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Chapter Text

1 November 1981

'Petunia, I don't understand why it has to be an orphanage in London. Both fuel and our time cost money, while we could have just picked an orphanage in Surrey.'

Petunia, anxious and uptight, hisses at her husband.

'Vernon, they would find out. They would find us. You have read the letter, you have seen those people. I know perfectly well what they are capable of. We are going to be safer, leaving the boy in London. There's plenty of orphanages there, it's more anonymous, it'll be harder for them to find out about our disobedience.'

Vernon snorts.

'Disobedience? Hmpfff. We don't have any reason to obey those people.  We cannot let them intimidate us, Petunia. Besides, it'd be stupid on their part to expect us to raise a freaky child of your loathsome sister. Aren't the freaks supposed to grow up amongst their own? Aren't there any orphanages for freaks of some sort?'

Petunia shakes her head.

'I don't think they have such facilities. Their world is pretty crude. From all I've learned, their development ended somewhere around the Middle Ages. They don't even know how to use a phone, a microwave oven, or a computer...'

'Bunch of savages.' Vernon growls. 'And they still dare to order us around.'

'Pull over here.' Petunia indicates a nice, brick, old-fashioned building at the end of a road.

Vernon stops his Vaxuhall in front of the entrance. Petunia looks back at two sleeping baby boys on the backseats.

'It looks decent.' Vernon states, eyeing the building with a signboard "WOOL ORPHANAGE". 'An old facility, in a decent district, clean frontyard ...'

'It'll be good.' Petunia decides, stepping out of the car. She opens the back door and pulls out baby Harry.

The orphanage looks clean and neat also from the inside. Vernon and Petunia are welcomed by a young woman in her early thirties.

'Good evening, my name's Veronica Cole. How can I help you?'

'Good evening. Petunia and Vernon Dursley.' Petunia introduces them. 'My sister and her husband both died in a car crash yesterday. They had orphaned their one-year-old son, who's been brought to our doorstep a couple of hours ago by my sister's... acquaintances. They wanted us to raise the boy, but, I'm afraid... we are unable to.'

The young woman looks at baby Harry.

'And may I ask, what is the reason of your inability to raise your nephew, ma'am? Are you and your husband incapable financially?'

Vernon snorts loudly.

'Vernon, please.' Petunia hisses. 'No, Miss Cole, I'll be honest and transparent here: we have the financial capability, as well as decent arrangements, to raise this child. The reason is different: me and my sister... were not close, to put it mildly. I'm afraid I just couldn't take care of her son without feeling aversion towards him.'

'I see.' Miss Cole answers flatly. 'In that case, I'll ask you to leave the baby in the nursery room, and follow me to the office to fill in all the formal forms.'

Petunia feels relieved, laying Harry in a crib, in a clean room full of sleeping babies.

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2 August 1983

'Grandmother, it's happening again.'

Amelda Cole looks at her granddaughter over her newspaper.

'Look out the window on the backyard.' Veronica Cole says beggingly.

The old woman, Amelda, stands up with a loud sigh, and slowly approaches a large window in her room.

Orphanage's backyard consists of a playfield for children, and a small garden, where Veronica grows her flowers and vegetables.

Today, as usually in case of a nice weather, the playfield is occupied with a bunch of running, yelling kids. A couple of quiet ones sit on the mown under the oak tree.

One child stands out from the group. Three-years-old Harry Potter kneels alone in the garden patches, with his thick black hair glowing in the full sun.

The elderly woman rolls her eyes.

'He likes to play alone, Veronica. So what?' she growls.

'No, Grandmother, take a closer look.' the younger woman urges, handing Amelda her glasses.

The old woman puts her glasses on and gasps.

The boy is not alone at all.

Two thick, glittering snakes whither around him.

Harry looks calm and relaxed; he gesticulates his small hands, seeming to be saying something to the snakes.

Amelda Cole gasps out a couple of swearwords that make her granddaughter's eyes widen.

'Does that happen a lot?' the old woman mutters.

'Yes, Grandmother, since last month, at least once a few days.' Veronica answers. 'I remember your stories from the old times, when such things were happening; that's why I'm drawing your attention to that.'

Old Mrs Cole swears again.

'Pour me a glass of Scottish Whiskey, Veronica.' she orders, indicating a bottle on her night drawer. When her granddaughter obeys, she goes on: 'I had only one such case in the past, girl, but you must know, that it didn't turn out well for our orphanage... It resulted in a tragedy...'

Veronica waits, until her Grandmother empties the glass.

'A boy who spoke to snakes, yes, I remember him so vividly... The worst nightmare this place had ever faced... Pour me another glass, Veronica...'

'Grandmother, I want to hear the story.' the young woman protests, clenching her fingers on the bottle.

'Stories don't like to be dry.' the old woman snarls.

Veronica sighs and pours her Grandmother another glass of alcohol.

'Tom, the most mysterious ward  our orphanage had ever accepted.' Amelda continues, having emptied the glass. 'A bully, but never caught on anything red-handed. Everything I know, is that every single of his encounters with other children had left those kids different. Scarred. Traumatized.'

She makes a pause to sigh.

'My glass is empty, Veronica.' she notices.

The young woman rolls her eyes and pours another glass of Whiskey. Amelda empties it in one gulp.

'He cannot stay here.' the old woman concludes.

'W-what?' Veronica asks, confused.

'The boy.' Amelda growls, indicating the window. 'You must get rid of him.'

'How? What exactly am I supposed to do with him?' the young woman asks.

'I don't care, but he cannot stay.' Amelda snaps. 'He has to leave this place as soon as possible.'

'I won't just throw a three-year-old away to live on the streets, Grandmother!' Veronica answers, outraged. 'We can put him forward on our adoption list, and encourage the potential foster parents to get interested in him, but that's all !'

'That process can take months, if not years.' Amelda snorts. 'You cannot be so reckless to expose other children to this boy's presence, Veronica. If you won't get rid of him fast, I will take care of him personally.'

Veronica frowns.

'I'm not throwing him away. That's inhuman! Besides, Harry is not a bully!'

'You didn't catch him on bullying. That doesn't mean, that he isn't one.' the elderly woman answers. 'I told you, he's one of this kind, Veronica. His presence here is going to bring us trouble.'

'I regret even coming to you with this, Grandmother!' Veronica snaps. 'Stay away from this case. I'll take care of making Harry a more well-adjusted child.'

Amelda shrugs her shoulders.

'You will see for yourself, girl. I'm standing with my opinion.'

Veronica puts the bottle of Whiskey back on the night drawer and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind.

Amelda grabs the bottle greedily just after her granddaughter leaves.

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~Sssso, you sssay you don't remember your Parentssss, young Sssspeaker?~

The raven-haired boy in thick, round glasses shakes his shaggy head.

~I only know they died in a car crash.~ he hisses.

~If you are a Ssspeaker, thay most likely were Sssspeakersss themssselvesss.~  a glittery, squiggly adder says. ~That meansss, that they had to be one of our folksss. Magical folksss.~

~I've already been told by the Grass Snake, that I'm magical.~ the boy answers. ~But not all magical people are speakers, are they?~

~No. It'ssss a rare gift. A very precioussss gift. I know only one other Ssssspeaker, but he is in Azkaban now.~

~Azkaban?~ the boy repeats.

~A prissson for magical folkssss.~ Adder answers. ~But hopefully, the other Sssspeaker issss going to leave Azkaban sssoon. Then, maybe he could take you away from here. Away from thessse Muggles.~

~Take me away?~ The boy asks with hope in his voice.

A light-scaled Grass Snake crawls up, joining the conversation.

~You don't like it here, do you, young Ssssspeaker?~ Harry nods. ~ That'sss because you don't belong here at all.~ Grass Snake declares.

~Your place is in the magical world amongsssst magical folkssss.~ Adder adds. ~And the other  Sssspeaker iss definitely one of your relativessss.~

~Relatives?~ Harry asks, confused.

~That meansss that the two of you are family.~ Grass Snake explains. ~The ability to sssspeak with the ssserpent is passsed on via blood.~

~I have a family?~ Harry's skinny face lights up.

~Yessss. Both of you are Sssspeakersss, ssso you two mussst be related.~

Harry opens his mouth to ask more questions about his ancestry, but he feels someone grabbing his little hand and jerking it powerfully.

'Scram! Shoo!' a high-pitched voice cries and a wide end of a shovel shatters the ground powerfully in the spot, where Adder was just a split second ago.

Veronica Cole drags Harry away by his hand and continues striking the patch's soil with the shovel, trying to hit the snakes. Adder and Grass Snake start writhing, trying to dodge the attacks, hissing dangerously.

Harry feels tears forming in his huge, emerald eyes. He runs forward to his guardian and grabs her calf.

'No! Miss Cole, no! Please no!' he cries desperately.

He would like to explain to Miss Cole how harmless Adder and Grass Snake are.

 He would like to describe the bond he has developed with both serpents.

However, throughout his short life, Harry has spent much more time conversing with the snakes, than with fellow people. Unlike his ability to speak Parseltongue, his ability to speak English is barely existent. Comparing to other children his age, his English vocabulary is unbelievably poor. Actually, it's limited to the words "yes", "no", and manner words Miss Cole required from all her wards to use, such as "good morning", "goodbye", "please", "excuse me", and "thank you".

~Adder! Grassie! Run away!~ Harry hisses desperately to his serpent friends, still pulling Mrs Cole's calf, trying to drag the woman away from the garden patch.

Veronica Cole stops smashing the ground and turns towards Harry with wide eyes. Both snakes take advantage from the opportunity and disappear behind the hedge.

'Harry.' Miss Cole says harshly. 'I forbid you from playing in the garden patch. From now on, you may play only on the playfield along with other children.'

'No!' Harry cries. ' Please, no, no !'

'Shush it.' Veronica mutters and lifts Harry up. 'Why a bright boy like you would want to play with snakes? Snakes are dangerous. Snakes have no business being around children. There're so many girls and boys you may make friends with. Let me take you to the playfield...'

Veronica speaks gently and soothingly, but Harry breaks into tears.

'Miss Cole, no, please no!' he cries. ~Adder and Grass Snake are my friends, please don't chase them away! Please let me go back to them!~

He switches to Parseltongue, and feels Miss Cole's muscle stiffen.

'Harry.' Her voice turns harsh again. 'If you want to speak to me, please use human language. Your hissing doesn't impress anybody. It can only put you into trouble.'

Harry's crying turns into uncontrollable sobs, fueled by his own helplessness.

Veronica carries him to the playfield, where other children play in the jungle gym and in a sandbox.

'Here.' the woman says, putting Harry down. 'Here is the right place for you. Why don't you play with Chris, Gary, or Victor?' she indicates three boys Harry's age, running around the jungle gym and yelling to each other.

She leaves the boy on the playfield and walks away. She sits on a bench to watch the kids from a distance.

Much to her disappointment, Harry doesn't approach Chris, Gary or Victor.

He stays as far away from other children as possible, without leaving the playfield. He cowers against the oak tree and curls up, sobbing, and waiting for the playtime to be over.

Chapter Text

Boys from the younger age groups in the Wool Orphanage share a large dormitory on the first floor. They are moved there as soon as they grow out of the nursery, about the age of two.

Amelda Cole, after emptying a second bottle of Scottish Whiskey, decides to pay a visit in the younger boys' dormitory tonight.

She has to take the weeds out.

There is no way in hell she is letting her clumsy granddaughter take care of the freaky boy. There is no way she will be able to make him "more well-adjusted".

There is no way Amelda is going to allow the tragedy from sixty years ago to repeat itself.

There is no way she is going to let the snake-speaking boy terrorize his peers.

She creeps into the dorm room, still holding her empty Whiskey bottle.

Harry's bed is the first one, just next to the door. He had apparently moved it as far away from other kids' beds, as possible.

Amelda leans over the sleeping boy and grabs him by the collar with one hand, covering his mouth with the other.

The three-year-old, violently jolted awake, stares at the elderly woman with wide, terrified eyes. He lets out some muffled noises, gagged and unable to scream .

'You go with me, little freak.' Old Mrs Cole mutters, pulling Harry out of his bed and dragging outside of the room by his collar.

'Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!' Harry wriggles desperately, trying to escape the old woman's tight grip.

Amelda doesn't let go. Dizzy and shaky from her alcohol intake, she opens the front door and drags the boy outside. She leads him along the frontyard, and then down the empty road.

When they find themselves far enough from the orphanage, she takes her hand off the boy's mouth.

'Now, freak, off you go.' she mutters; her voice is hoarse and unclear from intoxication.

Harry looks at her in confusion.

'Go away! You're not welcome at my orphanage! Shoo, shoo!' Amelda screeches, waving her wrinkled hand in front of the toddler's face.

~ Where am I supposed to go, ma'am? ~ Harry asks in the only language he is able to properly express himself- in Parseltongue.

The old woman's eyes widen dangerously.

'Fffreak!' she yells in a horrible voice. 'Devil's spawn!'

She takes a wide swing backwards with her empty bottle and violently smashes it on Harry's head.

The little boy cries out in pain and collapses. The elderly woman, in her drunken frenzy, kneels in front of him and starts repeatedly hitting him with the broken bottle.

Harry screams on the top of his lungs. Sharp glass tears his skin tissue apart, leaving deep, jagged wounds; his blood squirts everywhere. The old woman doesn't stop dealing powerful blows to the boy's head, bottom, back and legs.

'Devil's spawn...impure forces...begone satan...' the woman mutters to herself, beating Harry's defenseless body up to a bloody mash.

The boy is bleeding out. He doesn't even have enough strength to protect his head with his skinny arms anymore. He just lies on the ground curled up, moaning in pain.

Suddenly, old Mrs Cole gasps and lets go of the broken bottle.

She feels a sharp, burning pain in her neck and starts suffocating.

Harry, with half-open eyes, watches her collapsing and gasping for air.

The old woman wriggles on the ground. She desperately struggles to pick herself up, but something seems to be immobilizing her legs.

Half-conscious, Harry looks at Mrs Cole's toes and finally notices Grass Snake wrapped around them, tying them together.

Adder meanwhile hangs down her neck, with his sharp fangs sunken in her carotid artery.

Harry watches the light in Mrs Cole's eyes slowly vanishing. She still wriggles, squirms and struggles, but her moves get more and more slow and sluggish.

~Don't let go yet, Adder.~ Harry hears Grass Snake speaking. ~She almossst killed the young Ssspeaker. She mussst die.~

As an answer, Adder clenches his jaws even tighter.

Old Cole's body falls into death throes. The convulsions jolt through her body violently for a couple of minutes.

And suddenly, it all stops. The old woman's muscles relaxes. Her heartbeat stops and her breath disappears.

This very moment, the adrenaline in Harry's veins wears away and his vision gets dark and blurry. He plunges into unconsciousness.

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Morfin Gaunt breaths in the sea breeze.

So, so different than the stale air of his cramped cell in Azkaban, he has been forced to breathe in for forty years.

The triangular tower of the Wizarding prison looks intimidating from down here.

The sound of waves, violently crashing against the cliff, intensifies this impression.

Starry sky.

Crescent moon.

Morfin is roused from his thoughts by a light blow to his back.

