Electric Avenue by DesertPlanet

Elias was napping, or at least Severus hoped he was.

Coming off of the muscle relaxers, while necessary, was as petrifying as it was frustrating. As they worked their way out of his system, Elias was beginning to notice he could move better but also that his tremors and spasms were coming back.

For a blissful few hours, he was stronger than he had been previously and the tremors were nowhere near as fierce as what they once were. He was able to drink a cup of water with only mild difficulty, his speech was clearer, and he was able to work on one of Healer Tallie’s puzzles with only minimal difficulty. But as time wore on and the strongest of the muscle relaxers wore out of his system, the spasms returned with vengeance.

Severus had known the healers would be fully discontinuing the potion today after having spent the last few days slowly lengthening the times between doses and hadn’t thought much of it. The particular potion he was on wasn’t known for causing any refractory spasms, so he wasn’t too terribly concerned about the healer's timing of this decision. In fact, he had planned to continue his lessons for the day and try to get caught up on the hours of grading he had been neglecting in favor of sitting with his son, a thought which in and of itself he still found rather strange to think.

As the potion worked its way out of his system, Elias’s muscles began to twitch once more. And the more they twitched, the more annoyed he became. And the more annoyed he became, the more out of control his muscles became.

The longer the twitching went on, the more sore he became. The past few weeks had been blissfully pain free and he couldn’t understand why the healers were doing this to him. He had apparently begged and pleaded with them to help him, and when they refused to give him what he wanted he got… belligerent. That was how the healers described it anyways.

They had managed to keep him in bed by some miracle, likely by simply standing in front of him and preventing him from rocking forward onto his feet. It wasn’t that he would have made it very far before he fell, but the risk of him injuring himself inadvertently was too high for them to allow him to wander around the unit. His legs were too weak after having spent several weeks on potions specifically designed to prevent movement to allow him to try standing on his own and his arms certainly wouldn’t have been able to catch him should he fall.

After spending several hours trying to convince him to get back into bed and repeatedly reminding him that he was not well enough to be standing, the decision was finally made to get ahold of his father. The healers were all aware that Professor Snape would likely be in class at the time they were trying to contact him, but were unaware how difficult it would actually be to get in touch with him. Elias’s behaviour was getting ridiculous in spite of the low dose mood stabilizers they had him on, however, and something needed to be done. Especially since he had begun turning on himself, clawing rather viciously at his forehead as though trying to get something out.

After having spent nearly half an hour trying to convince the apparent “High Inquisitor” that they did, in fact, need to speak with the esteemed potions master and that discussing the reason they needed to speak with him was none of her business and they would be forced to launch an inquiry against her if she continued to push for information, they were finally allowed to send one representative through to speak with him.

To say the man was thrilled to see them would have been an outright lie.

Of course the healer would have to show up during a class of fifth years. And, of course, it would have to be during his Slytherin and Gryffindor class where two of the Gryffindors had been giving him a bit of an odd side eye. A side eye he would have to deal with later.

“D-d-d-da!” Elias had cried as soon as he had seen him, before turning to the healer who was sitting in front of him and yelling. “L-l-lemme g-g-go you b-b-bast-tard! I’m g-g-gonna g-g-go home n-n-n-now! I d-d-don’t wanna b-b-be in p-p-prison!”

Severus ran his hands through his son’s hair as gently as he could, watching as Elias’s eyes fluttered slightly at the touch. A piece of gauze flecked with blood was attached to his forehead with a sticking charm, the only evidence of his attempts to scratch something off of his head. Be it real or imagined, Severus could only hope he hadn’t heard Healer Shannon discussing the potential soul fragment stored within him. In his current state, there was only so much he would have been able to understand of the situation.

It was difficult to get a good assessment on his mental status as it was. Some of the healers stated they believed he was able to follow most conversations while others, particularly the night shift, said he was unable to track most of what was actually going on around him. As much as he had hoped Elias would have made some sort of improvement, that St. Mungo’s would be able to help him, it was becoming more and more obvious he would not be coming home any time soon.

It had taken nearly an hour to get him calmed down once Severus had arrived. An hour filled with tears and cries of frustration as the realization his memory was more fleeting than ever before he finally settled down under the covers. Severus doubted very much that he would actually be asleep for very long, but a nap certainly couldn’t hurt.

“You didn’t see him, Severus!” Remus said, following the taller man out of the front doors of St. Mungo’s and onto the muggle street.

“Nor do I want to see him!” Severus snapped, whirling around so quickly that the edge of the long coat he had transfigured his robes into whipped around in much the same fashion his normal robes did. “I have never wanted him in my life, nor do I want him in Elias’s now. Do you honestly think that he would manage to not only conceal himself, but not treat my son the same way he treated me?”

Remus sighed as his shoulders dropped. Severus was right, but Sirius was his best friend. As much as he wished the two of them would get along, it wasn’t as though there was only one minor infraction Severus had to forgive Sirius for. Seven plus years of near continuous bullying which included an attempt on his life and ultimately Severus turning to the Dark for acceptance when none was offered on the side of the Light. Sirius and James may have been teenagers at the time, but so was Severus and the decisions he was compelled to make because of their actions were well beyond what a teenager ought to be making, ever. It wasn’t that Severus wasn’t already leaning over that cliff, but the Marauders as a whole had certainly pushed him over.

