Albus Dumbledore had several letters to write of varying degrees of importance. The minister had demanded the placement of a member of his staff within Hogwarts’s teaching roster following the debacles of the previous years. True, hiring Lockhart hadn’t been the greatest plan of his, but how was he to know the man was as incompetent as he was? And how was he to know Quirrell would be harboring Voldemort himself? Or that Alastor had been kidnapped and that a Death Eater would be using Polyjuice to replace him?
Of the past four years, only the last two had truly garnered concern from the ministry. Despite his abilities and level headedness with teaching, Remus Lupin’s condition had led to a number of concerned parents sending letters to the ministry about his fitness as an educator and the safety of their children. The kidnapping of Alastor Moody was yet another stain on his record of choosing only the brightest and most capable educators for the wizarding youth of Great Britain, and the fact he was able to be kidnapped and held hostage for nearly an entire year while preaching ‘CONSTANT VIGILANCE’ certainly brought doubt as to his actual abilities as an Auror and as an educator.
Delores Umbridge, however, was not even remotely who he would have chosen.
Even as a student, she had harbored some rather shocking anti-creature sentiments and would routinely attempt to have any student who admitted to having magical creature heritage expelled. She was sickly sweet in a way that could only be described as poisonous. Having her on staff would in no way benefit the students of Hogwarts, nor would it serve to further his goals of winning the war.
Every decision he had made to this point as Headmaster and as governor of the Potter estate had been made with that goal in mind. The war against Voldemort must be won and casualties were to be expected.
It pained him greatly to place Harry with his aunt and uncle who so obviously loathed him. It was agonizing when Cedric Diggory was murdered. It was petrifying when Ginny Weasley went missing only to be found within the Chamber of Secrets. But as horrible as it may sound, they were only pawns in the chess game of the war. It didn’t matter who it was that declared checkmate, be it a rook, pawn, or knight, it just mattered that the light win. And he would do anything to ensure that they did.
But Umbridge? Really? What was Fudge thinking?
Opening his parchment drawer and pulling out several sheets, he was shocked to see a letter contained within the drawer. He must have thrown it in there when he was trying to reorganize his desk so he could better monitor the wards around the Dursleys and be on the lookout for the wayward Potter. He was still surprised there hadn’t been any sightings of the boy; not even a shred of evidence as to where he went. Even Severus stated that Voldemort was on the lookout and had yet to find him.
All members of the order had been placed on alert and were searching anywhere they could think to find him, even going so far as to do a full cabin search of the Hogwarts Express to see if the boy had managed to find and sneak onto it in an effort to escape. Several members had even ventured into France and Ireland to see if he had managed to skip the border and was on the run in another country, but thus far there was no evidence that he had. In fact, there was no evidence that he had ever left the Dursley’s property other than a few drops of blood on the ground under a wheelbarrow.
Turning the letter over, he saw it was sent from Severus nearly a month previous, long before Harry had disappeared but shortly after the end of the school year. He tried to think back to what was going on at the time that would have prompted such a letter be sent but found nothing pressing enough that the man could possibly have been asking for. Perhaps an assistant for his potions making, though if memory served him he had managed to find one since then.
Perhaps he was asking for the Defense position yet again?
Grabbing a lemon drop out of his candy dish and beginning to suck on it, he grabbed a letter opener and slid it through the wax seal on the envelope, pulled out the letter, and immediately choked on the aforementioned candy.
Headmaster,
Due to a change in circumstances regarding the guardianship of my son, Elias, I must request an accommodation be made to my quarters and my employment contract. Elias has never been on the list to attend Hogwarts as he has multiple medical problems which are prohibitive in his ability to attend a standard magical school. Should these accommodations be able to be provided, I will happily provide Poppy with a copy of his medical records so his medical care may be transferred to her. Should these accommodations not be able to be met, I may be forced to take a sabbatical of up to a year.
