Severus Snape, Potions Master and Professor at Hogwarts, was brewing. As usual. It was his prerogative to start brewing for the Hospital Wing as soon as the students left for their precious summer holidays. Merlin knew he’d be busy enough next term without the added burden of renewing the potions cabinet in the infirmary.

Because the Fates were always against him, Severus should have expected an interruption courtesy of Dumbledore.

“Good Morning, Severus,” came Albus’ deceptively benign grandfather voice from the Floo, “I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem.”

Of course they did. Severus really didn’t expect anything else when he was criminally busy. “Can it wait, Albus?”

“I’m afraid not, my boy. Come up to my office, if you will.” The headmaster made it sound like a request before his head disappeared from the flames, but Severus knew that it was a command. Cursing his rotten luck, Severus ceased the preparations for the standard rash cream he planned on brewing and did as Albus asked.

When Severus stopped spinning in the green flames and stepped out of the grate of Albus’ fireplace, he was accosted by a swarm of Weasleys. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, faces projecting various states of worry, and the three youngest boys they’d brought with them were looking predictably guilty.

“Thank you for joining us, Severus,” Dumbledore greeted genially as he passed around cups of tea.

“Am I to assume Messrs. Weasley are the cause of this problem we have?” Snape sneered.

“Not the cause of the problem, no, but the ones who discovered that we had one.” Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes twinkled as he sipped his tea. The three young Weasley boys all looked rather morosely into their steaming cups.

“It’s absolutely dreadful, what’s happened,” Molly Weasley sniffed, red in the face and looking quite overcome with emotion.

“Since you have requested my presence here, Headmaster, I assume I am meant to aid you in some way. In order to do so, I must first know what the problem is.” Severus pointed out, feeling rather lost at sea in the middle of so much Gryffindor foolishness.

“I am afraid, Severus, that neither Harry Potter nor his relatives are anywhere to be found.”  Dumbledore supplied.

“You can’t find Harry Potter? Your precious golden boy just up and left without so much as a by-your-leave?” Snape spat. Leave it to a Potter to inconvenience everyone around them without a thought to the trouble it would bring. “Did he decide that he was too good for Hogwarts, that he was free to do as he wished with only a year of schooling under his belt?”

“Now, now, Severus. We don’t know for sure what has happened,” Dumbledore chided him, and Snape had the uncomfortable feeling that he was a student again waiting to be scolded. He tried to conceal his discomfort by taking the seat next to Arthur that Dumbledore had conjured for him.

“So what do these three young men have to do with it?” Severus asked, refusing the offered tea and lemon drop.

That was enough to shake Molly from her incessant worrying. “My sons here had themselves a rather fantastic adventure last night, didn’t you boys?” The youngest hunched down in his seat looking cowed, making Severus think that they had all received quite a scolding already, but the twins didn’t seem quite so bothered.

“Mum, we hadn’t heard from him all summer-”

“-thought maybe his relatives were being terrible to him-”

“-we could tell he hates it there, didn’t want to go back-”

“-so when Ronnikins and Hermione hadn’t gotten any letters-”

“-we decided to check in on him-”

“-and if it turned out that those muggles were being gits to him-”

“-we were going to rescue him!”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache while the twins spoke in their unique way. “And just how, Messrs. Weasley, did you think you could rescue Potter, whose home is hundreds of miles away from yours, without the use of magic?”

The three brothers looked at each other then, but before any of them could say anything, Molly took over the conversation.

“They stole their father’s car! Flew it all the way to Little Whinging in the dead of night without even a note to tell their poor mother why their beds would be empty in the morning!” Molly’s voice got progressively louder as she spoke, and by the end she was shouting.

Flying cars. Snape did not wake up this morning and volunteer to discuss flying cars. “And?” He sighed when three confused freckled faces looked at him blankly, “what did you find when you got there?”

“Well,” said the youngest, “we didn’t find anything, did we? Like someone had gone through and banished everything.” His eyes got comically wide. “You don’t think someone killed Harry then banished all the evidence, do you?”