And his fears for how Sirius would treat Elias were valid. The man was known for making absolutely rash decisions without taking into account any underlying variables. Even if Elias had been completely well, Sirius’s reaction would be a lot to take in. But in his current state?

“He needs to know before he does something stupid,” Remus continued, trying a different tactic.

Severus snorted before turning and striding down the street, weaving expertly through the muggles on their way around town. “He needs nothing. And telling him will not prevent him from doing something asinine. In all likelihood, that wretched mutt has already done something any sane person would never choose to do. I know he has snuck out of the house at least once since Harry’s disappearance.”

Remus nodded, panting slightly as he struggled to keep up with the potions master and tried to be polite to those around him as he pushed through the crowds. He could easily have pushed any of the muggles over, however the idea of hurting someone so innocent was painful to think of. “But haven’t you wondered why he hasn’t come out recently? He’s barely even attending the meetings and they’re in his own bloody house!”

“No,” Severus stepped quickly into a rather tight alleyway and continued walking, happy to be away from the ever present muggle crowds. “No, I haven’t wondered where he is. I haven’t given a single thought or consideration to where that man is at any given time. So long as he doesn’t end up knocking on my front door or anywhere in my immediate vicinity, I do not care what he does or with whom. And if you haven’t noticed, I haven’t had much time to do anything myself let alone babysit that manchild.”

“Severus, if you would just…” Remus started, only for Severus to immediately turn on him, slamming him against the wall by his lapels.

“I will not ‘just’ anything. That mongrel has played favorites with Dumbledore since school,” Severus growled, his face inches away from Remus’s. “You both have. I have worked too hard to keep Elias away from that bastard for Black to go telling the headmaster. How do I know you haven’t gone and told him already? It would play so perfectly into Dumbledore’s plan to keep him as his ‘Golden Boy.’”

“I am not loyal to Dumbledore!” Remus exploded, pushing back against Severus both bodily and magically and slamming him against the opposite wall, the few lights which were on in the alley flickering ominously. “I can’t be! Not anymore! If anything, I’ve seen how manipulative he is and how quick he is to turn on his followers. He left me to rot in the wizarding world. All his political power? All his resources? Do you think he gave a damn about me after the Potters died? No! I had to drift around and find whatever jobs I could. Wizarding world, muggle world, anything I could find. I have had twenty-seven jobs since James died. The longest I was employed was when I was working at Hogwarts for the one measly year I was there and the only reason I got that job was because Sirius was on the run.

“And Sirius? You think he’s loyal to Dumbledore too? Dumbledore left him to rot in Azkaban for twelve years with no trial. Dumbledore has the power to sway the Ministry in most anything they vote for, yet he did nothing to help Sirius even though Sirius begged him for help. He could only send one letter a year and chose to send it every year to Dumbledore to beg for help. He could have hired a barrister with that one letter, but no, he chose to reach out to the one man who absolutely could have gotten him out and was denied for twelve years.

“The only person we are loyal to is Harry. No matter what his name or what he looks like, he was James’s child too. He was accepted into our little band of Marauders as soon as he was born. Potion or no, illness or no, James’s bloody child or not, he is still our cub. And that is who we are loyal to, you absolute, self righteous, slimy, snivelling GIT!”

Severus slowly peeled himself off of the wall, face completely devoid of emotion. He hadn’t realized the entirety of either Black or Lupin’s situation after the end of the first war. Honestly, he still saw Black as being partially at fault for Lily’s death as the man’s actions had (albeit inadvertently) led to it. But not to have a trial?

Even Bellatrix Lestrange had gotten a trial before she was thrown in Azkaban on a life sentence.

“If I find out you are lying to me,” Severus said quietly as he dusted off his robes, ignoring the blossoming headache he had forming from where his head hit the wall. “I will happily turn you over to the Ministry, Lupin. And I will watch as you are placed in a silver lined cell with glee.”

Remus rolled his eyes before righting several overturned bins with a flick of his wand. “Honestly, I would be more concerned about Harry’s friends in Gryffindor than I would about Sirius keeping this a secret.”

“What?” Severus froze momentarily before looking over at the wolf suspiciously.

“Ron and Hermione at the very least, though I would also include Neville in that little group,” Remus said, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re suspicious. Hermione questioned me the other day. I told her not to tell anyone about their theories, but …”

“You didn’t deny them?” Severus fumed, accent slipping slightly into his native Yorkshire. “You absolute fuckin’…”

“I didn’t give her any straight answers either!” Remus shot back. “Not that it would help! They have evidence, Snape! They’re putting two and two together and coming out with the right answer. They’re going to keep at it until they get the answer which makes the most sense and they will take their findings to the headmaster. Those children are who you should be worried about! They are not stupid!”

Severus stalked over to Remus ominously, fingers twitching as though he wished to pull his wand on the man. And he did. The damn wolf was ruining everything. He must have been more distressed by the situation he had found himself in when Elias nearly died than he thought.

