As Harry sat waiting for the professor to finish his meal, he realized that his bum was itching, painfully. Harry, surprised he didn’t notice the dull throb that accompanied the itch earlier, attempted to occupy his hands within the folds of his trousers. And so he sat, twisting and untwisting the soft material, trying not to think about the aches and pains his body was experiencing.

But his mind had other ideas. Not only does my bum hurt something fierce, my arm is pulsing from where the Professor grabbed me…and my knees and hands from when I fell. Harry sighed, still staring at his hands; the skin was pink from scrubbing, I wonder if I’ll get to go to sleep soon, or if he plans for me to clean up first. The thought of washing his hands one more time almost made Harry giggle. But then he remembered just why he needed to wash his hands. The Professor was not very happy earlier. I hope he’s not angry at me. Can’t I do anything right? Just when I started to fit in at Aunt and Uncle’s house, I’m taken here. Suddenly, his pink fingers weren’t as funny anymore. How many more times will I screw up tonight, before the Professor sends me to an orphanage, or he starts to thrash me like Uncle Vernon?

Sensing movement at his side, Harry kept his eyes averted from the professor, but stopped his uncomfortable fidgeting. “Bring your plate and glass to the sink please, Harry,” was said to the top of the boy’s messy head.

Harry complied, feeling his legs stiffen from the short sit. Before he could reach the tap to wash the dishes under, the professor placed his hands on Harry’s tiny shoulders and moved him to his right, saying, “I will wash and rinse the dishes if you would be willing to dry them and place them in a stack on the counter top.”

Is this a test? Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia liked to ask me if I would do something for them and make me do it anyway, even if I said no. But sometimes, when I said yes, they would give me even more work to do. It has to be a test. Harry felt his head throb with each heart beat as he tried to generate an appropriate answer that would get him in the least bit of trouble. Not really knowing what to say, Harry nodded and mumbled into his chest, “Yes, sir.” He accepted the fluffy white towel the professor offered; their fingers brushed together.

~*~*~*~

What was wrong with this child? Severus had really yet to ask a question in which he received a straight answer from Harry. And yet the night drags on.

All Severus really wanted to do was clean and place the plates, silverware, and glasses with a wave of his wand. But he decided early on that he would attempt to keep everything as Muggle as possible. It would do no good to scare the boy with magical displays, especially since Severus didn’t even know if Harry had shown any accidental magic to his relatives. It was also known to Severus that some wizarding children, after discovering they had the same abilities as their parents to do magic, would run rampant throughout the house and grounds wreaking havoc. That was not something that Severus would like to see within this child, and scaring the child into greater submission would be just as horrendous.

Severus received just a few owl posts of how Draco Malfoy, so like his esteemed father, was already accomplished in quite a few spells, charms, and even curses. No doubt it was something that Lucius wished to brag about to his friends, not that Severus was truly what someone would call a friend to Lucius. Severus found it necessary, however, to keep up appearances as long as the Dark Lord was only rumored to be dead.

Besides, washing a few dishes was not something that would be the end of the world for the Potions Professor. Many times, caldrons were resistant to magical cleanings, or the students had botched their potions so badly that whatever concoction remained was something Severus did not want to risk exposing to magic.

And like potion making, Severus found that the methodical dunking, wiping, rinsing and drying of dishes was soothing. It certainly was akin to brewing, where one’s hands were kept occupied, allowing the mind to wander to other matters.

Harry Potter, how is it that you have remained so quiet these past few hours since I took you from your much beloved family home? Why is it that you only answer the questions with as few words as possible without raising your chin from your chest? You certainly are one of a kind, Severus marveled at the small child. It was difficult to believe that he was truly his own. And yet, that was the one thing that seemed to link the two of them together, their peace in solitude and speaking only when it was completely necessary. But that was the interesting part, children are generally talkative, hyperactive little cretins, not even moving away from their families and attending Hogwarts classes for years can manage to calm some of them down. The Weasley twins came to mind…no, one can never even bribe Draco enough to make him silent for as short a time as ten seconds. But still, Severus reasoned, a quiet boy was better than a rambunctious and rude one.