'First night of freedom, Gaunt. Remember - from now on, any funny business, and you are immedietly coming back here. This time, for the rest of your pathetic, stinking life. Local Aurors are going to be in constant vigilance.'

It's one of the Ministry Department of Law Enforcement's officials, who has released Morfin from his cell and led down here.

'The Muggle government representatives and police station in Little Hangelton have already been informed about your return.' the other Ministry's official says dryly. 'Both worlds are going to have a close eye on you.'

Morfin lets out a hoarse laugh.

~Don't be ridiculous.~ he hisses, amused.

The Ministry's Wizards exchange confused  looks.

'What is he saying?' one of them asks.

'Don't ask me. No idea. The guards claim that throughout all those years, he hasn't uttered a word in English.' the other replies, shrugging his shoulders.

'Does he even understand us, then?' The first one inquires.

~Yes, I do, you moron.~ Morfin hisses, narrowing his eyes.

He apparently made himself clear enough, because the first Ministry's Wizard extends his hand.

'Okay, Gaunt, come forward. Give me your right hand, just don't try any tricks.'

Morfin stretches his right hand out, exposing a tight wristband. The foul thing, painfully attached to his wrist for forty years, has managed to scald his skin off, exposing vulnerable flesh.

One of the Wizards pulls his wand out and mutters a spell, causing the wristband to vanish.

Morfin feels a sweet relief, when his magic fills his body up again.

The guarding wristbands, designed to restrict a prisoner's Wizarding abilities, are not capable of vanishing one's magic completely - however, they do a good job preventing the inmates from disapparating.

Of course, after forty years under Dementors' horrific reign, Morfin's returned magic is awfully depleted.

'There you go, Gaunt. You are now free to go.' says the Wizard, who has vanished the wristband.

'Merlin, how filthy he is.' the other one notices, frowning his nose. 'This is how filthy you get after forty years worth of not taking showers.'

~I'm still not quite as filthy, as all the mud flowing in your veins.~ Morfin hisses dangerously.

His tone apparently freaks the second Ministry's official out.

'Get out of here! Quickly, Gaunt, and now, if you don't fancy going back to your cell!' he raises his voice.

~How, you pathetic excuse for a Wizard?~ Morfin hisses. ~After forty years of my magic being suppressed, I'm not strong  enough to perform a long-distance Apparition.~

'See that?' the first Ministry's Wizard says in amusement. 'He apparently wants us to take him home!'

The second one bursts into an obnoxious laughter.

'Sorry, Gaunt. It's self-service from now on.'

His colleague accompanies him in laughter.

Morfin turns back to them, disgusted.

 Damn. There must be a way to get out of this place.

He hits upon a bold idea.

On a starry, bright night like this one, Morfin might be lucky enough to be able to summon a sea serpent. Those giant creatures inhabit salty waters such as the North Sea, and prey on smaller sea animals, usually in the nighttime.

Morfin starts hissing rhythmically on a very high frequency. The noises sea serpent make to attract a mate are close to ultrasounds.

Fortunately, Morfin is a Parsel-master. He is able not only to speak, understand  and perform magic in the ancient dialect of the serpent, but also faithfully imitate sounds of every single sort of anguine animals to ever exist.

He doesn't have to wait long for the effect of his actions.

He kneels down on the cliff and looks down at the rough water surface.

After a couple of seconds, it splits just beneath him, and a massive, dragon-like head appears.

Both Ministry employees cry out in fear, when the sea serpent vigorously shoots up from the sea.

  An intimidating, majestic creature. Its enormous body is covered in glittering scales

The giant serpent sniffs the air greedily, apparently  searching for the female sea snake who has lured it in.

~ Forgive me, but it's only me. I have tricked you.~ Morfin hisses, trying to sound humble.

The giant snake turns his huge, bright eyes with vertical pupils towards the man.

~Sssspeaker.~ It says simply and flatly.

~If you agree to carry me across the sea, I shall help you  summoning a real female sea serpent.~  Morfin promises.

Without hesitation, the enormous snake lowers its massive body to the level of the cliff, making its back available for Morfin.

~ I shall carry Sssspeaker.~ it hisses.

Morfin, amazed by his own luck, approaches the edge of the cliff and steps on the beast's back, holding tightly its wet, slippery scales.

Before the sea serpent sets off, Morfin takes one last look on the two Ministry's Wizards faces. Disbelief and shock can be seen all over them.

Morfin lets out a loud cry of joy, before he and the giant serpent disappear in darkness.

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Gaunt Shack.

Home.

It's already a late morning, when Morfin finally reaches the delightfully familiar cottage in Little Hangelton.

He sighs, seeing the obviously appalling state the Shack is in. Well, nobody has been living here for Salazar knows how long.

Front door is so badly damaged by woodworms, that Morfin doesn't  need to put any effort  into breaking it down.

Entering the Shack, Morfin notices two small objects on the doorstep. He bends down and picks an old, rusted nail and a dry, winkled snake slough.

Morfin smiles to his own memories.

 The female adder, who has been nailed to his door after her death. Her mating partner -his precious Adder - agreed on this form of letting her stay on her duty post-mortem. Female adder's body, nailed to the Gaunt Shack's front door, for many years has been serving as a warning sign, repelling uninvited strangers.

Morfin steps in. Everything inside of the cottage is covered with a thick layer of dust. It's messy and stuffy. Luckily, Shack hasn't been exposed to humidity, which prevented the wooden framework from rotting and developing fungus.

The man smiles, seeing his old mattress and clothes scattered around it. They're probably all damaged by moths and bedbugs at this point. Morin wonders, if any of his old daywear robes are still intact enough to get changed from his nasty, prisoner's striped rags...

He lifts one of his old robes and his eyes widen. Underneath the piece of clothing, on his mattress, lays a folded piece of parchment and a short, thick wand.

Morfin immedietly recognizes Merope's old wand. He unfolds the sheet; a neat penmanship and text written in Parsel runes clearly indicate his sister's hand.

Dear Morfin,

I know how disappointed you are going to be, and my heart breaks to even think about it. Please, be understanding. I decided to leave Little Hangelton  and move out to London with Tom.

Morfin, I know what you are thinking. Both you and Father made yourselves very clear; you both consider me a Blood Traitor and do not approve of my relationship with Tom. I know it, Morfin, and I'm sorry.

Please, understand, that  I won't ever be able to live without Tom. I love this man and every single moment spend with him is a blessing, a miracle.

I want to spend the rest of my life with him, blending into the Muggle society. Therefore, I'm not going to be needing my wand anymore. I want you to have it, as I know that your wand has probably been taken from you in Azkaban.

I don't know if we'll ever have a chance to see each other again, Morfin. If we won't - thank you for all those times you tried to help me and stand up for me. We may not have been perfect siblings, but you mean a lot to me. You always did.

Your sister

Merope Gaunt

Morfin sighs. Poor, poor girl.

Fell in love with a Muggle, what is more - a Muggle of the worst sort.

Tom Riddle was a kind of a typical rich posh boy, what's more - a womanizer. With his great looks and his Parents' wealth, he has always had a wide choice of eager girls; he could even have different one for each night, if he only wanted.

In normal circumstances, he would never have paid attention to a timid, not particularly pretty girl from a poor background like Merope. Morfin's sister, blinded by her insanely strong affection, dosed the Muggle with a love potion.

 She sacrificed all she had - her identity as a Witch, her family ties, and even purity of her blood line, for an one-sided, miserable relationship with a pathetic Muggle boy.

Morfin wishes that all had ever happened;  he wishes he could return to the Shack and be greeted by his sister, just like in the old times.

Merope writes, that Morfin means much to her as a brother. Morfin might not have always been treating her like he should have, but he cared deeply about her. Hexing the Muggle posh boy's face with a furuncle spell was his desperate attempt to prevent  his sister from making a terrible mistake; an attempt to make her stay with her family.

Now, everything what is left of her, is her old wand. Morfin wonders what has really happened to his sister and the loathsome Muggle boy.

He sighs and takes Merope's wand. He starts casting some cleansing spells around; he may not be a kind of person to care deeply about hygiene or cleanliness, but the thick layer of dust inside the house makes it difficult to breathe.

Suddenly, he hears a soft "pop" sound  of Apparition outside of the Shack. He lifts his head in vigilance, ready to put up a fight, if needed.

~Morfin, Morfin... Morfin, are you inssside? We need your help...~

Morfin gasps and holds his breath. No, it's impossible...

~Morfin, pleassse. Come outsssside.~

The familiar hissing voice makes Morfin's heart melt.

He jumps off his seat and opens the front door vigorously.

He feels an onrush of wild, boundless joy, seeing who waits for him at his doorstep.

Adder, his Adder. His familiar from the young years.

Adder's yellow eyes with vertical pupils are now al little bit milky, and his squiggly scales are less glittery than in the past, but it is still his precious Adder. He came in a company of a bright-scaled Grass Snake.

Morfin lets out a hiss ofan  uncontrollable joy and bends down to pick his old familiar up, but he notices a twinkle of pain and anxiety in Adder's eyes.

~Morfin, help. Pleassse. He'ssss dying.~

Confused, Morfin takes his eyes off Adder and looks at the Grass Snake. Only now he notices, that the other serpent is wrapped around a tiny human body.

Morfin's eye widen. He jumps forward to the bright-scaled snake and falls on his knees in front of him to take a closer look.

Within his tangled mass, Grass Snake is gently holding an unconscious little boy.

The kid - barely a toddler - is severely injured. The white night gown he's wearing is in rages, exposing deep, jagged wounds all over his small body. Streaks of his thick, raven hair are glued together with clotted blood; skin on his head must have been sliced apart. In a couple of places his wounds are contaminated with tiny glass splinters.

The boy has apparently lost a ton of blood; he is barely breathing.

~Sweet Salazar...~ Morfin hisses in shock and confusion, lifting the injured toddler up.

He carries the child into the cottage;  both snakes follow him inside. Morfin lays the boy down on his old messy mattress.

While he is busy looking for a basic medical kit all over the Shack, Adder provides him with a comprehensive explanations concerning the boy and the tragic events of the last night.

Digging in his Father's potions stack, wishing to find some kind of a sanitizer, Morfin listens with half an ear to Adder telling the boy's story. The kid has apparently been violently beaten up by an old Muggle orphanage supervisor.

Suddenly, the man freezes and lifts his head up at the serpent.

~What did you just say? This boy is a Speaker?~ He hisses in disbelief.

~Yesss, that'sss why you were the firssst person I thought of to bring him to, when he got injured.~ Adder explains.

Morfin, still stunned, finally finds a germicidal potion, brewed a long time ago by his Father, Marvolo. Hoping that it hasn't gone bad yet, the man applies it cautiously to Harry's jagged wounds.

~Damn glass splinters.~ he mutters, examining the boy's injures. ~I don't want to try vanishing them magically. It's too precise of a job, I might damage his tissues ever further...~

~Try the summoning charm.~ Adder suggests.

Morfin frowns unconvinced, but waves his wand upon the boy.

~Accio glass splinters.~ he hisses softly.

He jumps back and gasps, when over a hundred of glass pieces in various shapes and sizes shoot up vigorously from the tiny body. There is way more of them than Morfin could have expected; some of them unclog wounds that have already been sealed up , causing them to open and bleed again.

Morfin waves his wand again, vanishing the splinters mid air. He looks  shocked at the toddler, who is now bleeding from numerous wounds. Scarlet blood flows freely, sinking in Morfin's mattress.

~Who did this to him again?~ he whispers.

~An old Muggle woman. Sssupervisor of a Muggle orphanage.~ Adder replies, apparently disgusted with a mere memory of the abusive woman.

~I'll be glad to pay her a visit tonight.~

~No need. I killed her.~

Morfin nods at his familiar in acknowledgement.

He kneels on his mattress beside the boy and starts sealing up his wounds, one by one, using the simplest Episkey spell. He is not a healer, and his medical spellwork is not subtle or skilful enough to leave the toddler's skin smooth and scar free. Nevertheless, the wounds are closing, and the child's tissue in the injured spots regains  healthy color.

~I'm actually surprised, that you managed to carry him all the way here.~ Morfin hisses to Adder, still working on closing the child's wounds.

~I've tried thisss for the firsst time.~ Adder admits. ~I guessss being your familiar for sso many yearsss left me with a tiny bit of magical abilitiessss.~

~Way more than a "tiny bit".~ Morfin states. ~ You've performed Side-Along Apparition, with the boy and a fellow serpent, all the way from London to Little Hangelton. Your magical abilities are impressive for a familiar.~

The squiggly snake hesitates for a short while, curling up beside Morfin's mattress.

~I was actually wondering if you would let me sssstay here.~ he hisses apprehensively. ~ If you would accept me back asss your familiar and make the old timessss come back.~

Morfin turns towards Adder, raising his eyebrows.

~Are you kidding me, Adder? You have no idea how glad I am, seeing you again after all this time. You have no idea how happy you have made me, turning up at my doorstep.~ he hisses, smiling. ~ I want you to stay here. I want you back as my familiar.~

Adder's milky eyes brighten.

He lifts his flat head and indicates the lying toddler.

~The boy isss a Ssspeaker. He musst be one of your relativesss. He hasss nowhere to go...~

~I want him to stay here, too.~ Morfin cuts him off mid-sentence with a convinced hiss. ~Do you know his name?~

~Harry.~

~Just Harry? That's only the first name. ~ Morfin notices. ~What about his last or middle names?~

~He hasss been a ward of a Muggle orphanage.~ Adder reminds. ~He doesssn't know anything about his ancessstry. He told me he knew nothing but hisss firssst name.~

~Harry.~ Morfin repeats softly, looking at the defenseless, raven-haired toddler with jagged, nasty scars all over his tiny body. ~Harry Marvolo Gaunt, then.~

Chapter Text

31 July  1991

Albus Dumbledore has a rough time.

Nothing is going according to his thoroughly prepared plan.

The first alarming sign of something unexpected occurred two days ago.  A whole bunch of owls, sent to Privet Drive, returned with the undelivered acceptance letters after a couple of hours worth of clueless flying around Little Whinging.

Harry Potter apparently does not live with his relatives, which is a terribly unpleasant surprise. A surprise, which undermines the foundations of Dumbledore's Plan.

On the quest to find his precious Chosen One, he only has a reluctant assistance of Severus. Minerva didn't even want to hear about joining the Headmaster in his search for Potter; she obnoxiously reminded him her initial distrust and aversion towards the Dursleys ("I told you so, Albus!").

Knocking at the door of Privet Drive 4, Albus prays for the mail owls' lack of success to be some kind of mistake; he prays for Harry Potter to be there.

Petunia Dursley, in her oven gloves and a pinafore, opens the door apprehensively. Her eyes widen in horror at the sight of two men in Wizard's robes.

'Good afternoon, Petunia.' Dumbledore says politely. 'Mind if we come inside?'

'N-not at all.' Petunia stutters and steps aside, letting Albus and Severus enter the house.

'Hello, Tuney.' Severus mutters, apparently slightly embarrassed to see his childhood neighbor again.

Albus watches Petunia, who gasps in an obvious disbelief, having recognized the young man.

'Severus...?' she whispers.

'Sorry to bother you.' Severus says awkwardly. 'We're looking for your nephew, Harry Potter.'