“What evidence could a couple of idiotic teens have that would possibly lead them to running to the headmaster?” he growled, as Remus calmly held his ground.

“I don’t remember all of it, but apparently Neville noticed the potions Elias was taking were for Cruciatus damage. Hedwig, Harry’s owl, wasn’t able to find him around the time Elias ended up in hospital. Hermione saw bruising on his new scar just before he was sent to St. Mungo’s and admitted that Harry’s scar would bleed sometimes. And they all noticed that his handwriting was getting worse following the Third Task and that he was having some of the same symptoms Elias had.”

Severus stared at the other man furiously as though searching for any signs he was lying. When he found none he whirled away and began pacing the alley furiously. How could this have happened? He had been so careful, so thorough in all of his alibis and cover ups for the boy. It had been flawless. But he had forgotten the boy had friends. Of course Potter had friends. Of course they would have noticed him missing. And of course they would leap almost directly into the correct assumption.

But why had they not done anything about it? Why had they not approached anyone other than Remus? It certainly didn’t seem as though they had approached either McGonagall or Dumbledore; those two would have acted immediately to confirm or deny these suspicions.

He had to nip this in the bud lest it begin to flower and grow fruit, but through what course of action? Telling them the truth was just as dangerous as not, but if he didn’t tell them anything, they would continue to push the issue. He had borne witness to this year after year and it seemed this year would be no different. If only those bloody Gryffindors weren’t so driven to finding the answers to their questions, it wouldn’t be as much of an issue.

But no, he had the most Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff of Gryffindor house now bearing down on him using all of their combined bravery, intelligence, and loyalty to find their missing friend.

“And you are certain they haven’t approached Dumbledore about their suspicions?” he finally asked, looking over at Remus who had leaned against one wall and closed his eyes. He looked absolutely haggard, the full moon having been only a few days previous.

“I don’t know for sure,” Remus mumbled, rubbing his temples. His earlier outburst had taken more out of him than he had thought and he wanted nothing more than to get back to his quarters and lie down. “I would assume there would be some sort of backlash from the headmaster should that have occurred.”

Severus nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He didn’t want to explain this to a bunch of teens, but it seemed there would be no other way around it. The research bloodhound that was Hermione Granger was on the case and there would be no letting up. He, however, was not on their list of trusted adults and rightly so, but he wasn’t about to go pandering to them to prevent them from telling anyone else. There was also the potential of other students having noticed something as well; having the Gryffindors on their side would be beneficial for keeping this under wraps.

However, he wasn’t about to tell them without some sort of assurance they wouldn’t go spreading the word that Harry and Elias were one and the same. Creating a small band of spies for their side to keep this entire operation under wraps could only be beneficial, however it seemed grossly unfair that they would be the first of the children Elias’s age to know the truth. Had Draco been from any other family than the Malfoy’s, Severus would much rather have told him first as he had slowly become one of Elias’s most trusted friends rather than telling the Gryffindors who routinely turned their back on the boy over minor infractions.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he peered at Lupin once more. If Lupin was correct in saying Black was more loyal to Harry than he was to the headmaster, it would be more beneficial for the man to be working for them than against them. A double agent of sorts, almost like himself. Dumbledore certainly thought of Black as being in his pocket and, until Lupin’s outburst, so had Severus.

A new hand had been dealt however, and it was now up to him to play the cards.

“I will speak with the Gryffindors,” Severus said slowly, putting together a plan of containment as quickly as he could. “I do not care if I have to use Dark Magic on them to keep them quiet, they will not pass this information along to the headmaster.”

Remus nodded and turned to leave knowing there was no way he would convince Snape to change his mind on Sirius. The hatred ran too deep and there was nothing he could do to change the man’s mind. While it pained him to know his friend’s suffering would be prolonged, he also knew Severus had valid reasons for not wanting Sirius to know.

“I’m not done yet, wolf,” Severus snapped, causing Remus to look back at him questioningly. “I have a message for … your friend.”

Remus’s eyes widened. Had Snape actually reconsidered? What other message could he possibly want him to relay to Sirius other than Harry’s status? “Are you…”

“I do not believe for one second that that mutt is in the slightest disloyal to Dumbledore,” Severus spat, crossing his arms over his chest once more. “And I am equally skeptical as to your claim that he is more loyal to Potter than he is Dumbledore.”

“I promise…”

“However,” Severus said, speaking over Remus’s plea. “However, you have yet to turn us in, leading me to believe there may be some validity to your claim. Some. As such, I am reluctantly willing to pass one bit of information along to Black. Only one. And should that bit of information reach Dumbledore’s ears, it will be relayed back to me in terms that I will be required to pass along to the Dark Lord. Should I be required to pass this information along, I will kill Black first as I will, in all likelihood, be killed by the Dark Lord when he finds out this information is false.”

Remus shuddered at the thought before nodding. It was the ultimate test of loyalty, one which he was hopeful Sirius would pass. He would make sure Sirius was aware of the implications of passing on whatever it was Snape wanted him to.

“You will tell him that Harry Potter is alive and currently living in Dublin. You will not tell him any other information. You will not give him any updates on his health. You will not, for obvious reasons, give him an address or any other pertinent details.”

