Everything Is Not What It Seems by RavenMooney
Summary: Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, assumed he was going to have a relaxing summer, but that all changes when an upset Lily visits him in his dream needing his help to save her son.

Reluctantly Severus checks on Harry, discovering that all is not what it seems.
Categories: Teacher Snape > Professor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Original Character, Other
Snape Flavour: Canon Snape, Overly-protective Snape, Snape Comforts, Snape is Loving, Snape is Stern
Genres: Angst, Canon, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Media Type: None
Tags: Abuse Recovery, Adoption, Injured!Harry, Kidnapped!Harry, Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: 3rd summer, 3rd Year
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Neglect, Physical Abuse, Profanity, Rape
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 11 Completed: No Word count: 70032 Read: 5150 Published: 30 Aug 2023 Updated: 12 Nov 2023
Chapter 1 Something's Not Right by RavenMooney
Author's Notes:
Hey guys, it's me, Mae19, now going by RavenMooney. Sorry for the late update, hope you're all keeping well. I'll be reuploading the old chapters on here, followed by the new chapters I've written, can't wait for you to read them.

Hope you enjoy xx

Saturday 26th June 1993,

It was 6pm when a large red 4-6-0 steam engine, known as the Hogwarts express, came to a stop at platform 9 in Kings Cross station.

The train doors opened and out climbed children from ages eleven to eighteen years, all different but special.

Unlike other children and teens, who attended ordinary schools that were mostly within walking distance from their homes, these children and teens came from a special school, where they were taught about Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Yes, these children are not your ordinary children, but witches and wizards unknowingly living among ordinary, non-magical people, known as muggles.

One boy in particular with raven black hair, emerald green, almond shaped eyes, wearing worn, round rimmed glasses that had seen better days, climbed off the train, wearing oversized, stain covered, hole filled clothes.A dark red t-shirt and navy blue jeans. Both were baggy and overdue and needed to be dumped, unfortunately he can't as his relatives would no doubt call him ‘an ungrateful freak.’ Besides, at least he had clothes to wear and a roof over his head.

He was also sporting an infamous lightning bolt scar sat on his forehead, was how the wizarding world knew him to be the-boy-who-lived, the only known person to live from a killing curse when he was a baby. He was known to the wizarding world as Harry James Potter, but to his friends, he was known as Harry. Though, he didn't know that yet.

Shortly afterwards, he was followed by a bushy brown haired girl, Hermione Jean Granger, a muggleborn witch, born to non magical parents, the smartest witch of the century and his friend, along with a red headed, lanky tall boy, Ronald Bilius Weasley, a pureblood wizard, chess champion and sixth born in his family. Second to last and always overshadowed. But remains loyal to his two best friends.

“There they are,” the red headed boy said, instantly spotting a familiar clan of red heads. “C’mon guys, lets go” the trio, known as the Golden trio by many, went over to the clan.

“Ronald, Harry, Hermione,” the trio were pulled into a bear-like hug by the matriarch of the red headed clan, a plump woman, known as Molly Weasley. “Did you three have a good second year at school?” she asked them, still hugging and unaware of the raven haired boy flinching at her touch.

“Yes mum” Ron said, his cheeks blushed an embarrassing shade of red.

At the same time, both Hermione and Harry said, “yes Mrs Weasley” all three were finally released from the mother bear hug. And as soon as Mrs Weasley counted seven heads, five belonging to her younger children, all at Hogwarts, and two belonging to her youngest son's friends, they all walked off the platform through the wall that will take them out to the muggle platforms 9 and 10. Pushing trolleys with trunks and their familiars in cages.

“Do either of you see your families, Harry, Hermione?” The patriarch or the red headed clan, known as Arthur Weasley, asked, scanning the crowd of muggles for anyone familiar.

Both said children were already scanning the crowd looking for their designated families, if one could call Harry's relatives that, with how they treated their nephew. Before Harry had any time looking for his relatives, he was pulled into another unexpected hug, causing him to flinch again. He hated being touched. Why couldn't people understand that?