In order for him to be here safely, he will need a live in tutor. Previously he was under the tutelage of Madame Clarissa Zebronski, though she has, most unfortunately, decided to retire this year. I have managed to procure his previous grades and will happily provide them to you should you prefer to have a hand in finding this tutor as they would living here at the school. He is fifteen (nearly sixteen) and, in my professional opinion, on par with the other students in the fifth year. It is preferable that this tutor is exceedingly patient as Elias may require additional time to complete assignments or learn new material due to his conditions. It is not necessary for the tutor to live with myself and Elias, though having quarters nearby would be a great advantage.
I am aware that my contract dictates that I must have open office hours on weekdays and weekends, however I will need at least one week day afternoon and one weekend day to brew the potions necessary for him to function properly. I have no qualms about remaining head of Slytherin, however, as Elias is grossly independent in his ability to care for himself.
Should you require I find a tutor on my own, please let me know as soon as possible so I will have the time necessary to find him one with whom he is compatible.
Thank you for your consideration,
Severus Snape
A son?! Severus had a son?
Impossible.
‘No,’ he corrected himself, ‘not impossible. Improbable.’ Severus would have been heavily involved in Death Eater activities at the time of his son’s conception. As he was not a spy at that time, it was hard to say what he had been up to or who he had been seeing, if anyone. It seemed odd, extremely odd, that this boy would make an appearance at the same time Harry Potter went missing, but the letter itself had been in his desk drawer for quite some time and had been unopened. The envelope was dated prior to Harry’s disappearance, though the letter itself had no date on it, and was sealed with a perfectly intact wax seal.
He would have to deal with this soon; just one more thing to add to his list of pre-school year tasks. Severus was right, of course, if a tutor was hired in for a student or child of a faculty member, they were under the jurisdiction of the Headmaster/Headmistress of the school unless they chose to live off grounds. Severus’s request to have the tutor live on school grounds and close at hand would put them directly under the Headmaster no matter who was paying them for being there.
He had a few ideas off hand for who he could reach out to, but he would have to speak to Severus first. There was no reason to choose a tutor who was incompatible with the family and force the best potions master Hogwarts had had in many generations into a sabbatical. No, there was only so much maneuvering he could do without angering the man.
Turning back to the stack of parchment which once again littered his desk, Dumbledore sighed and picked up his quill. He would work with Severus’s requests soon enough, but first he had to deal with the ministry.
“Easy now,” Severus said, holding Elias up by the hips as he retched violently onto the alley way. “It will pass soon enough.”
Harry moaned as his head continued to spin and his stomach continued to contract and attempt to force all of its contents out. His knees swaying and threatening to collapse as he clung to the rough brick wall for dear life. If he thought using the Floo or a Portkey was bad, apparation was worse. So much worse.
As promised, they had taken the taxi a few miles away before getting out and paying the driver with a few coins and a quick confundus. The ride itself hadn't been too long, nor had it been obscenely rough, but Harry was already starting to feel rather dizzy and nauseated from the movement. Severus had tried to explain apparation before they left, but it was one of the many things in the magical world which Harry put into the category of ‘you have to try it first, then you’ll understand.’
He now understood and vehemently wished he didn’t.
If it hadn’t been for Severus’s arm around his waist, he would have immediately collapsed when they landed. His legs felt as though they couldn’t support his weight, his head spun violently, and he immediately began retching. He didn’t know how long they stood there, him vomiting and tears streaming down his face as he tried to catch his breath and steady himself, but he did know one thing: despite how disgusting he was being, Severus never let go of him. Slowly, his stomach did begin to settle, but his head still swam fiercely and was beginning to throb.
“Elias?” Severus asked softly as the dry-heaving ceased and the boy was now just taking shuttering gasps. “We are in the alley immediately next to my house. There are approximately fifty steps to take from here to be into the house. Do you think you can make it?”
Harry closed his eyes and nodded slightly, swallowing thickly as another wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. Fifty steps and he would be inside. Fifty steps and he would be home. Fifty steps and he could lie down. He could do it.