“Alive. Dublin,” Remus nodded once. “Are you going to be telling his friends the same story?”

“No,” Severus scoffed. “I will be putting them under oath and forcing them to drink a binding potion preventing them from talking about this unless the other person is in the know as well. If what you tell me is accurate, they are too close to the truth as it is. A lie as obvious as that will easily be found.”

“When can I tell him the truth?” Remus said rather sadly.

“When I decide it is time!” Severus snapped. “Once he has proven he can do this one thing right without passing along the information, then, and only then, can he be told the truth.”

“Thank you, Severus,” Remus said, spinning on his heel and apparating away.

“I’ll kill you too,” Severus whispered to the air where Remus had just been standing. “If you lied to me, I’ll kill you too.”

Sirius was laying on his childhood bed watching the shadows change on the ceiling as the sun slowly set. It had been a long, boring day and would surely be a long, boring night if he couldn’t convince himself to go to sleep. Every time he tried, his mind would begin to build the image of Harry’s body being found in different locations or different positions.

He had only been an Auror briefly before his arrest, but, through that, his work with the Order, and the twelve years of mental torture he had endured while detained in Azkaban, his mind had plenty to play with. Harry as one of the many victims of the Death Eaters. Harry as one of the murder victims in the last case he was a part of before his arrest. Harry in Azkaban with him, screaming as the Dementors moved closer and closer.

Or, by far, his least favorite: rolling the body of his best friend over in Godric’s Hollow to confirm who it was, only to find it was actually Harry and not James.

He hadn’t slept soundly in months, despite sleep’s ever present and more desperate calls to him. He knew he needed sleep, his body begged him for it, but his brain would not shut off for long enough to sleep well. He would kill for some Dreamless Sleep, no matter how addictive the stuff was. He was almost even willing to break down and ask Snape for some, though he doubted he would get anything other than a sneer.

Slowly his eyes drifted shut, only to snap open once again as he swore he heard a door slam downstairs. None of the wards had been breached, so he chalked it up to sleep deprivation. As he slept less and less, the world seemed to make less and less sense. He swore he could see things, people, moving around in his peripheral vision. More than once he had turned and cursed a fluttering window shade into oblivion. Or a shadow on a wall. A door closing on its own was just a new hallucination he could add to his already extensive list of reasons he was unfit to be anything other than the recluse he was becoming.

When would he become a raving lunatic like the majority of his family? He hoped it was sooner rather than later. It would be too painful to continue knowing he was losing his mind and being able to do nothing about it.

He was even to the point of sending an owl to Dumbledore begging for assistance though with the knowledge there would be none given. You have to be valuable to the war effort to get assistance, not a raving mad escaped convict holed up in his house with a portrait of his lunatic mother and her maniacal house-elf to wait on him. He had everything he needed here, what more could he want?

He swore he heard footsteps in the hall, but ignored them. There had been no ward breach. There had been no door slam. There was no footsteps. Who would want to visit him anyways?

“Sirius? Are you in here?” Remus asked as he softly knocked on Sirius’s door, trying in vain to ignore the stench of hippogriff poo from the next room over and pitying the poor animal for the lack of care it was receiving from his friend. At least Kreacher was keeping it fed and mostly cleaned up after.

Sirius continued to stare blankly at the ceiling, acting as though Remus hadn’t just walked into the room. What he was staring at, Remus couldn’t even dare to venture a guess. He could only hope that Sirius would be receptive to hearing the news he was going to tell him.

“Sirius?” he tried again to get his friend to respond. “Come on, Padfoot. Please look at me.”

Slowly, Sirius turned his head and looked at Remus, his eyes unfocused as he tried to concentrate on what the man was saying. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in days, not even Kreacher who brought him his meals with such glee to finally be serving the rightful heir to the Black line and not a muggle-loving fool.

“Hey Moony,” Sirius mumbled grumpily, slowly pulling himself upright and blinking a few times. “Didn’t I kick you out?”

“Yeah, but you never keyed that into the wards,” Remus said with a smirk and a cough. “You smell awful, when was the last time you showered?”

Sirius looked towards the foot of his bed and tried to think. How long had it been? How many days had it been since he had last stepped into the shower? How many days had he been in bed, staring at the ceiling? Kreacher had come in and given him, or tried to give him, at least two meals every day. And he had had how many meals since his last shower? He didn’t know. He didn’t really care either.

“Padfoot?” Remus asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. “You in there?”

“Hmmm?” Sirius mumbled, shaking his head as though that would get the cobwebs out. Merlin he needed sleep. “Yeah. I’m here. I … I don’t know Moony. I don’t know how long it’s been.”

“It’s ok,” Remus said softly, taking in his friend’s emaciated body with guilt. Forget the shower, how long had it been since the man slept or ate anything? “Hey, I got some good news for you, if you’re up to it.”

Sirius raised his eyebrow and cocked his head. “Depends.”

“It’s about Harry, Sirius,” Remus said, sitting gingerly on the edge of the man’s bed, afraid of what may be crawling around after not being cared for for so long.