This is the moment when Petunia's long face pales rapidly under her thick layer of makeup, and Albus already knows, that Harry is not there.

Terrific.

'What is going on, honey?' a deep growl comes from a conjoining room.

Vernon Dursley, huge and intimidating, steps into the entrance hall and flushes, seeing two Wizards talking to his wife.

'What the hell...?' he snaps.

'Vernon, they came for Lily's son.' Petunia says in a weak voice.

Vernon looks daggers at Dumbledore.

'Obviously Lily's brat isn't here, so you two may get the hell out of here.' he snarls.

'I thought I made myself clear in the letter I had left you.' Dumbledore says calmly. 'You were supposed to take young Harry Potter into your care, and raise him like your own son.'

'Like hell we would !' Vernon growls. 'A freak's place is amongst other freaks, not in a decent people's house.'

'Calm down, Vernon.' Petunia hisses and turns towards Albus. 'We've decided to put the boy in an orphanage. We wouldn't be capable of raising him properly, yet alone treating him like our own son.'

Dumbledore watches Petunia's face cautiously with his twinkling blue eyes.

'May I ask, why is that?' he asks flatly.

'I wouldn't be able to ever look at this child without aversion... without hatred.' she explains, flushing slightly. 'Neither would Vernon. I think... I t-think Severus could explain it better to you.' she adds unexpectedly.

Albus turns towards Snape, taken aback.

The young man clears his throat.

'Well, I think you have already been aware of this, Headmaster-' he starts reluctantly '- but Petunia and her husband aren't fond of magical society. You should know perfectly well about her attitude towards us, because... er... you have greatly contributed to it, rejecting Petunia's request letter.'

Albus looks daggers at Severus. Who the impertinent kid thinks he is, undermining his supervisor's actions and decisions in front of these people?!

'Besides-' Snape continues, disregarding Dumbledore's warning look '-Petunia hasn't been close with her sister ever since Lily had been accepted into Hogwarts. You couldn't have realistically expected Petunia to take care of Lily's child, obediently and without asking questions, if the sisters weren't even fond of each other.'

'Thank you, Severus, that will do.' Dumbledore says in an ice-cold voice.

'He's right, sir.' Petunia says quietly. 'I would have harmed this child if he had stayed here. I couldn't be like a Mother to him; I'm afraid I couldn't even be a decent Aunt.'

You were supposed to harm him. You were supposed to be an abusive Aunt. You were supposed to make him traumatized, vulnerable and begging for help, Dumbledore thinks. That was my Plan, which you have ruined.

'May I ask about the boy's current whereabouts?' he asks, doing his best to keep his voice calm.

'Wool Orphanage in London, unless he hasn't been accepted into a foster family.' Petunia answers.

Dumbledore freezes. Wool Orphanage. What a coincidence.

He feels a sweet relief washing all over his body. Maybe the Plan is not as ruined as he has  thought.

Wool Orphanage, as far as he can recall, is one of the highest-standard facilities of this kind in Muggle Britain, but it is still an orphanage. There is no way for anybody to spend 10 years there without getting bullied mentally or physically at least to some extent.

Harry may not be the crushed and pathetic boy with a spine of a jellyfish Dumbledore wanted him to be after ten years with the Dursleys, but- raised in an orphanage - he may still be a weak and impressionable underdog.

Albus nods curtly to Petunia and her husband.

'Thank you, Petunia, Mr Dursley.' he says, trying to sound politely, and without any warning grabs Severus' arm to side-along apparate him to London.

He lets go of Snape in front of the brick building of the Wool Orphanage, and looks up at the young man's face, winced in pain; he has purposely grabbed him by his left forearm.

'I hope you do understand, what have you done wrong, Severus.' he says coldly. Snape clenches his teeth and looks at him with hatred in his narrow dark eyes.

Mildly satisfied, Dumbledore knocks at the door.

Veronica Cole is skinny, blond-haired and reminds her Grandmother a lot.

She lets both men inside and Dumbledore notices, that the orphanage's interior hasn't changed much for the last sixty years. Clean, old-fashioned hallway leading to a staircase.

Veronica, just like Petunia before, pales rapidly at the mention of Harry.

'G-God...' she stutters.

'Albus will do.' Dumbledore says, despite of the situation not being funny.

'G-gentlemen,  something terrible  had happened eight years ago.' Veronica whispers in an apologetic voice. 'I had no idea that anybody is ever going to come and ask about Harry, but...  I'm so sorry... He's dead.'

Tears start falling down her cheeks.

Dumbledore feels a cold, unpleasant cramp in his stomach.

Severus is the one to keep a cold blood.

'He cannot be dead.' he says calmly. 'In this case, his name would have disappeared from our  Book of Admittance.'

Dumbledore sobers up. Snape is right.

'Tell us everything that happened, Miss Cole.' he says politely to the woman.

'It was my Grandmother.' Veronica says timidly. 'I've made a mistake of drawing her attention to this boy, she freaked out, told me to get rid of him... One night, she was very drunk... she dragged the boy outside and hit him repeatedly with an empty glass bottle... The police came the following day, they made their investigation, and found my Grandmother dead... She died of a snake's venom, apparently she had been bitten by one, and there was this broken bottle and a huge puddle of Harry's blood next to her dead body... The police assumed, that the boy's corpse had been dragged away and eaten by wild dogs, there's plenty of them in the neighborhood.'

Albus notices Severus clenching his fists so tightly, that his knuckles turn white.

Dumbledore himself, on the other hand, smiles internally. The boy is alive. It doesn't matter what happened to him after these described events - he had experienced things traumatizing enough to make him easily submit to Dumbledore's will and acknowledge the old Headmaster as his savior and ultimate authority.

That is what matters to Albus.

'Well, then.' he nods at the woman. 'Thank you for your time, Miss Cole. It's time for us to go.'

Snape turns his shocked face towards him.

'Wait, Headmaster. Shouldn't we ask for more information? For instance, what made this elderly lady attack a little boy with an empty glass bottle?'

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows, looking at his subordinate. Snape's dark eyes glitter; apparently he is having some unpleasant flashbacks from his own childhood.

'Well, nothing excuses her. What she did, was horrible.' Veronica replies. 'But I admit, that Harry was an... odd boy. He appeared to be a natural snake whisperer. He liked to spend his time around snakes, and they never did him any harm. Harry used to remind my Grandmother of another ward of our orphanage, a boy from before the War, who also spoke to snakes. This boy from the past was a bully and terrorized his peers. Grandmother claimed, that Harry is going to turn out the same.'

Dumbledore was obviously already aware of old Amelda Cole's association with young Tom Riddle, and Veronica's explanation doesn't surprise him at all.

 Severus on the other hand looks shattered; he must have just realized, who was Miss Cole referring to. He strokes his left forearm anxiously.

'Thank you, we know enough.' Dumbledore says firmly, and turns towards the door.

He leaves the orphanage, followed by Severus.

'Now what?' the young man asks. 'We know that the boy is alive, but we know nothing about his whereabouts.'

'We  are going to search for him, Severus.' Albus answers calmly. 'Do you have any suggestions where to start?'

'Godric's Hollow?' Snape says hesitantly.

Dumbledore smirks.

'Yes, Severus, the boy would have definitely gone to live alone in the debris of his Parents' house.' he says mockingly.

'You've asked for a suggestion.' Snape says through clenched teeth. 'Do you have any better ideas?'

Albus' light-blue eyes glitter.

'I have one.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Third long-distance Side-Along Apparition this day has been a little bit straining for Dumbledore's ageing body.

He and Severus walk slowly down a road of Little Hangelton towards the edge of a thick forest.

Snape looks very unconvinced.

'What is bothering you, my dear boy?' Dumbledore asks him with a barely concealed mockery.

The young man frowns.

'Just... what makes you think, that  we might find the young Potter here?'

'Oh, Severus, you're a clever boy. Really, don't you see what makes me think that?' Albus replies condescendingly.

Severus shakes his greasy head.

'Who saved little Harry from that violent old woman?' Dumbledore asks, giving him a hint.

'I don't... ' Snape starts, but suddenly his eyes widen. 'Snakes ! The girl said, that the old woman was bitten by a snake, and died of its venom!'

Albus grins.

'Correct. The place we are heading to, is inhabited by the last Parselmouth family in Britain. If the snakes, with their cramped minds and small emotional capacity, are able find any human residence safe and trustworthy, it would be exactly this place.'

They approach a neglected cottage, half-hidden behind the trees. The small building has uneven framework and mossy walls.  Its tiled roof looks unstable, and its front wooden door is almost completely decayed.

'He really might be here? What  horrible place to live.' Severus notices.

Dumbledore frowns.

'Look at you; what a connoisseur of luxurious mansions.' he mutters.

Severus' pale cheeks blush. Albus' remark was deliberate; he knows, where his subordinate's vulnerable spot is.

They reach the cottage's doorstep and Dumbledore extends his fist to knock at the rotten door, but suddenly- he feels a powerful blow to his abdomen.

The impact of the unexpected blow sends him a couple of feet back and knocks him down. He lands painfully on the cold ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices, that Severus has faced exactly the same fate. The young man lands on his back right beside Albus.

Dumbledore immedietly lifts his head up; there is a loud rustle in the branches of an oak tree in front of the cottage.

Albus gasps, taken aback, when somebody jumps off the tree, landing gracefully in front of the two men on the ground.

He squints his eyes to take a closer look at the mysterious person.

It's a young boy with unbelievably filthy, greasy streaks of raven hair reaching his shoulder blades.  His face is covered with a thick layer of congealed dirt, making his bright, emerald eyes even more distinctive. He's dressed in loose-fitting dark robes, apparently unwashed since newness.

The boy holds a wand. What is more, he holds it like a fighter; in a double-handed, firm grip.

The pointed end of his wand is aimed at Albus and Severus.

The boy, for somebody, who has just picked up a fight with two fully grown Wizards, is unbelievably calm and composed.

Albus catches his ice-cold look and hears a soft hiss:

~ You are not welcome.~

Chapter Text

It was not supposed to end up like this.

How could have that ended up like this?

Albus seats on a wooden stump inside of the Gaunt Shack, looking at his completely ruined Plan in a speechless disbelief.

The interior of the cottage is incredibly messy. The floor under his feet looks like threshing floor; in reality, it's just covered by a hardened layer of congealed filth.

The Shack is also filled with gag-inducing, nasty smell of old sweat and unwashed clothes.

A broad-shouldered Wizard with filthy, silvery hair and a thick messy beard stands in the corner of the "living room" with his arms crossed on his wide chest. He is about eighty years old, which is still not an elderly age for a Wizard, but the filthy rags he's wearing and his untrimmed facial hair make him look like an old dosser. A dangerous and intimidating dosser, mind that, thanks to a thick adder  curled up casually on his shoulder, and watching Albus suspiciously with its milky eyes.

Harry Potter himself - the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One - sits on another wooden stump next to a fireplace, holding a grass snake with bright, glittery scales on his lap, and stroking its flat head with his index finger. Both the boy and the serpent are shooting Albus hostile, hateful glances.

How could have it all ended up like this...?

Dumbledore likes to think about himself as a sculptor, who can create a work of art from a raw, crude material. In his case, the material is not wood or marble, but human minds.

In case of a person as important for the Wizarding society as the Chosen One himself, it was crucial to grow this young mind in accordance with Dumbledore's wishes and ideology. Albus had to make sure, that Potter boy is going to embrace his prophesized destiny and  lead his life, only in order to  end it with an eager and selfless sacrifice for the Wizarding kind.

He had a carefully prepared, detailed Plan for the Chosen One's whole life, which was supposed to result in shaping Potter's mind desirably. The boy was supposed to spend the prime of his youth with his Muggle relatives, being constantly abused and humiliated. This part of the Plan was crucial, because it would have developed in him certain personality traits, such as submissiveness, humbleness, timidity and longing for support and positive reinforcement. Said support and positive reinforcement he would have obviously found in his savior Dumbledore. His new friends he would have made at Hogwarts - in the noble house of virtues and courage, Gryffindor - would have created for him  a sense of affinity and belonging, which would have made his willingness to sacrifice even stronger.

This is how you make a fanatically loyal soldier, willing to fight and die for you. Even if he doesn't even understand what is he fighting and dying for.

With the first part of the Plan turning out a miserable failure, it seems that the boy currently sitting in front of Albus is as far away from being a perfectly shaped Chosen One, as humanly possible.

Dumbledore notices Severus wriggling anxiously on his seat. Both the boy and the older Wizard give the two Hogwarts' representatives clear signals to finally leave their home.

Dumbledore decides to put all his eggs to one basket. He has to find out, how much damage has been done to his Plan.

 He has to know, if the mind of the boy in front of him can still be shaped in some way.

 He has to know, if his perfect little sacrificial lamb can still be created.

'Harry.' He says softly to the scruffy, unwashed boy. 'How is your day going?'

The boy narrows his emerald eyes.

~Why would you ask me that?~ he hisses.

'This is what cultural people say to start a conversation.' Dumbledore answers calmly. 'What is more, cultural people always use a commonly known language in their conversations, in order not to make other people feel excluded.'

Both Harry and the broad-shouldered Wizard hiss dangerously in unison.

~If you don't like the  language we speak, old man, I suggest you to leave right now.~ the grown-up Wizard hisses warningly. ~ What is that all supposed to mean? You turn up here uninvited, you bother my son, and now you want him to use other language than his native one!~

My son.

So, Morfin Gaunt, Lord Voldemort's Uncle, considers Harry Potter his son. Terrific - the Plan collapses like a house of cards.

'As far as I'm aware, Mr Gaunt, Harry is a British citizen.' Albus tries to keep his voice calm. 'I personally happen to understand Parseltongue, but my subordinate here-' he indicates Snape '- does not. Therefore, I would ask you both to use a language all four of us can understand.'

Morfin bursts into laughter.

~We do not happen to speak any other language, you  old coot.~ he hisses, imitating mockingly Albus' exalted tone.

Dumbledore fees an unpleasant cramp in his stomach.

'Does that mean, that young Harry doesn't speak English, Mr Gaunt?' he asks quietly.

~Even if I did speak English-~ Harry says confidently ~ -I would have never decided to use any other language than the ancient dialect of the serpent.~

Dumbledore clears his throat.

'Well, Harry, with such an attitude, you are going to have a hard time at your new school.' he says calmly.

The boy and his "Father" exchange confused looks.

~What school ?~ Morfin spits out obnoxiously.

'The reason of our little visit. The school is called Hogwarts.' Albus explains, for the first time that day feeling like a on standard visit in a muggleborn student's household. 'It's a school for young Wizards and Witches. Harry's name has been  featuring in our Book of Admittance since his birth.'

Morfin lets out a hissing laugh again.

~My son ain't going to no school.~ he says, apparently amused with ridiculousness of Dumbledore's offer.

Well, such a reaction is not surprising at all. The only good thing is, that Morfin is rather a lowbrow, primitive person. There is no way he can win a discussion.  In a battle of arguments, Dumbledore has an upper hand.

'Why not?' he asks. 'Don't you want your son to study magic, Mr Gaunt?'

~What for?~ Morfin smirks. ~You two are representatives of that school, and Harry's just kicked your asses. Isn't that a proof that he has no business attending it?~

Dumbledore gasps. Morfin may be coarse, but he is way sharper than he looks.

