Chapter Text
Sirius wandered the streets of a small muggle town just outside of London, his paws hitting hot pavement in absolute silence. Few muggles saw him, but those who did were either too focused on what they were doing to care, or were very used to seeing stray dogs, because nobody even shifted out of his way.
He didn’t particularly know where he was going. All he knew was that Snape had Harry, and they could be anywhere in the world.
Snape. Snivellus Snape of all people had been the one to show up. Of all the people.
Sirius had NOT been inclined to trust him at first- for obvious reasons- but… something had stopped him from attacking the sour man when he first saw him. Snape had looked… haunted. Exhausted. Like HE had been in Azkaban for the last twelve years as well.
But, the greasy bastard hadn’t shown up in Death Eater attire, and seemed to be there on Dumbledore’s orders (shocking), so Sirius decided to push his luck.
And…Snape had helped. He had actually helped. He had searched for Harry, then followed Sirius after minimal fighting him on it. Then…well. Something entirely unexpected had happened. Snape hadn’t left the boy to rot, or gone off to get someone else to retrieve him, no- he had opened the door of the shed and had looked stricken. Frightened, even. Then, he had immediately acted. Severus Snape, of all the people in the whole world, had saved Harry’s life.
Unfortunately, that saving of Harry’s life also meant that Snape had carted him off to Merlin knew where. And so, Sirius was on a quest to check everywhere he knew. He had checked his childhood home, Grimmauld Place. He knew that his home was the most hidden and well-protected home one could ask for, and it had been the next place on the Order’s list of places to set up HQ. He had also hoped that, since Snape was acting on Dumbledore’s orders, he was part of the Order.
No such luck. Grimmauld Place was completely abandoned.
So, Sirius had continued on.
Where else could Snape have taken Harry? Hogwarts, maybe? No, that was stupid. Hogwarts was empty for the summer. Everything was always cleared out at the end of the year. That left… wherever the greasy git lived. His house.
Where was his house? Sirius needed to find it, but that could take years! The snake could live anywhere in all of England, for all he knew! Sirius needed to get to Harry now!
Frustrated, the dog flopped down on the grass of a gently-shaded park. He racked his brain for any information that he had on Snape. Anything at all.
Then, finally, he uncovered a memory.
“I wish you all wouldn’t have tormented Sev so much.” Lily had off-handedly commented one afternoon after a visit to Diagon Alley. She had been holding Harry in one hand and pouring herself a cup of tea with the other. “We grew up together, you know. He’s the reason I even knew I was a witch before I got my letter. He was always so good to me, even when life always beat him down. I wish you all hadn’t been so mean to him…” The vibrant young woman had gotten that far-away look in her eyes as she had said her piece.
The memory hurt to think about. The quiet, peaceful life that she and James had led, their warm-sunlit home, the happy look on baby Harry’s face, it was all too painful. All of it had been ripped away from him. All of it had been ripped away from Harry. After all the years of only living with awful memories, Sirius had forgotten that good memories could hurt, too. Thinking about little baby Harry, happy and carefree, brought tears to his eyes. The contrast between the happy little boy in his memory and the sick, feverish child he had seen beaten and locked in a shed just a few days before was just too terrible.
Standing up, the man blinked tears out of his eyes. He didn’t have time to be grief-stricken. He didn’t have time to cry. Harry’s life had gotten bad enough that his last hope was Severus Snape, and Sirius was not about to let it stay that way. Sirius had made the wrong decision 11 years ago. He’d gone after the rat instead of being there for his godson. Now, he would rectify that mistake, he would be there for Harry. He would keep him safe. He just needed to figure out where he was.
As Sirius trotted along, he analyzed the facts he had gleaned from his memory. Snape had lived near Lily when they were kids. That meant that it was possible he still lived near her childhood home. Sirius knew where that was. He could get there in a day; less if he pushed himself. He’d get there and he’d protect his godson.
Find Harry. He repeated over and over in his head. Make sure he’s safe. Make sure he’s safe. Find him. Find h-
— — — — — — — —
Severus- for the second time in two days- found himself carefully lowering Harry Potter onto his kitchen table and retrieving his medical supplies.
He had given Potter a cursory check up at the house, but it certainly wasn't enough. The boy’s cousin had been giving him a hard beating, after all.
Severus’ jaw clenched at the thought of the little hog and his parents. Beasts. All three are no better than wretched beasts. He snarled to himself. It was all he could do to not throw something in a fit of rage. He didn’t, of course, as it would scare the already trembling child on his table. Severus approached, intent on giving him another, more in-depth, check. Magic could easily find injuries that he was unable to locate with his eyes.