“I assure you,” Dumbledore said calmly, “that wherever Harry is, he is quite alive.” Those incredibly blue eyes flicked to one of the many whirring instruments in the office, and Severus’ eyes followed, resting on a small platinum one that puffed purple smoke.

“But we still don’t know where Harry is, or if he’s hurt,” Arthur reasoned, a welcome break from the rants of raging redheads. “Molly sent an owl to me at the Ministry, and I can assure you that there’s been no word about Harry there. Well, besides the usual rumors.”

“So am I to assume that you want me to find the Potter brat?” Severus gnashed out. “May I remind you that I’m exceptionally busy during the summer holidays? Can you not send Minerva, or Hagrid?”

“Professor McGonagall has already investigated, but found nothing. Hagrid, I’m afraid, rather lacks the… subtlety this situation requires.” The Headmaster’s eyes twinkled at Severus, and out of habit he reinforced his Occlumency barriers against manipulative old men. “I believe that with your… connections and skills, you’ll be able to find Mr. Potter before long.”

The three Weasley boys looked rather doubtful, and Snape was rather inclined to agree with them. Him? Locate the Potter brat?

Barmy. Dumbledore’s gone barmy. Instead of voicing his opinion, however, Severus simply stood up and left through the heavy office door, robes billowing out behind him.

So the precious golden child Potter would annoy him even in his absence. Well, this was just wonderful. Exactly how Severus wanted to spend the summer hols. In any case, the most obvious place to start would be at the house in question. Severus strode briskly through the castle, out the front doors, and to the front gates where he could Apparate. When he landed on Privet Drive, he quickly cast a Disillusionment spell on himself and approached the dwelling with purpose.

Number Four was just as the Weasley whelps had described; empty. Severus, however, had skills far beyond that of three schoolchildren, no matter how talented the trickster twins were. Some days he thought they had enough cunning between them that they could have made fine Slytherins. Snape banished all thoughts of annoying gingers as he entered the house through the back door with a simple Alohomora. After all, if the house was being watched, it wouldn’t do for anyone to see the front door open all by itself.

From what he could tell at first glance, the house hadn’t been occupied for a week, at most. He could still smell traces of a flowery muggle air freshener. More than that, Severus could tell there’d been no struggle at all, at least not downstairs. A quick charm confirmed his suspicions; wherever Potter and his relatives had gone, they’d done so willingly. Although the fact that the brat hadn’t said anything to his most loyal friends is odd, he thought as he inspected the positively sterile kitchen. As far as Severus could tell, the entire house was just as clean. He knew that Petunia had rather abhorred things she considered ‘dirty’, but to think she had the resolve to keep things this clean? If it were anyone else, Snape would have suspected magic was at play.

As he continued through the house and made to go up the stairs, Severus stopped to check the cupboard under the stairs for thoroughness. He crouched down to get a good look and was greeted by a rather dirty and dingy little space, but nothing stood out more than the crayon-written words on the wall.

Harrys Room

That was definitely unexpected, but certainly not too unusual. In his experience, small children (and magic-wielding teenagers) rather liked defacing property. All the same, his brain filed this small tidbit of information away for later perusal. He stood up, brushing off imaginary dirt from his robes, and continued to the upstairs. It was just as pristine as the downstairs, which wasn’t surprising at all. He cast some searching and diagnostic spells, trying to determine if there had been any magic cast with malicious intent. He hadn’t heard anything of importance from his old Death Eater colleagues, but Lucius was acting like more of a pompous ass than usual. Lucius Malfoy definitely had some sort of plan in the works, but if it had anything to do with the Boy-Who-Lived, he hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone.

Severus wasn’t sure how to feel when all of his scans came up with nothing. The entire house was like a magical void; the only magic he could feel was Potter’s magical signature, indicating that he had been here. Severus hadn’t noticed before now, but he couldn’t even detect the blood wards that had kept the Chosen One safe from both malicious Death Eaters and the Dark Lord all these years. Had Dumbledore not noticed them breaking?