'Well, in our school, we teach not only how to fight and defend oneself.' Albus says. 'We have a variety of classes to offer. Harry is eleven and ought to start attending Hogwarts, just like any other Wizard and Witch his age.'

~ I used to be eleven.~ Morfin hisses. ~And I've never attended any... Hogwarts.~

'That was a completely different time, Mr Gaunt.' Albus answers. 'Compulsory education was non-existent back then. Now however, there is no reason for Harry not to go to school.'

~ There is no reason for him to go.~ Morfin replies and Albus starts to lose his patience.

'Look, Mr Gaunt, what future do you want your son to have? Without a proper education, he is not going to become anybody meaningful. He won't be able to accomplish anything.'  he states.

Precisely speaking, accomplish one thing - killing Voldemort, he adds in his mind.

Morfin seems to be losing his temper as well; he clenches his fists. Adder on his shoulder apparently senses its master's muscle stiffness, and sticks out its tongue, hissing angrily at Dumbledore.

~ Who the hell do you think you are?~ Morfin utters through clenched teeth. ~Coming here, to our house, talking  a bunch of nonsense, and daring to say that my son isn't going to be a meaningful person? Do you think that we are some sort of hoodlums or whatnot? We are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin!~ Morfin lifts his left hand to show them a heir's ring with a dark square gem. ~And who are the two of you? Are you even Pure-Blooded?~

Albus sighs internally. Here we go.

'Mr Gaunt, I didn't mean to offend either of you. Please calm down. Concerning our Blood Statuses, they have nothing to do with our conversation.'

~ Would you dare to offend my son!~ Morfin hisses, narrowing his ugly eyes. His voice blurs together with soft hissing of his adder. ~ What you know about my Harry, I wonder? A whole jack shit. My son is a gem. He's a miracle. He kicked your ass and he would do it again with his wrists tied up. I don't want him to get anywhere near the ridiculous school of yours.~

Dumbledore clenches his teeth.

'Very well, Mr Gaunt. However, I believe the final word should belong to Harry himself. After all, he is the one  supposed to attend Hogwarts.' he says, desperate to keep a calm voice. 'What say you, Harry?' he asks softly, turning towards the boy.

Harry keeps stroking the bright-scaled grass snake, which apparently fell asleep, curled up on the boy's lap.

Harry lifts his emerald eyes at Albus.

~Professor Dumbledore, right?~ he asks calmly.

Dumbledore leans forward to him, feeling a sudden hope.

'Yes.' he answers.

Harry's lips curl up in a small smile.

~Go fuck yourself.~

Chapter Text

'I won't do this.'

'You have no choice, Severus.'

'I won't help you  murder an innocent man and ruin this boy's life.'

'His life is already ruined. I only want to take him to Hogwarts and give him a chance of a normal life.'

Severus sighs.

'Headmaster, your idea of a normal life apparently varies from his idea of a normal life.' he says quietly. 'He is obviously happy living here with his step-Father and... as we have experienced on our own skin, he doesn't need to attend Hogwarts... His situation can be described as being homeschooled... And he is already quite an advanced Wizard...'

Dumbledore loses his patience. He grabs Severus by his robes on the chest and pulls him violently towards himself.

'Severus.' he whispers dangerously. 'Was that any other kid, I would leave him to rot in this disgusting hovel. But Harry is the Chosen One, the boy from the Prophecy. He has a crucial assingment to fulfill and I will not allow him to remain here in a complete obliviousness. I will not let my perfect Plan to fall apart just because the brat doesn't want to attend school!'

'Headmaster, you are talking about killing his legal guardian. Morfin Gaunt is an innocent man...'

'Morfin Gaunt is a pariah.' Dumbledore hisses, emphasizing words.

'Even if he is, that doesn't justify... That's a crime, you are going to face Wizengamot... You could spend a lifetime in Azkaban...' Severus mutters.

Dumbledore lets go of Snape's robes.

'Remember who are you talking to, Severus.' he snarls. 'I am Chief Warlock. you, on the other hand, are a Death Eater. Don't you tell me, that you have suddenly developed a conscience.'

Snape lowers his dark head.

'I do have a conscience, Headmaster.' he says quietly.

Dumbledore smirks.

'Really? Since when?'

Severus lifts his glittering eyes at him.

'Since always.'

Dumbledore rolls his eyes and turns back to his subordinate.

'Very well, Severus. If you don't want to help me, then you can as well go back to Cokeworth. I shall handle this by myself.'

'Wait.' Severus says reluctantly. 'What exactly your plans for Gaunt are?'

'I'm going to lure Harry outside and burn this filthy hovel down.' Dumbledore answers calmly. 'Morfin is going to die inside.'

Snape flinches at this blunt honesty.

'How can you speak so calmly about such things?' he mutters through clenched teeth.

'Severus, this man is an obstacle in my Plan.' Albus answers patiently. 'He is holding the Chosen One back, making him live in this gross place away from civilization. And he fails to understand, that the Chosen One is not his private property.'

'Neither is he your private property.' Severus notices quietly.

Dumbledore clenches his teeth; his potty-mouthed subordinate definitely needs to be taught a lesson. Later. The Chosen On is the priority.

'My dear boy, Harry is the prophesized savior of the Wizarding world.' he says with forced calmness. 'Leaving him under the custody of this coarse dosser would be reckless and foolish. Morfin Gaunt is not going to lead the boy towards his destiny. Harry must go with us, to understand and learn to embrace his assingment and the sacrifice he is going to make.'

'You want to take him under your care and make him a person he is not.' Snape says slowly, looking Albus in his twinkling light-blue eyes. 'You want to get rid of the only person the boy trusts,  lock him up in a golden cage and raise him like a pig for slaughter...'

Dumbledore straightens up and looks at his young subordinate from above his half-glasses.

'I remind you, Severus, that you are already in it with me. Up to your eyeballs.'

'No.' Snape whispers. 'I... I don't want to have anything to do with murdering  Morfin Gaunt and with abducting this boy.'

'Stay away from it, then.' Dumbledore hisses. 'Let me handle it and stay out of my way.'

He pulls his wand out and cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself.

Walking away from Severus, he feels the younger man's disbelieving eyes on his back.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Albus has to spend several hours hidden amongst the tree trunks nearby the Gaunt Shack.

Thank goodness, his Disillusionment Charm is light years ahead of an ordinary one.The camouflaging effects of his spellwork are flawless; they work exactly like being under an invisibility cloak.

Albus had done a little bit of reconnaissance  around this abandoned part of Little Hangleton, and found out that Ganut owns a small field outside of the forest, where he grows several kinds of vegetables- presumably for his own and Harry's use. Plants are all well-kept and the crops is fertile, which indicates some magical means used to enhance them.

 Dumbledore is going to burn the Shack down; he's also going to burn the field. This entire place is going to be turned into cinders.

After several hours of waiting patiently, the Chosen One is finally stepping out of the Shack. Dumbledore had assumed correctly, that the boy is the one to take care of the vegetables patches.

Albus follows Harry soundlessly outside of the forest to the fields. He watches the boy drawing his wand out and creating a sprinkler for the crops with a silent "Aquamenti".

Albus for his elderly age is still a fit person; he jumps forward noiselessly, pulling his wand out at the same time. He aims at the boy and casts a wordless stunner.

Much to his utter shock, the boy turns around and within a split second conjures a powerful shield, which protects him from Albus' "Stupefy".

Dumbledore freezes. Harry looks around with wide, emerald eyes.

~Who's there?~ he hisses warningly. ~Reveal yourself!~

Much to Albus' disappointment, he keeps his shields up.

The old Wizard curses quietly and clenches his teeth. He points his wand towards the ugly building of the Gaunt Shack.

'FIENDFYRE!' he yells aloud.

A couple of blazing fire streams shoot out of his wand.

The Cursed Flames are merciless. They bring nothing but irreversible destruction.

The cottage is set on fire.

~NO!~ Harry yells in despair, and runs towards his violently burning house.

For an eleven year old, he is already quite developed physically, and athletic. He runs fast and gracefully like a cheetah.

Dumbledore takes advantage of the moment of his distraction and defenselessness, shooting a quick stunner right into his back.

Unsportsmanlike, but oh well - the greater good requires sacrifices.

The boy collapses on the soft soil. At the corner of his eye, Albus notices Morfin running out of the burning Shack.

He leaves unconscious Harry on the ground and starts chasing the older Wizard. Morfin was supposed to burn in the cottage- Dumbledore is now going to be forced to use an Unforgivable.

Oh well. Gaunt is a close relative of Lord Voldemort - using an Unforgivable in his case is obviously justified.

'Avada Kedavra.' He whispers, and a stream of green light shoots out towards running Morfin.

Albus gasps loudly, when Gaunt rolls over, dodging the Killing Curse.

Morfin stands out with his eyes wide and his wand outstretched, trying to locate his enemy.

His familiar -adder- curled up on his shoulder, lets out an incomprehensible hiss, and Morfin unexpectedly fires a wordless curse straight at Dumbledore's side.

Albus shields himself, shook to the core. How was that possible? He is invisible!

~You won't fool us with your childish tricks.~ Gaunt hisses. ~We use our veronasal organ to "see" during a fight, rather than our eyesight.~

Dumbledore figures, that saying "we", Morfin is referring to himself and the snake.

After a split second, Albus is forced to back up under a powerful cannonade of Morfin's offensive spells.

The fight is slowly moving into the forest, where Dumbledore has much less room for maneuver. Gaunt has surprised him yet again. He has turned out to be not only a protective and caring Father, but also a decent duelist.

Well, beneath a surface of a coarse inbred, Morfin  is... an extraordinary person. Looks is deceiving in his case. Gaunt indeed is a worthy descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

He really is.

However, he is not the most powerful Wizard of All Time, the Lord of the Light and the master of the Elder Wand.

He is no match for Albus.

The older Wizard decides to effectively end the already prolonged duel.

He makes a simple, unobtrusive move, which is a combination of two powerful spells - a Shield Breaker, which puts down Morfin's protection, and a disarming spell.

Gaunt, shocked and confused, stands in front of Dumbledore wandless and defenseless. Albus catches the man's thick wand mid-air.

The Elder Wand in skilful hands can perform miracles.

'Petrificus Totalus.' Albus mutters almost lazily, casting the full-body bind on Morfin with his own wand.

Gaunt's muscles stiffen. A silent horror freezes on his face.

Albus' lips curl up in a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Severus, after a long struggle, finally manages to put the Cursed Flames out.

Unlike a normal fire, Cursed Flames are impossible to put out using pressurized water, halon or any other usual method.  Fiendfyre can be controlled only by a person extraordinarily skilled in Dark Magic. Snape is lucky - his supervisor's power levels may outnumber many times his own, but - out of the two of them -Severus is the one with way more experience and practice in Dark Arts' field.

Having vanished the blazing flames, Severus storms into the partially burned cottage.

'Gaunt!' he calls. 'Gaunt!'

The living room is intact. The small kitchen and bedroom seem to be damaged by the fire, and Morfin is nowhere to be found.

'Gaunt!' Snape yells, sticking his head into the kitchen, covered with debris of the burned roof. The man is not there.

Severus feels an unpleasant cramp in his stomach.

There is no way he is going to let Dumbledore sacrifice another innocent person to enforce his twisted ideas.

Way too many men, women and children have already sacrificed their happiness, their dreams, and sometimes also their lives, for Albus' sick interpretation of the Greater Good.

Severus is one of these people.

'GAUNT!' he yells on the top of his lungs, desperate to find Morfin before it's too late.

Suddenly, he hears noises coming from behind the cottage, from the forest. He jumps outside and follows the sounds of flying spells.

There he is. Dumbledore.

Standing in front of Gaunt, who apparently has just been hit with a full-body bind.

'IMPEDIMNTA!' Severus yells, aiming at his supervisor. The spell is absorbed by Albus' shield, but the unexpected attack makes the old man turn around.

Severus takes advantage of this moment.

'RELASHIO!' he cries, nullifying the effects of the petrifying hex Morfin has been under.

The man regains the freedom of movement and shoots Snape a confused glance.

'DISSAPARATE  AWAY , FOR  HEAVEN'S  SAKE!' Severus yells.

Before Dumbledore has a chance to react, a soft "pop" sound can be heard and Morfin disappears.

Albus takes his eyes off the spot where Gaunt has just stood, and looks at Severus.

This is the worst kind of look.

'Well, Severus.' Dumbledore says with a deceiving calmness in his voice. 'You have decided to ruin my Plan, haven't you?

Snape cowers slightly. He knows perfectly well what awaits him for this extreme disobedience.

'It wasn't necessary, Headmaster.' he says quietly. 'This man would have been a completely unnecessary sacrifice.'

'Would he?' Dumbledore asks almost playfully. 'Even if he would, Severus, do I have to remind you which one of us is the supervisor, and which one of us is the subordinate?'

'No, Headmaster.' Snape mutters.

'Extend your left hand.'

He knew it was coming.

Dumbledore takes Snape's left hand and rolls up the sleeve, slowly and gently. When the convex, blurry Dark Mark is exposed, Albus extends his index finger and presses it powerfully against it.

The snake wrapped around the skull starts writhing anxiously.

Severus clenches his teeth tightly, not to let out a cry of pain.

The unbelievably intensive suffering forces him to fall down on his knees.

A Dark Mark causes a burning pain every time, if touched by anybody but a fellow Death Eater. In case of Dumbledore, the Light Lord, touching it -the suffering is additionally multiplied by hundreds.

Severus' body is shutting down under the unbearable pain. He  is slowly plunging into unconsciousness...

Suddenly, he hears a distinctive hiss, and Albus lets go of his forearm, being  tossed a couple of feet away like a ragdoll.

Snape turns around, shocked and confused.

Harry Potter, with his wand extended, approaches them, hissing dangerously.

Dumbledore, with a surprising gracefulness, picks himself up from the ground and smiles widely to the boy.

'Harry, my dear boy. I have some sad news for you... Unfortunately, a fire had broken out in your house. Professor Snape and I managed to put it out, but sadly we didn't manage to save your Father from the flames. But no worries, my dear boy, you will now go with us, and we shall provide you with the best living arrangements  and best level of education you could imagine...'

Snape is still weak and nauseous from the insane pain he had to endure, but his eyes widen after Dumbledore's shocking words. How can this man have the audacity to tell such disgusting, outraging lies?

Harry hisses something in Parseltongue, that Severus doesn't understand, but judging by Albus' facial expression - these were some blunt, harsh words.

The boy, still aiming his wand at Dumbledore and not taking his bright eyes off him, approaches cowering Severus.

He takes gently Snape's left wrist and lifts it up, eyeing the Dark Mark carefully.

Both Severus and Albus look at the boy in confusion, when he touches the convex symbol of the snake with his index finger.

Severus clenches his fist, expecting an onrush of pain, but nothing of that kind happens.

It's the other way around: the snake on the Mark instantly relaxes under Harry's touch.

The boy starts hissing, softly and rhythmically. The snake on the Mark stops writhing and Severus immedietly feels a sweet relief. All the remainders of the unbearable pain, and the unpleasant nausea, disappear within a second.

