Current mood:

accomplished

Divine Child
Title:Divine Child
Author: lilyseyes
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: NC_17/Adult
Highlight for Warnings: *Wanking, fellatio, frottage, rimming, manipulative!Dumbledore*
Summary: In the aftermath of Chamber of Secrets, Harry gets help from the last person he would have ever expected.
Prompt: #125:Dumbledore tells Severus to mentor Harry. Severus interprets that according to an ancient practice that Muggles would never understand.
Word Count: 27,357
Disclaimer: JKR owns all that is the Potter Universe– I just play in it. No money is made from these amateur works.
Betas: rakina and jadzia7667, all my thanks and the_minx_17 and calanor thanks for the feedback!

Part 2

Part 3

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Stepping into the Great Hall, Severus Snape eyed the tables filled with pajama-clad students with disgust. The celebratory feast was well underway, but Severus had refused to present himself in his nightclothes, taking the time to wash and dress in his usual impeccable black robes. Robes billowing behind him, he strode to the vacant seat at Albus Dumbledore’s left, ignoring the garish nightshirt and robe the elderly wizard was wearing as he reached for the teapot.

“Good morning, Severus.”

“Welcome back, Headmaster,” Severus acknowledged as he blew across his tea. “Am I to assume that the imbecile is once again a hero, thanks to your timely intervention, no doubt?”

“Actually,” Dumbledore replied mildly, “Gilderoy has been transferred to St. Mungo’s Spell Damage ward. It seems his attempt at a memory charm went awry.”

Severus almost spat his tea across the table. This year’s excuse for a Defense teacher was a pompous idiot who couldn’t hex his way out of the loo, but Severus had assumed Albus had returned in time to assure the rescue of the youngest Weasley. Severus had been dispatched to the infirmary as soon as the Mandrake Draught had been ready, spending most of his night seeing to those who had been petrified.

“And the girl?” Severus had to ask, noting the absence of the selfsame redhead.

“Young Harry retrieved her from the Chamber of Secrets after slaying the basilisk inside,” Dumbledore’s voice was pitched low, the tone smug.

The Potions master choked on the tea he’d just managed to swallow, his eyes jerking again to the Gryffindor table. The Boy Who Lived sat between his two best friends, looking decidedly bedraggled. While his classmates laughed and joked, Potter picked at the food on his plate, looking up occasionally with a false smile pasted on his face. Granger seemed no worse for wear for her stay in the hospital wing, and Weasley looked tired but exuberant. The youngest Weasley son must have shared in Potter’s latest adventure, Severus thought sourly, watching the boy gesture wildly, ensuring all eyes were focused on him.

The Potter boy was even more an enigma to Severus after the events this past year, despite the inauspicious way he had started the term. The discovery that he was a Parselmouth had sparked wild rumors, making Potter the center of attention once again. But instead of preening as his father would have done, the boy had become withdrawn and quiet. It had been as if he were embarrassed by the fuss, in much the way Lily would have reacted. As the term progressed, Potter had paled at the mere mention of Lockhart, and it seemed as if the buffoon had created more havoc for the boy at every opportunity.

Severus shot a look at the Headmaster, taking in the superior expression on his face and chose his next words carefully. “The boy managed to open the Chamber with only a Weasley for help,” he said in a scornful tone.

There was a flash of annoyance across the usually jovial face at Severus’ question, but the Headmaster quickly schooled his features. “Actually, Harry accomplished it on his own, my dear boy, and fought the basilisk as well as Tom Riddle to save young Ginevra.”

A frown creased his forehead. “Tom Riddle?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore stroked his beard, “the essence of his sixteen-year-old self preserved in his diary. It was an artifact Lucius Malfoy had apparently had in his possession for many years.”

Before Severus could ask any more, screams and shouting erupted from the Gryffindor table. Albus Dumbledore leapt to his feet, towering over Severus as they both watched Minerva McGonagall make her way from the High Table. Pushing her way through the throng of pajama-clad students, the Deputy Headmistress managed to scatter the tight circle that stood in her way. The other Houses were craning their necks to try and see what was going on, and the noise level in the huge hall rose to almost unbearable levels.

“Silence!” Albus Dumbledore’s amplified voice cut through the clamor.