When his hands found nothing to occupy themselves, Severus quietly said to Harry, “I believe you have had a trying day and if you can rediscover the location of your bedroom, you may retire for the night.”

“Yes sir, I remember where it is,” came Harry’s reply, just as softly. But his face was slightly scrunched, as it was so often already, as he contemplated adding to his simple sentence.

Moments later, Severus saw that the unobtrusive side of the boy won out, and nodding himself, conveyed, “I will wake you in the morning for breakfast” as a dismissal.

As the boy made his way to the stairs, Severus turned around in the small kitchen, waving his wand and muttering Reveritae, and watched as the now clean dishes placed themselves into their respected cupboards and drawers. After making sure that Harry was truly going to his room, Severus sat in front of the empty fireplace, trying to remember just how long ago it was that there had been a true fire blazing from its depths.

~*~*~*~

Harry went up to the room that the professor had said was his earlier that evening. Harry was still confused by what that meant, but reasoned if he wasn’t supposed to use the loo that the professor would have said something earlier. So after locating the clothing he used as pajamas Harry made his way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Harry returned to his room, feeling more refreshed than he had in awhile, but he was still quite sore. While standing in front of the mirror of his bathroom, Harry surveyed his body for the signs of the pain he felt. Indeed, his back was one large bruise with tiny scabs just starting to form. His bum was another large bruise which extended some into his thighs. When Harry was examining his arms, he realized just how much he did hurt, and how tired he was. His eyes were drooping by the time he walked to the dresser, and he fell asleep just as he stretched out on his blankets with a pillow under his head.

~*~*~*~

Just as Severus decided he should go up to his bed to sleep, a green fire blazed to life in the hearth. Cursing himself for being startled, Severus sat up straighter as Albus Dumbledore’s head appeared within the depths of the fire. Severus sat and waited for the old man to speak without feeling keen to conversation.

Albus, apparently sensing this, started, “Severus, how are you this fine-”

“Please don’t waste my time with mindless conversation, Albus,” Severus cut him off with a smirk.

After a pause, Albus continued, “Of course, my boy. How is Harry doing?”

Severus’ smirk became more pronounced, “And just why did you take your time—almost a full evening—to respond to the message I left your Deputy Headmistress?” Severus raised one eyebrow ever so slightly. “Surely your precious Golden Boy is more important than whatever business you had to attend at Hogwarts?”

“Ah. You see, Severus, I was at Number Four, Privet Drive for most of the evening, and then at Mrs. Figg’s residence explaining the strange anomaly that you seem to have refused to explain yourself.”

I refuse to rise to your cajoling, Albus, Severus thought as he relaxed further into the chair.

“As you well know, she was in an uproar, as were Harry’s relatives. They had not expected the boy to be taken so soon.”

“And do not tell me they were glad of the exchange, Albus, I could tell.”

Albus’ eyes closed in resignation, “Yes, you are quite accomplished in reading people, it is true. But I had reason to believe you had no idea of their lack of alarm in Harry leaving the protective wards of their home.”

“They were not distressed by this fact?” Severus asked as he leaned forward in his chair.

“No, in fact, they seemed at total ease during my whole exchange with them. With the exception of bringing, what was it now? Yes, “My filth” into their perfectly spotless home” Albus expressed with a touch of confusion.

But Severus was deep in thought, what would that boy have done to make them so ready to give him up in the first place and then be so callous with the removal of a great deal of protection? His eyes strayed upward, where on the second story, the boy who was the cause of these anomalies, his son, was sleeping. Returning his eyes back to the Headmaster, Severus asked in a voice that betrayed his curiosity, “And you explained to them full well the amount of protection Harry received while he called their house home and just why the blood wards were placed there in the first place?”

“Yes, of course.”

The furrow in Severus’ brow that was just a small line before, deepened. “And still they showed no remorse that the boy would be leaving the protection of their home?”

