Severus stares down at the copy of Harry Potter’s acceptance letter, or rather, Harry Potter’s first acceptance letter. Minerva keeps copies of all the automatically addressed acceptance letters on hand for future reference, though clearly, she did not look through them all when sending them out.

Not that anyone can blame her, there are hundreds of letters to send out every year and she has plenty of other responsibilities to deal with on top of that one. She had only begun to review Harry Potter’s letters when several started going out every day and not one was answered.

The first thing she had noticed was that the address for Harry kept changing. Upon further investigation, she found that the first letter was addressed to a cupboard under the stairs in Surrey. Any letters after that weren’t addressed to Surrey at all.

“We need to find him, obviously,” Albus is saying, though Severus struggles to focus on his words. “It can’t be too hard, we have his last known address right here in our hands.”

“But Albus,” Minerva says, “hundreds of these letters are going out every day, and the address changes constantly. He is clearly on the move. I don’t know how we could possibly locate him.”

“We simply must have faith. He has remained in London. All the heads of houses and myself will be looking for him, five individuals highly skilled in magic scouting for one untrained child, we’re sure to find him by nightfall.”

Minerva sighs but stands. “We better. He’s been out there on his own for weeks, and I… I don’t even want to think about what he might have gotten into by now. He’s just a little boy.”

“I know, Minerva, I know,” Albus says, closing his eyes. “Please just- retrieve Filius and Pomona. We’ll separate ourselves amongst the city. We will find him.”

Minerva nods her assent and exists, leaving Severus and Albus alone. While the latter fiddles with his trinkets and prepares to leave, Severus struggles to fight off the numbness that has been clouding his senses.

“A cupboard, Headmaster?” Severus manages to rasp out after a few moments, mouth seemingly working of its own violation. “A cupboard?”

Albus pauses in his actions, though he does not look at Severus. “I didn’t know. Severus, I truly didn’t…”

“I didn’t say that you did,” Severus points out absently. “But it does bring about the question of how could you have possibly not known? I know you keep tabs on him.”

“I am not without flaws.”

“Ten years. You told me that you’d keep him safe. You couldn’t do it for her, but for him… You promised.”

Albus turns his back to Severus. “I can’t change the past, I can only… Please, Severus. We- I, I need your help to find him.”

“You never have to ask,” Severus says quietly

Unsurprisingly, they do not find Harry by night.

***

Severus often looks back on the horror that was his childhood fondly. His home life was terrible, and his time spent at Hogwarts wasn’t much better, but the summer afternoons spent with his best friend spoiled by nothing but the occasional appearance of her brat of an older sister were nothing short of the best days of his life.

He’d known then that they were something precious and valuable, but he perhaps hadn’t realized just how so until they were no more. One word was all it took to lose everything that had mattered to him, though if he is honest with himself, he knows that it was about more than just the word.

No matter how much he thinks back on it and wishes that he could change it, however, the past is the past. The present is the present, and presently Severus is walking along some fairly sketchy streets in London in the wee hours of the morning, in search of the last living remnants of his childhood friend in the form of her son. He doesn’t even know exactly what the boy looks like, just a vague description of black hair and green eyes obscured by glasses.

There are 6.7 million people living in London.

He’s hoping that it’s early enough that Harry will still be at the last address stated on the letters, Behind the Dumpsters, Plender Street, Camden Town, London. He sort of hopes that he’s still there, anyway.

It’s the slightly chilly morning air that makes Severus wonder if Harry has a coat, which brings on the thought of what other things he must be lacking. What kind of condition would he find the boy in, if he even found him at all?

It’s a depressing train of thought that he tries to shake away from his mind.

There is no one behind the dumpsters, but there is a small boy leaning up against the corner of the building wall, watching the sun rise over the city. Severus feels his breath hitch a bit in his throat as he observes him. His unruly hair is overly long and his clothing is tattered and dirty. Severus can’t see his face with his back turned to him, but imagines that his face must look tired.

He approaches slowly, trying not to appear to be a threat. The boy is immediately on his guard, shoulders tensing though still not running away.

“Are you alright, child?” Severus questions softly.

“What’s it to you?” the boy bites, dirty hair hanging over his hunched face. Severus can actually feel the magical energy coming off from him in waves.

