him rocked rather ominously on its misshapen legs.

“C-c-can we n-n-n-not P-p-p-p-portkey?” Elias said softly, picking at the skin around his fingernails nervously. “P-p-please?”

Remus sighed rather exasperatedly. He knew it wasn’t Elias’s fault for forgetting this conversation, but it was frustrating to have the same conversation repeatedly whenever the possibility of using a portkey was brought up. It didn’t matter how many times they had this conversation, Elias always tried to bow out of using one. It almost seemed as though he was purposefully striking the idea of using one from his mind. Be it out of fear or anxiety, Remus would never know, but explaining the same thing over and over again was grinding his nerves. If Elias struggled so with his classwork, Remus would be a bit more understanding, but this was different.

What was so bad about using a Portkey anyways? They were a safe way to travel and had been in use for more than four centuries. True, they were uncomfortable to use, but nowhere near as bad as apparation and significantly less dizzying than using the floo.

“Elias, it would be much easier for us to Portkey there rather than trying to take muggle transit or even using the floo,” Remus said, rubbing the side of his nose in frustration. “Even if you do feel ill after using it, we will have made it to our arrival destination with plenty of time to spare and would have time to allow you to re-acclimate. We wouldn’t have to walk nearly as far nor would we have to worry about going through the wrong fireplace.”

Elias shuddered as he tried to convince himself that he would be fine travelling by Portkey. He would be with Remus the entire time. The portkey wouldn’t be switched. He wouldn’t end up in the graveyard again. Voldemort wouldn’t be there waiting for him. Remus wouldn’t die like Cedric had. “Th-that’s n-n-n-not why. ‘M n-n-n-not sc-cared of g-g-getting sick. I g-get s-s-sick all the t-t-time.”

Remus frowned as he looked the teen across from him over. Severus had never told him of any of Elias’s past, but something was obviously bothering him, more than simply feeling sick due to using a Portkey. Something must have happened to him or someone close to him when using one. He had been remarkably open to trying new things and going new places, but the one hang up he had was using a Portkey. There had to be a reason for it.

“Elias, what happened?” Remus said softly, watching as the remaining color drained from the boy’s face before he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“I h-h-had … a f-friend,” Elias said in a voice so quiet Remus was unsure if he had heard it at all. “He … he a-and I u-used one a-a-and it h-had b-b-been m-manip-p-pulat-ted and w-we d-d-didn’t go where w-we thought w-we were g-g-going and...h-he d-d-died.”

Remus sat back in stunned disbelief. Who would do such a thing? Why hadn’t that made the news? An event such as that should have been newspaper worthy, even if it happened internationally. Portkey creation was extremely regulated and the manipulation of one was highly frowned upon, if not outright illegal. For a child to be injured or killed using one… it just made his skin crawl.

“I c-c-couldn’t d-d-do anything!” Elias said, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve and sniffing heavily. “I c-c-couldn’t s-s-stop him!”

“I’m sorry, Elias,” Remus said softly, coming around the desk and handing him a handkerchief from his pocket. “I didn’t know. Did that happen recently?”

Elias nodded and gnawed at a loose piece of skin on his thumb. He wasn’t sure when he had picked up the habit, but he knew Severus would notice he had been picking again. It didn’t hurt per se, but it was always obvious when he was having a stressful day. And this conversation was certainly stressful. He didn’t want to talk about Cedric and have to skirt around the truth, but he also did not want to take a Portkey anywhere.

“Does your father know?” Remus asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“He knows s-s-some,” Elias muttered as he wiped his nose with the offered handkerchief. “I d-d-don’t want t-t-t-to talk ab-bout it.”

“It does help to talk about things like this though,” Remus said, removing a slab of chocolate from his coat and passing a small sliver over. A bit of chocolate would do Elias some good, though it was dangerous for him to try eating without his potion.

“N-n-not now,” Elias insisted firmly, though his voice still shook. He took the piece of chocolate gratefully and nibbled on the corner of it, trying to resist the urge to shove the entire chunk into his mouth. It had been too long since he had last had chocolate of any kind. “C-can we p-p-please not P-portkey?”

“Alright,” Remus finally acquiesced. “Though we will need some way to get there that won’t require us staying out overnight. I doubt your father would approve of you being away that long.”

Elias snorted at the thought of how mad Severus would be if they disappeared for several days and promptly choked on the small bite of chocolate in his mouth. Coughing hard, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of an irate Snape going into a muggle library dressed in mundane clothes. It would certainly be a memorable experience, to say the least.

“We c-c-could take the Kn-n-night b-bus?” Elias offered, clearing his throat and coughing once more.