“See you Harry, Ron. Make sure to write this summer,” Hermione said, hugging Harry first, pulling away she hugged Ron. “Both of you!” she told them, giving them a warning glare, promising a hex or two if they don't.

“See you Hermione” Harry and Ron both said at the same time, with Harry promising to write if his relatives let him. They watched her as she walked off to greet her parents. Leaving the clan of red heads, plus Harry.

Molly Weasley scanned the crowd again, looking for any familiar faces. Seeing no sign, she said, “they're probably on their way. And if they don't show we'll just have to make sure you get home safely”

“Or you can come-“

“-back with us,”

“Boys!” Molly Weasley cut in, “though Harry is welcome to visit us any time, I am sure Harry is eager to see his family after being away from them for so long. Right Harry?” Molly asked gently

Harry nodded his head, not wanting to really tell Ron's mum the truth, besides, after what Dumbledore had told him at the end of last year, he knew it was pointless. No one would listen to him.

Feeling like a burden already. He was used to the Dursleys picking him up later than normal, or not even picking up at all, leaving him to make his own way home.

Sighing, he looked up at the Weasley matriarch, “It's alright Mrs Weasley, the Dursleys are always late…..you guys don't have to wait with me”

“Oh Harry, we aren't those kinds of people to leave a child alone and unsupervised. We'll just wai….” Mrs Weasley started, “there, you see, your uncle's here now”

The-infamous-boy-who-lived, flinched as a heavy hand landed hard on his shoulder, he gulped, pushing his fear down. Wishing for the ground to swallow him up hole. He knew who the hand belonged to and the owner, he knew, wasn't pleased. “Uncle Vernon,” he said, surprised, his uncle was here. Uh oh, he's been drinking.Where were Dudley and aunt Petunia. He scanned around the platforms looking for his other two relatives. Maybe they’ve gone to the bathroom? Also, why are they on time for once?

They're never on time, not for me.

“Come along boy, you've wasted enough of my time already just coming back here” Vernon said, in a gruff tone, annoyed that his nephew was talking to freaks, again. His face turned a deep shade of purple when his freak of a nephew hugged the dumpy looking freak. Once they pulled apart, he dragged the boy away, by the boy's shoulder.

“You take care of yourself now, Harry,” the dumpy freak said to his freaky nephew. He tightened his grip on the freak's shoulder, dragging him through the train station, pretending he didn't hear the freak's questions.

I need another beer after this. Vernon thought, unlocking his car once they reached it. “Hurry up boy, I don't have all day!” he huffed, tempted to snap at the blasted freak, but he knew he couldn't, not in front of all these people who were already staring at them. Stupid freaks!

Snapping, he shoved the boy against the car, not caring that there might be a bruise or that there were passersby watching with even more curiosity. He snatched the trunk and bird cage with the freak's nephew and annoying bird locked inside, dumping them both in the boot, and gruffly telling the burden to get in the car. He closed the trunk and climbed into the driver's seat.

“Unc….uncle Vernon?” Vernon Dursley heard the freak start

“What is it boy?” he grumbled, annoyed that he can't ignore the freak now.

“Where…..where's um…..aunt Petunia and Dudley, sir?” the freak asked

He glared into the rear-view mirror, glaring at the boy. “As if you don't know, boy!” he said, feeling his blood boil. The freak was going to pay once he cleaned up his unwanted mess. Vernon furiously thought. Everything was always the freaks fault, from the minute he was dumped on our doorstep. Ruddy bird came yesterday, reminding them….him, that the freak would be at Kings Cross station. Last year, they, not wanting to pick up the freak, they arrived hours late, still furious their freak of a nephew was the cause for their son to end up with a pig's tail. If the giant freak hadn't come for their freaky nephew, then Dudley wouldn't have had a tail attached to him.

Seeing one of those ruddy birds reminded him of what happened last summer when he had the Masons over for dinner. Bloody freak, ruining my night!