“You’re Harry Potter, are you not?”

The boy only stiffens further, if that were possible. “What if I am?”

Severus crosses his arms against his chest. “We’ve been attempting to contact you for quite a while now.”

“Yeah? And who’s ‘we’?” he asks, finally lifting his head to face him and Severus is momentarily winded by the sight of brilliant green eyes on such an exhausted-looking face. He uncrosses his arms, attempting to soften his stance. He feels as though he is speaking to a wounded stray animal.

“Hogwarts.”

“Hog what?”

Severus frowns. “Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. Surely you’ve heard of it?”

The boy he presumes to be Harry narrows his eyes. “Dude. Are you being for real right now? I know that I’m a kid and all, but magic tricks died out in like grade 1. How old do you think I am, exactly?”

So Harry Potter doesn’t know that he’s a wizard or even that magic exists. The idea probably shouldn’t surprise Severus as much as it does. “You turned eleven years old two weeks ago. I would imagine that enough strange things have occurred around you by now to be at least a little bit suspicious concerning the cause of these things. Odd things such as owls carrying letters, perhaps?”

Harry is definitely on his guard now. “How… how do you know all of that?”

“I know many things,” Severus says, and instantly regrets how ominous it must sound to a child.

“What do you want from me?” Harry asks, backing away a couple of steps. Severus holds his hands out.

“I only want to talk.”

“You’re a middle-aged man who just wants to talk,” he makes air quotes with his fingers to emphasize his words, “to a kid. That’s not weird or creepy at all.”

Severus blows out a heavy breath. “Fine. What if I buy you breakfast somewhere? You seem like you could use a meal.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Call it a deal. You eat, I speak, you listen. Perhaps you’ll even speak as well and I will listen. Sound fair?”

Harry hesitates. “Sounds like a trap to me, but… whatever.”

Severus nods. “What do you want? I don’t get out to London very often but I suppose there are some nice restaurants around here. We’re standing next to one right now, or I noticed a diner across the street-”

“McDonald’s,” Harry cuts him off. “I want McDonald’s.”

Severus wrinkles his nose but doesn’t argue.

***

The place is repulsive. Between the blindingly bright colors, sticky countertops, and the less than stellar teenaged staff, Severus simply can’t find the appeal. Not to mention the horribly greasy food Harry seems to think is the highest of dining. Severus rather felt that it was a heart attack waiting to happen.

The boy had ordered far more than the acceptable serving size for a child or a full-grown adult, glancing suspiciously at Severus as he did so, clearly attempting to test his patience. Severus hadn’t stopped him though, so now here they sat with a tray full of unhealthy food that he himself definitely wouldn’t be touching anytime soon and Harry looking guilty.

Severus doesn’t let him dwell on it as he takes an envelope out of his coat pocket and holds it out for him.

“Are you an owl now?” Harry asks, not taking the letter.

Severus raises his eyebrows before setting it down on the table. “Why haven’t you accepted any of your letters?”

Harry fiddles with a brown paper napkin as he sits in the booth on his knees. It’s a childish seating position that serves to remind Severus that a child is exactly what he is dealing with.

“I wanted to read the first one,” he says after a moment. “My relatives took it away before I could get around to it, though.”

“You’ve had ample opportunity since then, haven’t you? Several hundred of these letters have been sent.”

“That’s the thing,” says Harry, “it’s more than a little bit creepy. I mean- just imagine for a second that you’re a regular kid going to a regular school and one regular day some weird letter shows up. You never get to read said weird letter, but it’s the reason your family kicks you out, yeah? Not just kick you out, but drop you off at some park in London...”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Then these weird birds with weird letters keep following you around. They’ve brought so much bad luck thus far, I’m not sure it would be such a great idea to just blindly take the letter from them.

“Besides,” he adjusts his position so that he’s sitting maybe half an inch taller now, “everyone knows that birds carry diseases.”

Severus can’t quite suppress his snort of amusement at that ending argument. This child might be the first in thousands not to accept his Hogwarts letter because birds carry diseases. Then again, he might be the first not to accept it in general. “Well, I can tell you that the owl invasion isn’t going to ease until you open at least one of your letters. And I don’t believe that I’m carrying any diseases myself.” He gestures toward the letter on the table.

