"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringott's carts."

Harry readily agreed to this, but as soon as the half-giant was out of sight, he immediately doubled back on himself, making a beeline straight for Gringotts. He'd noticed something on his earlier walk through and, given the opportunity, he decided to investigate further. Once inside, he headed for it— a list of services that could be procured within the bank. There it was, under Wills and Inheritance: Guardianship of Dependent Children.

The bank was a thrumming hive of activity, and no one seemed to notice Harry as he picked his way through the crowds. He nervously approached a wizened goblin seated beneath the sign at an individual desk, set aside from the hustle and bustle of the bank of tellers Hagrid had taken him to earlier. At Harry's approach, the goblin raised his head from the parchment in front of him, fixing him with an expectant stare that seemed to demand, "Well?"

"Um, hello," said Harry, hesitantly. "I'd like to look at my parents' wills please, if I may?"

"Hand," the goblin demanded, tonelessly, holding out his own long-nailed claw. Harry hesitantly reached his hand forward and, in a flash of sliver and crimson, Harry's blood landed on a new sheet of parchment the goblin had whipped out seemingly from nowhere.

Harry hissed in pain and snatched his hand back, with half a mind to flee, but the goblin was staring intently at the paper, and, after a moment, seemingly satisfied, looked up. "That appears to be in order, Mr Potter," he said, his voice reminiscent of a badly-oiled hinge. "Follow me."

A door to the left, which Harry had somehow failed to notice before, swung open noiselessly. Wondering whether this was really a good idea, Harry allowed the goblin to direct him through.

He found himself in a respectable office, ornately carved oak panels surrounding them, his footsteps slapping on the tiled floor as he pressed onwards, seating himself in a high-backed winged armchair before the imposing desk that occupied the centre of the room. A roaring fire sprang into life in the grate at the back of the office, while a tea-tray popped into existence on a low coffee-table to the right. Once seated, Harry looked back at his injured palm, surprised to find no trace of the wound the goblin had inflicted.

Harry politely declined the offer of tea, at which the tray popped away again, and the goblin, having seated himself in a rather austere wooden desk chair opposite Harry, learned forward intently. "My name is Sharptooth, Mr Potter. What in particular brings you to me today?"

Harry flattened his hair down nervously. "Well, it, it's just that, I live with my aunt and uncle and, well, to be honest they've never really wanted… I mean, I've always been an inconvenience to them and I just wondered if there was, you know, anyone else?"

The goblin frowned at this, but, saying no more, clicked his fingers and offered a piece of parchment to Harry.

Guardianship arrangements for dependent children of Lily Potter.

"Why my mother only?" asked Harry.

"She was the last to die," explained Sharptooth, "So her will takes precedence over your father's."

Harry nodded, returning his attention to the parchment with bated breath.

In the event of the demise of all those with parental responsibility for Lily Potter's children, guardianship of said children until they reach the age of eighteen should fall to the following, in order of preference:
Sirius Orion Black (Permanently incapacitated– Azkaban)
Alice Longbottom (Permanently incapacitated– Saint Mungo's)
Frank Longbottom (Permanently incapacitated– Saint Mungo's)
Marlene McKinnon (Deceased)

Harry looked down at the paper, crestfallen. "Oh," he said quietly. "So, there is no one else, then?"

Sharptooth stared at him for a moment, assessingly. "There is a living will," he offered.

"A living will?" Harry repeated, uncomprehending.

"A magical portrait, similar to those you will find in Hogwarts, painted of your mother. The magic is limited; it contains only enough of her to make decisions regarding the execution of her last will and testament. In this way, wizards and witches are able to act almost as executors of their own wills."

"It can make decisions?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Legally binding ones, yes," confirmed Sharptooth. "Shall I have it brought up to us?"

"Yes please, sir."

Sharptooth once again offered tea, and this time Harry accepted. He was sipping at the fresh herbal brew (not one Harry had had before, but he knew it contained lavender), when a door opposite the one Harry had been shown through earlier opened, and another pointy-nosed Goblin strode through, a small, yet elaborately decorated, metal frame in his hands. It was carefully set on the table, a stand at the back positioning it upright, like the photo frames on Aunt Petunia's mantelpiece. Within the frame was a slumbering woman, head lolled against the side of the comfortable-looking chintz armchair she was seated in. Her red locks partially obscured her face as she dozed. To Harry's shock, he could see her chest rising and falling with each breath and could hear the gentle whisper of each inhalation and exhalation as she did so.

"Mum?" he breathed, reaching out an unsteady hand to touch the painting, only to have Sharptooth opposite push the attached limb down.

"The paint may be damaged by the oil on your fingers," he warned. Harry returned his hand to his lap, still staring full of longing and amazement. Sharptooth, seeing this, called out to the portrait. "Mrs Potter?"

The waking was slow; gradual, like someone fighting unconsciousness. At first, nothing happened, but then Harry saw the thin fingers, draped over the arms of the chair, twitch and tighten. Her arms jerked next, and then a groan made its way out of her mouth as she moved into an upright position and slowly opened her eyes. Hagrid had been correct; they were the same vivid green he'd encountered in the mirror ever since he was tall enough to see into it.

"Mum?" he whispered again, and this time the woman jerked to attention, turning her head in the direction of his voice, her mouth opening in shock as she stared at him.

"Harry?"

He nodded slowly, and the woman's eyes began to fill with tears even as her lips quirked up into a smile. "My baby," she said, proudly. "Look how you've grown! So handsome, just like your father."

Harry felt a glow warm him from the inside out as the love of a parent— his parent— filled him for the first time in his memory. He smiled at her in return.

His mother dabbed at her eyes with a floral handkerchief the artist fortunately had the foresight to include in her portrait. "I'm being daft," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

Sharptooth cleared his throat subtly from behind his desk, causing Lily to look around at him.

"Mrs Potter," he said, his tone dry and wrinkled like old paper, "I'm sorry to interrupt the reunion, but as you know, a living will has limited magic and I strongly advise we make the best use of it."

"You're right, of course," Lily said, with a brave smile, "What do you need?"

Sharptooth looked expectantly at Harry, who twisted his hands together nervously as he beheld his mother. At length, he marshalled his courage and began, hesitantly. "I just wondered if there was anyone else I could live with? I don't mean to be ungrateful," he hastened to add, seeing the beginning of a frown about his mother's lips, "It's just that I know they never wanted me and I just thought maybe there was someone who… would? I don't need a lot, just somewhere I belong, I guess."

His mother listened with an increasingly sorrowful expression. "Harry," she said softly and seriously, "to make a decision on your guardianship, I need to ask you some questions, and it's very important that you answer me truthfully. Do you understand?" Harry nodded his agreement, and it all came out, with some tears shed on both sides; how he'd been living with his aunt and uncle who hated magic and, by extension, Harry, for as long as he could remember. He told her how Dudley beat him up and Aunt Petunia hit him with a frying pan, how he'd learned to stay out of range of Uncle Vernon's meaty fists, how he had to cook, clean and garden, but had lived in a cupboard before the first Hogwarts letter, and had never had quite enough to eat. He even told her he had to wear Dudley's hand-me-downs, and broken glasses, and had never really been called by his actual name at home; always 'Freak' or 'Boy'. He'd thought it would be difficult to talk about it all, if he ever had to, but this was different. This was his mum. She wouldn't judge him, and she'd make it alright. He'd been waiting for this opportunity his entire life, and he wouldn't squander it now.