Severus gently grabbed the boy’s right arm and looped it over his shoulders to help support him better, wincing as his bicep twitched causing his hand to very nearly smack Severus in the face. It was a good thing they were nearly the same height. Being this close to the boy was sobering. Throughout the hospital stay, he had managed to avoid touching him; he was not an overly touchy person and it felt wrong to have even casual contact with the boy. Apparation, however, required them to be touching in order for the transportation to work. He could feel his son’s muscles constantly quivering under his skin, jumping and jolting as if trying to escape and leaving him struggling for balance or any kind of fine motor movement. For some reason his left side seemed to have less spasms than his right, a sign Severus took as a good omen and sign of potential progress, though they would have to see how he fared when they started him on his potions.
Slowly, they made their way out of the alley. Every step seemed to be a chore as Elias had to find his footing with every step and occasionally had to pause and readjust before continuing forward. They had just made it to the door when Elias’s legs finally decided they had had enough and refused to move any farther. Try as he might, he could not convince them to lift over the threshold of the door. His head was well and truly throbbing and all he wanted to do was crawl into a dark room and sleep, he didn’t even care if there was a bed or pillow available for him, he just wanted sleep.
“Elias, I’m going to pick you up,” Severus said as the boy’s footing faltered. He had hoped they would make it to the bedrooms at the very least, but it seemed he would need to recover some more on the settee before being able to try going up the stairs.
Sliding one arm under the boy’s buttocks and lifting him as best he could, Severus quickly walked the boy over to the settee and lowered him down so he was laying on his side. The boy moaned softly and readjusted himself into a more comfortable position before throwing an arm over his eyes and immediately drifting off to sleep.
Severus summoned a rather heavy blanket and threw it over the boy before walking to the kitchen and placing the three bottles of muggle tablets in the cabinet with the medicinal potions he kept on hand. Three different tablets to do what one potion was able to do, how absurd. Thankfully Elias wouldn’t have to be on these muggle medications for long, only a few weeks of transitioning potions and he would be able to be off of the muggle tablets for good.
Turning and walking down the stairs to the basement, he quickly set up a monitoring spell to assess for any activity from Elias. He hoped the boy would sleep for a while and recuperate from the shock of apparation on his system, but he knew there was still the potential of him waking up confused as to how he got there. Or having another seizure. The monitoring spell was designed for toddlers, but it was effective enough.
Walking down the stairs, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the sound of chopping. Draco, for all his spoiled behaviour, was actually shaping up to be a rather competent assistant and truly was decent at brewing more complicated potions. He had been a good decision on Severus’s part, now he just had to see if he and Elias would get along. Having a Malfoy on his son’s side could only work to his advantage if the two of them actually were amicable to one another.
“You’re back!” Draco said, attempting and failing to hide his excitement. “Did the muggles let you take him?”
“Yes, to be honest they seemed rather happy to be rid of us,” Severus said with a scoff. “He didn’t react well to apparation, however, so please give him time to rest before you go badgering him with your questions.”
Draco nodded and turned back to the pile of rat spleens he had been gingerly dicing, resisting the urge to run upstairs and at least look at the son of his mentor. What would he look like? What would he act like? Severus had been remarkably close-lipped about him even after saying he would be moving in with them, though he had allowed Draco to assist in choosing some of the more basic decor items in the boy’s room.
He was excited to meet this mysterious boy. This would be the first time in his life he had gotten to meet someone within the wizarding world without his father standing next to him guiding him on what to say. The potential of a true friend was one he didn’t want to pass up on. Theo was close, but even still their relationship was rather stilted as they both were playing the roles their families wanted them to play.
Other than the occasional admonishment of ‘be nice,’ Professor Snape had yet to tell him anything even remotely political about the boy. Did he support the Dark Lord? Had he received the Dark Mark? Would he ever? Was he being groomed for a position in the Ministry? Who was his mother and what was her blood status? All of the information he had been taught from a young age was imperative to know he wasn’t being told. He didn’t know if Professor Snape was doing so on purpose or if he was truly as private of a man as he seemed, but whatever the case may be, Draco felt rather off kilter.