Harry smiles, just a little. “I don’t know about that, sir,” he responds cheekily. Still, before Severus even has the chance to feel offended, he slowly reaches out for the envelope and opens it. He scans over it for a few minutes before sighing.

“So you’re still on this whole magic kick?” He seems disappointed as he places the letter back in the envelope before getting up to leave. “I appreciate the meal and all, really, but I just- fleeing seems like the best course of action for this situation, to be honest.”

Nope, nope, nope. Severus had not searched this long for the boy just to have him run away again, not even believing in the factual existence of magic. “Wait!” he says, reaching out to catch Harry’s wrist before he fully thinks it through. He lets go almost immediately as if burned- but not as if, for he is.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry is saying as Severus examines the bright red patch on the pale skin of his palm. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sor-”

Severus shakes his head before taking a vial out of his pocket and pouring the substance over his wound. It heals almost instantly. He looks up at Harry again, whose mouth is agape and eyes are staring at Severus’ hand. “Well? Do you believe me now?”

Harry bites his lip as he slumps back down into the booth. “I’m sorry,” he says again, though not quite as frantically.

Severus places the empty vial back into his pocket. “No, I apologize. For grabbing you when you were frightened. It was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m not- I’m not scared,” Harry mutters weakly.

Severus raises a brow but doesn’t argue. “What you displayed just now was accidental magic. I assume you’ve done it before?”

Harry nods slowly, looking down. “Why aren’t you pissed at me?” he asks quietly.

“Why would I be upset?”

“I burned you!”

Severus shrugs. “As I said, accidental magic. It’s not as though you could prevent it.”

Harry sighs, crossing his arms. Right now he seems to be only the ghost of the child who not an hour ago was trying to come off as tough and feral. He’s still clearly struggling with the ropes of all that and Severus is grateful for the air of innocence that comes from him.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Severus continues. “Perfectly natural. But wouldn’t you like to learn how to control it?”

“How?” Harry questions. “I’m pretty sure my relatives have been attempting to do that for the past ten years.”

Severus clenches his jaw at the thought of what control might have looked like for the Dursleys. “To control your magic is not to eliminate it, rather it is to embrace it. Once you learn how to channel your magic, you will rarely have accidental outbursts and will be able to use your magic at will.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “What if I don’t want to? I don’t… I don’t wanna do weird things, by accident or not.”

“Magic is not weird. Despite what you may have been made to believe, magic is not bad or evil, or in any way abnormal. It is a part of you, and there is nothing wrong with that. Harry, there are- thousands of witches and wizards in the world. There’s nothing wrong with being one of them.”

“So there’s… other kids like me? Who do freaky things?”

Severus shakes his head. Harry’s face falls before Severus says, “They don’t do freaky things, nor do you. But yes, there are hundreds of children just at Hogwarts who are learning how to channel their magic.”

“So Hogwarts… it’s like a boarding school or something?”

“Yes,” Severus nods.

“And I can go? Like you guys actually want me there?”

Severus smirks. “I believe that your arrival is greatly anticipated.”

Harry hesitates. “I- I won’t have to go back to the Dursleys?”

Severus shakes his head. “No. Never.” The blood wards were broken the moment Petunia abandoned her nephew to the streets, there was nothing that could be done to mend them even if they wanted to.

“Promise?” the child asks, face remaining stoic but his voice sounding so very small. Severus finds that his chest feels tight, just a little.

“I swear.”

Harry nods, letting out a heavy breath. “Alright. Great. Uh, where will I go, then?”

“For holidays? We’ll figure something out, don’t fret over it. For the majority of the next several years, however, you’re going to stay at Hogwarts.”

Harry nods again before he laughs lightly. “Alright, alright. We’ll just see if this place is real, I guess.”

“I assure you, it is,” Severus says, taking uneaten food wrapped in grease-stained paper and placing it back into a sack. He hands it to Harry. “We even have real food there that isn’t dipped and fried in potential diabetes.”

Harry tries a frown but his eyes are smiling. “Can it really even be real food then, sir?”

Severus rolls his eyes as he stands up from the booth, making a show of brushing the invisible McDonald’s residue off his clothing. “Come along, Harry. It’s time to go home.”