"Clearly, you need new guardians," said Lily, once she'd dried her eyes, "I don't understand why you ended up with my sister," she practically snarled the word, "and her husband in the first place! What happened to your godparents?"

Sharptooth, seated bolt upright at his desk, despite his advanced age, answered for Harry. "Dead," he said, plainly, "Or tortured into insanity. Or in Azkaban, in the case of Mr Black."

"Sirius?" breathed Lily, incredulously. "But surely…" A look of horrified comprehension dawned across her freckled face. "He was the traitor? We thought it was Remus…"

Sharptooth cleared his throat, ending Lily's reverie. "Oh yes, sorry," she said, shaking her head and taking a deliberate deep inhalation. "I just can't understand why it took so long for the living will to be consulted."

"Gringott's was never asked for an opinion regarding the guardianship of Mr Potter," came the response from Sharptooth. "Albus Dumbledore made the arrangements independently."

Lily's eyes flashed for a moment before she closed them. She took several more deep breaths before visibly refocusing and asking in a deliberately calm voice, "So, how do we go about identifying a new guardian for Harry?"

Sharptooth inclined his head. "Give me the names and I shall send them to be checked against the eligibility criteria. Once we have an eligible shortlist, you can choose one to seek agreement from first."

Lily nodded. "What's the ministry's position on werewolves as guardians?" she asked casually.

Harry's mouth fell open. Werewolves? Sharptooth merely shook his head. "It would never be permitted," he said, "Not under the recent creature legislation."

Lily pursed her lips at that. "Peter Pettigrew?" she asked.

Sharptooth again shook his head. "Dead, I'm afraid."

Lily nodded her head, looking pained, but asked nothing more about it, instead furrowing her brow in clear thought. "I couldn't ask Minerva and Albus," she mused, "I know a few from the order, but not terribly well, and the Weasleys have so many children." She looked across at Harry appraisingly. "You need somewhere you can be the focus, I think, darling. You look just like your father, but looking at you sitting there, dressed like that, you remind me of a friend I had growing up…" her voice tailed off in thought. She addressed Sharptooth. "Could you find out for me what became of Severus Snape? He's an old friend of mine, but we fell out of touch a while ago."

Sharptooth smiled horribly, showing all his pointed teeth. "Interesting," he remarked. "You'd consider Severus Snape as a guardian for your son?"

Lily narrowed her eyes at his reaction. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"Not at all," came the response, "He's a fine candidate on paper. No criminal record; he was acquitted of being a Death Eater on the word of Albus Dumbledore himself; a known spy for the light, youngest ever potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, head of Slytherin house with ten years experience of looking after children your son's age." As he spoke, Sharptooth had scratched something onto a piece of parchment that rolled up and vanished, to be replaced by another moments later. Sharptooth glanced over it before continuing, "No dependents, financially solvent, owns his own home. No, Mrs Potter, there's no reason I can give for him to be deemed ineligible. It was merely a surprise; I don't believe anyone suspected a connection between you."

"It's been a while," she admitted, "but…" Lily thought for a moment more, before seeming to come to a decision. "Can you call him here?" she asked.

"Of course," Sharptooth replied. "We can jump a goblin to him, even jump him back straight into the bank. For a price, of course."

"Do it," Lily instructed decisively, and Sharptooth bowed his head before filling out another piece of parchment which popped away.

***********************************

Severus Snape was in the middle of meeting with the other Heads of Houses to discuss the incoming crop of muggle-borns when a goblin suddenly appeared alongside him. A rather burly specimen, with an exceptionally crooked nose and a chunk missing from his ear.

"Professor Severus Snape?" he grunted.

Snape was rather taken aback, to say the least, and it took a moment for him to articulate a response, his limp black locks swinging as he turned his head, along with the other heads of houses and Albus Dumbledore, to stare askance at the intruder. "I am," he managed to respond after a moment.

"You are requested at Gringotts immediately, Professor Snape, on a matter of great importance and urgency."

"By all means, Severus, go at once," Dumbledore excused him, after a beat. Everyone knew it was unwise to keep goblins waiting. The goblin proferred a small black stone and, upon grasping it, Severus found himself in a somewhat antiquated office, before the large walnut desk of a somewhat antiquated goblin.

"Please take a seat, Professor Snape," came Sharptooth's creaky voice. The professor did as he was bidden, onyx eyes taking stock surreptitiously, with the ingrained habits of a spy.

Sharptooth folded his long fingers over one another as he met Severus's eyes. "You've been summoned here today at the request of the living will of one Mrs Lily Evans Potter."

"Hello, Sev," came a voice, achingly familiar, from nearby, and Sharptooth turned a picture on his desk around to reveal the miniature portrait of Severus's best friend. "I've missed you."

There was a shocked silence for a moment, before he spoke, his voice a whisper, "Lily?"

She smiled at him sadly as he continued, his words coming out in a rush, "I'm so sorry, Lily, for all of it. It's all my fault."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Sev," she said, soothingly, a hand raised as if to stem the beginnings of a tirade of self-recrimination, but he shook his head. "You don't know what I've done," he muttered.

Lily glanced at Sharptooth. "Could you please go and check on Harry? I'd like a minute with Severus."

There was silence for a moment after Sharptooth left the room. Severus cast a muffling charm without a moment's thought, before Lily spoke, her quiet voice serious as she stared at Severus. "I know about the prophecy, Sev," she stated, quietly, "and your role in Voldemort's knowledge of it. Albus told me, back when he first told us to go into hiding. It's the reason Harry survived."

Severus stared at her, incomprehension written plainly on his face. Lily looked at him sadly. "It was deliberate, Sev," she told him, her hand gripping the armrest tightly.

"Albus told us that if he found us, we shouldn't run, because Voldemort had promised to spare me, and if I sacrificed myself for Harry, it might save him and doom Voldemort. There was spell he gave me… That's why we didn't portkey out, or use the invisibility cloak. It's why neither of us cast a single spell that night–James couldn't trust himself; he said if he had a wand, he'd try to defend us." She smiled, wistfully. Severus was stunned into silence, and she took advantage of this to continue. "I forgave you for your part in our deaths before we died Sev, before I even had this portrait commissioned. You helped us defeat Voldemort, however unintentionally, and I can accept that." Her eyes darkened a shade now, as she spoke slowly and deliberately. "What I cannot accept, however, is that Albus Dumbledore permitted my baby to be raised by my hateful shrew of a sister. Did you know, Sev?"

Snape swallowed and nodded, wincing slightly at the admission. "I confess," he said, his voice slow, "I did not think to ask where the boy had ended up at first. Once I found out, I did add my reservations to those aired by Minerva, but we were assured he was safest there."