“Possibly,” Remus said, tapping a finger on his lips. “We would have to be awake quite early, however. They only operate at night and in the early morning.”

Elias nodded. If there was an option to avoid using a Portkey, he’d take it. “W-would our l-l-library be ab-ble to do an exchange?”

“I … I honestly don’t know,” Remus said, frowning. “I don’t think so as it would be rather difficult to explain without breaking the statute of secrecy. I suppose we could ask Madam Pince if it would be possible. I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t know either. I don’t know if anyone has ever asked for a library exchange between Hogwarts and a muggle library, though I may be wrong.”

“I’ll a-ask M-madam P-p-p-pince tom-m-morrow.”

---

Ron sighed as he dipped his rag into a bucket of polish and began scrubbing away at the golden trophy in front of him. At least this time he wasn’t vomiting slugs all over the school trophies. That slug juice had been so repulsive and difficult to get off of the trophies and badges that he was honestly surprised there weren’t still marks left from that detention three years ago. He was certain he hadn’t managed to get all of the slime off of the more heavily detailed badges.

As much as he disagreed with the detention he had gotten at the time for standing up for Hermione and subsequently giving himself the ‘slug-vomits,’ he couldn’t say he felt the same about this detention. He had trusted Hermione’s story about what happened over the summer, about how much of a muggle hater Snape’s son was, and believed the boy was going to be dark like his father (who they admittedly had very shaky evidence regarding to whom he gave his allegiance.) He had thought Elias was dark, or at least leaning towards the dark side, but the more he thought about it, the more he questioned this judgement.

Elias was quite reserved, but he didn’t exude the same feeling of darkness that the other Slytherins gave off. He honestly acted far more like a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin, what with his nose being buried constantly in a book. He didn’t seem as though he were shy, the fact he was willing to sit amongst the students rather than just up at the head table proved that. If anything he seemed rather… lonely. Almost as if he had no friends other than the few Slytherins who hung around Malfoy or as if he were missing someone.

Ron could sympathize with this feeling. True, he and Harry had had their disagreements, but this was the longest he had been without his best friend. Even the summer where their letters were being intercepted had ended. Now they were a solid fortnight into the school year and there was still no word on Harry’s whereabouts. Ron and Hermione had tried to ask Dumbledore, only to be told there was no information but that even Voldemort was still in the dark as to where he was.

This was not the comforting information Ron had hoped for.

If only the twins had been able to apparate to Privet Drive before he disappeared, maybe they could have saved him. Or if they had managed to convince Dumbledore not to send Harry back to the Dursley’s. Or if Harry had just run away like he was always talking about doing. Or if Dumbledore had simply not sent Harry to the Dursley’s in the first place.

But something was weighing on Ron’s mind. It was something that had bothered him since they had first seen Snape’s son. Where had this new boy come from, and why did he show up after Harry disappeared. True, his mum had vouched for Snape in saying that she knew about him having a son, but then why had no one ever mentioned it before. It was as if everyone was under a confundus and went from not speaking of this child to knowing this boy existed overnight.

And then there was what Elias himself had said. “Why would you think I hate muggles, Ron? I was raised with them. And I’m not a pureblood. You know that.”

There were many things about that statement which kept bothering Ron. First, how did Elias know his name? They had never been introduced that he knew of, yet Elias knew his name even while seeming to be extremely confused about what was going on at the time. He didn’t seem to have a very good memory, but he could remember Ron’s name. He couldn’t remember which of the bottles on Snape’s desk he had looked at, but could remember the name of someone he had never met. It was suspicious, to say the least.

And then there was the fact he said he was raised with muggles. That was something which, while Ron admitted it was possible, seemed rather unlikely for Snape’s son. The head of Slytherin house, the darkest and purest house in Hogwarts, having a son raised in the muggle world seemed so ludicrously ridiculous that Ron had to resist the urge to scoff every time he even thought of it. But if he had been raised by muggles, it would certainly explain how he ended up in a muggle hospital over the summer.

‘You know this.’

This phrase was what really bothered Ron, however. He had never met Elias. He had never spent time with him. He had never even had the desire to get to know the boy’s father, let alone probe into his private life and find out if he had a son. How in the world was Ron supposed to know this? But he seemed so certain that Ron knew this. That Ron was aware of his blood status and living arrangements.

As much as he didn’t want to rush to judgement like what Hermione had done, he also couldn’t help but ponder the idea that maybe there was something more going on with Elias Snape than what they thought. Maybe he had just appeared out of nowhere over the summer and was really good at confundus spells. Or maybe he was someone trying to hide, though why anyone would want to hide with Snape of all people was beyond him.

