St Mungo’s Hospital, 1976

The waiting room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Two teenage boys were sitting, alone, opposite sides of the room. Though they were facing each other, neither would meet the other’s eyes.

James Potter was cradling a bandaged hand, though the wound hurt very little. It had been barely a scratch. But enough that the damage was done.

Sirius Black occupied the other seat, staring blankly at the wall, as if the events of the last couple of hours had not yet sunk in.

At long last, the door opened, and in walked Albus Dumbledore.

“Professor!” James leapt to his feet, relieved to be able to break the silence. “How’s Snape?”

“He’ll live,” Dumbledore replied. “Although he very nearly lost his leg. It was a close call.”

Sirius gulped as Dumbledore looked back and forth between them. “I do not think that here is the place to discuss what happened. I shall escort you both back to the school.”

“Yes, sir,” James said quietly. Sirius still hadn’t spoken.

As the boys trailed after Dumbledore in silence, James finally brought himself to look at his best friend. Sirius still looked more shocked than anything.

“What were you thinking?”

They all stopped dead. James had been unable to hold in the question any longer, and Sirius flinched as he glared at him. Dumbledore, for whatever reason, watched and did not interrupt.

“I—I—”

“You weren’t, were you? You’re just the biggest prat of all time! You realise Snape could have been killed? I could have been killed! And what about Remus? Bloody hell Sirius, he’ll be Muzzled for this!”

“James, I …”

“Save it,” James snapped, suddenly needing to get away from him. “You can’t say anything. I’m done with you.” He strode past a still-silent Dumbledore, heading towards the Floo, ignoring the Healers still bustling around them.

“JAMES!” But James had vanished. “I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered.

-

Hogwarts, 1981

Severus knocked on the Headmaster’s office door. “Enter,” came Albus’ voice. “Ah, Severus,” came next as Severus entered. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Severus did not reply. His eyes had moved quickly past Albus’ weary face and onto the sleeping child in his arms.

“How are you holding up, Severus?” Albus asked in a softer voice, studying Severus’ face—as if he thought there would be any clue there.

“Fine,” Severus said stiffly, though he knew Albus knew better.

“Sit down, go on,” Albus urged him, pulling a chair out with his wand. “You shouldn’t wait for invitation you know, Severus.”

Brushing off the comment about his leg, Severus sat down and said, “Is that who I think it is?”

“If you mean Harry Potter, then yes.”

Severus gave a low growl in his throat. Deep down he knew it was unfair to blame Lily’s death on the child, when there were far more responsible people to share that blame. Peter Pettigrew leapt immediately to mind. The Potters’ Secret-Keeper had gone missing just after news of Voldemort’s disappearance had got out. Severus longed to be the one to find him. He wanted to tear the man’s throat out. Then there was Voldemort himself, who may or may not have disappeared for good. Potter, for coming between him and Lily, meaning Severus had not been there to protect her. Albus, for not insisting hard enough that he be the Secret-Keeper. And then Severus himself, for every mistake he made that led to that point.

But his hackles still raised at the sight of the brat.

“What’s he here for? I would have thought you would have found a home for him as quickly as possible. There are plenty of Death Eaters still out there.”

“I know, but there’s a problem.” As if he could tell they were talking about him, Harry stirred. Albus drew him closer, rocking him slightly, and murmured some nonsense words, and after a moment Harry went still again.

“From the circumstances of Lily’s death,” Albus continued in a quieter voice, “I think I can raise wards around her sister’s home that would keep out any unwanted Dark forces.”

Severus sniffed. He didn’t think much of Petunia Evans. Granted, the two had only met once, but the girl—which she had been at the time—had been clouded by jealousy over Lily’s abilities. The last time Severus and Lily had been on speaking terms, Lily had told him Petunia seemed to be accepting their differences and growing up. The woman was probably by now ready to spoil the brat rotten.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I would have thought you would have seen it. Harry may or may not have inherited James’ lycanthropy.”