“What are you making, sir?” Draco asked, looking over and at the professor as he started a potion which wasn’t using one of the bases Draco had prepared earlier.
“One potion of Elias’s I forgot about,” Severus said, by way of an explanation.
“What does it do?” Draco asked, looking at the ingredients the man had pulled down and trying to put them together in some sort of order in his mind.
“It is a modified potion used to facilitate a better swallow and gag reflex for Cruciatus victims with permanent nerve damage or muscle spasms,” Severus said with a sigh. When he had finally discovered what was going on with the boy, he had been afraid that may be an effect. Seeing Elias struggle to eat and the consistency of the food the muggles had put him on made him concerned for the boy. True, he was malnourished due to the muggle’s treatment of him, but if he couldn’t swallow well then there was no easy way for him to get the nutrition he so desperately needed.
Draco’s heart sank slightly. Professor Snape had warned him that Elias would be much skinnier than he expected, and much weaker, but to not even be able to swallow on his own? And then be told to go make his way in the world? What kind of monsters were his mother’s family?!
At least he was living with Professor Snape now. For all the bad press the man got from the other houses, every Slytherin knew the man truly cared about his students and would go out of his way to protect them. It was a shame he hadn’t been the one raising Elias; surely the boy would have been much healthier if that had been the case.
Together they worked in comfortable silence for nearly an hour, only occasionally asking each other for an ingredient here or a knife there. Finally summoning the required vials, Severus was done with the last potion Elias would require. For now anyways. It would be a never ending task to keep up with the demand, but it felt like a labor of love.
“Do you have any preference on what you would like for dinner?” Severus asked as he cleaned up his work station with the flick of his wand and checking the time. Surely Elias would be waking up soon; the monitor spell had already notified him that he was moving around more.
Draco shook his head. “I don’t have a preference. Would Elias?”
“I highly doubt it,” Severus snorted. “So long as it was not the slop they were feeding him in hospital, I do not believe he would care.”
“May I ask him?” Draco asked. It didn’t seem fair for him to choose what they ate and assume Elias would like it or even feel up to eating it.
Besides, Severus would still have the ultimate say in what they ate. He had asked a few days ago if they could get food from Lutin Noir, a highly rated restaurant located near the end of Diagon Alley. This was promptly vetoed as Severus stated he ‘would have to trade his entire store of rare ingredients to afford an appetizer.’ Draco had offered to pay, only for Severus to immediately take offense and insist they make food at home.
Severus nodded and waved him away, lifting another cauldron onto the work bench and setting it over a low flame before adding one of the pre-prepared bases to it. The base itself for this potion would have to heat slowly for several hours before any other ingredients could be added. It would take nearly nine hours to brew this particular poison, however it was grossly stable through the entire process and could be left to simmer for hours at a time. After this was done, there were only three other potions left which needed brewing for the rest of the week, then they could finally, after days of nearly continuous brewing, take a well needed break.
Unless the Dark Lord or the Headmaster requested something more, that is.
Draco quickly doffed his gloves and brewing robes and nearly ran up the stairs. Finally! Finally he would get the chance to meet the mysterious son of the potions master. Excitement and nervousness bubbled within his chest. What would Elias be like?
Walking from the kitchen to the living room, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the other boy on the sofa.
Elias lay on his stomach on the settee with one knee pulled to his chest and the other bent slightly to allow him to fit his rather lanky frame on the sofa. His face was buried in the crook of his arm; the blanket Severus had placed on him had fallen mostly onto the floor though still partially covering his torso. His cloak lay forgotten on one end of the settee and his boots still firmly stuck on his feet, though there was some evidence that he had tried to kick them off at some point. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing his unnaturally thin abdomen. His copper-toned, dark brown hair lay rather disheveled, curling slightly at the ends and further covering his face.