The Potter boy stared at him. Severus paused. Stared back.
“Is there something you wish to say?” The man inquired
Harry opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Then, he looked away.
“N-no, sir.” He whispered. Severus sighed.
Children. He thought as he started his favorite scanning spell again. Even injured, they're incomprehensibly stubborn.
As the scanning spell started to spool out a piece of parchment outlining Potter’s recent injuries once again, Severus felt the irritation bleed out of him.
He’s not being stubborn, idiot. He scolded himself. He’s probably just frightened. He’s not used to being tended to yet.
The spell finished and Severus snatched it out of the air. He skimmed it, skipping over the injuries of the day prior. He’d already addressed those. At last, his eyes found the most recent wounds at the bottom.
Moderate bruising to the ribs and face…treatable enough. Mild bruising to the spine? That’s more concerning. What on earth caused that? He thought.
“Potter.” The boy’s head snapped up. Severus internally cringed. That had to have hurt, if his spine really was bruised. “How did you obtain damage to your spine?”
Harry looked away, to the ground.
“I’m fine, sir. He didn’t hit me that hard.” He squeezed out in a small voice. Severus sighed again.
Merlin save me from boar-headed Gryffindors…
“That’s not what I asked.”
The boy still did not answer. Severus rolled his eyes, but fetched the pot of bruise cream nonetheless. Perhaps the boy would be more forthcoming after he remembered how good relief from pain felt. Harry flinched when the man started to apply the balm, but he did not pull away. Severus was as careful as he could be.
For a moment, he and Harry locked eyes. The man-Slytherin as he was- took his chance, briefly brushing against Harry’s mind, to get what information the child had not volunteered. A jumble of thoughts hit him all at once, ranging from I feel sick… to I hope Snape’s not mad at me…
Severus couldn’t possibly fathom why he would be angry with the child, or why Harry would even think he would be.
He’s wary of adults. Especially ones that have a record of hurting him. He reminded himself with a frown.
Guilt and fear flashed through Harry’s mind at the motion, and worry filled his eyes. While it concerned Severus that Harry would feel guilt over having done…well, nothing, it was also a chance to weasel information out of him. When Severus was young, he would often do anything he could if he had perceived that he had hurt the feelings of Lily or even his mother. He had a hunch that Harry would be the same way.
“I ask again. How did you obtain bruising to your spine?” Severus inquired in his most neutral tone.
Harry hesitated, but ultimately spoke. The ploy had worked.
“Um, w-when Dudley st-started hitting me, I-I fell. M-my back hit the corner of m-my desk.” The boy stammered out.
That whale of a cousin did it, then. Oh, how I want to go back there and put him in his place. Severus thought with more than a little hatred.
Some of his animosity must have shown on his face, because Harry shrank back and started stammering out apologies. Severus immediately felt another vicious wave of guilt.
“Your cousin is a pathetic weakling who likes to hurt those who cannot fight back. He is disgusting. He is scum. You are not responsible for his decision to attack you.”
Hypocrite. His conscience hissed at him. By the partially-hidden incredulous look Harry was giving him, he seemed to agree. Severus ignored both of them, opting instead to walk around the boy- he had to place a hand on his shoulder to keep him from turning to face him- and lift his shirt in order to get at the fresh bruising.
Harry flinched when the cold air hit his back, then did it again when Severus started massaging the salve into the angry-looking bruise there. He only relaxed again when the healing and numbing effect of the potion kicked in. The boy was still quick to pull his shirt back down when Severus stepped away, though.
“There. That should be enough to heal you.” Severus said, more to himself than to the boy. A pointless reassurance. “I will need to go out for a bit in order to make arrangements for you to not be returned to your relatives’ house, along with retrieving some necessary groceries and such. Would you prefer to eat now, or when I return? I could pick something up if you would like takeaway.”
Are you seriously coddling the Potter brat? The old, cruel, vindictive part of his mind snapped at him. Just because you aren’t cruel enough to let the brat die doesn’t mean that you have to bow to the whims of the son of James Potter! Or have you forgotten what he did to you?
Severus quickly silenced the voice.
This is the way that most adults treat most children. Asking a child whether he would like to eat before or after a shopping trip is not abnormal or indulgent. This child has never been anything worse than a mild inconvenience to me. He’s always thrown into awful situations and always fights his way out of them. He deserves to have a choice for once in his life, even if it’s just over whether he wants takeaway or not.