Harry lets go of Snape's wrist and Severus lifts his eyes at him questioningly.

The boy hisses something quietly.

'That will do, Harry.' Dumbledore says dryly, coming towards the boy. 'Now, please, be a good boy and let me take you away from here. Hogwarts' term starts only in three weeks, but our students who do not have any decent living arrangements, are allowed to live in the dorms of our school also between the terms. I will take you to Hogwarts, and...'

'Wait!'

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows, when Severus picks himself up from the ground and jumps between him and the boy.

'Let me take him.' he says in a begging voice, spreading his arms and shielding Harry from Albus like he would shield him from a hungry wolf.

'Take him where?' the old Wizards snaps.

'To Spinner's End, to my place.' Snape answers quickly.

He improvises.

He just doesn't want the old coot to spend these three weeks alone with the boy.

He doesn't want him to turn the boy into his sacrificial lamb.

Just... no.

'Only if you promise to deliver Harry straight to Hogwarts on September first.' Albus says coldly.

'I will do that.'

'No tricks, Severus.' the old Wizard says warningly.

'I am not in a position to try any tricks.' Snape answers dryly.

Albus seems to be thinking it over for a short while.

'I want Harry to ride the Hogwarts Express.' he adds unexpectedly.

Severus looks at him, confused.

'Can't we just...'

'No, Severus. The train ride is the important part of the school initiation and I want Harry to partake in it.' Dumbledore cuts him off harshly.

'We'll be at Kings Cross on September first at eleven in the morning.' Severus says solemnly.

Albus looks at his subordinate, still unconvinced, but finally nods his head.

'Very well then, Severus. See you both in September.' he says and dissaparates with a soft "pop".

Snape sighs with a relief and extends his hand towards the scruffy boy.

'Take my hand, Harry. I'll show you Cokeworth.'

Chapter Text

Spending his summer holidays at Spinner's End has never been easy for Severus. This place is full of memories.

Painful memories.

Granted, the small terraced house doesn't remind even at the slightest its own looks from twenty years before, when Tobias and Eileen Snape were permanent residents here.

The biggest change that Severus has made since then, is making books the most important part of the apartment's internal decor.

His private library, expanded throughout many years, now takes three whole wall units in the living room.

A storeroom, where his Father used to keep empty alcohol bottles before selling them to a glass collection centre, currently contains Severus' potion ingredients and a small brewing workplace .

The only thing Severus never decided to change, is a bathroom - or rather, lack of thereof. Connecting the old, industrial district's house to waterworks and a sewage system would have been way too expensive, and would require way too many encounters with the reluctant Muggle bureaucracy to be worth the effort.

If literally any other child happened to become Severus' ward for the summer holidays, he would  have had to made a use of an old, corroded tin bathtub, stored on the top of a wardrobe. Fortunately, the young Chosen One seems to be having rather a relaxed approach to hygiene.

 Severus has offered the boy to sleep on a couch in the living room. He thought, that maybe Harry is going to get interested in any of the books, but the boy - although very bright - doesn't seem by any means to be academic. Perhaps he even is illiterate.

Much to Severus relief, the language barrier doesn't  turn out to be a big obstacle in their communication. Harry understands English perfectly, which is a great help. It seems that using only Parseltongue throughout his entire childhood, has  caused the boy's larynx and vocal cords to develop differently, making him unable to pronounce English words.

Nevertheless, the very first night of Harry's stay at Spinner's End, he and Severus spent a couple of hours together, forced to communicate with each other somehow and they managed it splendidly . They were working together on building a habitat for Harry's familiar - the bright-scaled Grass Snake. Sacrificing a small part of the living room, the boy showed Snape how to create proper wards to keep the area desirably warm and humid. They also went outside to collect a couple of rocks, which Harry bewitched to be constantly heated, and made a small puddle of clean water for the habitat.

Working together with the young Chosen One, Severus grew intrigued by him. Desperate to learn more about the boy, he became eager to learn to understand the ancient dialect of the serpent.

The example of Dumbledore shows, that Parseltongue is possible to master  -on the level of comprehending what is being said. Not being born a Parselmouth, Severus could never dream of mastering also the speaking part, but understanding the language would be perfectly sufficient for him.

Spending time with Harry, Severus is paying a close attention to the hissing sounds the boy makes and slowly starts to pick the language up. Seeing Snape's willingness to learn, Harry eagerly agrees on spending a couple of hours every day on practicing.

Severus has always been open to knowledge. His mind, expanded with years of self-study, is absorptive like a sponge. Learning the basis of the new language comes unbelievably easy to him.

Soon, a very simplified verbal communication between him and Harry becomes possible.

The boy, using very basic form of the dialect and helping himself with gestures, tells Severus about his life in the Muggle orphanage, about the violent assault against his life, and about how his familiar Grass Snake along with Adder managed to save him.

Harry's story of his years spent in the Gaunt Shack with Morfin, is the one to captivate Severus the most. The boy's life used to be half-wild - raw, but intensive and genuine. He was growing up with a disregard of any kind of social norms and rules, and without any basic conveniences known to "civilized" mankind.

Dumbledore may be calling Morfin Gaunt a pariah and a dosser, but in Harry's eyes, his step-Father is an ultimate role model; a simple, honest, courageous man. The boy speaks about Gaunt with a genuine affection, and it seems that their relations were based on mutual trust, care and support. Morfin not only taught his foster son how to use magic, defend himself and survive in a harsh environment. He also apparently managed to provide him with a normal, happy childhood, and successfully make up for  his traumatizing toddler years in the Muggle orphanage.

Listening to Harry opening up about his relations with his Father is genuinely heartbreaking. Seeing the boy's suffering, Severus wishes he could just tell him the truth about that day; tell him, that Morfin had survived the fire and escaped safely. However, thinking about possible consequences on Dumbledore's part, he decides to remain silent for now.

Nevertheless, getting to know the boy, Severus is more and more steadfast in his resolution to save him from the Headmaster's destructive influence.

Harry doesn't deserve to become another animal on the old coot's "farm", waiting for the right day to be slaughtered.

Severus is desperate to find a way to get Harry out of the Headmaster's wicked schemes, without risking the old coot's wrath upon both the boy and himself.

For now, he is going to dance to Dumbledore's tune, not to risk the child's well-being and safety. Later on, he will have to think of a plan to imperceptibly contact Gaunt and reunite him with his step son.

Outsmarting the old coot is not going to be easy, but someone has to finally puts a stop to his outraging impunity. The Headmaster has always assumed, that living, breathing and thinking human beings are nothing more than pawns on his huge chessboard.

Someone finally has to show him his inherent mistake.

~Bad memories?~

Snape is roused from his thoughts by Harry's soft hissing.

The boy is sitting cross-legged inside the Grass Snake's habitat, stroking his familiar's flat head.

 ~You're thinking about this old man.~ Harry elaborates. ~About the one, who upset your snake and made you hurt.~

Severus' narrow eyes widen in surprise.

Harry smiles and indicates his emerald eyes.

~Natural.~ he says softly.

Snape understands, Harry means a natural Legilimens.

~Don't worry though.~ the boy adds. ~ This is one of my Parsel abilities and is actually very superficial. I cannot see your mind vividly. What I see is only a blurry image and a flow of emotions.~

'Can you also perform Occlumency?'  Severus asks. Around Dumbledore, this ability is a key to survival.

~ O-cclumen-cy?~ The boy repeats, confused.

'That means, that you're able to shield your mind from an extraneous assault.' Severus explains.

~ Oh, that. No, Grassie does that for me.~ The boy answers plainly, indicating his bright-scaled familiar.

Snape frowns in confusion.

'The snake shields your mind?' he asks.

Harry seems to be surprised by Snape's confusion.

~Of course he does. Grassie has been my familiar since I was three. We've been developing our magical abilities together. He's skilled in Parsel magic, maybe not as skilled as Adder...~ Harry stops mid-sentence and closes his eyes, apparently having a painful flashback of the squiggled, milky-eyed snake, who -  according to the official version - died along with Morfin in the burning Shack.

Snape feels his heart sinking. Moments like this one make him want to take the boy, shake his shoulders and shout the joyful truth right into his face.

It's the image of the twinkling, light-blue eyes in half-spectacles that stops him from doing that.

~Can't your familiar perform any magic?~ Harry asks suddenly.

Severus only after a couple of seconds comprehends what does the boy mean by "familiar".

He rolls up his left sleeve.

'This is not exactly my familiar, Harry.' he explains. 'This is not a real, living animal. It's...'

~The snake's been burnt into your skin magically, I get it.~ Harry cuts him off. ~But it doesn't make it less real.~

Snape raises his eyebrows in confusion.

~ It can feel hurt and it can feel comforted.~ Harry explains. ~ It can be upset, and it can be relaxed. Watch that.~

The boy lets out a series of incomprehensible hisses, and the snake on Severus' forearm starts writhing slowly. It doesn't inflict Snape any pain, though; only some pleasant tickling.

~ See? It can hear me.~ Harry says quietly.

Severus looks at the boy, amazed. How such a person can be destined by Dumbledore to lead a strictly monitored, miserable life, ended by a painful, premature death?

~ Only a fellow Speaker could have burnt it into your skin. Am I right?~ Harry asks.

Severus feels an unpleasant cramp in his stomach. The topic of the Dark Lord, the Prophecy and the whole Chosen One thing was another no-go zone. Bringing it up with Harry, Severus would expose them both to the old coot's anger.

'...Yes.' Snape answers shortly.

Harry frowns.

~You're thinking about him again. About this old sucker. You're scared of him.~

Severus feels, that he's flushing. He looks at the boy apologetically.

~ Do you know, why did I even agree on going to that ridiculous school?~ Harry asks, heating up. ~I can see clearly that this man is intimidating you, and that indicates, that a lot more of Professors and students in this school are intimidated by him. I'm going there only in order to show him his fucking place.~

Severus doesn't dare to grin widely, although he is tempted to.

'Speaking about the school, Harry.' he picks the topic up. 'It's only a couple of days left before our departure. We're supposed to go shopping for your books and school supplies. Beforehand, I could help you to withdraw some money from the bank. I... I used to know your biological Parents quite well, and I know they must have left you their vault at Gringotts.'

~Oh, I'm not entitled to claim anything from my biological Parents.~ Harry says flatly. ~ I'm not bonded to them in any way anymore. I'm not their Heir. I've been Blood Adopted.'

Severus gasps.

The boy's just managed, yet again, to take him aback. Severus had no idea, that Morfin Gaunt could have gone so far to perform a ritual of Blood Adoption.

Only now, taking a closer look at  Harry's face and really trying to see beneath the thick layer of dirt - Snape notices, that the boy's facial features really  remind Morfin's to some degree. Even his body structure- muscular and tall for his age - doesn't remind neither Lily's nor James' stature.

The boy's physical appearance had really been altered thanks to the Blood Adoption.

His eyes, though...

His bright, emerald eyes seem to be the only thing that miraculously stayed the same.

~ My Father used to be a Heir of Salazar Slytherin.~ the boy goes on.  ~ Now, after Father's death, it looks like I'm the new Heir. However, I don't intend to claim my Father Gringotts vault just yet. Seizing the gold a couple of weeks after his death, I wouldn't be paying a proper tribute to his memory. I respect my Father too much to do such a thing. What is more, I definitely don't intend to buy any ridiculous textbooks or school supplies. I'm not taking this whole Hogwarts thing seriously at all. As I said, I only wish to teach the old fool a lesson.~

Speaking about paying tribute to Gaunt's memory, Harry's eyes fill up with tears. Severus feels an ice-cold cramp in his stomach again.

He gives the boy a couple of minutes of silence to cool down.

Harry eventually lifts his eyes up at him.

~ I hope you won't be mad.~ he starts hesitantly. ~ But I ... saw something when you spoke about my biological Parents. Err, I didn't mean to violate your privacy or whatnot, but... I saw a powerful, intensive flow of emotions when you remembered my biological Mother.~

~ I sssaw it, too.~ Grass Snake says unexpectedly.

~Grassie is not as sensitive to it, as I am. ~ Harry explains, stroking the snake's flat head. ~ If he could notice it, that means, that your affection towards this woman must have been really strong.~

Severus lowers his head, searching for adequate words to express himself.

'Once upon a time, your Mother and I used to be very close.' he confesses finally.

Silence.

Harry pets Grass Snake, apparently thinking that over.

Severus feels awkward after his confession; his feelings towards Lily used to be his deeply hidden secret.

~Sseveruss.~ Harry speaks finally.

Snape's lips curl up into a smile. He likes the sound of his name pronounced in Parseltongue.

~You've mentioned my biological Parents used to have a Gringotts vault.~ he starts.

'Yes.' Snape nods.

~ Were they well-off?~

'Well... Upper-middle class, if you're familiar with the class division.'

~ My Father always used to tell me, that money cannot buy happiness.~ Harry says. ~His words are truthful. However, Ssseveruss, your situation is... quite different. I mean, not only does the old git intimidate you; he also employs you, right? You're financially dependent on him. An influx of cash could buy you more independence from the old asshole. I've lost my heirship, but my biological Parents must have appointed a person next in line for their heirloom. If your feelings towards my biological Mother really are so strong, and you two really used to be so close... I would say, why don't you check her last will at Gringotts? I bet you have been included as one of the beneficiaries.~

Severus flinches. He has never even thought of checking Lily's last will. The mere memory of the green-eyed girl is too painful for him to bear. He never even wants to think about her, not to dig the old wounds up.

However, Harry might be right.

~ I think it's time to move on.~ the boy hisses softly. ~ You are always going to remember her, but there is no reason for this memory to cause you so much pain. And... I'm positive, that if she had a chance to help you out financially, she would have wanted you to accept it.~

Severus doesn't know how to respond. Is the boy's unbelievable empathy going to not only help him  get over Lily, but also  improve his financial situation?

'Harry.' Snape says finally. 'Would you and Grassie accompany me to Gringotts tomorrow?'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Mr Severus Snape, son of Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince-Snape?' the Goblin behind the counter asks phlegmatically.

'That's correct.' Severus answers.

'And the young man is...?' the Goblin turns towards Harry and wrinkles his ugly nose, seeing the boy's filthy cloak, greasy hair, unwashed face and Grass Snake wrapped loosely around his neck.

~Harry Marvolo Gaunt.~ the boy hisses, narrowing his eyes; he seems to be unimpressed with the Goblin's pompous behavior.

'I beg your pardon?' the Goblin asks, leaning over the counter.

'I get it, Harry.' Severus says quickly, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder. 'This young man had been  born as Harry James Potter, but after his Parents' death, he's been Blood Adopted by Morfin Gaunt.' he explains to the Goblin. 'We would ask you to check his biological Parents' last will, to see who is currently entitled to inherit their wealth.'

'I see.' Goblin says slowly. 'I will need you both to wait in the Atrium as I am going to search the archives for the young man's records. Getting access to the records costs ten galleons.'

Snape nods.

'That's fine.'

The Goblin's  thin lips curl up into a smile at the mention of money. He jumps off his elevation behind the court.

'Excellent. The two of you may take a seat in the Atrium, and I am going to call your names when I set the records ready.'

Severus and Harry don't need to wait long. The goblin is back in fifteen minutes, holding a large piece of parchment.