The freak shook his head, “I….I hones….”

Stopping the car, he turned his head round, he yelled out, “Don't You Dare Lie To Me You Freak!” he turned back to facing the road. I'll deal with the freak once back home.

Vernon Dursley parked the car into his driveway, getting out, he noticed the freak walking round to the boot of the car. “Leave it boy!” he huffed, sending a glare at the freak.

Confused, but afraid to ask any more questions. Harry followed uncle Vernon to the front door, empty handed. He waited for his uncle to unlock and open the door into the hallway. Last year, after first year, the Dursleys had been hours late, so late that the train station was almost deserted and the many years before that, all in primary school the Dursleys would always make him walk….back to Privet Drive.


Flinching, Harry jumped in fright, almost loosing his footing on the front doorstep.

“Ye….yes unc….uncle Vernon?”

“Hurry up and begin the chores boy! And don't miss a single thing!”

Harry flinched, controlling his emotions as best as he could.

“Yes uncle Vernon” he said, heading towards the kitchen. His uncle disappeared into the living room.

“And get me a beer”

“Yes uncle Vernon”

Harry stopped short, still out in the hallway. He glanced around the hallway, noticing the area was bare. He realized the photos that should be hanging on the walls aren't at all there, just empty hooks. An unknown feeling was felt in his chest. He didn't like it and he wondered why the Dursleys removed their pictures from the hallway.

“Boy! I don't hear you coming with my beer!”

“Yes uncle Vernon, coming uncle Vernon” Harry quickly said, deciding he'd think on it later. Right now, he was going to do his chores. And hope that his relatives would allow him to eat tonight.


Sweating and drained from the list of chores he did, Harry entered the kitchen, after putting away the garden tools back in the garden shed. He washed his hands quickly, ready to make dinner for the Dursleys. Luckily his uncle fell asleep on the couch.

Now, I just have to make sure not to burn dinner. He thought, heading toward the fridge, checking what was there. Due to cooking for the Dursleys since he was maybe four or five, Harry knew his uncle hated anything but meat. He silently prayed that there was meat somewhere. Lamb. Harry found, checking all the drawers in the fridge.

Taking the lamb out, the boy set it down on the counter top beside the cooker. He then proceeded to the food cupboard where he knew the Dursleys mainly kept the pasta and rice. Seeing a packet of pasta, Harry took it out of the cupboard, along with an unopened jar of dolmio pasta sauce, deciding he would make meatballs and pasta.

Dinner took at least an hour and fifteen minutes to cook. Along with wondering about the many photos of the Dursleys missing that once hung on the walls all over the house, Harry was wondering how long his uncle Vernon would be asleep for? And when will both aunt Petunia and Dudley arrive home? He decided to set the table for three before either Dursleys came into the dining area.

Shortly, one of Harry's unasked questions were soon answered as the groaning sound of his uncle Vernon let him know the man was waking.

“Unc….” Harry began, only to be cut off by his uncle.

Vernon Dursley stumbled into the dining area, his pig like eyes roaming over the dining table, causing his face to turn the usual deep shade of purple, the shade it usually turns when he's furious. Mostly his anger was aimed at Potter. The freak was always doing something freakish, which always made him angry. He turned to glare at the freak. Bloody freak, can't do anything right!


Tempted to take a step back, away from his raging uncle, Harry forced himself to stand still, deciding to wait it out. Maybe I wont….


Harry's right left cheek all of a sudden stung, he bit his bottom lip. Telling himself he could take the pain.

“I….I thought they would be joining you for…..for dinner uncle Vernon” Harry said, confused and wanting to know why his aunt and cousin weren't back yet and why was his uncle so angry with him. He always set the table for all three Dursleys.

