Severus Snape glided down the busy sidewalks of east Greensdale, trying to ignore the strange looks thrown his way. He was headed for Surrey’s wizard districft—Pothole Alley. Being a small wizarding town, Pothole Alley had only one public floo, which meant a backlog of travelers stretching a mile long. And the nearest legal Apparation point to the town was seven blocks away, and Severus was stuck walking through Muggle Greensdale.

Severus, ever the early-bird, rose with the rising sun and set out immediately in order to avoid the hustle and bustle of midday. That enterprise, however, was quickly washed down the gutters as the wizard found himself surrounded by the morning rush-hour. To make things worse, Severus’ long, dark cloak made him look rather conspicuous among the sea of Muggles.

Severus did not like the attention he was getting from the street dwellers. One could say that he was not a people person, even though his job called upon him to deal with quite a lot of people nearly every day. But then again, if Severus thought that hormone enveloped teenagers were people…or human, he would have quit his post as Potions professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As it were, the various bone-headed creatures he had to deal with eight months out of twelve each year could hardly be considered human, not yet anyway.

Severus was a man, a wizard that enjoyed his privacy and loathed attention. Be as it may, he had decided against dawning Muggle attire, as he believed no such act was necessary. If people wanted to stare, then he would simply stare right back and that usually did the trick. Of course, Severus never counted on just how many Muggles would be out and about this bleak, cloudy August morning. He would have to remember that next time he came down this way.

The Potions Master glared at a woman walking her dog and snorted as she quickened her steps. Sure his outfit was a mite unusual, but people should really mind their own business. Severus turned his head back the road and kept walking. A brisk wind picked up and blew down the street, bringing with it a light chill. It was late August; the temperature had just begun to fall but the rain was as steady as ever, drizzling half the Island. Not that it mattered, because Severus rarely stepped out of his home in the dungeons.

Severus found his hobby in Potions, and busied himself with periodicals and research. The only problem was that some of his experiments required Ministry controlled ingredients. Today, the Potions Master had a scheduled meeting with a small, private company that specialized in rare and less than innocuous ingredients of…questionable legality.

Because ,you see, getting a permit for Potions experimentation was not easy. The Ministry of Substance Control didn’t just hand them out like Albus Dumbledore would lemon drops. And given Severus’ scratchy history, the Ministry didn’t even look at his application, let alone grant it. That was when Albus stepped in, and called in a few favours to force the Ministry’s hand. But even with Albus’ support, obtaining level five security ingredients were difficult, if not impossible.

Severus found that private companies were much easier to deal with than the Ministry, as many of them also had scratchy, or rather ambiguous records.

The tall wizard’s long, quick strides carried him towards his destination like a long breeze, steady and smooth. He turned about a corner and entered an alley between two tall buildings, hidden from the streets and the prying eyes of Muggles.

That was when he spotted the boy.

The tiny figure, curled up on the cold concrete, looked to be no more than four or five years old. A large, baggy shirt draped across his entire frame. A shirt so large that all Severus was able to see was a tousle of jet black hair sticking out the top, and a pair of sneakers protruding from the bottom--sneakers that looked to be too small to be comfortable.

What could a child as young as that be doing there, all by himself at the crack of dawn? Severus thought with mild interest and some concern. He then sneered with disapproval. This is the exact reason why he would never have kids, even if he’d somehow manage to find a suitable partner (which in itself is unimaginable). In his opininon, children did only one thing, and that was get into trouble, trouble like this, like getting lost. This child’s parents must be worrying their block off about the little cretin.

What to do, what to do? Well, Severus supposed he’d better do something, couldn’t just leave the thing here, could he?

“Boy,” Severus called tonelessly and leaned down to shake the boy’s shoulders, lightly least he scare the little runt. Having a career at Hogwarts meant he had to handle with children on a regular basis -- every unfortunate, living and breathing day of the school year, in fact. Plus, with the double duties of Potions professor and Slytherin head of house, Severus was used to dealing twice his share, just never ones this young or… miniscule. . But, not wanting to land himself with a hysterical five year old, though, Severus kept his tone as unintimidating as he could, and that was no easy task.

“Wake up, boy,” Severus called again when the boy did not stir. He growled when the little lump fidgeted but did not wake. He was eager to get off this tangent and getting back on schedule. Today’s business was important business. Hogwarts was to reopen for the fall semester in a week’s time, and if he didn’t get this business sorted before that, he’d never get it done. So, as soon as he dropped the kid off at the nearest police station, he’d be well on his way.

A ominous roll of thunder drummed overhead, as if to foreshadow a strange occurrence in the near future.

The Potions Master spoke once more, louder and firmer this time. “Boy!” Again, the boy hardly stirred. Feeling irritated and quickly losing his patience, Severus grabbed either side of the boy’s bony shoulders and shook him roughly. “For the love of dragon scales, boy! Wake. Up!” He shouted.

oo0o0oo

Harry was snapped out of his sleep by a voice calling for him and hands shaking his shoulders. Still groggy and half asleep, Harry’s first thoughts were that the voice belonged to Uncle Vernon, the voice sounded angry and that he was in trouble.

“Uncle Vernon? I…I’m sorry, I’m up, I’m up. Right away, sir. Didn’t mean to oversleep,” he apologized in a frenzy, hoping to subdue the angry, booming voice that was surely Uncle Vernon.

Harry cringed back against the wall, removing his spindly arms from underneath his baggy shirt and held them above his head. He hoped against hope that Uncle Vernon wouldn’t drag him out by his hair like the last time he had overslept.

“Please sir, I’m sorry,” Harry pleaded timidly, still not looking up. Oh, he was in so much trouble. One Uncle Vernon plus one empty coffee mug equaled a day in the cupboard and likely no supper. “I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll get the coffee now, sir…and…and it won’t take long to cook the eggs.”

Severus frowned, wondering what on earth Harry was on about. “What are you blabbering about?” He said sharply, succeeding only in making Harry cry. “Stop, calm down. Tell me your name.”

His name? Harry stopped in his tracks. Uncle Vernon knew his name, even though he rarely used it. It was then that Harry noticed that he was cold and that he was outside. What? What was going on? Where was he?

“Are you lost?” Severus asked, keeping his tone mild.

Harry lowered his hands a little in order to peek at Severus through his fringe. He couldn’t figure out what was happening. He wasn’t home, he wasn’t in his cupboard and this man was definitely not Uncle Vernon. Harry began to shake with fright. “Wh…where am I? Who…who are you?”

It was then that Severus noticed something that made every inch of him freeze; there behind the messy locks of hair, on the boy’s forehead, lay a long, thin scar in the perfect shape of a lightning bolt.

Harry Potter.

Out beyond the alley, the busy day continued, oblivious to the black robed figure, kneeling in front of a small boy, eyes frozen with surprise.