George Weasley stepped forward and Severus was hard pressed not to gasp with the rest of the spectators. In his arms was a small, dark-haired toddler whose bright green eyes were wide with fear. A jumper soiled with dried blood was wrapped around him, and he clutched tightly at a pair of round spectacles. It was Harry Potter. Tears streamed down the child’s face, but he did not make a sound as he was swept away by Poppy Pomfrey. It took several minutes for the Heads of House to calm their students and Severus frowned as he heard the Headmaster whisper an incantation into the stunned silence which would make it impossible for any of them to talk about what they had seen.

~~~ * ~ * ~~~

The Hogwarts Express departed at noon with its full compliment of students and with a sigh of relief, Severus made his way back into the castle. Minerva McGonagall was pacing the Entrance Hall when he stepped through the great oak doors, the fierce expression on her face making him pause.

“Minerva, you look exceedingly grim for the last day of term.”

She sent him a glare. “Albus would like a word with us in his office, Severus.”

Puzzled by both the summons and his colleague’s demeanor, Severus followed her to the gargoyle and up the turning staircase. The door opened to reveal Albus Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, his large maroon quill moving rapidly over a piece of parchment. Seated silently on the floor in front of the desk was a dark-haired toddler who seemed impossibly small for his age. Dressed in a miniature version of his normal Hogwarts uniform, Potter looked up for an instant as they stepped into the room, his emerald eyes huge in his pale, thin face, before darting back down to fix on the hands clasped in his lap. Minerva hesitated for an instant, as if considering acknowledging the boy, but instead moved on into the office and took one of the chairs.

“Albus, are you certain…”

“I am, Minerva,” Dumbledore’s tone was sharp as he looked at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles, “Severus, my boy, thank you for coming.”

Nothing good would come out of this meeting, if the solicitous tone was any indication. Reinforcing his Occlumency barriers, Severus inclined his head.

“Headmaster, how may I be of service?” He raised one eyebrow in question.

“As you can see, young Mr. Potter has experienced a bit of a transformation and although Poppy believes he will return to his correct age over the summer holidays, it would not have been prudent to allow him to go home on the Hogwarts Express. Both Minerva and I must remain here to be available to the Minister of Magic as he conducts an inquiry over recent events.”

Nodding, Severus had to physically clamp his jaws together to keep from snarling as he knew what was coming.

“As you are headed to London anyway to start your own holidays, I would appreciate it if you would drop Harry off in Surrey on your way.”

“Certainly, Headmaster,” Severus almost choked on the expected reply, “but can you tell me exactly what happened to Potter?”

The clear blue eyes never even looked at the child. “Apparently Harry was bitten by a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets when he retrieved Miss Weasley early this morning, and then saved from the venom by Fawkes’ tears. While at the feast this morning, the Weasley twins thought it would be entertaining to add Shrinking Solution to the pumpkin juice. They started with young Harry’s goblet.”

Severus blinked, his thoughts darting from the impossibility of anyone surviving an encounter with a basilisk, to the little that was known of the effect of basilisk venom and phoenix tears combined with Shrinking Solution and succeeded in giving himself the start of a headache behind his right eye. The Headmaster nattered on about Pomfrey’s belief that the child would spontaneously change back into the arrogant, insolent student that Severus was familiar with. Silently disagreeing with that assumption, Severus brought the older man back into focus.

“I have sent an owl ahead to explain the situation to his relatives, Severus, so all you will have to do is deposit Harry on their doorstep in Surrey.” Dumbledore waved his hand and a small red ball appeared on his desk. “This is a portkey to an alleyway near the home and you can surely Apparate from there to Cornwall, my boy.”

Severus frowned; he was to literally dump the child on a doorstep? “Where might I find Potter’s trunk, Headmaster?”

Albus Dumbledore studied his face, eyes narrowing suspiciously, as if he had expected Severus to whinge and complain. A smirk curled one corner of Severus’ mouth; it was not often he was able to beat the Headmaster at his own game. He leaned over to pick up the red ball from the desk, and it slipped in into his pocket. A glance at Minerva McGonagall caught an almost pleading look as her eyes darted between himself and the boy and Severus realized that his colleague didn’t agree with what the Headmaster was doing. The normally outspoken witch was curiously silent, making Severus wonder whether she had been told to refrain from speaking or charmed not to be able to do so.

“I have had the house-elves move it to your rooms, Severus. Harry’s owl will remain here for the summer as he will not need her.”

Severus nodded and looked down at the small child. “Come along, Potter, and do try to keep up.”

The boy looked up at the sound of his name, scrambling to his feet as Severus inclined his head at Minerva McGonagall as he flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring glance.

“Enjoy your holidays, Minerva,’ Severus told her before sketching a short bow toward Dumbledore. “Headmaster, I will see you in a month or so.”

Severus turned abruptly and exited the office in a billow of robes, the small child scrambling to keep up. As Severus stalked down towards the dungeons, his heels tapped out his displeasure in his assignment yet his mind was already circling around the facts that had necessitated it. The basilisk venom should have been neutralized by the healing properties of the Phoenix tears, except for the conflicting magic residual from each of the powerful magical creatures. Was it this residue that interacted with the Shrinking Solution to produce such an extreme de-aging effect, or was it perhaps one of the individual ingredients - the daisy root, leech juice, or rat spleen - which had accelerated the effect? Depending on the degree of interaction, and the amount of both tears and venom left in the boy’s body at the time of ingestion, it could be more like months before the Headmaster’s Golden Boy was restored to his proper age.

Severus stopped in his tracks. Albus Dumbledore was not a stupid man; he had to have already worked out these facts himself! The wizard who had discovered the twelve uses of dragon’s blood had the potions background to understand the intricate interaction of the combination the boy had been subjected to – especially the properties of the tears from his own familiar! Surely Dumbledore had reached the conclusion that without intervention the boy’s de-aging could become permanent! It was not likely that Potter’s Muggle relatives would concern themselves with the proper treatment, even if they could comprehend what had happened.