Albus’ face took on many of the same characteristics as Severus’. “No, none.” At the sigh that escaped from his once-student, Albus pressed further, “Why, why does this news have you so worried, Severus?”

Before he verbalized his thoughts, Severus stood, saying to the head in the fire, “You may come through the remainder of the way, Albus. I am merely going to check that the boy is sleeping before we continue our conversation.”

With that, Severus made his way up to the second story bedroom that now belonged to his son.

~*~*~*~

Harry woke with a start the next morning, just as the door creaked open a little. Harry could imagine the professor’s head sticking in, angry lines set in place on his face. But all Harry could see were his shiny black boots, a little scuffed, from his position on the floor and far side of the bed. In a panic, and not wanting the professor to see that he had slept in so late, as the sun was already streaming in the window, Harry scrambled to stand.

The professor’s face went from one of curiosity to amusement to confusion and finally to impassiveness as Harry made his appearance behind the bed. “Come down for breakfast after you have washed up,” was delivered without emotion to the small, messy-haired boy who was still bleary-eyed.

“Yes sir,” Harry croaked out, before rubbing his eyes of some of their sleepiness. The professor nodded once and left the room, leaving the door open a hair. Harry could hear his heavy boots making a soft clump, clump on the stairs and breathed a sigh of relief. After retrieving some of the nicer clothes Aunt Petunia gave him, Harry went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face. He thought it strange seeing this boy staring back at him from the mirror, his appearance hadn’t changed much from last week. His nose was still the same size, his eyes still a piercing green set in pale skin, his hair still soft, silky black, although it was even less unruly than before. Wherever Harry put a piece of hair, it stayed. That was never possible before…then my hair did whatever it wanted, without listening to anyone, he giggled to himself.

Deeming himself ready for breakfast, Harry reclaimed his glasses from the desk and went downstairs to the kitchen. The professor wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but there was a pan of bacon frying on the range. Sensing that it was about time to turn the bacon over, Harry went to the stove, grabbing a spatula on the way. But he was only half way through when he heard something being set not to carefully on the table and the heavy boots of the professor rushing over.

“Get away from the range, you foolish child!” was all Harry heard before he was yanked off his feet and picked up, coming in extremely close proximity to the professor’s blazing eyes.

~*~*~*~

What the hell is wrong with this child?! Severus thought furiously as he descended upon the ten year old. He had crossed the room in three gigantic steps and pulled Harry out from his way with an arm around his abdomen. Surely Harry doesn’t think he must prepare breakfast. He was simply hungry…and feeling particularly foolish. But closer inspection of his son’s face revealed stark surprise and extreme confusion with a touch of sadness which contorted the boy’s features in such a way that gripped at Severus’ heart…something he’d never admit to.

Placing Harry securely on his chair, a safe distance from the stove, Severus returned to tend the breakfast.

After double checking that the bacon was fully cooked and not too crispy, the eggs were not runny, and the coffee steaming hot, Severus lifted two plates from the cupboard and made his way to the table. “Harry, would you retrieve two sets of silverware from the drawer as well as a glass for yourself?”

Severus could see the tiny boy comply to his request from the corner of his eye, the small bit of movement still not quite a comfort rather than a threat. He was not used to having visitors at Spinner’s End, much less having visitors stay for a meal. However, it was strangely comforting to know that he did not have to be as guarded with his son as Severus would be with his other visitors.

Shaking away such feelings, Severus continued on his task of issuing breakfast, the table now set and ready. As they were eating, Severus, however unwilling, was attempting to find a topic of conversation that the boy would partake in. And as he was not trying all that hard, he was unable to come up with one. The boy probably would simply ask questions non stop if I stated something about magic or Hogwarts. That would certainly ruin my day…although silence certainly is not as comfortable with two as it is with one. But there is simply nothing to speak of! I do not wish to know about his home life, how he was pampered, to hear how badly he likes it here, with me. I do not need to hear him say he wishes to return to the Muggle household of his aunt and uncle, however beastly they may be…and then I would have to listen to their whining about having the nuisance returned to their care. No, he reasoned, that simply will not do. I am grateful for his silence, however odd it is.