Sirius’s eyes immediately lit with a flame of intense curiosity and hope and he whipped his head up, hope upon hope that this wasn’t another hallucination. “Harry?” his voice cracked.

“They found him,” Remus said with a small smile. “They found him, Padfoot.”

“He’s alive?” Sirius whispered in disbelief. “He’s alive?”

Remus nodded as Sirius’s chest heaved, his eyes immediately brimming with tears. The man’s hoarse sobs of relief filling the room as he collapsed over onto his friend’s chest. His relief was so palpable even an untrained legilimens could have felt it as he sobbed.

“He’s alive Padfoot, he’s alive,” Remus said, wrapping his arms around his friend and hugging him as tightly as he could manage without gagging. Sirius really did smell like a sewer.

“How?” Sirius finally managed to whisper. “Where?”

“I don’t know how,” Remus said carefully, sticking with the plan. “But he’s living in Dublin. The person he’s staying with contacted me and told me.”

Sirius sniffled heavily, wiping his nose and eyes with his sleeve. Harry was alive. Harry was in Dublin. “Is he ok? Is he safe?”

“I … yes,” Remus said slowly, choosing his words carefully. He couldn’t very well stick to the two words Severus wanted him to use without Sirius getting suspicious. “I’ve seen him. He’s alive and in Dublin.”

“But is he ok?” Sirius pressed, looking rather frantic. “He’s ok, right? He’s not been injured or maimed or something, right?”

“Sirius,” Remus said calmly, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I need you to listen to me and I need you to understand exactly what I am saying to you, ok?”

Sirius frowned but nodded. Something seemed fishy about this situation and it wasn’t sitting well with him. Why would Remus lie to him, though? What could he possibly gain from manipulating him emotionally? What was going on with Harry that would require secrecy between them?

“Who are you more loyal to, Harry or Dumbledore?” Remus said, staring intently at Sirius knowing full well that his eyes were still werewolf amber. “And answer me truthfully.”

“Harry,” Sirius said without a second’s hesitation. “Harry is my godson. I would fight for him. I would die for him.”

“And the headmaster?” Remus pressed, wanting to know for certain if he was making the right call.

Sirius stared at Remus for a long moment before glaring at him and wiping his nose once more. “I would die for Harry, Moony.”

Remus let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he was holding and allowed his body to relax for the first time since he came into Grimmauld Place. Sirius was being serious and his allegiance was most certainly not tied solely to the headmaster and his whims. He wasn’t surprised by this at all, just relieved that he had known his friend as well as he had.

“What I am going to tell you must not make it back to the headmaster. If it does, you … you’ll die Padfoot,” Remus said solemnly.

“What?” Sirius said with a slight laugh of disbelief. “Why?”

“Just know that if this makes its way back to the headmaster, you’ll die,” Remus said once more, the gentle smile which normally graced his face gone in favor of a look of complete seriousness.

Sirius swallowed hard and nodded. Whatever was going on was not something to joke about and that worried him. Was Harry actually alive? Was he actually ok? Why would he be killed if this information filtered back to the headmaster?

Why was everyone currently moving around under the headmaster’s radar? First Tonks and Kingsley making sure there were no extra wards set by the man before interrogating him about Harry and his relatives, now Remus telling him under threat of death that he could not tell something to the man. It smelt ominous and he wasn’t sure he liked it. But he was but a pawn in a larger game of chess, it felt like.

“Harry Potter is alive and living in Dublin,” Remus said. “I have seen him. I know him to be alive and living in Dublin.”

Sirius stared at his friend and nodded. There was something not right about the information he was being given, but under threat of death he could not pass it along. It was a test of loyalty, that much was easy to see. He didn’t know why this was his test, he didn’t know who the tester was, but if he failed he would be killed. As tempting as it was to try and find out who was the tester, he wanted more to just verify Harry was alive and well. Nothing else mattered other than verifying and ensuring his godson’s safety.

And if even Aurors were investigating Dumbledore…

“Is he ok?” Sirius asked once more. “I get you can’t give me details for whatever reason, but please, Remus, please answer me this: is he ok?”

Remus swallowed hard. If ever there was a loaded question, this was it. In short: no. Harry was not ok. He would likely never be ‘ok’ again in his life. He could barely move, he spoke with a stutter, he had next to no short term memory, and he was routinely having seizures. He was extremely sickly and hospitalized, but he was alive and in a safe location.

“He is safe,” Remus finally answered. “He’s as safe as he can possibly be.”

Sirius nodded a few times though his stomach was tying itself in knots. Harry wasn’t ok then. He was safe but injured or ill. But injuries can be fixed and illnesses, for the most part anyways, could be cured. There were certainly those conditions like lycanthropy which would live with the wizard, but he was hopeful it wasn’t something like that.

It wasn’t something like that, was it?

But he was safe. He was safe and alive.

“Sirius?” Remus asked quietly. “What can I help you with?”

“Hmm?” Sirius asked, looking at his friend once more.

“What’s something I can help you with? Do you need help getting washed up or getting food or something?” Remus murmured, gently running his fingers through Sirius’s long locks which were once again becoming matted. “You need something.”