Or… perhaps… and this was a long shot in Ron’s mind… Elias was Harry.

It made sense if he thought about it, but he didn’t want to think of what the rationale would be for why Harry would be hiding with Snape. Not even with Snape, as a Snape. But if something had happened to him over the summer, it would make sense for him to hide in the least obvious of places. That was a really big ‘if’ though.

With another sigh, Ron dipped his rag into the polish once more and moved on to the Quidditch trophies. He was supposed to be celebrating the return of Quidditch to the school this year with his best friend. They were supposed to be discussing if Ron was going to be good enough for the now open spot of Keeper. They were supposed to be getting into trouble together and annoying Hermione by avoiding homework. They were supposed to be making up ludacris dream journals for Divination.

While it seemed far fetched, the idea that Elias was Harry brought him some comfort. If Harry was ill and that’s why he was hiding, at least Snape seemed to care about him. If Harry was incognito for some reason, he chose a good place to hide. No matter how much he missed his friend, if Harry was safe, that’s what was important.

---

“Good evening, sir,” Draco said as his potions master opened the door to his personal quarters. “I’m sorry to bother you, but is Elias busy?”

With some hesitation, Severus stepped back and allowed his student to enter his personal quarters. This would be the first time in his entire teaching career that he had allowed a student into his quarters, though Draco hadn’t come to him as a student, but rather as his son’s friend. It still felt strange to him, however, to allow the teen in despite him having spent a reasonable amount of time over the summer in a similar situation. He still saw his quarters as his personal quarters, however, and not as a place for his students to be.

“He’s in his room,” Severus said, motioning towards the short hallway. “Second door on the left.”

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said respectfully. “Is he feeling up for a visitor?”

“I would hope so,” Severus said with a snort. “He just finished raiding the fridge in search of ‘something worth snacking on.’”

Draco smirked, at least Elias was feeling up to eating. It seemed as though he were now trying to make up for his summer’s worth of not eating properly due to being with the muggles. Not that that was a bad thing, anything to keep him away from needing to remain on the nutrient potions was good.

Knocking on Elias’s door, Draco was surprised when there was a mild scuffle before the rather harried boy answered the door while looking around suspiciously. He looked as though he had been up to something, though Draco wasn’t entirely sure what Elias could have possibly been getting into with the sheer number of observation spells which were placed on him.

“D-draco?!” Elias exclaimed in surprise. “Wh-what are you d-doing here?”

“Hello to you too,” Draco drawled. “What are you doing?”

Elias blushed bright red and muttered something under his breath before opening the door to his friend and allowing him into his room. It wasn’t much larger than his room on Spinner’s End, but this one looked far more like it was made to fit the boy who was living within its walls. The bed was the same size as the beds in the dorm rooms, but had far more pillows and blankets on it than any of the beds in the dorms ever did. One wall was a rather well stocked bookshelf while the others were painted a dark orange and covered in various diagrams and Quidditch posters of various teams from around Europe.

A rather worn wooden desk sat opposite the bed and had a number of well labeled folders sitting on it as well as an empty potions vial, a half eaten apple, a couple of nails, two potatoes, and a lemon.

“Elias, why do you have a raw potato and a lemon on your desk?” Draco laughed as he picked up the lemon and rubbed it on his shirt sleeve.

“I’m t-t-trying s-someth-thing,” Elias mumbled. “I f-f-found a b-b-book on ch-channelling m-m-m-magic and …”

“I’ve never heard of using a lemon to channel magic,” Draco said, returning the lemon to its spot on the desk with a laugh. “Nor a potato. How long were you in Eastern Europe, anyways?”

“Prat!”

Draco dodged the pillow which was thrown his direction easily. “Why are you always able to insult me without stuttering?”

“S-skill,” Elias said, taking a bite out of his apple and frowning at the collection of foods on his desk. “N-no, c-c-copper. M-muggles use it f-f-for wires, w-wizards use it f-for m-m-magical f-focus r-r-rods and t-to increase m-magical p-pot-tential.”

Draco frowned but nodded. His father had a rather large collection of copper artifacts which had been handed down through his family. Each of them was designed to do a different task and contained different focus stones, but Elias was right, all of them were made to increase magical potential by funnelling energy from one wizard to another. This wasn’t uncommon knowledge though and still didn’t explain the produce collection sitting on Elias’s desk.

“Ok, but why the potato?”

“It’s a m-m-muggle child-dren’s exp-p-periment,” Elias said by way of an explanation as he pulled out two short lengths of copper wire from a battery powered clock he had had a house-elf get for him from Filch’s collection of confiscated objects. The batteries had been removed, but the wiring inside the clock was still intact.

