The next night, just as dinner was coming to an end, Severus was contemplating his immediate exit from the Great Hall when an owl dropped something on his cleared plate. Minerva glanced over at the single, slightly damp lined paper in front of the dreary man, letting out a snort as she took in the small glittery star-shaped sticker that was stuck to the front of the folded page next to his name: Perfessor Snap. Hogwarts. 

“Is it from the child?” Minerva asked, “How was she when you saw her?”

Severus did not answer, opting to unfold the letter with as few fingers as he possibly could instead to avoid touching too much of the light layer of grime on the surface of the folded page. Looking it over, Severus initially thought that the child was trying to create some kind of drawing, with all the scraggly lines. But as he peered closer, he was horrified to find the most poorly written letters he had ever seen. 

What should have been a quick glance at the page turned into an entire 10 minutes of trying to decipher what she was trying to say in her short letter. 

Dear Perfesor Snap,

Do u member me? It is Harriet Potter. I hope you are okay at Hogwarts. Was the principil mad that you skipped school? Thank you for fixing my hands, they don’t hurt no more!! I membered to rite. I hop you rite back. 

Do you like the star stikker? It was sparkly. I got the stikker from Mr. Abe the nurse. He is nice.

Have you seen a dragon before? Are they red? I have a red pencil. I hid it under my bed.

I hope you rite back to me. Aunt petunia was sad and angry when you came but I do not think it was your folt. 

Please rite back.

Harriet Lily Potter

“What does it say, Severus?”

“It says nonsense,” he murmured. Minerva glanced over his shoulder at the letter, plucking it out of his hands and letting out a loud howl that had heads turning to stare at the duo who were trying their best to read the poorly written letter. Lupin glanced over to see what the commotion was about, eyes lighting up whilst reading the letter along with Minerva. 

“There is no possible way you can understand what she is saying,” Severus accused, when the other man let out a chuckle at something she had written.

Minerva heeded him little mind, “It takes a second, it certainly isn’t the worst writing I’ve seen. Most muggle-borns who have never held a quill have the same issue.” 

Severus did not bother reminding her that Harriet was not writing this with a quill. 

“She seems quite spritely,” Lupin remarked warmly, “Hagrid would love to show her some dragons, I’m sure.”

Hagrid looked over at the call of his name, the large lumbering man leaning over to see what all the commotion was about. He tried to mouth out the words of the letter slowly, before giving up and just nodding in agreement. 

Finally having enough, he scoffed and accio’d the letter back into his fingers in order to tuck it into his robes, understanding the gist of the letter well enough to not torture himself with looking at it again. Standing up and walking out of the Hall just as the bell chimed, leaving the pensive older woman behind in her chair. 

“You should write back, Professor Snap!” Lupin called and Minerva howled in the back once again, much to the ire of the Slytherin head. Severus tensed as his Slytherins turned to look at him curiously, but a quick glare had them scurrying out urgently without a single question asked. He sulked his way to his quarters and dropped the letter on his bedside table, where he planned on letting it remain until he felt ready to answer. 

Severus waited until the end of the week to respond, having ignored the wrinkled letter glaring at him from the desk in his office. Pulling out a piece of parchment, he briskly wrote back a short message.

Ms. Potter,

I would like to begin by stating that your written skills are less than stellar. I had an abysmal time trying to decipher what you could have possibly been trying to say with that atrocious letter of yours. 

The headmaster of Hogwarts was the one who instructed me to come get you. Trust me when I say that I was less than interested to do so of my own volition.

For the future, please refrain from writing unless you have actually something valuable to say- 

“Severus!” a kind, giddy voice announced as his door flung open, “Minerva told me that Harriet has been writing to you.”

The other man scowled at the abrupt entrance, putting down his quill and glaring at the jubilant man, “Why not write to her yourself?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve come to ask. I would love to receive letters from her as well. In fact, I let all the teachers know and they’re all ready to speak to her! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before-” 

“Her aunt had a hard enough time seeing me that one time, I severely doubt she would be open to piles of letters on her front door from everyone in the Wizarding World,” he grumbled. Dumbledore’s excitement dimmed slightly at that.

“How was she? When you saw her, did she seem alright?”

Severus thought back to her pathetic clothing and her inability to maintain eye contact with her family and failingly forced himself to not think about the lashes on her hands and those that he could see on her skin. He thought about her exhaustion, the indications of malnutrition and her sheer sadness at his departure and he know exactly how she was.