Lily snorted. "Albus and I clearly disagree on what safety means. They starved him, Severus! And kept him in a cupboard. They hit him– with frying pans! His cousin treated him like a punching bag." The anger in her voice receded, gradually replaced by sorrow. "They called him freak, or boy, never Harry. He wasn't allowed to do well at school, wasn't allowed friends. Never was bought a single thing for himself. Wears his cousin's old rags and glasses broken from being punched." Her voice was quivering now, and Severus wished for nothing more than to reach into the painting and wrap an arm around her shoulders, instead of watching her misery, helpless to comfort her. "You know the worst thing, though Sev?" she asked him, her emerald eyes awash with unshed tears. "He knows he isn't wanted, that he is thought of as a burden. He knows they will never love him. James and I would not have done as we were asked if we would have known what we were condemning Harry to."

"I'm so sorry, Lily," murmured Severus, feeling how woefully inadequate the expression was in the face of all the suffering he'd caused. "If there's anything I can do…" he offered, at a loss for anything else to say, and saw Lily's mouth draw up into a watery smile as she dabbed at her eyes, regarding her old friend carefully. "Do you mean it, Sev?" she asked, her voice low and serious. "What would you do, to help make it right?"

"Anything," he answered immediately, without hesitation. Hadn't he pledged his very soul to that effect nearly a decade ago? He was taken aback at the relief that flashed across the face of his late friend.

"Oh, Sev, thank you," she breathed. "It would be such a load off my mind."

Severus felt he had missed something. "Of course," he said, and then, "What would you have me do?"

Lily smiled beautifully. "Harry needs a home, Severus. And a guardian."

Severus swallowed and nodded. "You would like my help to find someone suitable?" Lily laughed, a tinkle of bells that took Severus back in time twenty years.

"I need you to be his guardian, Sev," she said, the steel in her gaze belying the levity in her voice. Severus gaped at her.

"Lily," he rasped after a moment, even as he shook his head frantically, "I can't. You know I can't."

"You said anything," Lily reminded, all humour now forgotten as she surveyed the man before her sternly. "Anything."

Severus shook his head in desperation. "I am willing to do anything," he said, half-pleading. "Anything you ask, but, but this…"

"So you won't agree to my last request? Will leave my son without a home? My only child?"

"Lily, please! I can help you find someone else, someone better."

"Like who?"

"Minerva, Albus, Lupin, Molly and Arthur," he rattled off, flippantly. "Anyone really, would be better than me."

"Minerva wasn't observant enough towards her charges twenty years ago, Severus, and I doubt that has changed. Harry will need a closer eye on him, due to his upbringing so far. Albus clearly has no intention of providing my son with a loving home. Remus is a werewolf and therefore ineligible. Molly and Arthur have seven children, Severus! Harry would be lost, and he needs more care than most children. He needs an order member who can protect him, who will protect him with everything they have, who can focus solely on him and his recovery.

"There is no one better, Sev. Not for Harry. He will be safe with you. Truly safe, and well cared-for."

"You said it yourself, Lily, what is safety without love? I cannot love James Potter's son."

"But can you love mine, Sev?" He fell silent at this, and she continued. "He is the spitting image of James, yes. But I can see nothing else of my husband in him. The way he was raised… he has more in common with you, Sev, than he ever will with James. You can help him heal."

Severus shook his head again. "I know nothing of parenting, Lily. You know the role models I had growing up."

Lily stood silently, staring out at him, until Severus raised his head and they locked eyes.

"You are not your father, Severus Snape," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You will not make his mistakes. And you will love Harry, if you let yourself. You have the biggest heart, you just have to listen to it."

Severus merely shook his head slightly, seemingly not in the mood to argue the point. He rallied shortly, however. "What of the Dark Lord?" he demanded, rolling up his sleeve. "I am a marked Death Eater, Lily! I will need to return to his side when he returns. How do you suggest I convince him of my loyalty while simultaneously failing to hand over Harry Potter?"

"If I might make a suggestion," came a dusty voice from across the room, "we could remove that mark for you."

Severus was once again dumbfounded, and so it was Lily who responded to the little goblin, who had opened the door a moment before, unnoticed. Severus shook his head at his own lack of awareness. Clearly, he was out of practice.

"Lip-reading," smirked Sharptooth, gesturing to a conveniently, and likely deliberately, placed mirror by way of explanation. "Do not worry, information revealed in this office is treated with the highest level of confidentiality. We goblins know how to keep secrets."

Lily shrugged at Severus, who cancelled the silencing charm with a scowl. "You can remove the mark?" she asked, turning her attention to the goblin.

"Oh yes," Sharptooth repeated, shuffling forwards, his gruesome smile revealing two rows of pointed, jagged teeth protruding from his black gums like glass. "For a price, of course."

"And what might that be?" Snape asked, suspicion colouring his voice.

"Well, that depends," said Sharptooth, still leering at him. "Am I correct in the presumption that, after removal of the mark, you will be taking young Mr Potter as your ward?"

Lily looked at him expectantly. Severus cleared his throat. "Even if the mark were to be removed," he said, "the boy would be safer away from someone with my history. I could do more to help him from a distance."

But even as he made his appeal, he knew it had fallen on deaf ears. Lily had that look. The look which said she had made up her mind and would not be dissuaded. And Severus knew he could not refuse her this, last, request. Especially given the role he had taken in leading them to this point.

Sure enough, when Lily opened her mouth, it was to refute his case– carefully of course, so as not to dispense more sensitive information to certain pointy ears.

"He needs a guardian more than a distant protector. Please, Sev, you owe me this. You owe him this."

And so, with a sigh, Severus relented.

"Wonderful," said Sharptooth, crisply. "In that case, the cost of mark removal will fall under the overall cost of arranging a guardianship for young Mr Potter, included in the price of the guardianship ritual."

Lily was nodding along, but Severus felt rather alarmed. "Guardianship ritual?"

"Yes," affirmed Sharptooth. "We shall begin with the mark, which is not as taxing, then bring you in here for the guardianship ritual."

Snape frowned, "But a ritual? I've never heard of one for guardianship. Isn't it just a ministry form?"

Sharptooth shook his head. "Guardianships arranged by living will are different– stronger. The living will contains Lily Potter's magical signature; during the ritual, her magical energy will be released from its binding and used to bind the guardianship, ensuring that your intentions towards Mr Potter are benign and preventing you from deliberately causing him harm. There are two potential rituals; we could use Mrs Potter's magic to make you Harry Potter's godparent, or we could, with her blessing, perform an internal adoption; that is an adoption arranged by the child's parent, in which you would become Harry Potter's third parent."

Snape blanched at this, but before he could voice his misgivings, Lily interjected. "Shall we leave the choice to Harry? Severus has agreed he'll do anything to help my son, right Sev?" She smiled at him, sweetly.

Severus inhaled deeply, nodding through gritted teeth. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, he mused, and he'd forgotten just how insufferable Lily Evans could be when she truly put her mind to it. Besides which, unless he was very much mistaken, the headmaster would take a rather dim view of the guardianship, and it would be harder for him to intervene in an adoption. If the boy wished to take that route, Severus would not refuse him. And, he supposed, with a stab of self-recrimination, it really was the least he could do. "Where is the boy?" he asked.

"He stepped outside with some of the other goblins to assure Hagrid that he's alright," said Lily. "I asked them to keep him for a moment so I could speak to you alone."

