“Harry?”

Severus returned to the alley after leaving the still unconscious Niamh with Tom and contacting Molly Weasley via Floo.  He had actually gotten a hold of Bill Weasley instead of Molly and had told his old student to come keep an eye on Niamh.  That had cost him a few minutes of explaining and by the time he returned to the alley, Harry was gone.

Cursing fluently in several different languages, he looked around, wondering where Harry could have gone when something hissed at his feet.  Looking down, he recognized the look – and voice – of the snake Niamh had sent his son for his last birthday.

Severus scowled and grumbled, “Damn you, Father.  You could have at least let Mum live long enough to teach me how to speak Parseltongue, not just understand a few words of it.”

“About time!”

Severus picked up Hedwig and the tiny snake curled her tail about his hand, laying her wedge-shaped head with its gleaming onyx eyes on his thumb.  She flicked her tongue out at him and Severus could have sworn she was glaring too.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, once again cursing his father for not letting his mother live long enough to teach him Parseltongue.

“He went looking for his friend, he said.  Said I wouldn’t be safe with him.”

That’s what Hedwig said.  What Severus translated from that was missing a few words.

“He – looking – friend.  Said I – safe – him.”

Severus cursed again.  Harry had gone in search of his missing friend without him and knew that it was going to be dangerous because he had left Hedwig behind.

“Now what?” asked Hedwig.

Severus scowled at her and placed the snake in one of his pockets, making sure to place an Unbreakable Charm on the reptile.  This done, he eyed the dumpster that had footprints going up the side.

Ah-ha…

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry crept like a shadow through the battered hulks of buildings that made up the neighborhood he had grown up in.  Drunks, bums, and stoned out Muggles were lying in the streets, even more so than Harry remembered.  He wrinkled his nose as he passed a pile of garbage.  And now they were just leaving the dead lying about.  Jeez, didn’t anyone give a damn about the slums?

“Stupid question,” muttered Harry to himself as he stepped over an old man clutching an empty bottle.

Suddenly something came at him out of the dark and Harry sidestepped, reaching out with lightning fast reflexes and grabbing what felt like a wrist.  He hauled downward with all his strength and whoever had lunged at him let out a cry and went down.  Harry settled atop them, placing one sneaker against their throat and pressing down on their windpipe, casually breaking one of their fingers as he did so.

“Look, you stupid son of a bitch,” he hissed in a tight voice, “I haven’t got the time for this.  Now, why don’t you go your way and I’ll go mine?  Hmm?”

Whoever it was nodded vigorously in the dark and Harry let them up, watching with a satisfied smirk and a flash of his green eyes as they took off like a light.

Turning about again, he found the building he had been looking for.

Approaching the old place slowly, he found it was just as he remembered it.  The windows were still boarded up, there was a worn No Trespassing sign nailed on the rickety door, and the sparrows still built their nests in the eaves.  Harry reached for the doorknob, feeling the cool metal under his palm for a moment before opening it and entering, eyes darting back and forth.

Nothing moved in the room as Harry slinked inside, closing the door behind him gently.  He moved across the floor with well-honed practice, going around objects he knew were there in the dark and avoiding the creaky floorboards.  The stairs loomed up ahead of him and he peered up them, seeing a dim light blossoming at the top.  Cautiously, he began to ascend.

By the time Harry reached the top of the stairs, he had begun to hear voices.  One he recognized as Abram’s, which was a rich bass for such a despicable person.  And the other he recognized as the sharp, stinging tones of Argil, the ratty man who had raised him and several other children to be pickpockets and – as Harry now knew – raped the older one’s.

“I found him, Argil,” said Abram’s voice.  “Just like you told me too.”

“Good, good.  Very good.”  Argil laughed in a way that reminded Harry of Voldemort, high-pitched and like a cackle.  He scowled as he imagined the ratty man wringing his hands in glee.  “Yes, very good.  You’ll get a fine reward for this, my boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Yes, yes.  Now, Tyls, my lad…you haven’t be going around telling people anything, have you?  Talking to any Yardies?”

The next voice that spoke was choked with pain and anguish and Harry’s fists clenched convulsively as he recognized it.

“Na…no, sir.  I’d na tell any Yardies.  Na tell nobody.”

“Abram here says he saw your talking to somebody.  A girl.  Pretty thing, he said.  Got yourself a lady, my lad?  Hmm?”

“D-doan ye touch ‘er!”

There was the stinging sound of flesh hitting flesh and Argil yelled, “I’ll do what I want, boy!  Now, tell me…where’s your lady friend live?  I’d like to have…a little chat with her.”  The man chuckled evilly.

Harry heard a soft moan then Tyls’ voice growled faintly, “Doan – doan ye touch ‘er.  I’ll – I’ll…”

“You’ll what?  Kill me?  You can’t even defend yourself!”

The door leading into the room flew open and the three occupants looked up to see Harry framed in it, his face all shadows and his eyes gleaming bright green.

“Maybe he can’t defend himself,” growled the teen, glaring at the shell-shocked Argil.  “But I can.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Severus found himself in the slums of London, stepping over drunks as he made his way down the street.  He looked about the place with disdain, wondering if this was the place where his son had grown up.  The orphanage where he had grown up had been bad – but this?  This was worse.

Suddenly there was a cry from the end of the street.  Severus whirled and saw flames licking the roof of an old building with an aged No Trespassing sign on the door.  As he ran towards it, the door burst open and children from the ages of seven to fifteen stumbled out, taking off down the street and vanishing down side streets or into other buildings.

It couldn’t be…  Could it?

Severus looked up at the building then charged in.  He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Harry!  Harry!  Harry, answer me!”

“Da!”

Severus rushed towards his son, who had just stumbled down the stairs.  He half-carried, half-dragged him out of the burning building and made it outside just as the place collapsed.  The two of them slumped to the ground, Severus pulling his son into his arms in a tight hug at the close call.

“Are you alright?” he asked into Harry’s hair.

The teen nodded numbly and burrowed into his father’s arms, letting out a soft whimper.  Severus pulled back and saw his son’s tear-streaked face for the first time.

“Harry…what happened in there?”

The boy shook violently then gasped, “Argil…he – he killed Tyls.  He…killed him.  HE KILLED HIM!”

Severus pulled his son back into his arms, feeling the boy tremble.  Harry buried his face in his father’s neck and Severus barely heard the next words.

“And then I killed him.”