Looking behind him with a frown, Severus saw an empty hallway. With a flare of irritation, he walked back down towards the Potions classroom. So intent on his thoughts, Severus didn’t hear the approaching footsteps as a small body impacted against his legs. Seizing the boy instinctively, Severus was surprised by the thinness of the child’s shoulders and then further astounded as Potter wrenched away from him, scurrying backwards. Baffled, Severus recognized the reaction as one of a child who expected to be struck. Wide, frightened eyes watched his every move and Severus found himself questioning the Headmaster’s assertion that Harry retained his full faculties in his de-aged body. The child appeared to be just what he looked like: a terrified three year old.

Biting off a sigh, Severus slowly extended his hand. “Come along, Po…Harry. We must get ready to leave.”

Potter looked nervously between Severus’ face and his hand, as if to gauge whether it was safe – something Severus never would have expected for a child of this one’s pampered upbringing. Tentatively, the child slipped his fingers into the waiting hand and Severus was surprised by how cold they were. Turning, this new puzzle piece added to the others swirling in his head, Severus started down the hallway at his normal pace, until he noticed Potter had to run to keep up. As he slowed, the child stumbled and Severus used the hand he held to swing Harry up into his arms. The boy stiffened as Severus held him awkwardly, almost as if Harry had never been picked up and was not sure how to position himself.

Picking up his pace once again, Severus’ steps faltered slightly as he ran a hand over the thin back, realizing just how light the boy was. His fingers encountered every vertebra and each rib under the thin robes Harry wore. Was this truly the state the child had been in at three years old? Harry Potter had never seemed the sickly type and should have been a solid, sturdy toddler. A frown etched into his forehead as Severus stepped into his rooms. He noted that the boy’s trunk had been delivered as he carefully set Harry onto his feet and studied the thin face. Harry shifted under his gaze and Severus realized it was from more than his scrutiny.

“This way, Potter!” Severus snapped, his tone harsher than he had intended, but he felt like he needed to put distance between them.

An appalling thought occurred to him – was the child even toilet trained? Harry certainly seemed to have lost the use of his voice! Severus opened the door to the loo and ushered him inside. Keeping his eyes on the top of the messy raven hair, he waited for Potter to unfasten his trousers, but the child just stood looking at the toilet. Leaning down, Severus reached to do it for him and Harry flinched away violently.

“No! Please don’t!” The boy cried, his hands pushing against Severus’ wrist.

Horrified, the direst of thoughts flashing though his mind, Severus found himself kneeling on the floor, one hand cupping the quivering chin to bring the green eyes up to meet his. His other hand splayed over the child’s back in an effort to be reassuring, but also to keep Harry from running from him.

“I may be many things, but I am not a man who hurts small children, Harry. I simply want you to use the loo so we can leave, understand?”

The dark head nodded, but Severus continued to hold the emerald eyes until he saw calmness return. With his hands on Harry’s shoulders, Severus turned him toward the toilet and stood, turning his back on the boy as he heard the tinkling sound of success. Movement at his side drew his eyes back to the top of the messy mop of hair as the child stopped beside him. Wondering at the safety of using Legilimency on a de-aged mind, Severus careful lowered his hand to the dark head and gently laid it on the soft curls for a moment. He truly hoped that Harry’s reaction was due to something other than abuse, as it did not fit the image Severus had of the Boy Who Lived, nor did he believe any child should be subject to cruelty. Especially the child Severus had vowed to protect so many years ago.

It would have to wait, however, as the ball in the pocket of his robes heated in warning. Retracting his hand, Severus stepped around the small boy and was surprised when Harry reached up to take his hand. The emerald eyes looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and trust, an odd combination for one so young. Perhaps, if Harry did not have access to his memories, he at least remembered enough to tell him Severus was someone he could place his faith in.

“Come along, Harry, the portkey is about to activate.”

Leading the boy back into his sitting room, Severus removed the ball from his pocket and held it out to the child. “Touch the ball, Harry, so that we can get on with it.”

His own trunk had already been removed for delivery to the small cottage he had rented for the next month and Severus grasped the handle of Potter’s as the ball began to glow blue. The child wrapped an arm around his leg, clearly fearful of the ball that he could not let go of as the familiar tugging began at his navel. Severus glimpsed renewed terror in the emerald eyes and frowned. Had the boy never traveled by portkey before?

Harry clung to Severus as they twirled, landing with a jolt in a shadowy alley. Casting a See Me Not charm on the trunk, Severus transfigured his outer robes into a frock coat and Harry’s to a jumper. Levitating the trunk behind him, Severus led the way past the unremarkable row of Muggle houses as he readily found Privet Drive, just what he would have expected of Lily’s sister. The children playing on the street and the homeowners working outside paid no attention to either of them and Harry never looked up at any of them. Stopping at the end of the path to Number 4, Harry gripped the hand he held with a desperate strength which drew a frown from Severus.

The boy’s reaction to coming home was all wrong, Severus thought, especially to the place were he was pampered and adored. The incident in the bathroom flashed through his mind, and Severus found himself curious, remembering how Petunia had bragged about her beau the last time Severus had seen her. The thin, horse-faced girl had always been jealous of her sister. Lily Evans had been beautiful, gregarious, and kind to everyone, even the greasy little oddball Severus had been when he first met her. She had been his one and only, his best friend. One would think that her sister, Petunia, having suffered the loss of a sibling, had pampered the boy she had taken in after Lily died, making him the arrogant student Severus knew at Hogwarts. The terror was back in the green eyes as the child hesitated as they approached the door, resignation and defeat dulled their luster.