“WELL THEY'RE NOT! AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR FREAKISHNESS!” Harry's uncle roared. Standing there shocked and not knowing what to do, he, Harry thought of all the reasons as to why his aunt and cousin were gone. It’s my fault. Harry thought letting his uncle's words sink in. “YOU BRING THEM BACK BOY, RIGHT NOW! THEN YOU'RE OUT! YOU HEAR?” Vernon Dursley continued, now shaking his nephew hard by the shoulders. Feeling himself losing control of his breathing, Harry repeatedly told himself to breath. Trying to gain back his control on breathing evenly, as well as thinking of a way to calm his uncle down. Though he knew nothing right now will work.

Fear kicked in as his uncle didn't stop shaking him and a burst of accidental magic was sparked, throwing Vernon Dursley across the room, he landed hard against the wall. Both lucky and unfortunate for Harry, who had soon recovered his breathing, the purple faced, beefy, whale sized man, he called uncle, stood back up. A look worse than hatred in his piggy shaped blue eyes.

“I’m…..I'm sor….sor…..sorry” The Gryffindor boy said, in hopes of dispelling his uncle's anger. As he took several small steps back each moment, in hope that he might make it to the front door in time, Harry, the moment after his uncle growled out.

“Sorry, sorry? You're gonna be sorry boy!” the man made a lunge for his nephew, stopping himself from falling.

In the next moment, it all happened so fast, as Harry legged it through the hallway in hopes of getting to the front door, telling himself that he can worry about where to go later, felt the familiar, painful feeling in his ankle where the belt buckle of his uncle's touched the area, making a familiar sound, one he’s used to hearing whenever he does something freaky. Harry bit his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming out in pain as he fell to the ground. Reminding himself that he was a freak and freaks aren't allowed to feel pain.


Many more times the belt lashed out at Harry, hitting him in new places, and with each wound and bruises, from the belt, made it harder for him to try and stand. The belt buckle came down again, hitting it's victim's face, just below the right eye. Every hit with the belt, Harry wanted to scream, to beg his uncle to stop, but he didn't. All he did was bite down hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood.

His purple faced uncle continued raging on and on. Yelling at him to bring aunt Petunia and Dudley back, he wanted to say he couldn’t because he didn't know where they had gone. But that would all be in vain, for almost twelve years of living at Privet Drive, Harry learnt where he belonged. Here, he was viewed as something lower than dirt, where no one believed or trusted him, not even the neighbours, who he hardly saw, and after awhile he started to doubt himself sometimes.

A few more hits with the belt later, everything went black and Harry knew no more.


200 miles away from Little Winging, in a muggle village just outside of Yorkshire, called Ghoatland, a Tudor manor, nestled on an isolated road, about a ten minute walk from the village, was peaceful and quiet. The resident of the house fast asleep, under his warm, silk duvet, dreaming of becoming the world’s best potions master, after making a new, unheard of potion and selling it.

Aware of what's happening the potions master looked around in his dream, seeing a familiar park, where the back of a familiar woman stood watching from a distance of two teens playing on the swings.

He gasped in shock, seeing who the three familiar people were.


It was Lily & him.

The older Lily turned round at the sound of him gasping, the man with shoulder length black greasy hair stood there with his heart aching at seeing his friend, his best friend, crying.

“Sev!” older Lily cried, running over and before he knew it, he had his arms full of a crying Lily. Just hearing the sound of her broken voice, broke his heart in more ways than one. Even after all these years, he still loved her.

“Lily, what is it? What's got you upset?” he asked, rubbing her back gently, as he did he breathed in her coconut scented hair, from the conditioner and shampoo she usually uses to wash her medium, wavy dark red hair. He felt her head shake in the negative against his chest.

“It's….it's my son Sev, Harry…..he's hurt. He needs help Sev, he needs help now!” she cried out, responding to his question, pulling back. He hated the hurt look in his beloved Lily's eyes.

Bloody Potter! Who, no doubt started a fight with some neighborhood kids. The boy was just like his father sometimes.

“Are you sure Lily? I mean, Pott….Harry probably just got into a muggle fist fight with some neighborhood kids.” He said, in hopes to calm his Lily down. If it wasn't for the look in her emerald eyes, he would have called the boy Potter.

