For a moment, Severus could hear nothing but the harsh, frenetic buzzing of pure anger in his ears as he leaped up, leaning over this boy-this bloody Potter brat-having the gall to cower away from him in his armchair, that damnable scar still visible through the messy fringe. Potter. Of course it was Potter. He should have seen it at once, the boy had his father's untidy hair, angular features, and arrogant set to his shoulders. The only thing he seemed to have claimed of Lily's was those vivid green eyes, yet even those were shadowed with the ghost of James Potter.

The boy hadn't answered his question, his mouth gawping open like some sort of idiot-brained nit. His hands had automatically flown up in a defensive posture, and Severus finally realised he was looming over the brat like he was ready to stuff him in the nearest trash bin. Dumbledore would have his head if he harmed a hair on the precious Boy Who Lived's head. Severus reluctantly sat back down, fingering his wand up his sleeve, still stiff with anger.

"Talk, boy," he finally growled. "Why have you run away from your relatives? Did they not pamper you enough?"

"Sir, I-" the boy started to speak, but Severus couldn't stop himself from continuing, venting his spleen on the progeny of his childhood bully. Spit flecked his lips, and he had to consciously relax his grip on his sleeve, or he might have ripped it.

"You've probably caused them a great deal of trouble looking for you, but of course, you couldn't be bothered to think about that, now could you? How long have you been grubbing about the countryside like that? Days? Weeks? No, it couldn't be weeks, you wouldn't survive out there for weeks," he rolled his eyes, carelessly waving one hand. The boy still sat there, seemingly frozen by Severus's vitriol, but Severus ignored it. "Not a little brat like you. Roll around in the mud then perhaps? Your family must be worried sick and yet here you are, gallivanting about as you please! Well, Mister Potter, that ends now. You will be going home and you will tell me the name and address of your guardians, and this will end tonight. D'you hear me? Tonight, Mister Potter."

Now, he stood up again and grabbed the boy by the arm, pulling him up out of the armchair with a swift, decisive jerk, and yanking him toward the front door. The brat went docilely enough until Severus's hand was on the doorknob, and then he turned into a wildcat.

Before Severus could get a firmer grasp on the child's arm, he'd pulled free and was scrambling backwards. The expression on his face was the most terrified that Severus had ever seen on a human face, even while in the service of You Know Who, and it stopped him cold. Even when the boy fell over and landed hard on one ankle, snapping the bone with a sound like a branch breaking, he didn't stop his mumbling, scooting even farther back into the narrow confines of the house. Tears slid down the boy's cheeks, but he seemed utterly unaware of his ankle breaking.

"Potter?" Severus asked gently. His anger had evaporated, replaced entirely by bewilderment. He'd expected the child to pule and moan about going back. To throw a tantrum, even. But not this. Nothing could have prepared him for this. The boy was utterly terrified, and had now resorted to banging his head back against the corner of the wall.

"No no no no no no no no no, don't send me back don't send me back no no no no no," the boy babbled in a never-ending stream, his eyes wide as saucers, his face deathly pale.

"Potter? Potter! Harry! It's okay, I won't send you back!" Severus finally resorted to nearly yelling. "I won't send you back," he repeated, in a slightly calmer tone.

The boy finally stopped and looked up, as if comprehending Severus was there for the first time.

"They left me," he said, in a voice that sounded perpetually choked on a sob. "They took me to the store and they left me."

"I'm...I'm sorry, Po-Harry," Severus said gently, feeling like he'd been thrown in a situation so far over his head, he needed a life preserver and a snorkel. He had no experience with this! But the child seemed calmer now, and he'd stopped that horrible mumble. Severus squatted down, closer to Potter's level. "Why did they leave you?"

"Dunno," he mumbled. His face had gone even whiter as the pain of the broken bone in his ankle pierced past the overwhelming panic. "I don't feel so good."

And with that, the Boy Who Lived to Shock The Daylights Out of Him slid to the floor in a boneless, crumpled heap. He'd fainted.