Severus tugged the boy forward impatiently and rapped on the door. A tall woman with beady eyes and a long raw-boned face opened the door, Petunia Evans hadn’t changed. Her eyes roamed over Severus without recognition, before darting down to Harry. A look of pure loathing flashed across the woman’s features as she took in the small child now clinging to his leg.

“In with you before the neighbors see you, boy,” Lily’s sister said in a cold voice. “You know where to go.”

With visible reluctance, Harry let go of his trousers. Large eyes flicked up at him as if for one last look, before he shuffled forward toward the open door. With a flex of his wrist, Severus had his wand in his hand to remove the charm on Harry’s trunk. The woman jumped, screeching as her eyes caught sight of the slender length of wood in his hand. Harry stumbled as he crossed the threshold, his already pale face turning white. There was a heavy pounding of feet and a massive shape filled the doorway, sending the boy spinning into the room behind him. The Muggle male whom Severus decided must be the woman’s husband was purple-faced and sputtering; his multiple chins appeared to be shaking with rage.

Ignoring the indecipherable bellowing that erupted from the huge man, Severus levitated the trunk through the doorway, pushing the Muggles to the side. Stepping inside the residence a frisson of something danced over his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Turning, Severus spotted Harry standing, a tremble visible in his thin form as he stood in front of an open cupboard under the staircase. Severus frowned, but levitated the trunk inside the cupboard while the boy’s uncle blustered in the background.

“…unnatural!! Get out of my home! I will NOT have the likes of your kind…”

Severus barely contained the urge to roll his eyes, turning to address the angry woman standing next to the staircase. “I am assuming the letter Professor Dumbledore sent to you has explained the situation. You are to contact him directly if there is a need for assistance during the holidays or if anything manifests itself due to Potter’s current…condition.”

Not allowing himself another look at the child, Severus swept past the still frothing Muggle and stepped outside. The door slammed behind him, the glass rattling in the window frame, halting Severus steps. He hesitated for a second, before continuing to walk briskly back toward the alley they had appeared in. The boy was no longer his concern and while the two people he had just left Harry with did not appear to hold him, or anything magical, in great regard, they must still have the familial love for the boy they had raised. Surely Petunia’s childhood hatred of magic disappeared as she matured. The woman had taken the child in to raise as her own, after all.

Severus had not made it down the length of the path before something had him turning around, his instincts screaming at him. He could feel the powerful magic in the protective fields surrounding the house that kept the Boy Who Lived safe from Dark magic and the wizards who practiced it. Yet, there was something worse than Dark in that house, something that felt evil lurked inside it. As Severus debated his course of action, the angry sound of a raised voice reached him and his wand was in his hand.

“…little freak! How dare you come back here in the middle of the day, waltzing in the front door where the neighbors could see you! Abnormal excuse for…”

With a bang, Severus blasted the front door open, actually hoping that there was a neighbor or three lurking about in the bushes. Stepping inside, he saw the large pig of a Muggle holding the child off the floor with a meaty hand fisted in the front of Harry’s shirt. The boy was being shaken violently, blood was trickling from his nose and a red mark darkened his cheek. The bastard continued to scream insults in the child’s face, Lily’s sister screeching as she stood next to the stairs.

“Stupefy!” Severus snarled at her, sending her crashing to the ground, before turning. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Dursley froze and slowly toppled over; Severus lunged forward to grab Harry before the boy was crushed under the obese pig. Harry clung to his neck, hot tears dampening his coat and Severus awkwardly wrapped his left arm around the silent, trembling form. Magically binding the Muggles with a whispered incantation, Severus levitated them onto the sofa in the unnaturally clean sitting room. He loomed over the two cowering lumps of flesh, pleased beyond measure to see a dark stain spread across the front of Dursley’s trousers. Severus could feel his face twist with disgust, the long strands of his hair swirled around his shoulders as his crackling magic surged and he could feel Harry’s magic pulse between them.

For a moment, Severus stood over them, waiting until Petunia met his eyes. “You were always a jealous, hateful bitch, Petunia, but to treat Lily’s son in such a manner is reprehensible.”

His voice was pitched low and Severus felt a certain satisfaction as the woman’s eyes widened in recognition. “You remember, I am delighted,” Severus sneered, “and I promise you that you will never forget me again.”

Splaying his hand across the back of the child who clung desperately to him, Severus quickly ran through his options. He certainly could not leave the boy to the mercy of these monsters; Harry would not survive the holidays. There was only one acceptable option for either of them. Summoning the child’s school trunk, Severus was inordinately pleased that it took a chunk of wall with it went it came out of the cupboard under the stairs. Eying the pair of terrified Muggles, Severus knew he had to be careful and creative in hexing them, but then, a diarrhea curse combined with one to produce painful pustules was always effective. The hugely obese Dursley would surely appreciate the curse that made everything he ate taste like dirt.


Retracing their steps back to the alleyway, Severus carefully soothed a hand over the tousled curls on Harry’s head, wondering absently how he managed to get himself into this predicament. The arms encircling his neck tightened fractionally, before Harry lifted his head, one side of his face beginning to bruise along the cheekbone and around his eye. The eye had already begun to swell shut. Swearing under his breath, Severus transfigured the red ball into a soft cloth. He set the child down and knelt beside him, seething at his own ignorance and reverse-prejudice.

Severus knew he had seen what he wanted to see in the actions of a scared, abused little boy the past two years. Had taken the boy’s self-defensive mannerisms as arrogance and had expected him to be conceited and prideful, because of his father. He had loathed the boy before he had ever met him for things that the child was not guilty of, nor responsible for. In particular, for the sacrifice of his mother while Harry escaped alive. Something tightened in his chest.