She shook her head again. “No Sev, it's worse than that! He needs help and you, Severus Tobias Snape, promised me protect him the minute I told you I was pregnant!” she harshly reminded, stepping back from her friend with her arms crossed, giving him a look she knew he would know all too well. Do what you promised or suffer the consequences.

Severus thought about it and though he was still confused, he continued listening to the teenager versions of Severus and Lily laughing on the swings, a memory he will always cherish, he glanced at the older Lily, standing there before him with her arms crossed. He winced at the familiar look on her face, instantly feeling like a child, who had been ready to disobey the rules. He stared hard at her emerald tearful eyes, knowing what he must do.

“Alright Lily, I shall go check on Pott….Harry” he said in a gentle promising tone.

Lily gave him an incredulous look. “He needs help now Sev, he could be dead if you leave it until morning!” she urgently said, fearing for her son's life.

“That serious?” he looked at her with wide black eyes, she nodded slowly, upset that she couldn't help her son as much as she wanted to. “Alright, I shall go now” he promised,

A watery smile appeared upon Lily's angelic face. “Thank you Sev, I know I can always count on you.” She said, thanking her friend, kissing him softly on the lips.


Severus Tobias Snape, potions master and Hogwarts professor, since 1979 and head of Slytherin house, woke, grabbing his wand from his cherry wood bedside table, casting a silent Lumos. Looking around the room, he breathed in a sigh of relief.

It was only a dream. He told himself, wanting to go back to bed, but he couldn't escape the nagging feeling in his chest. He closed his eyes for a sec, thinking of the dream of Lily visiting him. He doubted it was true, but what if it was, what she really did visit him in his dream? What if everything she said, her concern for her son was true?

Not able to go back to sleep now, Snape nodded his head again, agreeing with both dream Lily and his thoughts. He will go and check on Potter this very moment.

Climbing out of bed, the professor changed his clothes with a flick of his wand. Instead of black pajamas, Severus now wore his black robes, his usual black, small heeled boots on his feet. He pocketed his wand, left the room and made his way out the front door. Apparating on the spot.


It was pitch black when Harry woke, and for a moment he wondered if he was dead, but learnt quickly he wasn't. All freaks go to hell. Was what he was taught by his relatives. Besides, he recognized the hard, thin material he was lying face-down on. His threadbare mattress, that he's always slept on in the cupboard under the stairs.

It was pitch black when Harry woke, and for a moment he wondered if he was dead, but learnt quickly he wasn't. All freaks go to hell. Was what he was taught by his relatives. Besides, he recognized the hard, thin material he was lying face-down on. His threadbare mattress, that he's always slept on in the cupboard under the stairs.

He struggled to sit up, wincing in pain at the reminder of his uncle’s hard work and the reminder of that he's nothing more than a magical freak. After many attempts, he finally succeeded, banging his head on one of the lower stairs, knowing he was going to have either a cut or a bump on his head later on. Harry turned on the light, biting his bottom lip as more pain coursed through his battered and bruised arm. However that didn't stop him from turning on the cupboard light, one he knew very well where it was.

Afterwards, Harry struggled to adjust his glasses so they were back to sitting atop of the bridge of his nose.

Wincing with each movement, he assessed uncle Vernon's work, struggling to fight back tears. He wanted to cry, but he didn't know where his relatives were and didn't want to risk them hearing, or seeing him cry. That would instantly result back to another few hits with the belt, or a few slaps by uncle Vernon.