It was an interesting phenomenon to ponder though, and kept his mind busy through washing the dishes from breakfast. In the short time it took to clean their plates, Severus’ mind had actually shifted to another topic of interest. Why had Harry been on the floor of his room that morning? I thought he was sleeping on his bed…although it is quite large for a child of his age and stature. Perhaps I should have looked closer last night, but with Albus downstairs, I did not wish to waste time. I suppose he simply is not used to such a high bed and probably fell off during his sleep and simply had no desire to crawl back up to the covers. But while his mind was running through possible ways to satisfy his curiosity, Severus didn’t talk to Harry at all, he didn’t learn anything definitive about Harry’s quality of sleep nor about the boy’s past, but for now, Severus could live with the little information he had.

“Harry, it looks as though it will be a wonderful day outside. I need to tend to the gardens, and I would rather you be near me.” Harry’s blank and confused look aimed towards Severus’ hands did nothing to his nerves. “You could play in the lot behind the house while I tend the gardens,” he said to the last piece of silverware in the sudsy sink.

“Yes sir.”

~*~*~*~

After helping dry the dishes from breakfast as with those from dinner the previous night, Harry found himself outside. The Professor wants me to…play. I only watched Dudley play, Harry thought as he slowly walked around the yard in back of the house, kicking a pebble on his way. I wonder if he was angry with me at sleeping in the room. Maybe he expects me to offer the room back. Maybe he wants me to do something else outside. He was talking to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon before I got there, what would they want me to do? Harry wondered as he walked slowly away from the back of the house, looking for work to occupy his time with.

But as many times as he walked through the gardens, he didn’t recognize any of the plants, save for one, and didn’t think the professor would appreciate his pulling out plants that were important in some strange way. What if wizards—Harry still couldn’t consider himself one in his own mind—use different plants than normal people as a part of their magic? I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys yet, the Professor didn’t say anything to me about being a wizard, and he hasn’t hurt me for not doing anything right. But the more Harry tried to figure out the professor, the more his head began to hurt. As he was going over his last day in Privet Drive, Harry remembered a very special friend he made, and began searching the grass for Siles. Unable to see him slithering through the grass at his feet, and with renewed energy, Harry walked faster towards the tree near his window.

Upon circling the tree three times and not seeing the snake anywhere in sight, Harry continued his walk around the lot. But as soon as he neared a larger clump of trees near the corner of the yard, Harry heard the voice that he’d been hoping for.

Boy, what are you doing outside today?

I’m looking for you! Where are you, Siles? What have you been doing? Do you like it here? Are there any mice for you to eat?, Harry asked all in a rush, eager to talk to his friend.

First, come around the other side of this tree, so I can see your face. And then I will answer your questions, you silly child, Siles replied with a slight lilt of humor in his voice.

~*~*~*~

Severus let Harry exit the kitchens early, unlocking the door to the backyard for his son. This gave Severus enough time to set the dishes back to their proper places, take his outer robes to the wardrobe in his room upstairs, apply a few good Resistant Charms to his clothing, and conjure a few tools for his upcoming task in the sun.

Keeping all his senses trained on Harry but sight, for which he used to find the weeds that had overrun the garden nearest the house, Severus settled into his work. But it wasn’t long until he was distracted by a strange sound, one he couldn’t place and yet placed a fear into the depth of his stomach which he had not experienced in nine years. It sent his head spinning around looking for the source of the noise. Eyes snapping from one movement in the large yard to the next until his eyes and ears, and wand, were trained on Harry, who was standing by a tree in the far corner of the yard, his mouth moving. But Severus was too far away from his son to hear the words he was speaking…but not only his mouth was moving, he noticed. Harry’s eyes seemed large, intent on something a little above eye-level, his hands moving with wild motions, his face lit up in the rays of a full smile.