Draco winced slightly as a spasm visibly raced down the taller boy’s spine and his legs twitched sporadically for a moment before settling down momentarily. He couldn’t imagine having to live like that; constantly moving even when asleep. He couldn’t imagine Elias slept well and felt rather bad for wanting to wake him up to ask him something as simple as what he wanted for dinner.
He stood there staring at the boy for a moment longer before gathering the courage to approach him. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too angry at him for being woken up!
“Elias?” Draco said hesitantly. “Elias?”
Harry blearily woke up, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to dislodge the small amount of sleep that had accumulated in the corners of his eyes. Who was Elias ...oh, yeah. Him. He was Elias. Slowly details of his situation filtered into his consciousness as he slowly stretched and tried to reorient himself on the sofa so he could sit up.
“Wha- t-t-t-time izzit-t?” he slurred as he shakily pulled himself into a sitting position, groaning softly as his head swam wildly with the movement.
“It’s nearly seven,” Draco said, confused as to why that would be the first question out of the boy’s mouth. If he had just been woken up by someone new, he would want to know who it was that woke him up before he asked the time.
“S-seven?” Elias asked again, rubbing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest before laying his head on them and nearly falling asleep again. The throbbing in his head had decreased to a low but constant ache while he slept and rousing himself was not overly appealing.
“Seven. It’s almost time for dinner and Professor Snape wanted to know if you wanted anything in particular,” Draco said, sitting himself on the edge of the professor’s chair.
“‘M good-d,” Elias said, eyes drooping momentarily before shooting open and staring at the boy sitting across from him. “Who’re y-you?”
Harry Potter may know Draco Malfoy, but Elias Snape definitely didn’t. Remembering he would have to reintroduce himself to everyone would likely be the most difficult part of this transition out of being Harry. It was a small price to pay, though he feared finding out if there were those he saw as friends who only “liked” him due to his fame. A fear he hoped was unfounded, but a fear none the less.
“Draco Malfoy. I’m your father’s potions assistant for the summer,” Draco said cordially, holding out his hand.
“‘L-l-lo,” Elias stuttered, shaking the other boy’s hand. “I’m E-Elias.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Elias,” Draco said softly. Even shaking the boy's hand was a reminder he was not at all well. The bones of his fingers and hands were prominent and the constant quivering and shaking could be felt as soon as contact was made. Despite the house being quite well insulated and warm, Elias’s finger felt ice cold to the touch. “So, what do you want for dinner?”
Elias shrugged, reaching down and pulling the blanket back over him. “D-d-don’t c-care, ‘m n-n-n-not-t hun-ngry.”
Draco frowned in concern as he looked at the boy. “Is there anything you won’t eat?
“I-if I eat-t-t an-ny m-m-more m-m-m-mousse or j-jelly, I m-may sick-k up-p-p-p-p,” Elias said, scrunching his nose at the thought of eating more of the goo he had been forced to consume while in hospital.
“I doubt Professor Snape would allow you to eat only that anyways,” Draco snorted, handing Elias the pair of wire framed glasses which had ended up on the floor. “Is there no food you miss having? Something you haven’t been able to have while being in the hospital?”
“L-l-like t-takeaw-way?” Elias asked, rubbing his eyes once more before putting the glasses on. The prescription was already slightly off despite having been made only days previous, but it was still much better than his original pair.
“I… I guess?” Draco said, slightly confused by the term. He could extrapolate the meaning of it easily enough, but something about the term seemed oddly ‘muggle.’ “What kind of ‘takeaway’ would you like?”
“Chin-n-nese?” Elias said, unsure as to if it would be an acceptable answer. He had never actually had Chinese takeaway himself, but it always smelled heavenly whenever the Dursleys would get it. Occasionally he managed to get some leftover fried rice and always wished he could make it stretch longer or could learn to make it on his own. Judging by Draco’s expression, he doubted the other wizard had ever had any kind of muggle takeaway, but he had asked!