A strong pang of jealousy hit his chest as he thought of Dudley and how Dudley has never been hit, only showered with love. He thought of everyone he knew back at Hogwarts who were no doubt having a great time right now with their own parents. No doubt feeling loved and protected. All his friends, Ron and Hermione, he wondered, if he were to die tonight, if they would even care. I doubt they would, besides if they do, they'll no doubt get over it soon enough with their loving, supportive families. Harry thought bitterly

Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley he knew very well that neither would miss him, after all, they had practically abandoned him with uncle Vernon, which was no doubt his fault. It's my fault aunt Petunia left with Dudley. He wiped his an aching arm across his face, drying his eyes, wincing twice again, as his stained sleeve unexpectedly touched the bruise on his cheek and shortly afterwards, the cut under his eye. He thought back to his couple of years at Hogwarts wondering if Snape would have treated him any different if he knew Harry has never lived the spoilt life he always says he does. Harry truly doubted it. The man hates me, just as much as the Dursleys and would no doubt hit me if he could. He thought thinking back on all those words Snape had ever called him, combined with the Dursleys.

Freak….lazy…..dunderhead…..liar….spoilt brat, the list went on and on and Harry would have continued if he hadn't heard the front door slam shut, startling him so hard that he managed to bang his head again. Quietly he listened to the heavy familiar footsteps, others would think of an elephant, Harry on the other hand, thought and knew of them as his uncle. His heart started beating loudly as the footsteps came closer and closer to the cupboard door.

“BOY!” Harry flinched at the sound of his uncle's tone. Praying that the man wouldn't open the cupboard door. Unfortunately his prayers went unanswered as the cupboard door swung open. Revealing Harry's uncle's purple face.

“You….ye ‘aven' bough' them backye'!” the man slurred, from where he was still sitting, Harry wrinkled his nose, knowing his uncle was drunk.

Harry shook his head, knowing he was trapped in his cupboard under the stairs and whatever his uncle planned to do to him, he would have to sit, biting down on his bottom lip and put up with it. Telling himself it would be over soon.

The sound of a zipper being un zipped, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. He sat,, swallowing thickly, shivering and confused with what his uncle might do to him.

“Pleas…..pleas…..please, it….it wasn't my….my fault” Harry pleaded, afraid. Buck up Potter, you're a Gryffindor! He told himself, telling him to be brave. Besides, freaks aren't allowed to cry!

“NOTTTT YER FAULT! NOT YER FAULT! EVVVVVVERYTHING'S YER FAULT!” Vernon Dursley drunkenly raged at the freak before him. He unbuckled his belt, ready to break the boy in, giving him a lesson he won't forget.


Snape landed in a dark muggle alleyway, at least a five to ten minute walk to #4 Privet Drive. The address he remembered his employer, Albus Dumbledore told him, the summer before Potter's first year, when he assumed that he, Severus, would collect the boy and deliver Potter's Hogwarts acceptance letter. At the time, Severus had to decline as he had prior engagements and so, the headmaster decided to send Hagrid instead.

Every few minutes the potions master would turn back round, deciding to apparate back home. He was tired and he just wanted to sleep, it being the first day of the summer holidays away from bratty students. Now the-boy-who-lived-to-give-him-a-headache was ruining it for him.

The professor, couldn't get the image of Lily crying, even if it had been a dream. One of the many reasons as to why he couldn't apparate on the spot. The other reason why Snape couldn't turn and apparate, is because he was curious himself. The usual dream he would have of Lily would be when they were in their children or teens, promising to be best friends forever. He needed to know what was going on with Potter and why it was so urgent for him to check on the blasted boy at this very moment. He had potions to brew for Madam Pomfrey's hospital wing.

Reaching the beginning of Privet Drive, the potions master rolled his eyes in disgust. Honestly, why do muggles build cookie cutter houses? It's utterly ridiculous. Focus Sev, number 4 Privet Drive. He repeated over and over in his head.

Finally Severus was standing outside the house, he glanced around seeing the muggle family had one muggle car, a way muggles tended to travel, but expensive. No lights were on, and Severus presumed the muggles, plus Potter were fast asleep. Further inspection of the front of the house, Severus could just make out in the dark that the garden has just been looked after, suggesting someone did some gardening earlier on today. Perhaps they were making the place nice for when Potter arrived.

The potions master was ready to turn back again.