“Aguamenti!”

Wetting the cloth with the water from his wand, Severus carefully cleared the blood off of Harry’s face. He had had little experience with young children in recent years and only vague memories of his mother when she had been gentle and loving, before his father had beaten the love out of her. The task of caring for a child had always struck him as tedious but necessary and one that did not require a great deal of skill. For all he had misjudged Harry Potter, the child seemed cooperative and quiet enough.

“It would appear that we have little option but for you to come with me, Harry.”

The emerald eyes looked up at him solemnly, what looked like a glimmer of hope lit in their depths and Harry nodded hesitantly. Severus brushed the fringe back from Harry’s forehead, tracing a finger alongside his scar with a frown before covering it up again. Transfiguring the damp cloth into a black cap, Severus set it on Harry’s head, tugging it down firmly over his forehead. That would have to do for now, Severus thought as he returned his robes to their original state with a flick of his wand.

Carefully gathering Harry back into his arms, Severus stood up and had to wait a moment for the stiff little body to relax against him. Now Severus realized that Harry couldn’t remember ever being held by an adult, nor the love his mother lavished on her baby. Sadness twisted in him as Severus settled the child against the front of him, his left arm supporting his arse.

“We will be riding a lurid purple bus designed by a lunatic to test the inertia tolerance of wizards, but it is the only manner of conveyance available which will get us to our destination in a fairly anonymous way. Please hold on to me and don’t speak to anyone,” Severus said, relieved when the boy nodded again before hesitantly threading his arms around Severus’ neck.

Thrusting his wand out and up, the Potions master took a hurried step back, just as the Knight Bus materialized with a bang at the entrance to the alley. Harry flinched at the noise, burying his face in Severus’ neck but never looking up. An ancient wizard stumbled from the bus, he was thin and his back bent with age.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard, I am Sidney Shunpike…

Silencing the old man with a sneer, Severus levitated Harry’s trunk on to the bus, stepping in behind it. “Cornwall,” he sneered as he handed the conductor their fares. “Teeter Square, Altarnun.”

Only his natural agility allowed them to make it to one of the beds before the deathtrap masquerading as a conveyance leapt forward with a bang. Harry’s arms tightened into a stranglehold as the frightened toddler hung on without a whimper, and Severus managed to sprawl across it with as much dignity as possible. There were no other passengers that he could see, much to his relief, and Severus soothed Harry as best as he could. Admonishing the little boy not to close his eyes or it would only get worse, Severus rummaged around in his potions kit for an anti-nausea potion. Harry drank the potion without protest, but seemed unable to hide a grimace at the taste.

“M’sorry,” Harry muttered as he stared at the garish quilt they were sitting on, dragons and unicorns of unimaginable colors frolicked in a wooded glen.

Severus sneered at the quilt but the moving animals paid him no heed and continued to cavort. Settling back, he allowed Harry to continue to cling to him as Severus did his best to keep them on the bed. The bus made two stops, once to let a green-looking hag off after she stumbled down the stairs and another to allow a harried looking witch with two small children to get on. The trio managed to make it up the stairs before the bus lurched forward again. For Severus it brought back memories of his own childhood, when his mother had taken him to visit his relatives. Getting away from his overbearing father had always made the holiday special, added to that was the excitement of going on the Knight Bus and visiting his magical relations. It was also the place where he learned his first magic, a nasty boil hex from his Prince cousins. His mother hadn’t been happy when Severus had shown her. Severus had been seven.

With another bang, the Knight Bus screeched to a halt on the shady side of a small square. Lifting the boy up, Severus made his way off the bus as Harry’s trunk was being wrestled to the ground by the ancient conductor. Stepping down into the watery June sunlight, Severus dismissed the old man with a curt nod and waited for the purple monstrosity to disappear with yet another bang.

Recasting the spells to camouflage the trunk, Severus settled the child on his feet, frowning as Harry swayed slightly. Potter had better not be ill, he thought crossly, realizing suddenly that he had committed himself to being solely responsible for the boy’s welfare. Severus frowned. He had enough to do without mollycoddling a sick toddler.

“Come along!” Severus snapped, levitating the trunk behind him.


This neighborhood in the south of Cornwall consisted mostly of wizarding folk and the cottage he had rented belonged to an elderly witch who kept it for her relatives to use when they visited. It was the last house on the tree lined street, backing up to the very forest which contained the magical herbs Severus needed to harvest for his research. The child fell behind immediately, but Severus didn’t slow his pace. It was a straight path to the cottage, he reasoned, the boy couldn’t get lost. Severus ignored a pang of guilt, Potter was simply de-aged and not truly a three-year-old. After all, Tobias Snape had never gone out of his way to accommodate Severus when he was…

Horror struck him at the thought of parenting any child by his father’s example and Severus stopped suddenly. Turning, he saw the youngster running towards him, face flushed and breathing heavily. Harry’s eyes were focused on the ground in front of him with one hand clutched against his ribs, no doubt due to a stitch. Smothering a sigh, Severus caught the boy by the shoulder and halted his movement gently. He allowed Harry to slump against him as the child struggled to get his breathing under control, his chest heaving with exertion. It took only a moment for Harry to straighten and step away, fearful eyes darting up once before focusing on the ground again. The child was afraid Severus would leave him behind he realized, and suppressed another sigh.

“We are going to the small stone cottage with the green shutters just ahead, Harry.”

The child glanced up and nodded, a shy smile turning up the corners of his lips, the bruise now highly visible along his cheek. He trudged ahead as Severus followed behind at a more leisurely pace. After having been up most of the night, neither had had the opportunity to rest before setting out on this adventure, Severus considered as the door to the cottage opened at his touch.