“I’ll ask the Professor if he is agreeable to ‘Chinese takeaway,’” Draco said, standing abruptly from the chair and walking back to the basement. How long had Elias been with the muggles that he developed an affinity for their food? No proper pureblood would ever order muggle food when there were plenty of proper magical restaurants which needed business.
As Draco left, Elias took a deep breath and sighed. He was thankful for the thoroughness with which Snape went over the information with him about their living arrangements; the idea of being awoken by Malfoy and not realizing that that was a possibility was rather terrifying. Now he was going to be asking if they could have Chinese takeaway for dinner, something he had never in a million years thought he would see Snape or Malfoy eating.
Slowly stretching his legs and pushing himself into a standing position, he winced as his back twinged and his arms ached as he stretched them as well. He was just glad the throbbing in his head had finally dulled to a manageable ache and the dizziness had finally died down. Apparation was by far and away his least favorite type of travel now, even surpassing Portkeys if only just. Portkeys had horrific memories attached to them, but at least they didn’t make him physically ill for hours.
Folding the blanket up as best he could and shaking out his arms once more, he limped over to what he hoped was a toilet, stumbling heavily as his right knee buckled when his thigh spasmed randomly. Physical therapy had noticed his legs would do that from time to time and recommended he use some sort of assistive device to prevent him from tumbling to the ground. They also recommended he continue with therapy after being discharged, though he couldn’t imagine Snape taking him from Hogwarts to therapy and back several times a week.
Perhaps that was something he could speak about to whoever was his tutor for the year?
Opening the door he assumed led to the toilet, he sighed with relief when he realized he was correct in his assumption. At least that was one less thing he had to ask about. He assumed he wouldn’t be sleeping on the sofa for the next few weeks before they all moved back to Hogwarts, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he had couch surfed. Already, living with Snape was turning out to be better than the Dursley’s. He had been picked up from the hospital without being made to feel like a burden, helped inside when he felt too sick to move, and was now being offered food despite not having done anything around the house to help out.
Was this what it felt like to be in a normal family?
Finishing using the loo and washing his hands, he couldn’t help but stare at himself in the mirror. The boy looking back at him was continuing to look progressively less and less like Harry Potter. Height-wise, he seemed to have finally leveled out and stopped growing, though he was still significantly taller than he had ever been as Harry Potter. His hair had loosened in texture to more of a fine wave and less of the curl which had made his hair so unruly before. His eyes had darkened in color to a more dark hazel, as well as changing shape slightly to have slightly more downturned corners. His lips had thinned out somewhat and his nose had developed a slight hook to it, though nowhere near as prominent as his father’s.
It was a strange sensation, looking at yourself in the mirror and having the person staring back at you look completely different from the person you had been so accustomed to seeing. The person staring back at him was certainly not Harry Potter, even the scar on his forehead was well camouflaged by the much larger and more fresh gash from his earlier fall. Even more strange than his appearance though was the feeling it brought with it. Looking at himself in the mirror, he felt at ease, as though that had always been him and the other person he was used to seeing was just him using Polyjuice. This body felt more “right,” more natural, like this was who he was supposed to be the entire time.
His right calf suddenly spasmed under him, breaking him out of his musings and sending him pitching forwards, barely managing to catch himself on the sink and inadvertently kicking the door with his heel.
“Ow! Shit!” he hissed clinging to the sink basin, waiting for the spasm to pass. Thankfully, he still had his boots on, otherwise he could almost guarantee he would have been sporting yet another bruise. Blushing furiously in embarrassment at his misfortune but glad no one seemed to have noticed the sounds coming from the loo, he quickly finished washing his hands and limped back to the sofa.
Collapsing back into the soft pillows, he gingerly stretched his legs out and propped them on the cushions next to him. It felt strange to be still wearing the boots, but try as he might he could only manage to get a few of the buttons undone, and not even enough to slide his feet out. His fingers simply did not want to grasp something as small as the buttons, and the fine movements required to undo the buttons were beyond his abilities.