Sirius looked around his bedroom and nodded. Kreacher had done a really terrible job of keeping the room cleaned and tidy, though Sirius wasn’t much help as he just laid in bed. It was rather overwhelming looking at the room and knowing that all of it needed to be cleaned and so did he. He knew he smelled, but he couldn’t have cared less up until today. If Harry was alive, he needed to get his act cleaned up and maybe Harry could come stay with him instead!

“Moony, I…” Sirius started, stumbling over his words in embarrassment. “Can you help me… wash my hair?”

Potions class was a tense affair and anyone who entered immediately felt it though the culprits were not the usual suspects. In fact, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors were surprisingly docile towards each other for once, utterly ignoring the other’s existence unless absolutely necessary. Rumors would certainly fly after class, however, and there was no stopping it.

No, the cause of the tension in the room was equally unsurprising though the cause was unknown. For some reason, the potion’s master’s ire was directed at a trio of Gryffindors sitting near the back of the room and had been from the moment they entered. What they had done to insite his wrath, they did not know, but his eyes rarely left their station once brewing had commenced.

“Come on, Neville,” Hermione whispered, trying to get their friend to focus on her and not on the ever present eyes of Professor Snape. “You know how to do this, it’s just like we studied. Just follow the steps and you’ll be fine.”

“Why is he staring at us though?” Neville whimpered, looking up at the potions master’s furious gaze once more, his hands shaking violently as he tried to dice the rat’s livers he had piled in front of him without slicing off a finger. “What did we do?!”

“Dunno, mate,” Ron mumbled, haphazardly adding in the three newts' tails he had been shredding and wincing as the smoke from their cauldron turned a bright orange for a few moments before he managed to get the ingredients stirred in. “I’m sure he’ll come yell at us in a bit for it though.”

Neville’s eyes went wide at the thought and his hands began shaking even harder as he started to hyperventilate. He couldn’t do this. He hated this class with a burning passion and knew he would be dropping it after this year. He couldn’t stand being under Professor Snape’s watchful eye any longer and knew without a shadow of a doubt that the professor hated having him in the class just as much.

“Come on, Nev,” Ron said, removing the knife from Neville’s hand and pulling the pile of livers onto the other side of their work bench. “I’ll dice these, you breathe.”

“Weasley!” Professor Snape roared from the other side of the room, causing all of the students in the room to jump slightly. “Was I not explicit enough in my instructions that this was to be a solo endeavor or has your potion’s fumes begun to decay your brain due to your own miscalculations?”

“I was just…” Ron started exasperatedly before he was cut off.

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape spat, glowering at the trio. “And stay after class. You too, Longbottom.”

Hermione looked sympathetically at her two friends as Ron struggled to rein in his temper and Neville struggled to calm himself down. It wasn’t their fault, Snape was a git on a good day. But why today? What had they done to get on his bad side?

“You too, Granger,” Snape said, glaring at her. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to guide your classmate through the brewing process.”

“Sir?” Hermione looked up, bewildered. “I haven’t been…”

“You will stay after class or you will get detention,” Snape growled before turning to the rest of the class. “You have ten minutes left to finish your potion and have it labeled and on my desk for grading. If you have not yet begun decanting, I would suggest you do so or re-evaluate your ability to follow directions and use a clock.”

Though his face was calm, internally Severus was smirking as the students raced to set up their decanters. He knew this potion would be difficult to finish properly within the time allotted if the proper recipe was followed and the brewer was working solo. Oh, there were shortcuts which could be taken to speed up the brewing time, but he wasn’t going to let them in on those secrets. Not today anyways. No, the express purpose he had in having his students brew this particular potion was he needed Longbottom frustrated so he could pull the three of them aside.

He had no plans to give them a detention, he just needed them pulled aside without raising suspicions within his Slytherins that he was discussing anything other than their failures in his class. And inspiring Longbottom to panic and turn to his friends for assistance was the easiest way to do that.

It was nearly the end of the class period when the final vials were placed on his desk and the students returned to their seats. Longbottom looked positively green while Weasley and Granger looked both livid and frustrated at being told to stay after class. It wasn’t like they had anywhere to be; they had lunch and a free period after this. Severus had specifically chosen this day to confront the trio so as to allow them plenty of time to speak and ask questions. He wasn’t so sadistic as to deliver the news he was going to in a short time span and send them off to their next class. That would be a recipe for disaster as they and their teenage brains struggled to make sense of what had happened to their friend.

Once the homework assignment was given and the class dismissed, he calmly sat behind his desk and waited for the rest of the students to leave, purposefully ignoring the Gryffindor trio until the last Slytherin slid out of the room and ran to the Great Hall for lunch. With a flick of his wand, the door to the classroom slammed shut and locked. Another flick and an impenetrable ward was thrown up over the door and over each of the portraits in the room. It would be safer to have this discussion in his quarters, but significantly more suspicious. Not to mention Longbottom likely would have passed out at the suggestion.

“We were just trying to help him,” Ron burst out as the last ward went up.

Severus raised an eyebrow and waited for a few moments for the boy to defend his actions in class before crossing his arms and saying “Weasley, I truly do not care what your rationale was. You were going to be held after class no matter what it was you did.”