The inside was clean and neat, the furniture was worn but serviceable and the wood gleamed in the late afternoon sunshine pouring in the windows. He settled the boy’s trunk in the corner of the only bedroom, and his thoughts turned to the kitchen and pantry which he knew would be fully stocked. Harry should have no problem sleeping on the settee in the sitting room at his current size, Severus reasoned, and there should even be books and toys for children of various ages tucked into a corner of the bookshelves for the owner’s grandchildren. Severus was still unsure of how much of his memories Harry had access to at this point.

“This will be where we are staying for the next several weeks, Mr. Potter. You will be sleeping on the couch here in the sitting room. I will be occupying the bedroom, but we will put your trunk in here due to space constraints,” Severus told him briskly. “I believe you will find age-appropriate items on the lower shelf of the bookshelves with which to amuse yourself while I am busy, but I do expect you to tidy up after yourself as there are no house-elves in residence.”

Harry blinked up at him, his eyes impossibly green without the usual thick glasses obscuring them, and nodded quickly. Severus turned as he began to unbutton his robes. He didn’t need the heavy outer robes in the warm cottage and never did any serious brewing in the flowing garments. The child watched with wide eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Biting his lip, Harry appeared to be waging some type of internal battle and Severus watched the expressive face, not even trying to help the boy as he tried to gauge whether Harry retained his twelve year old memories or not.

“Sir?” the young voice quivered, “please…the loo?”

Silently, Severus pointed at the door between the kitchen and the bedroom before walking into the latter. Divesting himself of his robes and waistcoat, Severus was pleased to find his personal effects had already been put away. It would mean the same Hogwarts house-elf who had assisted Severus before had been assigned to transport his belongings and his lab would be set up in the basement just as he liked it. Severus could start work immediately. The research he had spent the past two years working on should bring a significant improvement to the Wolfsbane Potion.

His mind already immersed in his research, Severus rolled up the sleeves of his white button down shirt as he moved towards the kitchen. The lingering suspicion resurfaced as to why Albus Dumbledore was so keen on him spending his summer working on the complex potion. His last summer holidays had been taken up with various errands and duties the Headmaster could trust no one else with doing, especially when he assisted in destroying the Sorcerer’s Stone. A great chunk of time had been spent researching Dark curse scars and various immortality spells. Added to that had been Lucius Malfoy’s condescending summons under the guise of improving the Slytherin Quidditch team. Pompous prat! Malfoy had been more interested in finding out what Dumbledore’s involvement was in the raids for Dark artifacts the Ministry was undertaking, than in Hogwarts’ House Cup. Severus snorted at the memory, as if Malfoy was worried when he had that fool Fudge in his pocket!

Pushing the stray thoughts to the back of his mind, Severus concentrated on the matter at hand. The cottage was in a quiet valley near Bodmin Moor and sat at the edge of a magical forest. There, Severus could harvest the Wolfsbane by hand when the full moon reached its apex tomorrow night. The plant had to be prepared immediately and the potion started without delay in order for it to produce the optimum results. It was the intricate blending of the essence of Silver Agave and the Wolfsbane into the base that would better ensure the drinker’s sanity on the night of the next full moon.

Retrieving his journal from the pocket of his robes, Severus was already flipping through the pages as he walked through the sitting room. A quickly muffled cough reminded him that he was not alone as he looked up to see Harry attempting to make himself small as he sat on the floor under the window. Harry had found a book and had shed the miniature robes he had been wearing. The black cap on his head shadowed his face.

“Do not move,” Severus told him, affixing a scowl. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The child nodded, visibly relaxing and went back to the book. Severus descended into the cool basement and checked over his lab, assuring himself that the house-elves had laid everything out properly. Severus was pleased to find, like the bedroom, the potions lab was exactly as he liked it. With no need to rearrange his stores, Severus prepared three cauldrons of the base he would need for brewing the different variations of the Wolfsbane Potion the next night. Setting the flames low enough just to keep them just at the simmering point, Severus cleaned up the work bench, finishing as his stomach rumbled a reminder that it was past teatime.

As he was coming to expect, Harry had followed his instructions to a fault and was in exactly the same place Severus had left him several hours before, although the child had a now-familiar look of anxiety as Severus stepped out of the stairwell. He helped the child stand and sent him to the loo with a stern look, before making his way to the kitchen. A simple meal of cold chicken sandwiches, cheese and fruit was filling. Harry had looked tentatively at the plate Severus set in front of him, as if he was unsure whether he was allowed to eat and had to make sure it was actually for him. Harry made no complaints at having to drink weak tea instead of juice or at having a sliced apple for pudding. Severus was left to speculate again on what had happened in the past at the house on Privet Drive as the boy ate everything he was given quickly and silently, never asking for more.

Harry’s vocabulary also seemed limited to polite responses and inquires, nothing like the insolent cheek Severus had come to expect from the twelve-year-old Harry Potter. Just which child was the true representation of this boy, Severus wondered, as he got ready for bed that evening. Having silently helped clear away the dishes after dinner, Harry had returned to his seat on the floor in the corner of the sitting room and promptly fallen asleep. Stripping the child to his underwear, Severus had tucked him onto the small couch with a warm quilt, ignoring the urge to examine the several scars he saw crisscrossing the small back. The discrepancies in his perceptions of exactly who and what Harry Potter were a distraction at the moment and Severus could not afford to be distracted until after the full moon. He tucked them into a corner of his mind as Severus slipped tiredly into bed.

A shrill scream woke him and Severus lay for a moment in the unfamiliar darkness trying to remember where he was. Another cry of anguish rang out and Severus kicked the bedding aside. Snatching up his wand, Severus lit the tip as he dashed into the sitting room. The sight of the settee and a section of the bookshelves floating off the floor stopped him in the doorway. The crackle of magic permeated the room.