"Shall we bring him in, Mrs Potter?" asked Sharptooth, and, with her nod, Severus's heart began to pound in his chest. This was insane. He'd awoken this morning in perfectly reasonable expectation of a typical day, with a staff meeting as its most vexatious point. Now, here he was on the cusp of acquiring as a ward, perhaps even of adopting, the child of his most hated school bully. It was very much not Severus's day.

His racing thoughts were put to rest, however, by the sound of shuffling footsteps, and Severus looked up into the face of an eleven year-old James Potter. His blood roared through his veins as his temper rose, but he battled it down. This was not James Potter. This was Harry. He was not spoiled. However, he may be arrogant or conceited; time would tell, and he would not trust to the biased opinion of his mother, who couldn't have known him for more than a few hours at his current age. He may be a bully, like his father before him. Time would tell.

Keeping his face impassive, he looked across at the small boy, who was twisting his hands anxiously as he stood there in clothing several sizes too big, while he looked across at Severus, curiosity and a bit of anxiety, maybe even fear, flitting across his face in turn.

"Harry," Lily said brightly. "I'd like you to meet Severus Snape. He's an old school friend of mine."

Harry, for his part, felt the butterflies in his stomach intensify. The man didn't exactly look welcoming, but he had been friends with his mother, so he had to be better than the Dursleys, and Harry could only think of one reason that his mother would have called the man here, after asking Sharptooth about his fate after the war. This man was his mother's choice for Harry's guardian, and Harry was terrified of making a bad impression. He summoned up everything Aunt Petunia had drilled into him over the years and stepped forwards bravely, extending his hand to the sallow man seated on the armchair opposite his mother's portrait.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Snape," he said, his voice quavering slightly despite his best efforts. He felt the man's eyes pass over him assessingly, before he took Harry's hand in his own- his fingers were long, cool and pale, Harry noticed- and shook his hand in turn.

"Likewise, Mr Potter," he said.

Harry frowned at this. "You can call me Harry if you'd like, sir," he offered.

The man, Severus Snape, Harry reminded himself, seemed unsure of what to do with that, but after a moment, nodded his head in acquiescence. "I suppose, under the circumstances," he said, slowly, "that you ought to call me Severus."

They stood there for a moment, regarding each other, and Harry let his lips turn up slightly into the barest beginnings of a smile. "Thank you, Severus," he said. Severus merely nodded again.

"Severus will be one of your professors at Hogwarts, Harry," his mother informed him, smiling fondly at them both.

"You will?" replied Harry, fixing the man beside him with a look of surprise. "Which subject do you teach?"

"Potions."

"Oh, that's brilliant! I'm really looking forward to potions!"

Severus looked at the young boy in surprise. He didn't detect any deceit or derision in the boy's statement. Typically, students were less enthused by potions than the flashier, wand-related subjects, thinking the subtle shimmer of a simmering cauldron boring by comparison with the flashiness of transfiguration or charms; the beauty beyond them, the nuance unappreciated. Every year he heard the discussions among the first years; "A cat! So cool! And how she transformed mid-leap!" It had, in fact, been the reason for his carefully-crafted speech to the first years; he would not lower himself to the level of Minerva's showboating, but if he could not have enthusiasm for his subject, he would settle for respect. Occasionally, however, a student would come along with a genuine appreciation for the art and these bright sparks somewhat ameliorated the relentless grey drudgery of teaching the other 95%.

"Not many students truly appreciate potions," Severus stated, plainly. "Why do you look forward to them?"

Roses bloomed in the boy's cheeks as he stammered out his answer. "I...It's probably not a good reason, but I like to cook and I'm good at it." He stared down at his feet. "I thought maybe, well, there might be some similarities. I thought maybe I won't be as bad at that as I will be in everything else." He looked up, and whatever he saw in Severus's expression must have unnerved him, for he quickly added, "I'm probably wrong,, I don't know much about potions or anything, really, I only found out about magic yesterday."

Severus considered him. This was not the arrogant child he had pictured arriving at Hogwarts in four short weeks. "There are some similarities, though relatively insignificant, between potions and cooking," he allowed. "Why do you say you might be 'bad' at other subjects?"

The boy shrugged. Severus would need to break him of that habit. "I don't know anything. All the other kids will know so much more about magic than I will. I bet I'll be the worst one there."

And Severus looked into the emerald eyes of his future charge and saw another set, from a lifetime ago, that had shared a very similar set of concerns. He spoke, surprised to find his voice unaccountably softer than it had been thus far. "You will not be," he said. "In my considerable experience, muggle-raised students do not do significantly worse than magically-raised, in the long run. Besides which," he did not permit himself to hesitate; he had already made this commitment, 'I will ensure you know all you need to prior to the commencement of the academic year."

Harry looked up at him then, and the hope shining in the child's eyes was painful to view. "You will?"

"Sev is the person who introduced me to magic," his mother chimed in, fondly. "He got me ready for Hogwarts, and he will be able to do the same for you, Harry, don't worry."

"He introduced you to magic?" breathed Harry, "How old were you?"

"I was eight," came the reply. "Severus and I grew up in the same town."

"So, did you know my Aunt Petunia?" Harry looked a little nervous as he asked the question.

"I had that singular… pleasure, yes," Snape responded dryly. "She was not fond of magic, to put it mildly."

Harry's lips quirked up at the edges into a rueful smile. "She's still not a fan of magic," he admitted. He cast his eyes towards his mother's portrait. "Or me," he added, quietly.

Severus watched as pain flickered ever so briefly across the child's face at the admission and found his own lips desirous of arranging themselves into a slight frown. He did not permit it of course, and kept his voice light as he responded. "Oh, I can believe it. She was not particularly fond of me either. As I recall it, she was very jealous of Lily's magic."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "Aunt Petunia would never want magic! She thinks people with magic are freaks!"

"An epithet she applied to me more than once," Severus stated. "However, I also remember a letter she sent to Headmaster Dumbledore, begging to be allowed to attend Hogwarts with your mother."

"You're joking!" Harry exclaimed.

"It's true," his mother interjected. "We saw his response. It was very kind."

Harry mulled this over for a moment. A shadow seemed to pass over his face for a moment before he shook his head slightly and returned his attention to the man before him, visibly steeling himself before asking in the quietest voice Severus had heard him use yet, "If you knew my mum all that time ago, then why haven't I met you before?"

Severus inhaled deeply; he had known the question was coming. He glanced across at Lily, who asked, using silent facial gestures they'd perfected during their Hogwarts years across the expanse of the Great Hall, if he wanted her to take this one. He responded in the negative and turned to face the bright eyes of his best friend's son.

"When I was in Hogwarts, I fell in with a very dark group of students. Their attitudes were repugnant, but in time they became my own. As a result, I insulted your mother, and she, quite rightly, decided not to keep up the friendship."

Harry looked at his mother, confused. "But if you've not been friends in such a long time, why did you call him now?"