Just go in and check on Potter, then you can leave. Severus told himself, as he stalked down the front walk, taking his wand out. Without checking to see if the door was unlocked, the professor used the spell, alohamora, he opened the door. Closing the door softly behind him.

The potions master casted a lumos charm. He glanced around the hallway, looking for the owner of the heavy snoring. His onyx eyes landing on a…..he narrowed his eyes at the sleeping form, whale sized man, sleeping half way up the stairs. He rolled his eyes, holding back a snort.

Years of spying for the light side, Severus quietly made his way over to muggle man, he gently prodded the man with his wand, glad that the whale man didn't wake. Heavy sleeper. Severus guessed, before the strong smell of alcohol assaulted his nose. Disgusted, he was about to go continue upstairs before, coming to a better idea.

“Point me Potter.” He whispered quietly, expecting the spell to work. Nothing. He sighed, remembering that he would have to redo the spell….properly, this time. “Point me Harry James Potter” instantly, the wand pulled him back the other way, down the stairs. The wand didn't stop and instantly pulled him to the right of the stairs, pulling him towards two doorways. Since it was too dark, even with the lumos shining, the potions master guessed that the kitchen and living room was this way.

Instead of pulling in either doorway, his wand, pulled to a small door, one he presumed was a cupboard door. It was then the smell of human blood hit his nose. A smell he came to recognize after years of being the potions master for the Dark Lord, after years of attending Death Eater meeting.

I hope not. Severus thought, a heavy feeling in his chest, his heart beating faster in…..worry of what he might very well find once he opens the door.

Breathe Severus, it's probably nothing. He shook his head, knowing how stupid that thought was. It definitely isn't nothing, and I’ve probably failed Lily. He thought, silently apologising to Lily.

Buck it up Severus, and find out. His mind told him, strangely sounding a lot like Lily. Taking a deep breath in, the potions master used the same locking spell he used before. The lock clicked, letting him know that he could now open the door. With another deep, breath, Snape swung open the door so fast that he was sure he would pull it off it’s hinges. Not that he would care anyway.

He let out a gasp, seeing his student lying there battered and bruised, doubting it was a muggle fist fight. Stop it Sev, you don't know that. He told himself. The professor knelt down, getting a better look at the student of his. He noticed the boy’s clothes were severely torn with fresh blood stains. He moved his wand up to Potter's face, his eyes gleaming with anger, tempted to go back out and torture the muggle man, who had no doubt dared to hurt Lily’s and James's son.

The boy's face was sporting a huge hand print as well as a cut right under his eye. He recognised it as a wound caused by a belt buckle, from dealing with abused Muggleborns, mainly sorted into Slytherin, some sorted into Hufflepuff and a few sorted into Ravenclaw. None, until tonight, sorted into Gryffindor.

Oh Lily, James, I'm truly sorry I didn't take better care of your son, whom you entrusted me with.“Prof….professor?” Snape just about heard the boy mumble. Startling Severus out of his thoughts.

“Shhh child, yes it's I. Now rest” the professor whispered, hoping it was reassuring. Sure, he didn't like the boy, but he knew from experience that it helps when you hear a reassuring voice. He silently watched as the boy’s eyes stayed closed and Severus carried on assessing the boy. His eyes travelling down to Potter's legs.

His anger boiled inside of him like a volcano ready to erupt, seeing the boy's jeans and undergarments resting just above the boy's knee. A bile of sick, travelled up his throat, as horrible thoughts about what might have happened entered his mind. He knew without a doubt that he couldn't leave Potter here. Placing his wand back in his pocket, Severus gently picked up his student, cradling him in his arms. He made sure he had the boy securely in his arms before moving back out of the cupboard door. Standing up, he, hurried back out the front door, occluding his mind to stop the strong temptation of torturing the muggle man, win a mental fight against his conscience.

Once outside, he wasted no time and apparated himself with an unconscious twelve, nearly thirteen year old Harry James Potter, in his arms, back to Snape manor. There, he would have the boy healed, hopefully by Madam Pomfrey.

To be continued...

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