“No, Tom! Please, my wand…”

The pleading had ended in a shrill cry of pain, propelling Severus forward. He could feel the waves of desperate magic radiating off the toddler who writhed on the floating couch in the throes of his nightmare. Staggered by the power he felt emanating from the young child; Severus pressed down on the couch and sat, unsure how to proceed. Suddenly, Harry arched up, his mouth open in a silent scream of terror. Severus reached to touch his arm, but Harry flung himself away.

“No! Don’t hurt her! Fawkes!”

Harry was crying hard, clearly terrorized. Severus dropped his wand on the couch and grabbed the struggling child, pulling Harry to his bare chest. Skin met skin and a flash of white light sent a shock through Severus, but the child instantly quieted, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around the Potions master. Deep sobs still wracked the tiny body and Severus instinctively rocked side to side, something he dimly remembered his mother doing to calm him when he was a child. His chest tingled in the area where Harry was pressed against it but the wild swirling magic calmed as the child did and Harry’s sobs tapered off into soft, hiccupping sounds. Using one arm looped under the boy’s bottom to support him, Severus used the other to stroke his fingers down the small back. His fingertips brushed over the thin scars he had seen earlier that evening and his suspicions about their origin were confirmed. Severus had the same type of scars on his own back, courtesy of his father.

“T’ank you,” was muttered into the juncture of neck and shoulder and Severus surprised himself by allowing a smile to curve his lips.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Severus asked softly.

“Snake bite me,” Harry muttered sleepily, “big snake…”

The boy’s entire body shuddered and Severus frowned as he realized Harry’s skin felt warmer than it should. He couldn’t help but wonder what the residual effects of basilisk venom might be, but as he had never read of the poison’s properties, let alone heard of anyone ever surviving a bite, Severus was at a loss. Add to that the lack of knowledge of the properties of Phoenix tears, the infinite variables of a student produced potion like the Shrinking Solution, and the combination was extremely worrisome, Severus thought. How could Albus Dumbledore have even thought to send this child home to his Muggle relatives? Even if they had cared what had happened to Harry, they had no way to contact anyone if the child had become ill!

As soon as he completed the more delicate tasks that evening for the Wolfsbane, Severus vowed he would start researching Harry’s predicament. There had to be something written about the tears and the venom, even if nothing was known about their interaction. That burst of uncontrolled magic was worrisome, especially as it had radiated from the body of a sleeping three year old. The standard instances of accidental magic in a child that young were limited to summoning toys that were being denied or banishing unwanted vegetables from their dinner plates, simple magic easily associated with the desires of a young mind. There were isolated instances of higher magic in young children under extreme stress, such as spontaneous Apparation or self-healing abilities, but this did not seem to fit the circumstances.

The idea that the boy’s situation would resolve itself was ludicrous and Severus could not believe that Poppy Pomfrey would have made such a far-ranging statement…his eyes narrowed. Did the mediwitch actually say that or was that supposition something Dumbledore had made for her? Severus replayed the scene in the Headmaster’s office in his mind and realized they had all been manipulated. He now understood the strange expression Minerva McGonagall had given him the day before, again wondering if she had been forbidden from speaking what she thought. Was Albus even aware that Harry was not where he was supposed to be?

Harry’s breathing had finally evened out and Severus knew the child had fallen asleep. Harry whimpered as Severus attempted to lay him back down on the couch, clinging to him tightly. Resigned to the inevitable, Severus carried the child into the bedroom and carefully lay down with him. Harry Potter’s three-year-old form draped across his chest was impossibly lightweight and much too thin. Those damned Muggles couldn’t have fed the boy anything like what he needed to eat and Severus fell asleep plotting the slow demise of Petunia Dursley.

Sleepy emerald eyes stared back at him when Severus awoke. Only an arm around the boy’s back kept Harry from fleeing as awareness and terror filtered into those same eyes. Severus waited with uncharacteristic patience for the panic to subside, a pang of remembered emotion from his own childhood filling him. As the child calmed down, Severus noted that his skin still felt a bit too warm, the bruise adorning his cheek livid.

“Do you remember what happened, Harry?”

The small body relaxed slightly at the mild tone, as if Harry had decided Severus was not angry or going to hurt him.

“Bad dream…big snake…” Harry frowned in concentration, “…in the Chamber.”

Severus’ breath caught in his chest and he carefully sat up. So his memories were intact, he reasoned, but the three-year-old mind simply not developed enough to understand them. Absently, he ran a reassuring hand over the thin back.

“Yes, in the Chamber of Secrets,” Severus said softly. “Do you remember why you are here?”

The first true smile he’d seen lit Harry’s face. “Aunt P’tunia and Unca Vernon made you angry!”

“Yes,” Severus agreed readily, “they did indeed. I do not like people who hurt children, Harry.”

A hint of the twelve-year-old locked inside the toddler flashed in those eyes. “You don’t like me,” Harry accused.

It took tremendous effort not to fall back on the mannerisms he’d learned and used in his ten years of teaching and leave his expression open. “I admit that I may have misjudged you a bit, but Harry, I do not dislike you.”

The child eyed him suspiciously, forehead crinkled and Severus loosened his grip. Something sparked in the depths of those eyes again and Harry laid his head down for a moment on Severus’ chest.

“You fixed my broom,” he said in a small voice.

It took a moment before Severus understood what Harry was referring to and he nodded. “You can trust that I will not hurt you, all right?”

Emerald eyes studied his face and Severus knew that the child cared nothing for the unshaven jaw, lank hair, or hooked nose but for the sincerity of his words and what he read in the depths of Severus’ eyes. This was a child who had not had a lot of adults in his life that he could trust.

“Alright, ‘fessor.”

The small tendril of trust that was handed to a surprised Severus was fragile, so he took it carefully. With a brisk nod, Severus sat them both up and threw back the bedding. Easing Harry to the side, Severus got up and headed towards the bathroom while the child watched uncertainly.

