But as he rounded the corner, he saw no child he recognised. Only a boy, one who looked very young, dressed in a tattered and overly large shirt with so many holes and dirty spots it looked fit for nothing but the waste-bin. The boy had very messy dark hair and clutched himself around the waist.

"What are you doing here?" Severus snapped out. The child jumped, nearly knocking his head on the underside of a shelf and sending Merlin-knew-how-many jars tumbling to the floor. Only a hasty jab of his wand and a muttered spell kept the disaster from happening. "Who are you?"

"'M'sorry, sir," the child lisped pitifully, his hands coming up over his head as he settled into a protective crouch. He's afraid of me, Severus thought, and somehow, the realisation produced fresh anger. As if he could do anything to harm the little brat.

"Stand up," Severus snapped again. "Arms down. What's your name, boy? Why are you making a mess of my stores?"

But as the child properly stood, still cringing, shoulders slumped, Severus discovered he had no need for a sniveling answer, not on the name front, at least. The jagged lightning scar etched into the boy's forehead could be no other.

"Harry Potter," he breathed. "Of course it would be you. Ruining my Saturday. Of course." The boy sniffled, and Severus's patience broke. Striding forward, he seized the child's arm and gave him a brisk shake. "Speak up, boy. Why are you here? Run away from your guardians somehow? They must be worried sick!"

He would have continued shouting, working himself into a proper froth, had the child not chanced to look up and give Severus a very fleeting glimpse of the massive, purpling bruise that covered one half of Potter's face.

"Potter?" his voice gentled, almost without him realising it. "Potter, what happened to your face?"

"Fell, sir," the boy mumbled, but there was a certain shiftiness in the emerald-green eyes (Lily's eyes) that gave away that that was not precisely true.

"Into a fist, perhaps," Severus snarked, but his heart wasn't in it. "How are you here, Potter?"

"Don't know, sir," the boy shrugged, shivering a little in that ridiculous get-up he wore. "Was in my cup-was in my room, sir, and wished I was somewhere else, and then..." Potter trailed off, clearly lost for words.

"You found yourself here," Severus finished. Potter nodded a bit. "Well, you can't spend all day in my storeroom," Severus sighed. "Come on, boy. Perhaps the Headmaster will know what to do with you and can send you back."

The child stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening before he could stop them.

"Go back, sir?" Potter murmured fearfully.

"Well, yes, Potter, children are not normally taken from their guardians without proper cause, and there are certain extenuating circumstances around your placement that the Headmaster can explain far better than I," Severus started to explain, but before he could finish, the boy had darted past him, down the corridor, hooked a left, and was out of sight.

Severus pinched his nose with two fingers and exhaled sharply. It was going to be one of those days.