A bit of finagling later and he had managed to connect the wires to the potato in a rather confusing pattern leaving Draco confused but intrigued. What was he trying to accomplish with two wired potatoes? What kinds of strange things were the muggles teaching their children? And what a waste of the element!

Carefully, Elias attached the wires back to the clock and held his breath. Though faint, the clock face had begun to glow and show numbers for the first time in what was likely years. Elias quickly disconnected the clock and smiled at Draco who was looking rather stunned at the contraption in front of him.

“What was that?” Draco demanded, looking at the potatoes as though they were going to suddenly sprout legs. “What did you do?”

“I m-made a p-p-potato b-battery,” Elias said with a smile as he put the clock face back in its housing.

“You knew it would do that?” Draco said, still shocked. “You knew it would glow?!”

Elias nodded, then frowned while looking at the two still connected potatoes. While a good proof of concept, the potato battery wasn’t the best experiment as he knew what it would do. He knew the clock would work, the only thing that this proved was that electrical items could work on Hogwarts grounds. But that wasn’t what he wanted to test.

Reaching out, he grabbed both ends of the wires and held them between two fingers. Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t feel anything different. The potatoes weren’t going to be enough to generate a decent charge, or at least one strong enough that he was going to be able to feel it. Would he be able to feel it anyways?

“C-can you hold-d these w-w-wires l-like this?” Elias asked, looking at Draco. “I w-want to s-s-see som-mething.”

Warily, Draco took the offered bits of wire in his fingers as well, fully expecting something strange to start happening to him. He had never held a wire before and had only briefly used one of his family heirlooms when he was younger. Whatever he was expecting, he was rather disappointed when nothing happened. There were no sparks, glowing, or anything strange which occurred.

“A-anything?”

Draco shook his head and dropped the ends of the wires on the desk. “What are you trying to do, anyways?”

“I j-just want t-t-to see what w-w-would happen if... “ Elias paused as a thought went through his head. Quickly pulling a quill out of it’s holder on his desk and placing it on the ground front of the potatoes, he stood back and nodded before casting a spell on the wall to add height measurements to it. “L-levitate the f-feather.”

“Why?” Draco said, though he took out his wand anyways.

“P-please?”

“Fine,” Draco mumbled, flicking his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

The feather immediately shot into the air and hovered near eye level. As soon as its height was stable, Elias grabbed a second quill and made a mark on the wall.

“I don’t think your dad will like you drawing on the wall very much,” Draco said, releasing the spell and allowing the feather to float back to the floor.

“D-d-do it again,” Elias said, preparing to make another mark on the wall.

“Fine,” Draco said, rolling his eyes and casting the spell again. “Happy?”

Elias nodded as he marked the same spot on the wall again. “D-do it again. J-j-just once m-m-m-more.”

Draco sighed and placed the quill back on the floor before levitating it once more. “You know I came over here to see you, not to be a part of some wild experiment?”

“I-its for school,” Elias said by way of an explanation. “N-now hold the w-w-wires and do it again.”

Draco sighed and pinched the wires attached to the potatoes as he had before. “This isn’t how you use a focusing device, Elias.”

Elias raised an eyebrow before looking at the quill which was once again on the ground. If anything, this would be a proof of concept. That’s all it was, a proof of concept. There was nothing else to go on, there was no other research he had found, he needed something to work with and if a potato battery would give him the data he needed, a potato battery it would have to be.

Draco rolled his eyes and once more levitated the quill. He had been hoping to do something unrelated to school with his friend, but, instead, here he was practicing a first year spell over and over while holding two copper wires attached to several potatoes. What in the world had his life come to?

“Again,” Elias muttered, almost reverently as Draco lowered the quill back to the ground.

“What?” Draco asked, wondering what had come over his friend.

“D-do it again,” Elias snapped while staring at the marks on the wall. “P-please.”

“Can we play chess or something after? Or, I don’t know, go on a walk or even have a cuppa?” Draco sighed, exasperatedly levitating the feather once more. “Why are we doing this anyways? I don’t think a potato is going to help me focus my magic, no matter how much you want to believe it.”

“‘S n-not f-f-focusing it,” Elias said, marking the wall once more. “It’s g-g-giving you m-more p-p-p-power.”

Draco, who had turned to the bookshelves in hopes of finding Elias’s chess set on one of the shelves, froze and looked up in shock. “Come again?”

“Y-you w-w-weren’t even f-f-focusing on the sp-pell b-by the end and l-look!” Elias said in awe, staring at the two marks on the wall. “The q-quill went higher. Only a l-l-little, but it’s h-higher.”