No, Severus corrected himself, not broken. Just… misplaced. That was definitely something to consider.

Snape checked all the bedrooms and the loo, and inspected Potter’s more thoroughly than the rest. The only reason he knew it belonged to Potter was the telltale smell of owl in the small bedroom. However, the room offered up no vital clues to the brat’s whereabouts or well-being. After rechecking all the bedrooms, Severus had to admit that there was absolutely no more information here to glean.

With an annoyed sigh, Severus Apparated out of the abandoned dwelling to Hogwarts.

 Dumbledore, McGonagall, Arthur, and Molly were in the Headmaster’s Office when Snape returned.

“Nothing.” He announced, claiming the same chair from earlier.

“How can there be nothing, Severus? Surely Mr. Potter didn’t simply disappear without a trace!” McGonagall exclaimed with wide eyes, her Scottish brogue intensifying.  

“There’s barely any sign that Mr. Potter even lived there, or that anything magical had ever happened in that house,” Severus told her.

“Surely a young wizard such as Mr. Potter showed signs of magic at an early age? Both his parents were quite formidable in strength; any son of theirs should leave behind enormous amount of residual magic in a living space.” Minerva added, perplexed.

“You see it every so often in my work,” Arthur said. “Some of the misuse of muggle artifacts cases that get called in are caused by young witches and wizards whose magic affects their surroundings.”  

“The fact that there isn’t any residual magic… You don’t think-?” Molly sounded like she would start weeping.

“Ohh, I knew it from the very start, Albus. Those muggles are the worst sort, especially if they’re the cause of Harry’s magic suppression!” McGonagall sternly accused.

“Now, now, Minerva.” Dumbledore waved a hand placatingly. “We could be mistaken. Perhaps Harry simply has better control over his magic than others his age. It wouldn’t do to jump to conclusions when we don’t know for sure what is going on.”

Evasive and manipulative as always, Albus. Severus thought, projecting nothing but his usual state of irritation. Though if the Potter menace is found, a few diagnostics would not go amiss. Chosen One he may be, but no child has such intimate knowledge of control to be able to mask their magic so thoroughly, unless… But that was ridiculous. Surely Dumbledore left the boy in good hands, left him with the muggles to spoil him rotten. The alternative was simply absurd. But so was the idea that the one prophesied to bring down the Dark Lord only left the magical footprint of a squib. Severus shook himself from his reverie. Now was not the time.

“We also must take into account that while the wards that surrounded the Privet Drive house are no longer there, I found no evidence of forced removal. It seems that wherever Potter and his family went, the wards followed.”

“Indeed?” Dumbledore mused, eyes flicking to yet another whirring instrument. “Well, if the wards protecting Harry are still doing their job, we have even less to worry about.”

“But we don’t even know where the poor boy is!” Molly exclaimed. “Muggles don’t just up and disappear, do they? They can’t just Apparate away as they please!”

“Now, Molly, if Dumbledore says Harry is safe, then he must be,” Arthur placated his distraught wife. She didn’t seem terribly convinced, but she did seem somewhat eased.

“If that’s all, Headmaster, I’ll be on my way.” Severus announced. He’d had enough of this nonsense. Sitting around pondering the whereabouts of an eleven, no, twelve-year-old wouldn’t benefit any of them.

“Severus, you can’t mean to just let the matter go, can you?” Minerva gasped. Molly seemed just as taken aback at the notion.

“If Potter doesn’t return to school this fall, it’s no loss of mine. Just as well he leave now rather than fail a Potions course before he goes,” he sneered at them all. “In the meantime, I’m going to my home to finish my summer projects. I expect to be left in peace unless we have a real emergency on our hands.” Lip curled in contempt, Severus swept out of the office and down the stairs before striding towards his quarters in the dungeons.