Any and all residual disgust or anger finally vanished when Harry looked searchingly up at him, as if he was trying to ascertain the “correct” answer to give.
“Ummmm… whichever one’s faster.” Harry decided on at last. Severus sighed, a lecture about actually deciding things instead of trying to please the person asking him to choose already on his lips. But… he didn’t have time. He had things to do.
“Takeaway it is. I will likely not return until dinnertime, so I will ask you to fix something simple for yourself if you get hungry between now and then. There are some instant meals in the pantry and enough ingredients for a sandwich or two in the fridge. You are more than welcome to them.” He opted for the compromise. Harry nodded. Severus then took the boy’s trunk out of his pocket and made it the correct size again. “You may keep the change of clothes I have given you, but here are the rest of your things.”
The man did not pull out Harry’s drawings from inside the cupboard. That was a topic to be breached later, when he was not on the brink of explosive anger.
Severus was hesitant to leave the boy, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back his hatred and anger. He knew he needed to leave before his occlumency shields failed and he ended up saying something he would certainly regret. So, he quickly gathered what he needed, tugging on his coat, grabbing his wallet, and- when Harry wasn’t looking- slipping several empty vials into his pockets. Once that was all done, he turned back to the boy.
“Do not make a mess.” Severus said.
Then, with a step out the door, he was gone.
— — — — — — — —
Dudley Dursley could not possibly understand what was happening to him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Freaks weren’t supposed to come to the house, his mummy had said so! But a freak had turned up with Dudley’s freak cousin and had talked to Dudley’s mum and dad for forever. Dudley had been hungry, but they were all standing around in the kitchen.
Not being able to eat when he was hungry made him mad.
His freak cousin had also been left alone.
Dudley’s dad had complained so much about Harry leaving, and his dad had complained even more about freaks coming to the house. So, at dinner after the freaks had left the day before, Dudley had asked his parents what they would do to the freak if he were to come back.
“Well, Dudders,” His mum had said in that sweet way she spoke to him. “We would try to keep him here. After all, his being here is the only reason more freaks don’t try to come here and hurt us.”
This, obviously, made Dudley pretty mad. Keep that freak around? But he was a no-good layabout that just leeched off of his parents! It wasn’t fair! What good was the freak for, anyways, besides doing chores and making for a fun game?
“But Mummy!” Dudley whined. “He’s just a lazy freak! And Dad didn’t let me hit him before he threw him in the shed last time! It isn’t fair! I wanted to practice my boxing!”
“Don’t worry, my boy. If that boy comes back here, he’ll be in big trouble. You’ll get to practice your boxing on him as much as you want. Alright?” Vernon asked, pride in his voice as he placated his son.
This in mind, Dudley had immediately gone to see the freak after he had been left alone by the much taller, much scarier freak.
Potter hadn’t been glad to see him.
Dudley had only hesitated a moment, remembering his mum’s comment about wanting the freak to stay. But… Harry had never run off before because of Dudley’s games, so he hadn’t worried about it. Potter always came back. So, Dudley had gone on with his attack. He was sure that real boxing was nothing like beating up his younger cousin, but it was great fun to give the little freak a good walloping.
That is, it was great fun. Right up until that big freak had stormed in and hit him with some freak magic that felt like getting spanked with a teacher’s ruler. Dudley hadn’t understood. How could he? All he knew was that beating up bad little freaky boys like Harry Potter was the right thing to do! Why was the tall one so mad?
Then, the big one had gone and pulled all of Potter’s stuff out from under the stairs, and stuck Dudley’s parents to the kitchen floor! What was his problem?!
That’s where Dudley had been ever since, trying to pry them up, dumping every chemical he could think of on the floor in an attempt to weaken the magic that held them there. But the more it didn’t work, the more he became sure that nothing short of the tall freak coming back and undoing the magic himself would unstick them from the ground.
Well. Be careful what you wish for. Dudley found himself thinking as he looked up and saw that the tall, dark man was standing in the front hallway, not an hour after he had last vanished, looking furious.
Dudley swallowed.
He highly doubted the man was there to help him and his family out.
— — — — — — — —
Severus had never been more pissed in his life.
With Potter out of sight, Severus subsequently allowed him to be out of mind. All of the good feelings he harbored for the child went with him into the back of his mind.