'Alright, Mr Snape.' he says calmly. 'According to the official documentation, Mr Harry Marvolo Gaunt here is indeed not entitled to claim any of the monetary and non-monetary properties of  James Potter and Lily Evans -Potter. However - according to their last will - you, Mr Snape,  are the first one in line after Mr Gaunt to claim these possessions.'

Severus gasps.

'The... first one in line?' he repeats in disbelief.  'Isn't it a mistake?'

The Goblin frowns. The members of his species don't like to be accused of making mistakes.

'No, Mr Snape, take a look.' he says dryly, passing him the piece of parchment. 'The last will clearly says, that you are the first one after the excluded Mr Gaunt. You are followed by Mr Sirius Orion Black, Mr Frank Oswald Longbottom and Mrs Alice Mary Prewett- Longbottom, but nobody from the above have ever claimed the heirloom. That makes you the only one in line, and that makes you a sole Heir to James Potter's and Lily Evans - Potter's wealth.'

Severus holds the sheet in trembling hands.

'The saldo of the vault?' he asks in a weak voice.

'I can check the saldo for additional two galleons.' the Goblin answers. 'If that's not necessary, we can ride down there so you can see the vault for yourself.'

'Yes, please!' Severus agrees eagerly.

'Oh... but you will also need your vault key.' the Goblin adds.

~He's just found out that he is the Heir. How can he have the vault key?~ Harry hisses, annoyed.

The Goblin frowns.

'Mr Gaunt, I'd ask you not to use this lowbrow language while talking to me. If you are unable to speak Gobleddegook, at least use English.'

~ Piss off.~

'Anyways, Mr Snape, the copy of the key is going to cost you twelve galleons.' the Goblin says towards Severus.

'Very well, I'd ask for a copy.' Snape says.

The Goblin nods.

'It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Snape.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Riding a tiny cart down a narrow rail is not a pleasant experience.

At least not  for Severus.

Harry seems to be enjoying himself. Despite of the Goblin's lecture about safety during the ride, the boy refused to fasten his safety belts and insisted on standing all the way down instead of seating.

Snape has always admired the complexity of the Goblins' underground vaults system. The means of security of the bank could be slightly modernized (one anemic dragon for the entire bank is definitely not enough) and the means of transport  could be improved (the crazy "rollercoaster" is gag-inducing) but apart from these flaws - Gringotts is deservedly called a most reliable financial facility in the Wizarding Britain.

 Severus gasps loudly, when the Goblin opens the heavy door of the vault 687.

It's almost embarrassing to admit, but he has never seen so much gold in one place. He had no idea, that Lily and James used to be that rich.

'Do you wish to make a withdrawal, Mr Snape?' the Goblin asks.

'Wh...?' Severus sobers up and turns towards the short creature. 'Uh, yes, sir, I'd like to withdraw two hundred galleons. Concerning the rest of the money, I'd like to move everything to Eileen Prince's vault, thereby emptying and closing this one.'

The Goblin nods.

'Very well. Relocating the entirety is going to cost additional ten sickles. To sum everything up, you owe us twenty-two galleons and ten sickles.'

Snape approaches the huge pile of coins and takes a calculated amount for the Goblin. Having paid for the service, he starts shoveling the golden galleons to his pouch by handfuls, feeling really awkward; he never had a chance to hold this amount of money in his hands before.

Having filled his pouch up, he looks questioningly at Harry.

The boy shakes his head.

~ I really don't need that.~ he hisses softly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Having left the bank, Severus and Harry took a walk along the Daigon Alley, indulging themselves with two giant ice-cream cones from Florean's place.

The street is crowded with Hogwarts' students and their Parents, walking around and shopping for school supplies.

An incredibly filthy, barefoot  boy in a ragged cloak and with a snake on his shoulder understandably draws a lot of disgusted, shocked looks.

Harry doesn't seem to care about it. At all.

'You know what, Harry.' Severus says apprehensively, when they pass by Madam Maklin's tailor workshop. 'I know what is your opinion about attending Hogwarts, but we really should buy the school robes and supplies for you. I really don't want to see the Headmaster's reaction, when you turn up at school unsupplied and looking like that...'

Harry bursts into a hissing laughter.

~ And I, Ssseveruss, would really love to see his reaction. I really cannot wait to see it.~

Severus cannot help but burst into laughter as well.

They pass by Ollivander's workshop and Flourish & Blott's bookstore, entering the "fancy" part of Daigon Alley, which includes , amongst the others, a broomsticks store, a Quidditch gear store and a couple of upper-shelf clothing stores.

'I won't urge you to buy a school uniform, if you don't want to, Harry.' Snape says. 'But I'd really like to buy you something nice. Why don't you pick up some clothes for yourself?'

Harry looks at the expositions in shops' windows.

A window of the dragon leather clothes store draws his attention.

~Wow, what's that?~ he asks, pointing his index finger at a nice, brown leather jacket.

'That's a jacket.' Severus answers. 'It looks warm and comfortable. And very handy, it has plenty of pockets, maybe even some hidden ones. Want to try it on?'

 Much to Snape's joy, the excited Harry runs towards the store.

 He acts like a child - which he still is - for the first time since Snape has met him.

The jacket turns out to be fitting perfectly. Harry is delighted, especially that one of the chest pockets is spacious enough for Grass Snake to slide inside.

'Do you also have the calf-long dragon leather shoes in the store?' Severus asks the clerk.

'Yes, sir, I think I even have a pair that is going to match the jacket coloristically.' she answers and disappears in the support area.

~ I don't know...~ Harry says apprehensively. ~ I've never really used any shoes, except oversized valenki during harsh winters... I'm used to be barefoot...'

'Dragon leather shoes are soft, they'll adjust to the shape of your feet.' Snape says reassuringly. 'You'll be comfortable wearing them. Hogwarts is a medieval castle and the floors are stone, without any coverings. It's better to wear shoes there.'

As soon as the clerks brings a beautiful, shiny pair of dragon leather boots, Harry's doubts fade away. He immedietly puts the shoes on.

Severus pulls his pouch out to pay the clerk.

~Ssseveruss.~ Harry hisses shyly.

Snape turns his head towards the boy. His new jacket and boots with a combination of his long, greasy hair and dirty face, make him look like a scruffy cursebreaker from a far-away country.

~Thank you, Ssseverusss.~

Chapter Text

~Are you also going to ride this... train?~

'And are you going to feel more comfortable, if I accompanied you?'

Harry runs his fingers through his hair anxiously. He looks around, eyeing the platform nine and three quarters cautiously; it's still over forty minutes to the Hogwarts Express' departure, but the students and their families already start turning up.

~I dunno.~ Harry mutters.

'I know it's your first train ride and first long travel of that sort.' Severus says calmly. 'There is nothing to be embarrassed about, if you don't want to be alone.'

~How do you usually get to Hogwarts?~

'I can apparte to Hogsmeade... It's a small village right next to the school... Or use the floo network, getting directly to my office.'

~ And I can't make use of either of these, because of the old coot's stupid whim?~ Harry hisses through clenched teeth.

Severus looks at him apologetically.

'Pretty much, yes.' he admits.

~You know what, Ssseveruss, go ahead and use your usual way of travel. I guess I can handle this on my own.~

Severus looks at the boy hesitantly.

'Are you sure?' he asks.

Harry looks around. At this point, the platform gets almost crowded. Students of various ages and backgrounds, most of them with large trunks on luggage trolleys, gather close to the steam engine train and bid farewell to their Parents and younger siblings.

Both Harry and Severus receive some odd looks. Severus, for being obviously recognized as one of the teachers . Harry, for being filthy, greasy-haired and swashbucklingly dressed.

~Yes.~ the boy says firmly. ~ There's no reason for you to partake in this three ring circus. Besides, there are just  some posh kids. Nobody I cannot handle. And Grassie is with me.~ he indicates the largest chest pocket of his leather jacket, where Grass Snake sleeps, curled up.

Severus nods.

'If you needed any help...'

~I'll be alright.~

'Well then, Harry. See you at Hogwarts.'

Harry smiles.

~See you, Ssseveruss.~

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Severus decides to use the floo network to get to Hogwarts, rather than to apparate.

 There is a small fee that must be paid for using the public floo fireplace on Kings Cross, but the major advantage of it - taking Severus directly to the fireplace in his Hogwarts' office - makes it worth spending the money.

Apparating to Hogsmeade means a long trip up the hill to the castle, as well as a necessity to walk through Hogwarts' entrance hall and down the stairs- which would make an accidental encounter with the Headmaster more than possible.

Severus would rather pass on that.

A handful of floo powder, an outburst of lime-green flames and Severus finds himself in his office.

He draws his wand to cast some refreshing and cleansing spells; the room is a little bit stuffy and dusty after two months of not being used. He pulls his shrunken suitcase out of his pocket and unshrinks it.

Unpacking his books, potions ingredients and spare clothes, he suddenly hears a violent knocking at the door.

Albus Dumbledore storms into the office without invitation, looking daggers at Severus.

Snape feels an ice-cold cramp in his stomach. What in the world...?

'Where's the Chosen One?' Dumbledore asks in a deceivingly calm voice, without any introductions.

'He's at the train, just like you...'

'I've gotten some reports from the Prefects, who are on their patrolling duty at the train.' Albus cuts him off. 'Apparently there are some problems with the boy.'

Severus barely resists a temptation to ask "what did you expect?". He bites back his tongue, seeing Dumbledore face, pale and winced in anger.

Albus pulls a small orb out of his pocket.

'That's a portkey, which is going take you straight to the Hogwarts Express.' he says slowly, clearly desperate to keep a clam voice. 'Off you go, Severus.'

He tosses the orb at Snape, and the young man catches it instinctively.

A flashing light blinds Severus' eyes and a high-frequency noise deafens him for a couple of seconds.

The next thing he sees, is a long train carriage of the Hogwarts Express. A rhythmical drumming sound of the train's wheels on the rail resounds around him.

Damn you, Dumbledore, Severus thinks to himself, walking along the carriage. He feels a little dizzy after the unexpected portkeying.

Suddenly, he freezes, hearing  an excruciating scream. Somebody is crying out loud, uncontrollably and desperately, like under some kind of nightmarish tortures.

Something horrible must have happened.

Severus, with his heart pounding, rushes along the carriage towards the source of the screams.

A large group of students are gathered in front of one of the compartments near the engine. They are encircling the person - or people - who makes these deafening, agonizing sounds.

'Step aside!' Snape growls loudly, fighting his way through the crowding students.

Having squeezed through, he gasps.

The Weasley Twins, Fred and Gorge, are lying on the floor with their faces hidden in their hands, crying out in pain. Through their outstretched fingers, Severus can see, that the boys' cheeks and foreheads are all covered in horribly looking, oozing blisters.

The blisters seem to be growing bigger and more painful with each second.

The Twins' elder brother, Prefect Percy Weasley, stands upon them, helpless and horrified. The other Prefects, Flint and Clearwater, are also present on the spot; nobody seems to know how to react.

Snape sighs and kneels next to the writhing, screaming boys.

'Take your hands off your face.'  he says harshly to the boy who happens to be closer (Fred or George, Merlin knows which one).

The Weasley, at this point not only screaming, but also downright sobbing, slowly lowers his hands, revealing his face.

 Snape gasps loudly.

The enormous, red , suppurating blisters cover not only his cheeks, nose and forehead, but even his lips and eyelids.

Severus draws his wand and presses it against the boy's face, whispering a complex incantation from a healer's assortment. As the unbelievably painful blisters are disappearing, the boy progressively relaxes.

Severus repeats the same procedure with the other Twin.

Having healed both brothers, Snape commands the gathered students to move along - with the exception of the present Prefects.

'What has happened here?' he asks roughly, when the Twins manage to sit up.

Flint, Clearwater and the three Weasleys start talking all at the same time.

'Silence!' Snape growls. 'One person at one time. Flint, you start.'

Marcus Flint, a tall, broad-shouldered Quidditch player, clears his throat.

'Professor, as you can already tell, the Weasleys have put themselves into trouble. Again.' he says.

'No we haven't!' Fred and George protest in unison.

'Professor Snape, my brothers were pulling some stupid pranks on the freshmen, I admit that, but it doesn't justify this... They were attacked so violently, it must have been some kind of Dark spell! ' Percy says, looking at Snape with wide, round eyes.

Snape raises his eyebrows.

'Pranks on the freshmen? Which freshmen?' he asks.

'All of them.' Fred or George says apologetically.

'We pull pranks on the first-years each year, this is a kind of our tradition, rite of passage for these kids.' the other Twin confesses.

'Nothing harmful; some bewitched candy, some whamming powder...' the first Twin explains.

'...some fake spiders, some whoopee cushions...' the other adds.

'...but never have we been so violently attacked for our pranks. By nobody, yet alone by a freshman.'

'We didn't actually do anything to this boy. We entered his compartment and he gave us a signal to leave... but we entered anyway...'

'...and the next thing we knew, was lying here in this...indescribable pain...'

'...I've never experienced so much pain in my life, and as a Beater I've gotten my deal of Bludger injuries...'

Severus sighs.

'Where is the freshman who hexed you?' he asks coldly.

Percy Weasley gasps.

'Hexed? Professor, I think the word cursed would have been more accurate. That definitely was a very Dark spell. ' he says in his usual, exalted tone.

'Yes, it was, and maybe it will finally teach these two dunderheads not to pull their "harmless pranks" on the first-years. ' Snape snaps. 'The new environment is terrifying enough for these children, there is no need to bully them. At Hogwarts, we do not cultivate "rites of passage". I'm asking for the last time: where is the boy?'

'He locked himself up is this compartment.' one of the Twins indicates the door behind Severus' back.

'I hope you are going to hold him accountable for what he did.' Percy adds, apparently outraged.

'Weasley, take your younger brothers back to their compartment.' Snape says to Percy, disregarding his last remark. 'Flint, Clearwater, you two are dismissed.'

Severus waits until five teenagers disappear from the carriage in their compartments. Only then, he quietly knocks at the sliding door.

'Harry.' he says softly. 'Open up. It's me, Severus.'

Snape notices, that the compartment's door is not only locked, but also sealed up with a mysterious black substance, reminding Severus of an industrial tar.

He hears Harry hissing an incantation inside, and the weird smudge melts down, letting Severus open the door.

'What spell did you use to seal the door up?' he asks curiously, entering the compartment.

~A Parselmagic spell.~ Harry answers calmly.

Snape looks at the boy. He's comfortably leaning back on his seat, and his feet are kicked up on the seat in front of him. Grass Snake is sleeping, curled up next to him.

~There are indeed some annoying kids you have in this school.~ Harry mutters lazily.

'What exactly has happened?' Severus asks.

~These two redheaded retards stormed into my compartment, asking me, if I was a freshman, because they were looking for freshmen "to say hello". I told them to get lost, and made myself pretty clear, I think. The redheads refused to leave, so I knocked them down and gave them some special treatment reserved for the uninvited strangers.~

'What is that spell you've used on them?' Severus asks, mildly impressed.

~A Parselmagic spell.~

'Pretty painful, ain't it?' Snape mutters.