Was the impromptu disappearing act of Potter disconcerting? Certainly. After all, Severus was counting on the boy to eventually defeat the Dark Lord. However, since Harry seemed to be a carbon copy of his miscreant father, Severus was certain that the child would turn up unharmed and unaware of the trouble he had caused. Always count on a Potter to be disrespectful and untroubled by the inconvenience on others.

Upon entering his living quarters, Severus summoned his favorite summer cloak and the newest Potions journal. After striding to the fireplace, he threw a handful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle down and stepped in.

“Spinner’s End!” he called, and spun away.

 Severus stepped into a dark sitting room upon arrival. Thin strips of bright light streamed in through gaps in the thick drapes that covered the windows, highlighting specks of inevitable dust floating through the air. The walls were dark in the spare places they could be seen, as the room was lined in dark wooden bookshelves that held tomes of all varieties. A great deal of the wood floor was covered with a thick rug, and on top of it sat furniture of dark blues and browns.

Severus let out a strained breath. It may be dark and dreary, and held many memories from childhood, but it was quiet. And quiet is what he came here for. He only stayed here when he needed to be undisturbed for long amounts of time, so it was unlikely Dumbledore would call for him for anything unless it was absolutely necessary.

After hanging his cloak on a hook in the entryway by the door and tossing the journal on an endtable, Severus walked down the front hallway and to an inconspicuous door across from the kitchen. After undoing several powerful wards and unlocking spells, he descended down the stairs into the cool cellar, which he had fashioned into a potions lab many years ago. It wasn’t nearly as spacious or as well-equipped as the Hogwarts facilities, but it was enough for private projects and brewing massive amounts of potions without worrying someone would come along and muck them up. Severus was the only one with access to his private potions lab, and it wasn’t common for him to have visitors in his home anyway.

Wasting no more time (for much of his time had been wasted already), Severus prepared a line of six cauldrons and started in on chopping and readying ingredients. He started with three cauldrons of the rash cream that he had been working on when Dumbledore had interrupted him this morning. The other three cauldrons would be used to brew Pepper-Up Potions, something that Madam Pomfrey always seemed to be running out of. It was amazing how quickly illness could run through the student population. Severus hummed while he measured out and added ingredients with relaxed movements that could appear undisciplined to the untrained eye. While he always told his dunderheaded students that Potions was a precise science, a Master such as himself could see that it was also a subtle art. Like a chef at an acclaimed restaurant, a true Potions Master could ‘read’ their brews, could anticipate reactions and either nullify or create them with a simple pinch of an ingredient or a few stirs. Severus lost track of time as he usually did as he settled into a rhythm of timing, stirring, and mixing. It wasn’t until he had completed Madam Pomfrey’s request a few hours later that Severus realized he’d not had a bite of food since lunch. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but it was best to consume something now while he was thinking about it.  

Severus climbed up the stairs, stripping off his outer robes as he went. He was down to his button-up shirt and trousers when he emerged from his lab, face flushed from bending over steaming cauldrons. After quickly warding and sealing the door, he went into the kitchen. Even when he was the only one in the house, Severus was always careful to keep his lab warded and locked at all times.

As Moody is so fond of saying, ‘Constant Vigilance,’  he thought with a low chuckle.

The first thing Severus did when he was in the kitchen was to set a kettle of water to boil for tea. Food was good, but tea was even better. Severus smirked at memories of Pomfrey scolding him for replacing “proper meals with cups of tea”. Pomfrey could tell him he was too thin and needed to eat more all she liked, but Severus had never liked stuffing himself silly, and eating in the Great Hall was stressful. It always had been. That was one thing that wasn’t a result of the Marauders, although they certainly hadn’t helped matters any.

Severus scowled at the kettle that was steadily heating up on the stove-top. It seemed that he was doomed to have his thoughts invaded by Potters today. At least none of them could find him here. This town had always been something he and Lily alone shared. He rummaged through the cupboards and found a mug and a box of simple bagged tea. The kettle whistled, and he prepared his brew with only sugar because he had nothing else on hand. If he was going to stay here for the rest of the holidays, Severus would have to stop by the grocer’s for essentials.