“Sir?” Hermione asked softly, eyes wide as Neville’s trembling increased dramatically.

“I needed to speak with the three of you,” Severus said, looking as though he had just taken a bite out of a lemon. “And no, it is not about your performance in my class, no matter how deplorable it may be.”

Looking at the three Gryffindors in front of him, Severus nearly chuckled at their appearance. To say they looked surprised was an understatement. Though Longbottom still looked as though he would fall over if hit by a strong enough breeze, the other two were sitting there with indignant frowns on their face at the mere idea that this encounter had been preplanned.

“I have several questions for you,” Severus started, voice emotionless as he stood and began to pace behind his desk. “I need you each to answer them truthfully and to the fullest extent you are able. If you do this, I will, in turn, answer your questions and perhaps offer some clarification. I will, however, require you to swear an oath and take a binding potion before you receive the answers you seek. Do you understand?”

The three Gryffindors shared a look of confusion before Ron looked at the man and crossed his arms indignantly.

“Sir, this seems a bit shady. You lock us in a room where you are the only adult, ward against any means of us calling for help, then tell us you are planning to question us while dangling a carrot of ‘information’ on an unknown topic but with a caveat of us needing to take an oath.”

“Your concerns are not unfounded,” Severus acknowledged, surprised at the amount of understanding of the implications of illegality of his actions Weasley had found in an instant. “However, I am certain you will understand my actions when you hear the topic we will discuss.”

“It’s Harry, isn’t it sir?” Hermione said, causing Severus to raise an eyebrow. He had never thought of the Gryffindors as being particularly able to pick up on subtleties, however he admitted he was not being particularly subtle at this moment.

“It is,” Severus nodded. “Do you agree to my terms?”

The three Gryffindors looked at each other before nodding. Even Neville wanted to hear what the professor had to say, though the idea of asking the man questions was just as terrifying as being in the same room as him. If the man knew what happened to Harry, then he wanted to know, especially if Hermione’s theory on Elias and Harry being one and the same was true.

If he was correctly identifying what potions Elias was on, there was something seriously wrong with him and perhaps explained where he had gone to.

“Tell me what you know of Potter’s disappearance,” Severus said calmly. Too calmly, Hermione noted. He didn’t spit Harry’s name out with as much venom as he usually did.

The trio looked at eachother, egging each other on to answer the question before Ron finally sighed and began speaking.

“Harry and I write a lot over the summer. Ever since the summer after first year, he’s come to our house at least once during the summer and typically finishes the summer there,” Ron said, closing his eyes as he went over the story again. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about the location of his best friend every day and stewed over his disappearance every waking moment. “He and his relatives don’t get along, you see, and often they don’t feed him, so the sooner we get him out of their house, the better. This year, it was strange. He had told me that he was having a lot of problems with finishing his chores and that he was having a lot of pain. His handwriting is normally pretty bad, but this year it was becoming nearly illegible because his hands were shaking so bad.

“Then, a few days before his disappearance, I had sent him a message with Hedwig and it never made it through. Hedwig is his owl and has never had problems finding him. It was like she couldn’t reach him or something. So I sent my owl to him, but even Pig couldn’t find him. We tried telling my parents, but they said Dumbledore had his house under continuous observation and not to worry. A few days after that he disappeared.”

“It must have been only a few days after that that I met Elias at the hospital, sir,” Hermione interjected with a frown.

Severus gritted his teeth as they continued their story, slowly adding all of the information they had gleaned from the few interactions they had had with the boy. Of course they would notice the similarities! As they pointed them out, it became increasingly obvious to him how obvious it was that Elias was Harry Potter if you actually knew the boy, though it seemed few actually did. Harry Potter was an enigma the world saw with rose colored glasses. They wanted him to have a perfect life and be the celebrity they needed following the war, the representative of the light and the end of one of the darkest periods in modern wizarding Britain.

Even Severus had fallen for this in his own way, seeing James Potter’s visage rather than seeing Harry for who he truly was. Only those who truly knew him saw the neglected, unwanted child propped on a pedestal to be viewed by the world. It was enraging to know how wrong he had been for so many years and how much his son had suffered without his knowledge. His existence had been nightmarish yet no one knew the true extent of his suffering or chose to acknowledge it.

A cupboard under the stairs. It was no wonder Elias would mutter about his cupboard and not wanting to go in there. Or the fact he seemed almost claustrophobic at times, wanting to leave the unit at St Mungo’s and begging to go outside.

His cousin’s second bedroom with a cat flap and locks on the door and bars on the window. His prison he had railed against. It was no wonder he saw the bars on his bed, no matter how small they were, and thought of his time imprisoned in his own house with nothing but a can of soup. Now he was imprisoned in a hospital in a body he had only the barest of control over. Of course he wanted to come home to Hogwarts. Hogwarts had been his escape from the hellish existence he had had at the Dursleys.

His nightmares, the malnutrition, the ‘schedule’ and ‘rules’ he kept mentioning to the healers. The more the Gryffindors spoke of their friend and the things they saw in Elias, the more of a struggle it became for Severus to maintain his composure until finally, mercifully, their conversation petered out.