Lily smiled at him. "Sev and I grew apart, but I still trust him. He's a powerful wizard who gives his all to every task he undertakes, he works at Hogwarts so he can be there for you whenever you need him and, most importantly, I know he has a good heart– even though he often hides it under sarcasm," she added, with a wink. "He's also a member of a group I was in that fights You-Know-Who. You do know of You-Know-Who, don't you?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Hagrid told me. He was the one who, um…"

"Attacked us that Halloween?" his mother finished for him after a moment. "Yes, he was."

"And you both fought against him?" asked Harry, looking around at Severus, who scowled.

"Your mother seeks to paint me in a better light than I deserve," he drawled. "But yes, I served as a spy under Albus Dumbledore during the war," he paused, looking around. Sharptooth had left once Harry had entered the room, and after making sure the goblin had not returned, he muttered something, his wand held aloft, that caused a buzzing sound to fill the air. "That much is common knowledge. However, I was only a spy for the latter part of the war. I joined the Death Eaters– the Dark Lord's army- initially of my own free will. It is the single largest mistake of my life to date. However, that is not the worst of it."

"Severus," warned Lily, but the man would not be dissuaded.

"No, Lily," he stated, firmly. "If I am to be the boy's guardian, it shall be his choice and he shall make it in full possession of the pertinent facts. I shall not be accused, years down the line, of tricking him into this."

Lily's lips pressed into a thin line, reminding Harry of an irate Aunt Petunia, but she nodded, grudgingly, and Harry turned his full attention to Severus, swallowing his trepidation over what he was about to hear.

"Your family was targeted by the Dark Lord," Severus began, his face betraying no hint of emotion, "because I gave him information that led him to believe that you were a threat to him. I did not know that it pertained to you at the time, or I would never have passed the information along, but I am guilty nonetheless. It is my biggest regret."

Harry didn't know what to make of this, and before he could even begin to formulate an answer, Lily chimed in. "As soon as he realised that You-Know-Who was targeting you, he went straight to Dumbledore to beg for him to protect me and my family. He turned to the side of the light and became a spy for us from that day onwards." Severus glared at her, but Lily wasn't finished.

"Severus's work as a spy saved countless lives, and he put his own life on the line every single day. Even though we weren't friends after school, I know he still cared about me and I trust him to act in your best interests. He won't make a mistake like that again, and I'm certain he will protect you with his life if it comes to it."

Harry nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in all at once. "So, it's his fault you died, but you still trust him?"

"With my life," said Lily, smiling slightly at the irony, "and, more importantly, with yours." Harry looked at Snape contemplatively.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Harry," his mother said. "It's how we atone for them that shows who we are; remember that. I'd hope you can judge Severus for his actions in the here and now, rather than mistakes made a decade ago. I have forgiven him. Can you trust my judgement in this, Harry?"

"Of course I trust you, Mum!" Harry declared, sounding wounded. Lily's own tone immediately softened.

"Oh, Harry, my love," she said, "I wish I could wrap my arms around you! I'm not angry; your concerns are perfectly sensible and I'm proud of you for having them. In this case, however, I'm going to ask you to ignore them for now. The guardianship ritual won't work if Severus has any intention of harming you. But, even after the guardianship is settled, if at any point, you feel threatened or unsafe, or if you feel miserable and unwanted, like you did with your aunt and uncle, I want you to send an owl to Remus Lupin, or speak to another teacher at Hogwarts, and they will be able to sort it out. This doesn't need to be permanent if you don't want it to be, OK?"

Harry nodded determinedly and Lily smiled. "I'm so proud of you, Harry," she said. "I know you're going to grow up into a fine young man, whatever happens. You have a good heart. Just let it steer you and you'll be fine." Her eyes were shining as she gazed lovingly upon her only child.

Sharptooth, who had recently entered the room and looked vaguely put-out for some reason, cleared his throat, causing everyone to look around at him and Severus to discretely twitch his wand in his pocket, cancelling the silencing charm. "I apologise," Sharptooth said, his voice slightly gruffer than previously, "for the interruption, but the power of the living will does not last forever, and if we wish to change Mr Potter's living situation, we must act sooner rather than later."

Lily's portrait straightened up and dabbed at her eyes. "Of course; I'm sorry," she said, briskly. "What do we need to do?"

"The standard protocol requires full physical examinations of all parties, to check for any impediments to the health of the prospective guardian, in addition to any ongoing health needs of the child," said Sharptooth. "At that point, we can cure your… skin affliction, Professor," Sharptooth remarked, smiling rather unpleasantly. "Following the examinations, the next step is to reconvene here, where the prospective guardian makes a number of magically-binding promises. There is then a magical transfer from the living will, confirming the consent of the decedent and all paperwork that exists in relation to the guardianship of the child is simultaneously changed."

"And then guardianship will be legal– there's no way Harry could be sent back to the Dursleys?" queried Lily.

"That's it for guardianship, yes," confirmed Sharptooth. "Of course, guardianship arrangements may be objected to by various interested parties. If you're looking for incontrovertible protection, there is always adoption."

Harry's sharp intake of breath echoed around the room, but he did not interrupt when Lily asked, "How would adoption differ?"

"It's an older form, only practiced in these rather special circumstances. The processes differ mainly in terms of the ritualistic elements," Sharptooth explained. "There is a particular elixir, brewed only by goblins and containing some of the guardian's blood, which the child must willingly drink. The elixir forces the child's magical core into a receptive state, allowing it to accept a conscious gift of magic that is given by the adoptive parent to the child. The living will's magic allows the adoption to bypass the usual channels, and the adoption is immediately binding and irrefutable. The prospective guardian becomes a third parent, having all the same rights and responsibilities as he would if he had been the child's biological parent. Except in a case of abuse, the child cannot be forcibly removed from their adoptive parent, unless by death or incarceration."

Snape nodded and swallowed. How had he gotten into this situation? The day began so normally! He cast a questioning glance at the boy seated alongside him. "Do you have a preference?"

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief, and maybe, Severus thought, a bit of hope. "You'd… you'd adopt me?"

Severus inclined his head thoughtfully. "If you wish it, yes. I see the advantages of the plan, but if you wish to be able to back out of the arrangements more easily, you may prefer to take the guardianship route instead– I will not be offended." He tried his best to remain impassive as he offered to replace the parents that he himself had robbed the boy of, and felt he did rather well, but inside, he was in utter turmoil, hoping that the boy would prefer guardianship. He could see though, even as he panicked internally, that it was a futile hope. The boy was looking up at him, nervously, but there was a hint of determination behind the child's eyes and Snape knew that Harry was preparing to take a risk. Preparing to be rejected. And, much as he wanted to do just that, Lily was completely correct. He owed her. He owed this boy. Harry had been robbed of his parents, robbed of a proper childhood. If Lily wanted Snape to make his penance to the child more… directly than he had been envisioning, then he would do as asked, and he would do it well. He would do anything she asked, he knew, regardless.

After a moment, looking like he was steeling himself, Harry spoke hesitantly. "I think… I'd like to know for certain that I'll not have to go back there. So, as long as it won't be a burden to you…"

It would, of course; Severus could feel the weight of it already, like a millstone around his neck, but he was a proficient liar. And so, he lied.

"I will not think you a burden," he said, convincingly, "though I confess I have no experience of being anyone's parent. I am likely to make many errors."