~ Painful and humiliating, but harmless. Just like the pranks they're pulling on the freshmen.~ Harry says. ~It's mindblowing that nobody else is standing up to them.~

Severus takes a seat next to Grassie.

'Well, the Weasley Twins usually manage to get away with their antics.' he admits. 'Nobody stands up to them, because nobody really thinks about the consequences of their mischief. They are well-liked and popular,  amongst both the students and the teachers.'

Harry smirks.

~ That's ridiculous. They're no better than any other bullies.~

Severus yet again finds himself fascinated by the boy and by his unusual, mature approach.

'I couldn't agree more, Harry. But unfortunately, you and I happen to be a minority in this belief.'

~ The old coot enables such people. No wonder everybody tolerates them.~ Harry hisses.

'ATTENTION, ATTENTION.' a magically enhanced female voice resounds in the compartment. 'THE TRAIN IS NOW APPROACHING TERMINATING HOGSMEADE STATION. PLEASE LEAVE ALL YOUR PERSONAL BELONGINGS IN THE COMPARTMENTS, THEY WILL BE TAKEN CARE OF SEPARATELY. PLEASE MIND THE GAP BETWEEN THE TRAIN AND THE PLATFORM.'

The Express progressively slows down and Snape takes Harry by the hand, leading him out of the compartment.

He wants them to be the first ones to leave the train. Not willing to expose the boy to any more contacts with his fellow students than absolutely necessary, he decides to let him skip the boat ride across the Black Lake.

'Firs' years! Firs' years, over here!' Severus hears Hagrid's growling voice right after stepping on the platform. Harry shoots his guardian a questioning look.

'Not you.' Snape says reassuringly. 'It's a local tradition to organize a boat ride to the castle for our freshmen on their first night at school.'

~That's...~

'...ridiculous. I know, but you can skip this part. The two of us are going to walk up there. Is that plausible?'

Harry tilts his head back, looking at the intimidating, medieval castle on the hill.

~Sure.~ he says.

The night is warm and bright. A light stroll up the hill is enjoyable and relaxing, especially after the unpleasant events that has taken place at train.

~ If this school is as full of bullies as it seems to be, how can all the freshmen be allowed to ride boats on their opening night? Aren't there any incidents of kids pushing each other into the water?~ Harry asks.

'Almost every year.' Severus admits.

Harry smirks.

~Unsurprising. What about the older students? Do they also have to walk up this hill in groups?~

'No. All of the students, except the freshmen, ride carriages. But they could as well walk; actually, I'm pretty sure that the two of us will reach the castle before them.'

Severus' words turn out right. He and Harry step into the Hogwarts' entrance hall before the older students and almost equally with the fellow freshmen.

Severus pulls Harry aside, allowing the fairly large group of eleven-year-olds led by Hagrid to enter the hall. Professor Macgonagall turns up after a couple of seconds. She takes over the group and immedietly lines the children up into a neat row.

Severus leans over Harry and whispers into his ear:

'Go ahead and line up along with them. This elderly Witch is one of my colleagues. She's going to introduce all of you into the Great Hall and host the Sorting Ceremony. This is the part that you sadly cannot skip, but don't worry; it won't take long.'

Harry nods apprehensively, approaches the line and stands next to a tall, brown-haired boy.

Severus reluctantly leaves his protégé and heads towards the Great Hall.

 Passing by Macgonagall, he nods curtly at her. The old Witch shoots him a questioning look, which he decides to disregard.

Much to Severus' relief, the Headmaster - unlike the majority of the faculty - is still not present in the Great Hall. Snape has a chance to peacefully take his usual seat at the Head Table.

Noises and commotion fill in the enormous room after a couple of minutes, when almost a thousand of students, aged from twelve to seventeen, start flooding into the Great Hall. Four long dining tables of the Hall are assigned to the four Houses, and the students take their seats accordingly to their affiliation.

As soon as the older students settle down, Macgonagall steps in, leading their younger colleagues across the Hall.

Everybody goes silent, when the elderly Witch lines the excited freshmen up in front of the Sorting Hat's stool and starts explaining what the Sorting Ceremony is based on.

Severus' lips curl up into a smile, when he sees how much Harry stands out from the group.

All of the other first-years are dressed in black school robes on the top of spotless white shirts, vests and ties. The majority of the kids is additionally well-groomed; neatly combed, washed and sometimes even sprinkled with some cologne.

Harry is the only one not to wear an uniform. His long greasy hair and a thick layer of congealed dirt on his face and hands are apparently off-putting;  the boy standing next to him keeps a couple of feet of a distance between them. It doesn't seem to bother the young Chosen One at all.

Unlike the majority of the newcomers, anxious and uptight, Harry holds his hands in his jacket's pocket, looking rather bored.

'Mind if I take the seat next to you for the tonight's feast, Severus?'

Snape budges at Dumbledore's sickeningly sweet voice right next to his left ear.

'Not at all, Headmaster.' he mutters quietly, moving slightly aside with his chair. He feels he starts breaking into sweat.

'You know, Severus.' Albus starts in a deceivingly conversational tone. 'I've been seriously considering excluding the young Chosen One from the Sorting Ceremony, thereby assigning him to Gryffindor by default. Only Minerva managed to convince me to let him partake in the Ceremony along with the other freshmen.'

Severus wriggles anxiously on his seat.

'Why would you want to exclude him from the Sorting?' he asks cautiously. 'The Ceremony is compulsory for all our newcomers, isn't it?'

'Yes, it is.' Albus says viciously. 'Exactly as compulsory as wearing a school uniform and showing some indicators of observing basic personal hygiene.'

Severus clenches his teeth.

'You were supposed to make him more well-adjusted throughout these three weeks, Severus.' Albus goes on, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. 'I entrusted you with the Chosen One and  I counted on you in that matter. And there he stands; filthy, unwashed, smelly like an old kipper...'

'Harry is eleven years old, Headmaster, not eleven months old.' Severus cuts him off. 'He can decide himself whether or not he wants to set a bath.'

'You should have washed him!' Dumbledore hisses loudly enough for Professor Burbage to turn her head towards him. 'Besides -' he goes on, lowering his voice again. 'What kind of clothing is that? How could you not have taken him to Madam Maklin's to get the required school robes?'

'Headmaster, think upon it for a second.' Severus mutters impatiently. ' The whole thing with dragging this boy forcefully to this school - preceded by burning his house down and faking his Father's death, I remind you - was your idea. In my opinion, an inherently wrong one.  What is the worst thing you could possibly do to Harry, for not adjusting to the new environment? For not obeying the school dress code and not observing hygiene? Expulsion, isn't it? And I assure you, that it would be the best thing that could happen to him at the moment.'

Severus notices dangerous little twinkles appearing in Dumbledore's eyes.

Snape already knows, that he went too far.

Albus makes a sudden gesture, apparently trying to grab Severus' left  wrist, but the young man jerks his arm and hides it behind his back.

'You are going to regret it, Severus.' Dumbledore hisses straight to Snape's ear. 'I'll make you pay. You cannot even imagine how much does it going to cost you.'

A single drop of sweat runs down Severus' face and ends up on his lips.

Both Snape and Dumbledore go silent for a moment, because the Sorting Ceremony starts. Macgonagall begins to read names from a list.

'Bones, Susan!'

A small, fair-haired girl steps forward and sits on the stool, putting the Sorting Hat on her head.

'HUFFLEPUFF!' the Hat yells out loud and an applause resounds.

'Boot, Terry!'

'RAVENCLAW!'

Albus leans over Snape again.

'Well, in case of the Chosen One, the Hat won't have any choice.' he hisses. 'I allowed the boy to partake in the Ceremony, but he has to end up in Gryffindor anyway. It's an important part of my Plan. I've asked the Hat not to consider any other options in his case. I've also selected a couple of promising children with... correct alliegances, and asked the Hat to Sort  them into Gryffindor as well. Thereby, I've already built a supportive, loyal friend circle for the Chosen One. It's going to make embracing his fate easier for him. Only this much I could do at this point; hope it's going to make up for this disgusting act of sabotage you had committed to undermine my Plan.'

Snape's mouth goes all dry. An unpleasant cramp grabs his bowels.

'You... you've rigged the Sorting?' he asks in disbelief. 'That's against the will of our Founders, you cannot...'

'Gaunt, Harry!'

Dumbledore's eyes become big and round, when Harry steps forward with his hand in his pockets and sits on the stool, putting the Sorting Hat on.

'Gaunt?!'  Albus hisses to Severus' ear. 'What is that supposed to mean?'

'Blood Adoption.' Snape explains shortly.

'I beg your pardon?!'

'SLYTHERIN!' the Hat yells.

'NO!' Dumbledore growls in a horrifying, deafening voice, bolting upright.

Eyes of over a thousand of students and teachers focus on the elderly Headmaster.

Snape freezes.

Harry casually takes the Hat off and puts it back on its stool.

'Forgive me, Albus, but this boy... Not only does he share the blood of Salazar, but he is an personification of everything what Salazar used to value... I would have had offended Slytherin's memory, If I sorted the boy elsewhere!'  the Hat speaks in its far-reaching deep voice.

'Headmaster, the Sorting Hat is right...I've already explained it to you...' Snape mutters through clenched teeth.

'Minerva, proceed with the Sorting, please.' Albus says in a deceivingly calm voice, looking daggers at Severus.

Macgonagall - clearly intimidated and uneasy- corrects her glasses to read the next name from the list.

Dumbledore sits down in a barely concealed, blind fury, and - this time without playing around - forcefully and violently grabs Severus' left forearm.

Snape miraculously manages not to let out a cry of agonizing pain.

He feels sweat appearing on his forehead and tears forming in his eyes. He desperately looks around, but nobody of the fellow teachers seem to notice, what is going on.

Dumbledore's face is  perfectly straight; he looks into Severus' eyes and Severus drowns in their light-blue ocean, which - in his case - is always an ocean of pain.

Suddenly, somebody jumps vigorously on the Head Table, knocking over glasses and throwing off silverware.

At the corner of his watery eye, Snape notices the leather brown jacket.

Harry pounces on Dumbledore, violently knocking him down along with his chair. The Headmaster lets go of Snape's forearm, leaving some nail scratches on his skin.

Severus sobers up from the pain and wipes his teary eyes with his sleeve.

Much to his horror and astonishment, his young protégé is sitting astride on Albus' chest, punching the Headmaster's wrinkled face with his small fists, very fast and vigorously.

Glittering Grass Snake is wrapped around Albus' toes, tying them up together.

The faculty members look stunned and paralyzed.

The students are slowly leaving their seats, approaching the Head Table, to see what is going on.

Snape jumps forward to Harry, extending his hands to take the boy off Dumbledore's chest, but...

...a powerful explosion sends him flying a couple of feet back. He lands painfully on the floor.

He lifts his head up and notices, that a couple of teachers who happened to be too close, also experienced the impact of the explosion.

'Albus, what have you done! This is a child!'

Hearing Macgonagall's horrified,  screechy voice, Severus' heart sinks.

Still nauseous from pain and deafened by the explosion, he crawls up back to the Head Table.

What he sees there is too much to handle. He lowers his head and bursts into sobs.

Dumbledore has literally blown Harry up.

The boy lies on his back, his arms and legs are twisted at odd angles, apparently broken in multiple places. Harry's face is one, huge,  oozing open wound. The new leather jacket is in rags, exposing a bloody mess, left from the boy's chest and abdomen...

Severus gathers all his willpower to resist a sudden urge to vomit. He lifts his eyes up, looking for Dumbledore; the Headmaster is standing upon Harry. Albus' eyes are wide and shocked; he  apparently is terrified by his own doing.

Snape, not wasting anymore time, grabs the unconscious, barely alive boy in his arms and rushes out of the Great Hall towards the Hospital Wing.

'STEP ASIDE!' he yells at the crowding students, who immedietly split up, making the passage across the Hall clear for him.

Snape cuddles the severely injured boy to his chest and sighs with a relief, feeling a weak, but regular heartbeat.

Chapter Text

'Mr Snape, you might want to come. The boy is waking up.'

Severus was slowly falling asleep on his seat, but hearing the joyful news, he immedietly sobers up. He bolts upright and rushes towards Harry's bed.

A middle-aged, female healer in a medical gown steps aside, to make more place for him.

The young Chosen One looks horribly pale. After two major surgeries and three full weeks in a coma, he has clearly lost a considerable amount of weight.

He looks like a shadow of his former self, but what is much more important at the moment- he is finally regaining consciousness.

His eyelids are visibly twitching, which is a sign, that the boy is making an effort to open his eyes.

Severus has spent the majority of the past three weeks in St Mungo's, beside Harry's bed. All of the fellow faculty members - with an unsurprising exception of Dumbledore- have been very understanding and compassionate towards him.  Professors Sprout and Macgonagall even agreed on taking turns, covering for him during Potions classes.

~Ssseverusss.~

Snape gasps. Harry's just opened his eyes. His hissing voice is weak and quiet.

~Ssseverusss...~

The boy attempts to sit up.  Severus takes him by the shoulders, gently lying him down.

'Shhh. Harry, don't sit up. Your body is weakened...' he says quietly.

Harry's sunken face winces in pain. He wraps his arms around his midsection, apparently having felt the pretty fresh effects of the surgeries.

Severus grabs a vial of pain killer potion from the night drawer.

'Drink this, Harry. It will make you feel better.'

After chugging the potion, Harry's facial muscles relax. He leans back on his pillows and looks at Snape through half-open eyes.

~I must have been pretty butchered, haven't I?~ he asks.

Severus lowers his eyes.

'It wasn't so bad.'

Harry narrows his eyes, obviously seeing through Snape's lie.

~Bullshit.~ he hisses with a reproach.

Snape sighs.

'You survived the explosion only thanks to a hint of luck.' he says honestly. 'Particularly, it was your jacket that saved your life. Dragon leather is a very special fabric; its durability is able to absorb the impact of various mild spells. It protected your vital internal organs during the explosion.'

Harry's eyes widen, making his sunken face look even skinnier.

~ Unbelievable how lucky I was.~ he whispers. ~ It seems that I had plenty of other injuries, though.~ he notices.

'Yes.' Snape admits. 'The jacket had managed to shield your heart and lungs, but your liver, stomach, larynx and upper airways  were in an appalling state. As soon as Madam Pomfrey from the school infirmary had seen you, minutes after the explosion, she immedietly side-along apparated you and me here, to St Mungo's. You needed to have your liver transplanted; the healers used one grown magically from stem cells. Your spleen and stomach were in a decent enough condition for the healers to patch them up, but your throat and upper airways were badly burnt and more difficult to fix. You have spent a good deal of time attached to a life-support equipment.'

Snape indicates a pile of tubes of various diameters and a bewitched device, which have been helping the boy to breathe for almost two weeks.

Harry flinches at the sight of the equipment.

~What about other injuries?~ he asks reluctantly.

Severus looks at him compassionately.

'Harry, I won't sugarcoat;  after the explosion, your body looked like a bloody mess. Forty percent of your skin was badly burnt, including the skin on your face. It required some very complex potions, that have been applied to your skin over the last couple of weeks, to get rid of the nasty bunt scars. Also, your arms and legs were broken in multiple places, but fortunately broken bones are not that hard to mend. You have been in a coma for three weeks, and all the healing and nourishing potions have been applied directly to your veins from a drip-bag.' he indicates a thin nylon tube, still attached to the boy's wrist.