“I can only assume,” Severus said, his voice a bare whisper as he removed three small vials of potion from his desk. “That you have figured out by now what I am planning to tell you. However, before I do so, I require you to uphold the other portion of the agreement.”

The three teens turned to each other and nodded. It seemed Ron’s theory was correct, but something else must have happened they were missing. Something which required increased secrecy. They had to know. They had spent the better part of the last half hour telling Harry’s story to his most hated professor and watching as he slowly and sadly absorbed the information.

Taking an oath to protect their friend was obvious. As was swallowing whatever concoction Snape had handed them, though they were skeptical of its contents.

Severus waited until each of the Gryffindors had finished their potion before sealing the oath of protection around them. They knew the risks, they knew what they had seen, it was time to tell them the truth and keep them away from the headmaster.

“At the end of last year, as you mentioned you noticed, Mr. Potter began to undergo some rather radical changes,” Severus started almost hesitantly. “Prior to his birth, his mother had begun taking a potion which modified his growth and development in utero so he would come out with a magical core and physical appearance reflecting that of her husband and not the child’s actual father.”

He paused for a second as Hermione sucked in a breath and muttered “I knew it was a potion!” under her breath.

“That potion had already begun to degrade prior to the third task, causing his magic to begin to rework itself and his body to begin checking for discrepancies between actual physical appearance and what he was supposed to look like based on his genetic makeup,” Severus paused for a moment to make sure the Gryffindors were following what he was saying and was surprised to find even Longbottom seemed to be understanding what he was saying. However, this was less surprising of a revelation than what he thought it would be after having listened to the boy’s additions to the earlier discourse. He wasn’t a fool, he was only excruciatingly unsure of himself. A trait Severus was loathe to admit he contributed to.

“What was the potion called?” Hermione asked, itching to interrogate the man on the potion her friend had been under the influence of for his entire life.

“Falsum Paternis,” Severus said, rolling his eyes slightly. No doubt Granger would be in the library immediately after this conversation looking up anything she could find on the potion. “The beauty of this potion is how thoroughly it changes the body from the beginning of gestation all the way to the end. When it begins to fail, it fails in the same way. In a nice, predictable fashion following the way the fetus developed. However, during the time it is failing, the child is as vulnerable to outside influences as a fetus would be during that time.”

The Gryffindors nodded in understanding before Hermione suddenly gasped and Ron’s eyes went wide as the implications of what he had just said sunk in. Even Neville paled a few shades as he too put the pieces together of what the professor was actually saying.

“What part… how far along was he during the Third Task?” Hermione asked, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

“We estimate between five to eight weeks. Right when his nervous system was beginning to redevelop itself,” Severus said, waiting as the information sunk in though he didn’t have to wait long.

“Is that why he never got better?” Ron asked gruffly. “Why the anti-Cruciatus didn’t seem to help much?”

Severus nodded glumly before handing a box of tissues to Granger who had lost complete control of her tears and was frantically trying to wipe them away without making too much of a scene. “The official diagnosis the healer gave him was Shervil’s Ataxia with Epileptiform Discharges and Associated Adolescent Dementia. The Cruciatus he had received during the Third Task had severely damaged his nervous system. That was what was causing his pain, the deterioration of his handwriting, and ultimately the seizure which led to him being admitted to the hospital you were a volunteer at.”

Severus paused for a moment, looking at the three ashen teens sitting in front of him. Granger was now crying in earnest while both of the boys sat rather stoically though they looked as though they may pass out at any moment. He offered briefly to stop, though all three of them urged him to continue. Slowly, he filled them in on the details until finally he reached the most recent hospitalization and the headmaster’s involvement in his care (or lack thereof).

“So, the headmaster knew everything that was going on at the Dursleys, that Harry was getting sick, and did nothing?” Ron raged after a moment of silence. “He knew Harry wasn’t getting fed, that he was locked in his room routinely, that his family hated him enough to force him to work no matter how his condition deteriorated, and did nothing?”

“Precisely why I insisted you take an oath of secrecy,” Severus said with a smirk as Ron continued to mutter obscenities. “And why I need you to be on the lookout for anyone else who may be too close to discovering the truth.”

“Can we see him sir?” Neville asked hesitantly. “If he’s at St. Mungo’s, it shouldn’t be much of a problem…”

“He is in a ward where visitation is limited, I’m afraid,” Severus said, being intimately aware of the visitation policy of Ward 34 in regards to underaged witches and wizards. “There is a potential he will be moved to another ward, possibly Janus Thickey, within the next few weeks, however this has yet to be approved.”

The three teens nodded and sat in silence for a few moments before Ron’s stomach interrupted their thoughts with a rather loud growl. Bursting out laughing, the three Gryffindors couldn’t help but feel that a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. Harry … Elias was as safe as he could be. He wasn’t well, but he was better off than what he had been in some time. He had a father who cared for him (though the thought still made Neville shudder) and was getting the best care they could get for him.

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione whispered, wiping her eyes once more as the trio left the room, prepared to tell the school of how unfair and evil the potions master was for keeping them through lunch. “We won’t let Elias down.”