"Well, I've got no experience of being anyone's child, so…" Harry shrugged, then winced as he caught sight of the expression on his mother's face. "None that I remember, anyway," he added, hurriedly. "Sorry, I know I'm your child, it's just…"

"You don't remember," said Lily, nodding, understanding flooding through her tone, even as she struggled to keep her voice level. "I know. It isn't your fault, darling."

**************************************

Harry wasn't looking forward to his medical appointment, and thought to ask Severus what to expect. He'd been to the doctors before, though always for Dudley rather than himself. Children generally didn't go, he knew, unless there was a reason to do so, such as illness or injury, and he'd always been particularly resilient to childhood bugs. Dudley, on the other hand, had been taken in for every sore throat and runny nose. The Dursleys paid privately, of course, for Dudley, so the doctors never suggested that Aunt Petunia stop bringing him in at the drop of a hat, as Harry suspected they might have done, had they been under the NHS. Magical medicine though, was an entirely unknown entity, and Harry would be lying if he said it didn't make him just a little nervous. They were seated just outside the bank's medical wing. What kind of banks had medical wings anyway? As Harry's knee bobbed up and down, he noticed Severus glance at him.

"Nervous?" the man asked, his voice betraying no emotion whatsoever.

Harry shrugged. "A bit. I've never been to a magical doctor before."

Snape nodded. "I would be able to provide you with more information on what to expect were we going to a mediwitch or a healer, but, regretfully, I must confess I am as much in the dark as you with regard to what happens here."

"That's OK," Harry said, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Indeed. Besides which, if at any time you are uncomfortable, you need only tell me and I shall intervene."

Harry looked up in surprise. "You're coming with me?"

"Do you have an objection?"

Harry considered this for a moment. "Not really, no," he answered hesitantly. "I just didn't expect that you would."

The man raised an eyebrow at Harry. "One thing about me you should understand, Harry," he spoke quietly and sternly, "is that I take my commitments very seriously. I have committed to raising you, and that involves taking an interest in your wellbeing, be that emotional, mental, magical or physical. So, yes, you can expect me to be there for your medical appointments, unless you have a very good reason to exclude me from them."

Harry felt his face reddening and he looked down at his shoes. "Sorry," he mumbled.

He felt a hand lift his chin and looked up to see Severus's dark eyes regarding him seriously. "There is no need to apologise," Severus said, his deep tones like a soothing balm to Harry's nerves. "We are both very new to this. But I am sure we will figure it out."

Harry offered a very hesitant small smile, which Severus returned. Breaking the moment, a door creaked open and an unfamiliar goblin barked across at them, "Potter, Harry James!"

The two rose as one and headed through the open doorway.

Inside was a medical bay Harry might have placed in a hospital drama set in the 1800s. The walls were lit by gleaming golden oil sconces, the bedframes were cast iron and the sheets starched and white, folded so tightly that a coin could have bounced off them. It was not a large room, only containing three beds that were separated by fabric screens on metal wheels, rather than the curtains that Harry had seen at the Muggle GP surgeries growing up.

The goblin, who introduced himself as Heftaxe, ushered them over to a bed, seating Severus in a nearby, horribly uncomfortable-looking, olive-green leather armchair.

"Up on the bed please, Mr Potter," the goblin instructed, his manner brusque, and Harry did as he was bidden, thankful the bed was low enough for him to clamber onto without difficulty.

"I don't suppose you've had a goblin medical check before?" Heftaxe asked. He was clad in a white robe, a muggle stethoscope around his neck.

"No, sir,"

"It's all very straightforward. We'll start with height, weight, blood pressure, heart rate, vision and hearing. Then we'll move on to a blood count, urine sample, and a visual check for skin and morphological anomalies. After that, we'll check for nutritional deficiencies and finally we'll look for curses, hexes and magical anomalies."

Harry simply gaped at him.

"Problem?" asked the goblin, somewhat tetchily, Harry thought.

"It's just, it all seems a little…"

"Invasive?" offered Snape.

Harry nodded fervently. "Yes, that. Can't we just skip some of it? Or all of it?" he asked, hopefully.

Heftaxe eyed him, unimpressed. "We do this by the book or not at all, Mr Potter."

Harry's face fell. "I guess I'll do it then," he murmured. The goblin nodded quickly and thrust a gown at him before hurrying off.

"If it helps," said Snape, as he stood to walk outside the screen to wait for Harry to change, "I have an unpleasant supposition that my examination will be even more thorough than yours."

********************

The examination took almost an hour. Most of it was easy and familiar from watching Dudley's observations being taken when Aunt Petunia brought him into a medical setting, but some elements were decidedly more… eccentric, than Harry was used to. Apparently, height and weight were measured by goblins in much the same way as by muggles, but blood counts involved a colour-changing pin placed directly into a vein and observed for a moment.

The curses, hexes and magical anomalies portion was by far the most interesting, and Harry rather enjoyed it at first. It began with a chalice full of a liquid that flashed different colours in turn, like a disco light show. It tasted like skittles, which Harry had tried once during a class party at primary school. After he'd swallowed it, he started to change colour! He watched in amazement as his stomach glowed bright green through his hospital gown. One by one, his body parts flashed through- each one green. Finally, the lightshow started its way up towards his head. He couldn't see the colour on his head, though he thought he saw Heftaxe frown at one point, and Severus's eyes definitely widened for just a fraction of a second. They said nothing, however, and soon, Harry was on his way back to the office, leaving Severus with a scroll handed to him by the goblins and a battery of his own tests to undergo. Harry didn't mind not having his own test results- he was sure Severus would fill him in later. Right now, he was going to talk to his mum.

************************************

Severus had been right, his physical examination had been much more intrusive, and he was relieved to be on the other side of it. However, that only left the Dark Mark to be dealt with, which Severus was more than a little apprehensive about. The thought that he could finally be rid of the reminder of one of the worst mistakes of his life was breathtaking. He'd give almost anything to be rid of it. But, in Severus's experience, when things felt like they were too good to be true, it was generally because they were.

"So, how does this work?" he asked one of the goblin healers who was wiping down his arm with alcohol, by the smell of it.

"We cut it out." The voice rang from the other side of the room, where an elderly goblin had just entered, his impressive white beard neatly plaited, leaning heavily on a mahogany cane that was almost as twisted as the goblin himself. The goblin approached slowly, waiting until he was alongside Severus to speak again. "My name," he began, his strong voice belying his advanced age, "is Deftblade, and I shall be conducting today's surgery. The athame we will use today makes the removal of the mark possible." The goblin reverently drew a black-handled dagger from his belt. "She is mine," he whispered lovingly, stroking a pointed nail along the blade. "Crafted over a century ago to free a kinsman from a wicked curse, a soul-binder. It cuts cleaner than any other weapon, and was forged to separate matter from spirit. It will disconnect the mark from your soul, removing it and its effects entirely and permanently. We will heal the wound using goblin magic; there will be no scar."

"Why have I not heard that you can provide this service?"