“She was fine. As fine as she could be in the company of a golum,” he stated plainly, succeeding at not letting any emotion infiltrate his voice from years of practice. He knew the formula. Brief statements, followed by his perpetual air of snarl and that was enough to mask his lies from his truth. He used the method almost every day when he worked for the Dark Lord and then again when he deferred and worked for the right side. He knew it worked.

Severus met his old mentor’s now sad eyes and realized that while he succeeded in fooling everyone else with his act, he could never fool his headmaster with his lies, “How terrible is it really?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Severus almost considered not answering. But he eventually relented as bright blue eyes stared into his black ones with genuine earnestness and sadness, “I am not entirely certain but… she was less than happy. I do not know how much of it was from the actual treatment of her and how much was from her own adolescent angst.”

“Did she seem to be the dramatic type?” 

Severus avoided the question. Severus would be the last to admit that Harriet’s demeanour was anything but exaggerated childish fervour, “I will include an anecdote that she write to you also. Now, if you could kindly leave the office.”

The headmaster ignored him, instead eying the letter on his desk curiously, a small smile bubbling over his face when he regarded the small sticker on the front of the folded letter. He picked up the letter to read over it briefly before asking. “Should you and Minerva do a check up on her?” 

Severus bristled at the notion but nodded frigidly, “Minerva can do whatever she wishes, I already did what I had to do.”

“It seems like she would like to see you again as well,” he offered, referring to the letter, “It wouldn’t hurt to see her again, now would it?”

Thinking back to the familiar, green eyes, he tried to push away the memories of the woman from whom they were inherited, “it would hurt more than you think,” he murmured bitterly. Dumbledore, understanding that he not ask about it any further, changed the subject.

“Consider it, Severus. She would appreciate the gesture,” he suggested, putting down the letter on his desk. Starting towards the door, Dumbledore paused only for a moment longer to add sadly, “I hold the predilection that kindnesses may be something she may not be privy to,” before exiting the office. 

Severus turned back to his letter and reading it over before spelling away what he had started on. He supposed it did not inconvenience him too greatly to reply to her letters on occasion. There logically was no need to forbid her from writing, especially when he offered in the first place. He picked up his quill again, and started again:

Ms. Potter,

I am pleased to hear that you are no longer hurt. 

Professor Dumbledore, the Hogwarts headmaster, was not upset that I “skipped school.” He was the one that instructed me to come get you. In fact, your future headmaster has been nagging to me that you write to him as well, so you may make the effort to do so if you wish. 

As for the dragons, I have seen plenty of dragons and yes, some of them are red. 

Let your Aunt know what we are looking to come monitor your living conditions next week.

You may write if you need something until then. Preferably on lighter coloured paper. 

Professor Severus Snape.

Later, that same day to Severus’ surprise, the owl – Livinia – returned with another letter. 

The yellow construction paper fell to the floor from the mail slot in his office door, and he glared at it for a second. Finally summoning it towards his seat, he found that this time, his name was written correctly on the outside and, to his relief, the yellow paper with the red marker on the inside was vastly easier to read. The writing itself was still terribly underdeveloped for someone of her age but it was no longer borderline illegible nonetheless. 

Plastered to the bottom of the page, he discovered a crudely drawn and cut out paper star, which was scribbled on with a fading sparkly, green gel pen. 

He ran his eyes over the page once and 

Dear Professor Snape,

I told aunt petunia that you would come and she yelled at me and told me to tell you not to come.

But in seecret, I want you to come. Dont tell her I said that when you come. 

Can you show me a dragon 1 day? I want to see a red 1.

I gave you a star, I made in at reecus and I hope you like it. 

Thank you for riting writing back. I hop I see you soon.

Harriet Lily Potter

Finding himself smiling wryly, Severus immediately wiped the expression from his face and tossed the letter beside the other one in the uppermost drawer in his desk, willing himself to forget it. 

The subsequent week saw no more letters exchanged between the two of them, however, Dumbledore would waltz into his office the eve of their departure back into the Dursley neighbourhood proudly holding a letter between his fingers. It was written on green construction paper and with a blue marker, and Severus had do wonder if the older man was actually able to read it at all considering how illegible it was or if he was only excited to receive the letter from the girl wonder in the first place. 