Severus’ hackles raised further. After they had both been bitten, James had attempted—for a while at least—to befriend Severus, probably wanting another werewolf buddy since Lupin had been Muzzled. But Severus was not feeling in the least bit forgiving, doubly so since, as if to pour salt in the already agonising wound, James had started dating Lily. Eventually James had given up, and Severus had ended up completely surrounded by Death Eaters.

“Obviously, if he has, then Muggle guardians are really not very practical. And we won’t know for another couple of years.”

“Well, you’ve got till his third birthday to figure it out.” Severus shrugged. “That’s plenty of time.”

“I can’t just place him in a home and then move him after two years, Severus! You wouldn’t like it much, would you? And his life has been disrupted too much already. Harry’s future has to be decided now.”

“And I suppose you want my advice, my being a werewolf and everything,” Severus said drily.

“Actually Severus, I was hoping the help you could offer would be of a more practical nature.”

Severus went very still, suddenly suspecting something awful. Albus couldn’t be suggesting what he thought he was, could he? “Oh?”

“I wouldn’t ask this of you, Severus, but I honestly don’t know who else to ask. As it stands, I’ve had a flock of owls from wizards all over the world offering to take him in, but firstly, he needs to be safe, and secondly, he needs to be with someone who can understand his needs—not just understand them either, but empathise, help him live with them. You are the only werewolf I know that I can trust with him.”

Severus pushed his chair backwards sharply. “Over my dead body.”

“Severus!”

“There is nothing you can say, Albus, which would make me consider taking in Potter’s son.”

“Nothing?” Albus’ eyes narrowed. “What do you think Lily would have wanted you to do?”

A dead silence fell in the office. Severus glared more fiercely than he had ever glared at Albus before.

“That was low, Albus,” he growled. He stood up sharply before Albus could say anything else. “If it weren’t for that boy, Lily would still be alive. He’s your problem. I have nothing more to say.”

And ignoring Albus’ protests, he strode from the room.

-

Albus finished speaking and looked from Petunia Dursley to her husband and back again. Both were sitting very still, pale and shocked. Well, it was a rather unpleasant experience, being told a family member was dead—in this case, members—even if they hadn’t been very close. It had to be even more so to be asked, before having had time to process, to raise a child with very unusual needs.

“Why us?” Vernon finally spoke. “Why not one of your lot? They’d be better, surely.”

Albus frowned slightly at the words your lot, but made no comment. “Because, as I have already explained, Harry can only truly be safe with a blood relative. I have told you everything you need to know; provided you with written instructions, a lunar chart, a year’s supply of Wolfsbane Potion and a safe, soundproofed cellar for Harry to change in; and told you how you can contact me if you require assistance. There is no chance of Harry transforming until he turns three years old, which is plenty of time for you to familiarise yourselves with it all. Do you have any further questions?”

The Dursleys looked at each other. “What about Dudley?” Petunia asked in a faint voice.

“Your son? What about him?”

“Is he—safe?”

“As long as Harry is in the closed cellar during the full moon, and Dudley is not, he is in no danger.”

“But what if he bites him?” Vernon said. “Children do bite each other.”

“Harry’s bite would only be infectious in his wolf form, and then only to other wizards,” Albus assured them. He had checked beforehand that Dudley Dursley was unquestionably a Muggle. “Any more questions?”

The room stayed silent.

“Well then,” Albus said reluctantly, “I think that is my cue to leave.” He looked down at his young charge. Harry, who had been sitting on Albus’ lap playing with his beard, looked up at him innocently, and Albus swallowed. He really didn’t want to do this. But he was left with no choice.

I’m sorry, my boy, he said silently. I wish there was another way.

Albus took a firm hold of Harry and stood up, before gently depositing him on Petunia’s lap. She grasped him rather awkwardly, and Harry fidgeted, his face screwing up. He looked up at Albus, and Albus quickly looked away. He knew it would take one glimpse of brimming green eyes and he wouldn’t be able to walk out of that door empty-handed. And then where would he be?

Still nobody spoke, but Vernon jumped up and showed Albus out. There were no goodbyes. As Albus walked back down the path, he heard a child crying for his bearded playmate.