Severus marveled at the child. What the hell is he doing now? Damn, how many times have I said that in the last twenty-four hours? Too many, it seems…this boy is too much for my nerves it seems. Why is he speaking to a tree? This child is too odd for his own good. Perhaps taking him to a wizarding city and teaching him about his magic will be beneficial to his mental health. But any other ponderings left Severus just at the same dead end. He would have to speak to the boy in order to gain a more conclusive decision.

It wasn’t until after Severus had moved onto weeding the second garden that Harry appeared by his side, looking uncomfortable.

“Yes, Harry?” Severus asked, stilling his hands for his son’s response.

“Um…I was—do you, do you want me to help with the weeding?”

What? You’re actually volunteering to help me? “Of course.”

Harry settled down next to a kneeling Severus, and studied the weeds that were pulled from the earth and placed in a basket. Severus watched as Harry then moved in to grasp and pull out what he suspected was a weed, and decided to delve into the mind that was Harry Potter’s.

“That is a valerian plant. You don’t want to pull that out,” he said with a slight smile as Harry’s hand froze in mid-grab.

“Oh. Sorry, sir,” Harry said, seemingly embarrassed that he didn’t know.

Severus sighed, saying, “There is no way you would have known. This plant is used in potion making. In fact, most of these plants in the gardens I do use in my potions, they have not grown over much since my last visit here.” He grabbed at another stray weed.

“So…” Harry began, and then looked quickly away towards his hands in his lap.

“What is it, Harry?” Why are you so reluctant to speak and ask questions, child? Perhaps more prodding is needed. “You can ask me any question, if I do not wish to answer, I will simply say so.” But Harry was still unwilling to express his curiosity, and refused to look Severus in the eyes, choosing instead to study his dirty fingernails.

“Harry. Harry, look at me.” The small head of his son turned reluctantly towards his guardian, “Harry, I will not be angry at you for asking questions.” I seriously hope I won’t regret this later… Severus took another breath and continued, “If I wish for peace and quiet, I will say so, otherwise…please, ask your questions.”

“So, what is the velabrian plant for?” Harry asked, surprising Severus by keeping his vibrant green eyes locked on his face.

“The val-er-ian plant,” Severus took time to sound it out, “or just its roots, is most commonly used in the Draught of Living Death, which places its taker into a deep sleep, making them appear as though dead.” Tearing another plant from the earth, Severus instructed, “This is asphodel which is also used in the Draught of Living Death, but is in the wrong place here.” Harry nodded.

“You see, these plants are quite common throughout their various parts of the world and many Muggles would simply throw them out, but when prepared in the correct way with other ingredients, one can concoct a powerful potion,” Severus said, tossing the plant in the bin.

“Yes sir…and what is this plant for?” Harry asked, pointing to a clump of wormwood.

“This is wormwood. You may have seen it growing on the edge of a field or footpath?” Harry nodded again, evidently engrossed in the impromptu lesson taking place.

“Yes, it grows around the park on the end of Privet Drive.”

Studying the boy who was again studying the plants, and was, by the look on his face, trying to engrave their shapes and uses in his mind, Severus said, “Perhaps it would be easiest if you find all the plants that look like this?” he asked, holding out a weed that was scattered throughout the garden. “These you can pull out and discard in the basket.”

~*~*~*~

Soon enough, Harry found himself enjoying the work with the professor. Usually, Harry would have to hurry through the gardens and pull out the weeds as fast as he could, by himself without talking. But the professor almost seemed to enjoy the company. So Harry continued to ask his questions, trying his hardest to remember everything the professor said in response.

And indeed Harry was enjoying himself towards midday; this is just as fun as talking to Siles…I didn’t really think that the Professor would keep picking weeds with me. And he really doesn’t mind me asking so many questions! Aunt Petunia would have a fit! And he doesn’t seem to care that we’re taking a really long time to get through all the plants, making sure they’re in the right rows and not too crowded.

With each garden, Harry learned more and more about potions and their botanical ingredients. But it wasn’t until they reached the final garden that needed weeding that Harry realized there was one plant that was flowering and in every patch of earth, “What is this flower for? Aunt Petunia had a lot of them in the front yard between hydrangeas. Aunt Petunia’s were yellow and orange…lilies, right? Yours are white though. Are they the same plant?”