"We do not provide this service," Deftblade corrected. "You shall speak of it to no one. We do not interfere in wizarding wars. This is only permissible because we can consider Lord Voldemort deceased and the war over, whether or not that is truly the case. It is also offered at the discretion of the elders of the goblin community, and young Mr Potter has had something of an effect on Sharptooth, who wishes to see him well-situated and cared for. Remember that, Professor Snape," he said, warningly, "The goblins may be tempted to deliver reprisals to any that add to the harm the child has already suffered."

Snape acknowledged the implied threat with a nod.

The mark was cut out, and, while an undoubtedly painful and rather bloody business, it all seemed rather anticlimactic. No, the impressive bit was the chanting which surrounded the raw, bleeding wound on his arm and healed it in a flash of bright white light, leaving not a trace that the mark had ever been there. Severus gaped at it openly, running his fingers down the unmarred flesh.

"Now," said Deftblade, ignoring Severus's awe, which was warring with disbelief and well-concealed delight, "if you can direct your attention to the scroll, Professor Snape, we need to discuss Mr Potter's screening results with you. Please take a moment to read through, and then Heftaxe will return to address any questions you may have." Deftblade swiftly departed, not giving Severus any chance to thank him, which he otherwise may actually have done, odd though the action would have undoubtedly felt.

Mentally giving himself a shake, Severus picked up Harry's results, until now forgotten in the midst of his own scans and treatments, sliding one long finger beneath the seal to break it and unfurling the scroll.

The boy's bloodcount was normal, height and weight were below average and showed he was underweight. Blood pressure and hearing were normal, though his eyes were myopic and required corrective lenses; no surprises there. The visual check had shown some scarring on his left leg, appearing to have originated with a domestic dog, and there were various scars on his hands and arms from burns, according to the report. Severus frowned in some consternation at this, but was interrupted in his contemplation by the arrival of Heftaxe.

"As you can see," Heftaxe began, launching straight into the discussion at hand, "there are several issues of note that you will need to discuss with Mr Potter. You will be interested, for example, to know the provenance of the bite and burn marks. However, that is not why I wished to speak to you. Please turn your attention to the hexes, curses and magical anomalies report at the bottom of the scroll."

"Soul magic residue?" Severus read aloud, flicking his gaze upwards towards Heftaxe, who nodded grimly.

"A very, very dark piece of soul magic," the goblin confirmed. "Beyond that, we cannot say. We are aware that some dark wizards have, in the past, chosen to split their soul in an ill-fated attempt to attain immortality, but goblins have too much respect for the natural order to have done any research into the area, and unfortunately, therefore, we cannot help you beyond making you aware of its existence."

"What about Deftblade's athame?" Severus questioned. "Could that separate the boy from the soul magic, as it did for me?"

"It may be useful in such a task," admitted Heftaxe, "However, I do not believe it would be sufficient alone. It is likely, given the placement of the soul magic, that it has interfered with the child's mind, perhaps even his magic. To simply slice away at it could cause untold damage; a way must first be found to ensure that the minds are separate, before the athame can separate the souls."

Severus thought about this. "Do you imagine that occlumency could be of assistance?"

"It would be a place to begin, once the boy is old enough. If you'd like, I could enquire as to whether anyone else at the bank has a suggestion? We have some talented curse-breakers."

Snape nodded, surprised at the goblin's willingness to help. "I would appreciate that, thank you. Will the horcrux interfere with today's business?"

"The adoption? No. However, we have some paperwork to go over beforehand."

*****************************************

Back in the office, three goblins awaited them- two new ones and Sharptooth. The new ones carried a golden chalice, decadently decorated with diamonds and other precious gems, and a knife, the hilt of which was a shining mass of blood-red rubies. Severus and Harry were led into the centre of the room, where they stepped into a circle on the floor, made of some sort of shimmering white substance, careful not to scuff it accidentally. They stood facing each other, with Sharptooth holding Lily's portrait to the left.

"Would you like to say your goodbyes?" Sharptooth asked Harry, his creaky voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"Wait, what?" Harry twisted violently round to look at Lily. "What does he mean? Where are you going, Mum?"

It was Sharptooth who explained. "The magic powering the portrait is not infinite, Mr Potter. Magically arranging the adoption will exhaust the reserves of the living will; when the magic has left the portrait, it will cease to function as it does now. When the magic is gone, this will just be an empty frame."

"But, but I've just gotten to meet you!" protested Harry. "Can't you stay a bit longer? We can do the adoption another day!"

Lily shook her head sadly, "We can't delay, Harry," she said, her voice soft. "We must act now; the magic is draining all the time. Soon there won't be enough for the adoption, and I need to make sure you'll be OK from now on."

The child was trembling, Severus noticed, and, at a pleading look from Lily, he reached out a tentative hand to place upon the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"You'll be OK, Harry, my love," Lily smiled. "I'll be watching over you always. We will meet again, you and I. Until then, I want you to promise me that you'll live as well as you can."

Harry nodded, his voice broken as he tried valiantly to hold off the tears, "I promise, Mum. I'll make you proud."

"You already have, my darling," she said softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mum," Harry managed.

Severus held out a conjured handkerchief to Harry, who took it with a murmur of thanks. The older wizard squeezed the younger one's shoulder once more, before letting go. With an encouraging nod from his mother, Harry turned to face the man. The goblin to his right handed the knife to Severus. "The knife will take what it needs," the goblin said. Harry winced in sympathy as the man nonchalantly sliced open his own palm, laying the knife in the well of blood, until the blade shifted, becoming the same colour as the rubies themselves. The goblin took the knife back and plunged it into the chalice, muttering words in a language Harry had never heard before, while stirring the mixture with the blade. He then tapped the knife on the edge of the chalice once– the blade was once-again silver in colour, Harry noticed.

"Drink your elixir, Mr Potter," instructed Sharptooth, as the goblin to Harry's left proffered the chalice. The liquid inside glittered like Harry thought a molten ruby might. He grimaced, but raised the elixir to his lips and swallowed. The liquid was slippery as it touched his lips and seemed to move as one entity, diving down his throat, barely touching anything on its way. He did not taste it as it seemed to bypass his tongue; he simply felt the pressure against the back of his throat and instinctively swallowed. The chalice was empty; not a drop left behind. To his surprise, Sharptooth solemnly lifted Severus's left hand and placed it upon Harry's head, then proceeded to place the man's right hand upon the frame of the portrait.

"Mrs Potter will ask you to agree to the conditions that she feels necessary for you to uphold the trust she intends to place in you," Sharptooth said to Snape. "You will answer however you wish to, providing you give clear positive or negative answers. You must allow any mental shields you may be employing to fall beforehand so that the magic can read your intentions and honesty. If you are harbouring any desire to harm Mr Potter, the magic will not work. Any failure to adhere to your promises after they have been made will result in a penalty, the nature of which will depend on the severity and nature of the transgression. Are you ready to proceed?"

Severus quite honestly felt he had never been less ready for anything in his entire life. "A moment, please," he requested, and focussed his gaze inward, first calming himself and then forcing his shields to fall. It took some doing; they'd been in position for over a decade at that point, and, truth be told, he did not relish the idea of compromising them. However, he thought, as he glanced at his newly unmarked arm, he wouldn't be spying for anyone any time soon.