Certainly not helpful to its illegibility was her poor spelling and indecipherable letters. If Severus did not know the headmaster as well as he did, he would have been surprised at how excited he was for the letter. Had it been him, he would have readily tossed it out without a second thought. However, Severus instead did take a good while to decipher what she had written, and the general message seemed to have been on how excited she was to see Severus again and that she had found a heart-shaped pebble on the playground. 

“I think she likes me, Severus!” Dumbledore exclaimed. Severus didn’t bother to remind him that the child didn’t know a single thing of him beyond his name and his occupation. Instead, he packed away a fresh tube of dittany for tomorrow and chose to remain silent as the headmaster went on and on about the ten, short, ill-written sentences that the Potter child had gifted him with. 

The next afternoon, after classes ended, Lupin waltzed into his office, dressed to the nines in his muggle clothing. Severus gave him a confused look and the werewolf returned it with an apologetic one, “Professor McGonagall found two students trying to sneak into the Forbidden Forest past curfew last night. She is on detention duty.”

“And Dumbledore asked you to come supervise me instead,” he finished in annoyance, pulling on his muggle coat before casting another impermeability charm over his being. He vaguely pushed away the memory of small fingers running curiously over his miraculously dry shoulder. He turned back to his potions bench, rifling through the many jars until he found the tube of dittany as well as a tin of bruising balm. Finding what he was looking for, he stuffed it into his potions arsenal pouch before shoving it into his coat pocket.

“He asked me to provide you with backup should you need it,” Lupin clarified, interrupting his internal conflict. He conjured a chocolate bar to stuff into his coat pocket as he added, “Besides, I would like to see what dear old Tuney is up to these days as well.” 

Severus relented, despite his very core tempting him to refute, marching alongside his colleague to Dumbledore’s office. Stepping into the floo together, Lupin drew a healthy clutch of floo powder into his hands and announced Arabella Figg’s residence as clearly as he could.

Arabella squawked as they landed, dropping the cane that she was holding. Recognizing the duo, she finally calmed down enough to babble out a welcome as she retrieved her fallen staff. She stood quickly, ignoring the rather audible crack in her back as she did.  

“Mr. Snape! Mr. Lupin!” She pulled one of her cats into her arms, opening up a small square of her cat-infested couch, “Please sit. What brings you here today?”

Severus took a deliberate step away from the offered spot, but Arabella didn’t seem to notice. Lupin opened his mouth to try and respond, however realization dawned upon the older woman, “Is the child alright?”

“We’re just checking in,” Severus answered snippily.

Arabella nodded thoughtfully, “I saw her the other day, sitting in the front yard looking worse for wear until Mr. Dursley called her in.”

He pulled back a gaudy, cream-coloured lace curtain to peer through frost covered glass where the streets were predictably covered in sheets of snow. He wondered what could have happened that persuaded her to sit on frost-covered ground as opposed to the warmth of the house. 

“She was sitting outside in the snow?” Lupin asked softly, pointedly avoiding the patronizing kneazle eyes that infested the room. A grey-coloured creature rested knowingly on the couch, fixing the werewolf with a particularly judgemental glare. The old woman seemed to notice the professor’s uncomfortableness and shuffled over to the blue-eyed animal, clicking her tongue softly in punishment. The kneazle burrowed itself into Stroking the smoky fur softly, she hummed thoughtfully as she answered.

“Hecuba is guarded around lycanthropes, Mr. Lupin. She means well.”

“Call me Remus, please,” Remus responded with a painful smile, attempting to maintain decorum while gripping the end of his cane more firmly. 

Severus repeated the other man’s question, prompting Figg to continue her dutiful explanation, “The girl was a little worse for wear,” she started, deflating as she continued, “Nothing unusual though. She never seems particularly happy.”

Hecuba purred huffily and hopped out of the woman’s arms, disappearing out of the den and into a different room. Following her example, Severus made a beeline to the exit of the house. 

“Mr. Snape,” Figg called. He turned back to the eccentric woman, just as Lupin also crossed the threshold of the cat-infested den, “Are you and Lupin considering removing her from the home.”

“We will see if that is necessary, Ms. Figg,” Remus answered for him. Figg went to take hold of another one of her kneazles, who nuzzled the underside of her chin fondly.

“I think you may see that it is,” she told them thoughtfully, “They really are the worst kinds of muggles.”

Snape and Remus exited the house silently and made the short trek to the Dursley residence without a word exchanged between them.