As he sipped his tea, Severus thought of the things he’d learned that day. So Potter had disappeared without a trace. While the Weasleys and McGonagall were overly concerned, Severus wasn’t. Worst case scenario would be kidnapping by the Dark Lord, but after the events of last term Severus didn’t think it likely. A being who had to depend on the life force of others and the lifeblood of unicorns was in no fit state to conduct a large-scale scheme such as kidnapping a savior.

So where had the boy gone? There was no forced removal, that was certain. Dumbledore would have known immediately because of the trinkets in his office, and Severus would have been called much more urgently. The fact that the wards were unbroken but no longer at the house was puzzling. Severus supposed that if Potter and his relatives had gone to live somewhere else, the blood wards would follow them while intact as long as the boy recognized the family as his home. Blood wards were peculiar in that way. But if Potter was moving, certainly he would have told his annoying little friends?

There was also the matter of the low amounts of magical residue left behind. If Potter had spent roughly ten years in that house, there should have been more magical evidence left behind. Children were usually unable to control their magic, instead letting it run wild and untamed, resulting in the manifestations known as ‘accidental magic’. There were only a few circumstances in which this general rule was not followed, and none of them were terribly pleasing to consider.

Minerva and Molly had both come to the conclusion that the Potter brat was suppressing his magic because he was being mistreated. Severus had to scoff at that. The great Harry Potter, abused? If anything, the boy was probably spoiled beyond belief. There was no way Dumbledore would have put Potter in a family that would treat him badly. After all, a savior of the wizarding world was hard to come by. An unwelcome image of ‘Harrys Room’ scribbled on the wall of the cupboard in the Dursley house flashed across his mind. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Severus finished the dregs of his tea and set the dishes to clean themselves with a wave of his wand. Obviously he needed to do some meditation before retiring for the night. He went upstairs and did exactly that.

 That night, Severus dreamt of Lily Evans, as radiant and kind as he remembered her. Her hair was vividly red, complimented nicely by her green eyes and the pendant around her neck. It was a turquoise stone on a delicate gold chain; something she had treasured and wore often. She was humming softly to herself as she sat under her favorite tree by the Black Lake at Hogwarts, weaving a crown of wildflowers and long grass. She looked up and seemed to notice Severus, greeting him with a warm smile. Lily beckoned him over, and he obliged happily, settling down next to her in the grass. They sat together for a while in the quiet stillness of the lakeshore.

“Why are you making a flower crown?” Snape asked Lily curiously.

“It’s for my son.” She replied simply, holding it up to inspect her progress briefly before returning to her work.

“Your son?”

“Harry. I’ve nearly finished it, but there are some pieces missing.”

“Can’t you just pick more flowers?” Severus looked around them, eyes searching.

“There are no more here. You have to find them and finish this for me.” Lily looked at him, eyes beseeching.

“You know I’m no good at weaving flower chains, Lily. You were always better.”

“But you have to. You have to finish it for Harry. It will save his life. Finish it and give it to him.”

The dream ended abruptly, and Severus started awake, feeling peculiar. Did he come to Spinner’s End for peace only to be haunted by the ghosts of the past? While he had enjoyed dreaming of Lily, he was rather confused about the flower crown. Where had his subconscious picked that up? The last time he and Lily had sat together and weaved flower chains was when they were twelve. Severus didn’t know what to think of his dream. Why did he think of giving the Potter brat flower crowns? He groaned and flung an arm over his eyes. Trelawney would have a field day if she ever heard tell of this, not to mention his students. He was sure his reputation as a scary dungeon bat would be ruined if anyone thought he wove flower chains in his spare time.

Knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep now that he was awake, Severus rolled out of bed and saw to his morning ablutions. After getting washed and dressed, he walked down the stairs to the kitchen and once again prepared a pot of tea. This morning he would need to visit the grocer’s for food. After that, he was free to brew potions all day in his lab. A brown horned owl swooped in through the ajar kitchen window, coming to a rest on the chair next to him at the breakfast table. He took the Daily Prophet from it’s leg and gave it a knut, paying it no more attention as it flew out. He shook out the paper, and after a quick glance at the front page, relaxed. Clearly, no one had heard of Potter’s disappearance. If anyone outside the Order had, Snape was sure that it would be all over the front page, as anything concerning the boy was sure to be.

He sipped his tea as he read about some Wizengamot member who had made a generous donation to St. Mungo’s, crediting the good deed to a personal experience in the past. The pot was empty by the time Severus got to the section that contained the type of drivel written by Skeeter and her like, and that was when he decided to abandon the Prophet until he got some work done. He went upstairs for a muggle coat and shoes instead of his usual robes and boots. He relished his anonymity in muggle towns, and wasn’t going to risk compromising himself by dressing foolishly as many wizards unaccustomed to muggles did. After retrieving some muggle money from a secure box in a kitchen cupboard, Severus left through the front door. It was early yet, around 7:45. A small number of muggles went to and fro in their cars as they bustled to work or to school.

The grocery was nearly deserted, and Severus was able to quickly acquire a sufficient supply of food for the few weeks until school started. He was walking back home with his items when he saw an owl swoop through the air, its white body barely visible against the clouds in the sky. It was unusual to see owls around muggles during the day, so it must be the familiar of a wizard.

Strange, I didn’t think there were other wizards here.

Severus watched the owl make a graceful turn before descending and moving out of sight. Well, as long as whoever the familiar belonged to wasn’t stupid about when they sent letters, Severus didn’t think it to be a problem. He’d just keep to himself like always and look out for himself in case the new addition to the town decided to stir up trouble. If he was a friendlier man, he might try to introduce himself to his magical neighbor, but he came to Cokeworth to be left alone, and alone is how he would stay.

Severus was soon home and put his purchases away in the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator. While most wizarding homes didn’t have muggle appliances, this one did. It had been made for muggles, and for many years a muggle had lived here. Severus didn’t like to think about that particular muggle, but he kept the appliances around to keep up the appearance of a non-magical home. After taking a trip upstairs to don the robes most suited for brewing, Severus went back to his lab and started on the hefty list of potions he needed to concoct.

That afternoon, Snape made a lunch of a simple beef stew, the leftover of which became his dinner that evening. Before retiring for bed, Severus finished reading the Prophet and an article in the Potions journal with tea and biscuits.

The next day started the same as the one before, with a breakfast of tea and another issue of the Daily Prophet. Despite Madam Pomfrey’s objections, Severus never ate anything for breakfast. The thought of consuming food in the morning always made him feel slightly ill. Speaking of things that made him feel ill, a regal eagle owl delivered a missive from Lucius Malfoy, requesting that he visit for tea in a few day’s time. There were other things Severus would rather do, but it would be remiss of him to decline. He penned his acquiescence and sent it back with the Malfoy owl.

Looking outside, Severus noted that it was shaping up to be a stormy day. Perfect for reading and brewing. With a satisfied twitch of the lips, he cast a charm on the teapot, cup, and kettle to wash themselves in the sink. Just because his house looked like a muggle owned it didn’t mean he had to live like a muggle himself. Once again donning his brewing robes, which were specially designed to resist staining and other things that typically happened when working with Potions, he went down to his lab and brewed through lunch. When he finished at ten minutes to four o’clock, he had successfully brewed enough Calming Draughts to satisfy Madame Pomfrey. Severus had been hearing the rumble of thunder in the background for some time now, so he went upstairs and hung his robes by the lab door. As he thought, a steady downpour was drenching the streets and houses. After preparing yet another pot of his customary tea, Severus retreated to the sitting room with the Prophet. He sat in his favourite chair by the windows after pulling back the drapes to let the dim light through. For a good while, Severus drank his tea and read, eventually finishing the paper. Afterwards, he gazed out at the rain that was still coming down.