Finally, he was ready, and indicated this. Lily cleared her throat, and a band of shining golden light twisted out of the portrait, ensnaring Severus by the wrist.

"Are you Severus Tobias Snape?" she asked, softly.

"I am."

"Are you, today, prepared to take my son, Harry James Potter, into your home as your own child?"

There was the smallest of beats before he answered. "I am."

"Do you promise to treat him as you would if he were your biological child?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to make a conscious effort to see Harry Potter, rather than James, and not hold James's past mistakes against Harry?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to help Harry to feel welcome in your home, to try your best to help him feel a sense of belonging?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to celebrate his successes, commiserate in his failures, share in his joy and comfort him in sadness?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to ensure that he is well-fed, well-groomed, sheltered and safe, to the best of your ability?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to protect him from those who may wish him harm?"

"With my life."

Lily smiled at him then, full and warm and shining with affection. "Thank you, Sev," she said, and it felt like the first spring sunlight after a long cold winter. Severus could not bring himself to regret anything that had put that smile on her face.

She spoke again, "Then I, Lily Evans Potter, formerly Evans, mother of Harry James Potter, give my consent for this adoption of Harry James Potter by Severus Tobias Snape. Let no man or entity rend them asunder. Be happy, my sweet boy," she said, looking at Harry, "and my dear friend," she continued, turning her gaze to Severus.

At that, the band encircling Severus's wrist seemed to sink beneath his skin, and Harry watched as its light travelled up the man's arm towards his chest, its pace glacial.

"What's that?" he heard the boy breathe, wonderingly.

Severus, who was similarly curious, listened carefully to her answer.

"It's part of the power of a living will," came Lily's explanation, and she directed it at Severus, with an apologetic smile, despite Harry being the one who had asked. "I learned about it when making the will. It will locate Severus's core; the well of magic inside him," she flicked her gaze back to Harry as she said this, ensuring he followed the explanation too. "Then, it will break a small piece of magic off, so he can give it to you if he wishes."

"Won't that damage his magic?" Harry asked, a note of alarm audible in his voice, and bless the boy for asking the questions before Severus had to- he hated admitting ignorance.

Lily chuckled, and Severus knew that, without his occlumency shields, she'd been able to read his emotions straight off his face. She had always been able to when they were children. His cheeks pinked slightly. "No," she said, reassuringly. "Like a wound to the body, wounds to the magical core do heal in time. It is not common knowledge, but when a magical child is conceived, a similar transfer of magic takes place. However, because an embryo is so much smaller, most people don't even notice the tiny wound left by its draw on their magic. It's also a natural process, which smoothes it out somewhat. This will be an artificial process, and a larger magical wound, so it is likely to cause an element of discomfort– though I will try my best to lessen its severity," she promised, looking reassuringly at Severus, who nodded in acknowledgement.

"This transfer will have the same effect as one that occurs during conception; the magic that is transferred will bind to your own magical core, Harry, giving you a deeper well to draw from and allowing you to access any familial warding Severus may lay down. It also means any magical form of inheritance test will identify you as Severus's son, though biologically you will remain unrelated."

"Wait!" Harry interjected, and the band's movement was arrested, glowing brightly around Severus's shoulder, even through his robes. The boy looked up at Severus, anxiety evident on his features, "I don't want it to hurt you! We can just do the guardianship, Severus, really."

Severus smiled wryly at the boy, using the hand still placed upon his head to ruffle his hair slightly. "I am no stranger to pain, Harry, I assure you. The prospect of it in this situation does not daunt me in the slightest. We shall proceed, if that is amenable to you?"

Harry looked like he had half a mind to protest further, but swallowed his objections in the face of Severus's pointed stare, simply nodding his acquiescence.

His mother smiled at him as the band of light continued slowly making its way along Severus's shoulder, finally reaching his chest, where they lost sight of it. For the longest moment, nothing happened. Suddenly, Severus's body tensed, and, though the man's expression remained carefully empty, Harry was sure the process had begun.

Severus closed his eyes and his breathing became very deliberate- breathing through the pain, Harry would bet- but then a sudden look of peace spread across his face and the corners of his lips quirked upwards, ever so slightly. Harry wondered what his mother had done to make the process easier. The light reappeared at Severus's left shoulder, travelling down slowly towards the man's hand, which was still resting upon Harry's head. This time, however, the band of light was not entirely gold. In the centre of the band was a dark green glow; a piece of Severus's magic. As the glow reached the man's wrist, just above Harry's eyeline, its progress stalled.

Severus tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something, inhaled deeply, then opened his eyes, looking directly into Harry's.

"I give you this gift freely," he said, his voice low, "so that magic will recognise the connection between us. Will you accept it?"

"Yes," whispered Harry, and the light continued on its journey upwards, out of Harry's line of vision. He felt an intense warmth underneath the hand resting upon the crown of his head, and then the warmth seemed to travel downwards, passing slowly into his head, then down his neck and into his chest, where it started to intensify, burning hotter and hotter. Harry gasped as an uncomfortable feeling began to build. It didn't feel like pain, exactly- it didn't originate anywhere on his body. Harry knew, rather than felt, that it was his core. It built more, the feeling becoming stronger and stronger, and there was a sensation then, like something stretching to breaking point. It was very uncomfortable. As he floundered, trying and failing to cope with the onslaught of sensation, he was dimly aware of the hand on his head moving to one shoulder, another hand rising to grasp his other shoulder, before the hands applied a slight pressure, pulling Harry forward, pressing him to Severus's chest, where he was held tightly. Harry immediately felt the discomfort in his core lessen. He felt the tall man's hand move back to his head, as the other arm moved to encircle his back. "Breathe, child," he heard the man whisper. "Relax. Don't fight it." Harry allowed his legs to buckle and Severus sank with him to the floor, arms still supporting him. There wasn't much space in the circle, and it could not yet be disturbed, so Severus knelt, shifting Harry so he could support his weight as the boy's chest continued to blare a bright green through his t-shirt. The child's breathing was still shallow and rapid, but calmer since Severus had begun to hold him. They sat for a moment, Harry's breathing calming with every passing minute, before the green began to fade and, gradually, Harry opened his eyes, looking up into the obsidian pools of his adoptive parent.

"Sorry, Severus," the boy said, clearly embarrassed. "It was just really…"

"Intense?" offered Severus, and the boy nodded weakly. "There's no need for apologies," murmured Severus, hesitantly brushing a lock of hair out of Harry's eyes. Harry looked up at him then, surprise spilling across his features as he noticed the position they were in, but he did not pull away. Not yet.

"Congratulations, Mr Snape and Mr Potter," came Sharptooth's voice from somewhere above them. "It is done."

They turned to look at him, and the goblin extended the documentation both of them had signed earlier, while waiting for Harry's medical to begin. The gap beside, 'Signature of consent from biological parent' had been filled. Lily Evans Potter was sprawled across it, in shimmering gold cursive.

"It worked?" said Harry, drowsily. He turned to face the portrait. "Mum?" But there was no response. The portrait frame was empty.

Harry, exhausted and emotionally overwrought, burst into tears. All Severus could do was tighten his grip on the boy as he cried. "I know," he murmured, ignoring the prickling sensation at his own eyelids. "I know."