A flurry of footsteps on the stairs brought his attention to the kitchen as Draco came running back up the stairs. Raising an eyebrow as the other boy started digging through the drawers with a frown on his face before he found a bundle of what seemed to be pamphlets. He then flicked through them, reading the headings of them before finally exclaiming “HA!” and pulling one from the stack and pulling a small stack of muggle paper money out of an envelope in the same drawer.
“Elias, he said ok, but we have to use the telephone to call and order,” Draco said, looking rather unsure as he looked at the phone sitting on the small table at the base of the stairs. “Do you know how to use it? I have the menu.”
Elias nodded before pushing himself up with a groan and limping back towards the stairs. Maybe having something to help him walk, even for a short time, wouldn’t go amiss? He felt like he was walking like a drunkard, stumbling about as though he was constantly losing his balance. The physical therapist had asked if he had ever used crutches, to which he had replied instantly in the negative. Maybe for long distances he could use some? He’d have to ask Snape about possibly getting some or a cane.
“What-t-t d-do y-you like?” Elias asked, sitting himself on the stairs and grabbing the phone through the stair rail. While he doubted Malfoy had ever had Chinese, he didn’t want to make any assumptions.
Draco shrugged and handed over the menu. “I have never eaten from a takeout. Whatever you recommend. Professor Snape requested nothing too spicy, however.”
Elias nodded his head and took the offered menu, briefly looking it over then dialing the number from the front of the menu. It was standard Chinese takeaway, nothing too wild and crazy, but with plenty of choices and decent prices. If the food tasted even half as good as it looked in the picture, he may have to bribe some more takeaway out of his father before the end of summer.
“‘L-lo,” he stuttered, wincing immediately. He had hoped to make it through the order with minimal stumbling over words, but apparently that was not going to be possible. “C-can I g-g-get an ord-der of Chick-k-ken f-fried rice, s-s-sweet and s-sour p-p-p-p-pork, s-satay chick-ken, and-d” -he squinted at the menu- “c-crab-b-b r-rang-goon?”
Draco watched as he completed the order and got the total before asking for Draco to ask Professor Snape what the address to the house was. Where had this boy learned to use muggle devices so well? And be at least somewhat comfortable ordering food from them, or at least knowledgeable with their ways of ordering he was able to make the order despite his stutter. Hadn’t he lived with his mother and her family? Surely they hadn’t been muggles?!
“Th-thanks!” Elias said, before hanging up the phone and turning to Draco. “It’ll b-be here in-n t-t-twent-ty m-m-minutes. Wh-what?”
“Where did you learn how to use that?” Draco said, staring at him with a look of utter confusion and slight revulsion on his face.
“M-m-muggle st-t-tudies?” Elias said with a frown. Would his tutor have covered muggle studies with him? He hoped so, it would certainly explain why he knew how to work muggle devices. “A-and I l-l-l-lived with them-m when-n-n I w-was w-work-king for the g-g-gard-den-ning c-comp-p-p-p-pany.”
Draco glared at him in suspicion before finally nodding his head. There was something more to this story, he could feel it. Something wasn’t quite adding up, but what was it? What had happened with his relatives that had made him so sufficient in the muggle world? Even if his parents had dropped him off randomly in the muggle world, he doubted he would be as proficient at ordering food from a takeaway menu as what Elias was in after only a month. Even if he had taken muggle studies, he doubted he would be as fluent in his ability to order and provide the necessary information the takeaway place wanted.
On the other side of the coin, there was still the possibility that Elias’s tutor was more versed in muggle studies and wanted him to be as independent as he possibly could be when not in the wizarding world. Still though, it was highly suspicious.
He would have to keep a closer eye on the older boy. Discrepancies in his story were reportable, though why would Professor Snape, one of the Dark Lord’s right hand men, be trying to hide someone in his own home? It was curious.
Extremely curious.
Chapter 12