Once all his concern and desire to protect the brat was safely tucked away to be called upon later, the holes that were left were filled with rage. Seeing that fat pig of a boy trying to pry his parents from the ground, all while they were shouting all kinds of nonsense about freakishness, didn’t help to tamp it down.
He was going to kill them, and he was going to make it slow.
But first, as Severus was not in the business of physically harming children, he needed to get the smaller whale out of the way.
The terror on the boy’s face did nothing to quell the seething rage that continued to course through Severus’ body when the little brat looked up and caught sight of him. Instead, the man had just flicked his wand, sending the little pig flying into the cupboard under the stairs and slamming it shut behind him. Severus might have felt a small measure of terrible joy when Dudley Dursley’s meaty fists started pounding on the door, and his whiny voice demanded to be let out. He would never admit to that, of course.
“Silence, brat.” The man growled. “Keep your mouth shut, or sleeping in a closet won’t be the only childhood experience of your cousin’s that I subject you to.”
Of course, Severus never intended to follow through with his threat. He wasn’t going to stay long enough to starve the child, and he was not inclined to stray from his moral code of “never hit children”, no matter how much he wanted to teach the whiny prat a lesson.
With the child out of the way, Severus strode up to Petunia. He did not speak to her. He did not mock her. He didn’t even sneer. He just towered over her for a moment or two, gazing into her angry and slightly terrified eyes. Then, just when he was starting to enjoy the growing terror a bit too much, he grit out a spell.
“Legilimens.”
In an instant, he was in her mind, in a memory of a much younger Petunia. In it, she was seething with rage, just as Severus currently was, watching as her sister played with that nasty little boy rather than her. Severus took a moment to watch the young versions of himself and the woman he loved be carefree and happy, even if it was just for the afternoon. Then, he pushed the memory aside. He had a job to do.
The man ruthlessly tore through Petunia’s mind, searching for every memory she held of any mistreatment of Harry Potter.
And, Merlin, there were so many.
Hundreds of instances of Harry being belted.
Dozens of memories in which Petunia had watched her husband and son ruthlessly beat the boy.
Countless heart-wrenching memories of her shoving various cleaning or cooking supplies into the small, fragile hands of a severely malnourished boy.
Severus grew more and more angry as he went, occasionally ripping a memory or two out to be stored for evidence later.
A memory of Harry, flushed with fever, being shoved into the cupboard without so much as a cup of water or a tablet of medicine to help him get well.
Rip.
A moment where Harry was so dead on his feet from chores that he was unable to miss that swing Petunia made at his head with her favorite frying pan.
Tear.
An instance of Harry spilling boiling pasta water all over himself and getting belted and shoved into the cupboard for it.
Yank.
No stone went unturned. No memory was left unchecked. Severus had to be certain that there was no chance the boy would ever return here.
Finally, Severus removed himself from Petunia’s mind. The memories he had forcibly torn from her head hung in a neat row in between their heads. The woman looked positively ill, so Severus released the charm holding her down. She immediately collapsed, clutching her head and groaning. The man even heard the sounds of vomiting as he turned to her husband.
Serves her right. He thought as he carefully placed each memory into the vials in his pockets. Then, he looked up and met Vernon Dursley’s eyes. The whale of a man quickly looked away.
“Look at me, coward!” Severus bit out. The man didn’t.
“You are disgusting filth! You have irreversibly damaged a child who has never been anything but good!”
Dursley still didn’t look at him. Rage swelled within Severus once again. Before he could rethink his line of action or consider any other options, the professor had already thrown the first punch. It was an instinct, deeply ingrained in him from his youth, to hit first and ask questions later. So when a man was adamantly not answering his demands, he automatically defaulted to them.
The red haze of absolute hatred did not fade until Severus fists were painted the same hue and the massive oaf was slumped against the wall. The professor released him from the sticking charm just for the satisfaction of watching the tub of lard slide down, leaving red smears all over Petunia’s gaudy floral wallpaper.
Once the man was settled on the floor, in an awkward position, Severus spat on him. Just for good measure. There was no reason to look through Vernon’s memories. Seeing a beating of the small child currently waiting for Severus at home would likely send him into a fit of rage that would end with his incarceration in Azkaban. So, he turned, walked down the hall, and exited the house.
Standing on the front stoop, Severus cast several cleaning charms on himself, ridding his hands of blood and his shoes of vomit.
There. Presentable. He thought.
Then, as if he had done nothing at all, as if he was stepping out of his own house in order to go on a pleasant errand run, Severus pulled his shopping list out of his pocket, checked it over one more time, and apparated away.