“Come!”

Two things became immediately apparent to Severus – that physically Harry was operating at a three-year-old level whatever age his mind might be and that the boy was very used to fending for himself. Self-sufficient to a fault, Harry climbed up on the toilet in order to reach the sink and get washed. He had the bed made and the folded quilt laid across the back of the settee by the time Severus was finished dressing. A sad look crossed the boy’s face when Severus offered to open his trunk so Harry could get clean clothing.

“I don’t have any,” Harry whispered before trudging out to find the clothing he’d worn the previous day.

Staring after him, Severus let his curiosity get the better of him and moved to open the boy’s school trunk. He found it less than full, packed neatly with two years of school books and supplies. Harry’s uniform occupied one corner alongside a small pile of torn and tattered Muggle clothing. Picking up a pair of denim jeans, Severus was astounded to see that they were huge – so big that they would fall off of the likes of Crabbe and Goyle. Severus closed his eyes in remembered shame – verbal and physical abuse, starvation, and humiliation – how could Albus Dumbledore not know? His breath caught in his throat as he remembered the child’s reaction to Severus’ help in the bathroom, and sent a plea to the Goddess that the physical abuse had not manifested itself in that area.

Harry had already started preparations for breakfast when Severus stepped into the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, he frowned as he watched the small fingers nimbly slicing fruit. Mentally adding enforced manual labor to the list of abuses, Severus moved to join the child.

“’S alright, sir?” Harry asked anxiously, seeing the scowl on Severus’ face.

“Although we will soon be having a discussion on age-appropriate work assignments, nevertheless I can assure you that everything is fine now, Harry,” Severus told him, wincing at the promise in his voice.

Resisting the urge to rip the sharp knife out of the toddler’s hand, Severus halted the tiny fingers with a touch, repositioning the knife and showing Harry the proper way to slice. Harry smiled up at him and went back to work; the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth in youthful exuberance as he carefully sliced the remaining apple. It was when the child attempted to access the stove from a chair that Severus took an active role. He didn’t care to ask how a child, especially one barely out of nappies, could know so much about the culinary arts.

Nappies – now that brought a whole new twist in his gut as Severus sent Harry to set the table while he deftly cooked their breakfast. Petunia Dursley didn’t strike him as a woman who would’ve willingly changed Harry’s soiled nappies. A chill ran down his spine as he envisioned some of the methods that might have been used to speed up the child’s toilet training. Severus could not repress a shudder as he decided the Dursley’ methods put many a Death Eater to shame.

A silent presence at his side drew Severus’ attention. Looking down, he met the bright green eyes of Lily Evans but instead of her laughter and intelligence, Severus saw wariness and pain in their depths. The world as Severus Snape knew it tilted on its axis as the truth shattered any remaining lies or assumptions that Severus had believed for many years. The half-truths and manipulations were swept aside by the emotions swirling in the depths of those emerald eyes. Severus realized that he had grasped at the version of the truth he was provided with all these years because the guilt eating at his soul in the aftermath of Godric’s Hollow had demanded it. Painful reality slammed into him, as fresh and raw as it had been that October night: he was at least partially responsible for this child’s loss and subsequent life of hell. He had provided the information that ultimately led to the death of the only person who had befriended him at Hogwarts, the vivacious girl he’d come to love. In whose name he had sworn an oath of protection to this very boy so many years ago.

“Sir?”

Severus attempted to gather his shattered composure, snapping at the child.
“What?”

The toddler took a hasty step back, shying away from a tone he knew well. Severus swore under his breath.

“It’s all right, Harry,” Severus sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “I am not angry with you.”

He was angry at a manipulative Headmaster, irresponsible adult friends of James Potter, and certainly angry at himself, Severus thought, as he guided the child to the table. Setting a plate of food in front of Harry, Severus sat down beside him. Eating mechanically, his mind seemed lodged in a spiral of thought. He had, they all had, condemned this innocent child to a childhood of servitude and torment, to suffer inhumane treatment at the hands of relatives who never wanted him. Why had no one ever checked on Harry when he was little? Why had Albus allowed the child to go back to that house after his first year at Hogwarts? Surely the man had to have known what had happened to Harry in that place!

“’fessor?” A small hand tentatively reached for his empty plate.

Severus caught the hand, his fingers immediately feeling the calluses on the tips of the baby fingers; fingers that should be soft and pudgy at three years old, not work-hardened. The child looked up at him, an older influence in the depths of the verdant eyes held a challenge, but Severus did not feel like commenting on what they both knew to be the truth. This child had never been allowed to be a child.

“If you will assist me with the washing up, Harry, I will show you the correct methods for preparing potions ingredients.”

That was as much of a concession as Severus could make at that moment to the boy, his mind still struggling to accept his own culpability. An unexpected smile lit the pale, bruised face and was so exhilarating, Severus almost smiled back. The dishes were dealt with swiftly and when Severus carried Harry down the narrow stairs, it was purely a matter of expedience, of course. He’d been unable to find any bruise ointment, but it seemed a minor concern as the swelling seemed to have subsided on Harry’s face.

Once Harry has gotten over being reticent - sorely trying Severus’ patience with his timidity - he did well with the lessons. The nimble fingers helped prepare piles of ingredients, perfectly chopped, sliced, and minced. It seemed the boy was insanely cheerful when he didn’t fear reprisal and was nominally complimented. Severus made a mental note for future use. They had worked through the majority of the afternoon, stopping for tea and then continuing until dinner time. Following a quiet dinner, Severus napped after Harry had fallen asleep on the settee.

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Part 2