What the hell was that?! He thought, startled out of his thoughts as he spotted a blur out of the corner of his eye. A minute later, his question was answered. From the kitchen (presumably through the window he kept open for owls and warded against the elements) came a snowy owl, presumably the one from yesterday. It alighted on the back of the armchair that mirrored his across from the fireplace. Even as he leapt to his feet at the unexpected intruder, it simply hooted and shook the water free from it’s feathers before it set to work on grooming itself.

“Who do you belong to? Why don’t you have a letter?”

The owl ignored him.

Severus frowned and checked the wards on his house. The ones blocking entry from anything with malicious intent toward him were still strong. So for whatever reason this owl was in his sitting room, it wasn’t for nefarious purposes. Deciding on doing nothing for now, Snape sat back down in his chair and watched as the owl continued to casually groom itself. The owl struck a chord of familiarity in him, though he couldn’t say why. At last, when the owl was through with it’s feather care, Severus had his answer.

“You’re Potter’s owl, aren’t you?”

The owl hooted happily and bobbed her head at him before flying to him. Severus held out his left arm just in time for her to land.

“So what is Potter’s owl doing flying around here? Without a letter, no less?” Usually, Severus felt foolish talking to owls, but this one seemed exceptionally smart. Unlike the wizard she belongs to, he thought nastily. As if reading his thoughts, the owl bit his wrist, hard enough to mark him with an angry pink spot, but not enough to draw blood.

“My apologies,” he mumbled, and the bird puffed up the feathers on her chest. “So, what do you want?”

The owl didn’t answer, but simply walked up his arm and settled on his shoulder.

“A place to rest, apparently.” Severus grumbled, but summoned his Potions Journal to him along with a few owl treats. The owl happily consumed the treats, and Severus realized that as long as she was here he wouldn’t be able to start brewing again. Potions fumes sometimes had adverse effects on animals, and he didn’t wish that fate to befall any animal, even one that belonged to Potter. So he settled down to wait out his feathery guest, and read through a few articles, murmuring arguments about theory to himself as he read the scholastic work of his peers. He had quite lost track of time when the owl surprised him with a friendly nip of his ear and a hoot.

“Have you decided to leave me in peace, now?” he asked grumpily. The owl responded by batting him with her wings and taking off. Severus followed as she swooped out into the hall and landed on the floor before the front door. He sighed when she strutted back and forth in front of the door, hooting all the while. “You want me to escort you out?” he asked, and received another hoot in reply.

Severus carefully opened the door so he wouldn’t accidentally hit the bird with it, exposing himself to the outside air for the first time that day. Everything outside was still damp, but at least the rain had stopped. As he held the door, the owl waddled across the threshold. But as he made to close the door, she turned and grabbed onto the bottom of his trousers and tugged. Not only did she want to be let out the door instead of the window, but he was supposed to follow her, too?

Will wonders never cease? Reluctantly, he did as the owl wanted. After a quick glance at his pocket watch, he learned that it was half past six. Most muggles would be at home together with their families, so the chance of someone seeing him with an owl was greatly reduced. He looked down at the owl, who was staring at him with his trousers in her beak.

“You’re a really annoying bird, Potter’s owl.” That only earned him another hoot.

“Come on, then.” He sighed, and held out his left arm again. She flew up and settled on his arm with a low hoot. She ruffled her feathers in reaction to the magic of his Disillusionment spell, and together they went down the path from the front porch to the road. Severus was completely resigned to his fate as he tried to correctly interpret the bird’s directions, and it was with some alarm that he realized they were heading toward the old Evans house. But they couldn’t be; there was hardly anyone still alive who remembered it had belonged to the Evans family.

If this is someone’s idea of a joke, I’m going to show them some of the things Death Eaters did for fun, he thought maliciously. It was in that state of mind that he arrived at the edge of the old Evans property and observed the goings-on through the windows of the brightly-lit house.

Bloody hell, Snape thought. I’ve found Harry Potter.