Harry was concentrating on getting a particularly entrenched ginger root that he broke the top off of earlier out of the ground. But once he fully removed the plant and filled in the hole he created, the professor still hadn’t answered his question. Did I ask too many questions? Harry turned his attention to hooded eyes and hands splayed outward in the ground, long white fingers tense in the dirt.

“Yes” was the professor’s soft, terse reply. “They are the same plant. These in front of you are lilies.”

Harry, not wanting to ask but wanting to know if the professor was telling the truth about letting him ask questions, began again, “What are they f--?”

But he was cut off by the professor, “They keep the worst of the sadness away.”

Harry sat staring at the man who was his guardian, his father. He had seen many sides of the man before this moment, but never sadness as deep as this…Harry had never seen sadness that ran this deep in anyone.

Except, he considered, in me.

~*~*~*~

They’re lilies…Lily’s… I knew I would regret letting you ask your questions, boy. I don’t know how to answer, “Yes, they’re Lily’s lilies. She dug some out of her gardens at Godric’s Hollow for me to plant here after it was no longer safe for her to be associated with me, well, it was never safe for her to be with me. But she was anyway. And they were the best two years of my life…even towards the end…” As his thoughts escaped him, Severus soon became aware that he had yet to say anything out loud. He turned to Harry, where he met vivid emerald eyes. Lily’s eyes. “Yes, they are the same plant. These in front of you are Lily’s.”

“What are they f--?”

“They keep the worst of the sadness away.” And ease my aching heart when it is worst.

Severus was contemplating how to start telling the story of Lily and himself for the next few seconds, completely lost in the green eyes of his son who sat before him. How does one begin such a tale as this with such a horrendous ending?

“And keeps memories sweet.” Both faces turned towards the wizard in powder-blue robes and half-moon spectacles, popping a lemon drop in his mouth.

“What is it you are here for, Albus?” Severus asked in a severe tone, causing Harry’s head to whip back around to face him and his morose look to deepen.

With eyes twinkling at such a rate that made Severus want to yell in his face, Albus replied easily, “I wish to talk to Harry, Severus. His situation has changed quite dramatically in such a short time and I simply seek to be reassured.”

Matching the Headmaster’s intensity within his own eyes, Severus growled out, “Not now.”

Moving closer and conjuring a stool, Albus calmly pointed out, “Now, Severus, this is as good a time as any!” He settled himself on the stool’s squishy cushion. “Would you be so kind as to whip up a batch of Pepper-Up Potion for Poppy? I do believe that is what her stores are lacking the most.”

A benevolent smile took over Dumbledore’s face in such a way that made Severus curse, Damn you, Albus. I have a few words for you myself after you’re done interrogating my son. But all he said was, “Of course.” He turned to Harry only to find him looking terrified with his hands clasped tightly around a weed, wringing it in his hands, and his eyes pinned fiercely on the lilies in the garden.

~*~*~*~

“I will be just inside, Harry.” The words floated through the haze that had formed over Harry’s senses. He hated it when people were fighting, when anger rolled off people, so much that he could taste it in his mouth. That never meant anything good for Harry…and he knew it.

His fear was so great that he couldn’t help but flinch at the hand that grasped his shoulder. But it did break the haze. Looking up at the hand, Harry met the face of the professor. It was covered in surprise, confusion, and hurt. I’m sorry…I just don’t know what you want from me.

But soon the professor left and Harry looked to the stranger that was standing next to him, watching the professor close the door to the house. His face was full of concern, and Harry could see the twinkle dim in his vivid blue eyes. After Harry heard the quiet snap that was the door closing fully, the stranger turned to face him and his face was filled with a big smile.

“Hello, Harry. We’ve never been properly introduced. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I am Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where you will attend the upcoming term. I have known your father and mother since they were your age, when they first came to Hogwarts. Why don’t you sit on the stool? I imagine the ground is not overly comfortable,” he said, patting a stool with its own squishy cushion that was not next to him a second ago.