The boy sighs and closes his eyes, apparently having a painful flashback from that fateful night.

When he opens his eyes, his pupils are widened in horror.

~Ssseverusss.~ he says apprehensively. ~W-what about Grassie? Is he... is he dead?~

Severus looks around the hospital room. Having made sure, that no healers are close, he opens up his black cloak, and pulls the sleeping, bright-scaled snake out of his inner pocket.

Harry's face expresses a deep, sweet relief, when he extends his hands to take his familiar from Severus' hands.

'Better keep him hidden, Harry.' Snape says warningly. 'In a hospital, there are no animals allowed.'

Harry nods and lifts slightly his upper body to hide the sleeping snake under his pillows, but suddenly, he freezes.

He looks at his familiar in disbelief.

Severus notices tears forming in the boy's eyes, when he lifts his sunken face up.

~Ssseverusss.~ Harry's voice is swollen with pain. ~Grassie is shorter than he used to be.~

Snape sighs.

Well, there was no way for the boy not to notice, that a familiar, which he had shared eight years of his life with, is suddenly a good three inches shorter than before, and - instead of a pointed end of the tail - he has a blunt end with a nasty scar.

'I'm so sorry, Harry.' Severus says quietly. 'His tail had been mutilated in the explosion... Madam Pomfrey managed to seal his wound up...'

Snape's voice drowns out in the boy's uncontrollable sobbing.

This must have been just too much for Harry to handle.

He cries his eyes out, cuddling the mutilated snake to his chest.

Severus' heart sinks.

He remembers just too vividly;  the injured serpent, lying  on the Great Hall's floor in a bloody mess - wreckage of his own tail, violently blasted apart in the explosion.

He remembers picking the snake up from the floor, being pretty sure, that the animal is already dead.

He remembers the relief of feeling a weak heartbeat under his fingers and Madam Pomfrey's quick action to rescue the snake.

That disastrous night, two lives were miraculously saved.

Grass Snake opens his bright, yellow eyes, alarmed by Harry's sobbing.

~Young Sssspeaker issss awake...? Ssseverusss, why isss the young Sssspeaker crying..?~

Hearing his familiar's voice, Harry starts sobbing even more violently.

~Grassie... Grassie, you cannot move around anymore, can you?~ Harry asks in despair, cuddling his familiar.

The snake freezes in the boy's arms.

Snape lowers his eyes. Of course, losing a large part of his tail and spine, Grassie won't be able to crawl anymore. 

~ No, young Ssspeaker, but it'ssss ok. I can ssstill travel in your pocket.~ Grassie hisses quietly.

Harry falls back on his pillows, still hugging the snake affectionately to his chest.

His small body is twitching in violent sobs.

It takes Severus a good fifteen minutes to calm the boy down.

~ I probably shouldn't ask.~ Harry asks finally, in a hoarse voice. ~Yeah,  I'll probably regret asking... but... has the old coot faced any consequences for what he'd done?~

Snape sighs. He has expected such a question.

'Harry, Dumbledore is Chief Warlock. With his position in the Wizarding world and his army of loyal followers, he is practically inviolable. Even if he stood in front of Wizengamot for what he had done, it would have been virtually impossible to sentence him. So answering your question... no, he hasn't faced any consequences. And nobody is going to blame you, if you decide not to return to Hogwarts after what you've experienced.'

Harry lifts his puffy, bloodshot eyes at Severus.

~"Not to return?" Are you kidding, Sseverusss? Now, I'm desperate to return to Hogwarts! Dumbledore has crippled my familiar and almost killed me. And I will have my revenge!~

Severus' eyes widen.

'Harry...' he whispers.

~Besides, Ssseverusss -~ Harry adds in a firm voice.  ~- if I won't go back to Hogwarts, who is going to protect you? ~

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Severus and Harry are stepping into the leather clothes store on Daigon Alley.

Harry has just been discharged from the hospital; four days after his awakening from the coma. His body is still weakened, but - thanks to the nourishing potions - his skin has regained a healthy color, and his energy levels have been replenished.

Harry is still dressed in plain hospital's pajamas; a kind mediwitch allowed him to keep them, after finding out, that the boy's only set of clothing had been damaged in the explosion.

The boy holds the mutilated Grass Snake gently in his arms.

The leather clothes store is the first place Snape decides to take Harry after his discharge.

'Excuse me, Miss.' Severus says to the clerk. 'We've been here about a month ago and bought a dragon leather jacket; a thick, brown one, with plenty of pockets... Do you still by any chance happen to have these in your store?'

The clerk's face lights up.

'I can recall the jacket, sir, but I'm afraid that one was the last piece. I can offer you a black one in the same fashion.'

Severus turns his head towards the boy.

'Harry, what'd you say about a black one?' he asks.

~ The color is unimportant, it's the size of the pockets that matters; at least one of them must be big enough for Grassie to fit in. And its durability;  it's also significant... in case I had to take another "Bombarda" into my chest.~ Harry explains.

'May we see the black one?' Snape asks the clerk.

'Of course, gentlemen.' the clerk answers politely, before disappearing in the support area.

Snape notices some  piles of dragonhide trousers in various colors, folded neatly on the counter. He picks up a black pair.

The clerk comes back with the jacket; much to Severus' relief, it's exactly the same as the old one, except for the color.

'I've already picked up the right size for the young gentleman.' the clerk says, handing the jacket over to Snape.

'Excellent. We'll take the jacket and this pair of trousers... and...'

Severus notices, that Harry is looking longingly at a nice pair of calf-long dragon leather boots in a matching, black color.

~Ssseverusss?~ the boy asks shyly.

'...and this pair of black boots.' Severus says. 'Harry, what about an undershirt? You could take off your jacket if it's warm.'

Harry nods eagerly.

~Yes, please, but one with a pocket for Grassie.~

'Do you have any shirts with pockets in the store, Miss?' Severus asks the clerk.

The young woman brings a pile of various shirts; long- and short-sleeved, made out of different kinds of fabric, each of them with some fairly large pockets attached.

The store sells primarily leatherware, but it seems that they  also have a wide choice of other kinds of clothing.

'I'll take the lot.' Severus decides.

Harry gasps.

~I don't need so many...~ he mutters, flushing.

Severus puts a bunch of galleons on the counter, disregarding the boy's remark.

'Perhaps the young gentleman wants to change into his new clothes now, so I can fold and pack up the rest for you?' the clerk suggests.

'Excellent idea.' Severus answers. 'Harry, why don't you go to the support area and change? And by the way, Miss, do you by any chance happen to have here a public floo fireplace that we could use ?'

'Of course, sir, the one in the support area.' the clerk answers.

'How much does it cost to use it?'

The woman smiles.

'In case of such a big purchase, it's gratis.' she says. 'The floo powder is in a drawer next to the fireplace.'

'Thank you, Miss.' Snape says, nodding curtly.

When he steps into the support area, Harry is already dressed in his new clothes. Deep black really suits him for some reason.

'Looking sharp, Harry.' Severus says with acknowledgement.

~Now I'm looking more like you.~ Harry notices.

His words make Severus' heart sink.

It's more than obvious, that Severus has grown to become a role model and a Father figure in Harry's eyes. Even more than that - Severus has grown to become a person, that Harry wants to protect.

On the one hand, he is genuinely proud and flattered.

On the other... he feels that it is not entirely fair towards Harry. Harry still thinks, that Morfin Gaunt had died in the fire, and Severus is guilty of concealing the truth from him.

Unfortunately, Severus  still cannot tell him the truth. Dumbledore's wrath is still too much to handle.

He will have to wait for a better chance, for better circumstances. He will have to wait until Dumbledore is weaker; until his true face is revealed and his authority in people's eyes is entirely undermined. Then, no longer will he have to be afraid.

Then, he will do whatever it takes to reunite Harry with his Father.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Having used the clothes store's floo network, Harry and Severus find themselves back at Hogwarts.

Severus wants Harry to have a light meal; his first solids after a couple of weeks on nourishing potions.

They leave Snape's office and head towards the kitchens. The castle's passageways are empty and silent; it's early afternoon and the vast majority of students are having classes.

They enter entrance hall and Severus extends his hand to enter the door, that leads to the kitchens.

However, before he has a chance to grab the doorknob, the door opens from inside.

Albus Dumbledore, with a big fake smile on his face, stands in the doorway.

Harry jumps back and hisses dangerously. He pulls his wand out and aims it at Albus, holding it in a firm, two-handed grip.

The mutilated snake sticks his flat head out of the boy's chest pocket, hissing warningly at Dumbledore.

'Oh, young Harry.' the Headmaster says softly, in a conversational tone. 'I was delighted to hear about your recovery and your return to school. I came down here to greet you personally...'

His voice drowns out in loud and angry hisses from Harry and his familiar.

'Headmaster, I must ask you to stay away from Harry.' Severus says firmly. 'He obviously doesn't want  neither your personal greetings, nor your company in general, and I'm afraid he does have solid reasons for that.'

'Oh, is that so?' Dumbledore says in a "heartbroken" voice. 'And I was willing to apologize to young Harry for our little accident during the Sorting Ceremony...'

~Accident?!~ Harry growls. ~Accident?! You've nearly killed me! You've mutilated my familiar! He will never be able to move around on his own! YOU'VE BLOWN US UP! This is what you are calling an accident?!~

'Oh, my dear boy, could you please remind me, who had pounced on me and knocked me down, before the accident happened?'  Dumbledore asks calmly.

~That's because you are torturing Ssseveruss! You upset his serpent and inflict him more pain than he can handle! And nobody but me can notice when you are doing it! Don't you think, that I'll allow you to do that again!~ Harry yells.

'Listen, Harry...' Dumbledore loses his deceiving, grandfatherly tone. 'You must understand, that I'm being really lenient with you right now... For a violent physical assault on any school faculty member - yet alone a Headmaster - I could easily put you in front of Wizengamot, and have you sentenced in notime. In notime, Harry. A prison for underage Wizards if you're very lucky; Azkaban, if you are a little bit less lucky. That's not a joke, boy. The same goes for a verbal assault... threatening... that is, exactly what you are doing right now... And let's not forget about you pointing your wand towards me for some reason, which also is punishable.'

Harry smirks, not lowering his wand.

'Lower your wand, boy.' Albus says through clenched teeth.

~You can suck my...~

'Headmaster, please, let us through the door.' Snape says quickly, cutting Harry off. 'We were heading to the kitchens, Harry needs to eat something nutritious after his ordeal...'

'Not so fast.' Dumbledore says harshly. 'Harry is supposed to be in class, Severus.'

Snape raises his eyebrows, confused.

'Harry has just been discharged from the hospital, Headmaster. Shouldn't he have a little bit more time for recovery?'

'No, Severus, I would say it's the other way around. Harry has already lost almost four weeks worth of classes and studying. I think it is going to be much better for him, if he started catching up as soon as possible.' Dumbledore says calmly and looks at Harry, who flinches and hisses warningly.

'He needs to eat before he goes to classes.' Snape says.

'I would say you two had more than enough time to eat a lunch, Severus, judging by the fact, that you've found the time to go clothes shopping.' Dumbledore says, eyeing Harry's new outfit contemptuously.

'We had to. Harry's old clothes were damaged in the explosion.' Snape snarls, losing his patience.

'And you decided to get this, instead of a school uniform. Splendidly... Well, Harry's class is having  Transfiguration at the moment; let's  just hope that Professor Macgonagall won't decide to take points from Slytherin, for the lack of the school robes and  lack of the textbooks.'

Both Harry and Severus look daggers at the Headmaster.

'Let's go, Harry. I'll take you to the Transfiguration classroom.' Albus says, going back to his grandfatherly tone.

He takes a step forward, but Snape grabs Harry's hand and steps back.

'Let me take care of this, Headmaster.' Severus says coldly. 'I'll show Harry the way to his classroom.'

Chapter Text

Transfiguration is not- and has never been - Harry's cup of tea.

Harry has always been putting a lot of effort into developing his skills and growing stronger in the fields, which he had found himself passionate about.

 He has always excelled as a duelist, distinguishing himself with his wide range of powerful defensive and offensive spells, extremely sharp senses and quick reflexes.

He also has always been extraordinarily good with living creatures; all kinds of plants and animals seem to enjoy his company and easily bend to his will.

On the contrary, branches of magic that require precision and finesse,  such as Transfiguration, have never belonged on Harry's list of favorites.

He has never even considered exploring the art of Transfiguration on a level deeper than superficial, or starting any personal development towards this branch of magic.

Therefore, now, looking into wide, round eyes of Professor Macgonagall, he is sincerely unsure how to react.

The elderly Witch seems genuinely shocked by Harry's Transfiguration performance, even though all he did was fulfilling a couple of baby-level assignments she had given him.

Having joined the class, Harry was asked to transfigure a match into a needle, which is a standard, simplest Transfiguration exercise  for each of the Hogwarts' newcomers.

 Seeing how easily Harry has dealt with this task, Professor Macgonagall asked him to perform  few more complex Transfigurations. After he managed them efortlessly and spotlessly, she took off her own wristwatch, asking him to turn it into an alarm clock.

Harry was actually very lucky to remember, from his stay at Spinner's End, what an alarm clock actually looks like. He is able to superficially re-structure the wristwatch and make it look like an alarm clock from outside.

What Harry did, is basically only a number of cosmetic changes; Macgonagall reacts, like if she has just witnessed a godlike miracle.

 'Mr Gaunt, I have been teaching here for thirty-five years, but  never have I seen such a performance from  a freshman.' she says quietly.

~It doesn't reflect well on this pathetic excuse for a school, does it?~ harry hisses flatly.

'I...I cannot understand you, Mr Gaunt, but I reward Slytherin with twenty points for your extraordinary skills.' the elderly woman says.

~Whatever. I don't care.~

'Mr Gaunt, over the last weeks I've noticed at least six freshmen, who are going to need extra classes and a tutor's guidance to help them with their practical magical performance.' Macgonagall  goes on, shooting a quick glance towards a chubby boy with a Gryffindor crest on his chest. 'As a fellow freshman, you would be a perfect candidate for a tutor. What'd you say?'

Harry flinches.

~Like hell I would.~ he hisses. ~Accepting a bunch of Squibs into your school doesn't reflect well on it either, you know. You've accepted them;  now, deal with the consequences on your own.~

Much to Harry's relief, a sound of schoolbell cuts the annoying conversation off.

'Your homework assingment: a two-feet long essay about four basic pillars of Transfiguration.' Macgonagall says. 'Class dismissed.'

Before leaving the classroom, Harry politely advices Macgonagall where to shove her two-feet long essay. Not understanding any of his words, she gives him a bright smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Defense against the Dark Arts. An official - although a little bit longish - name of the next class.

The Professor, Quirinius Quirrell, is a weird man. He's very young, but already damaged by life; he seems to either have experienced some traumatizing events in his past, or developed a terrible anxiety for some other reasons.

He stutters and cowers, holding a lecture for Harry's class. His voice is annoyingly high-pitched. What is more - although he is talking about rather harmless and boring Dark creatures, such as Red Caps - he seems to be terrified for some reason.

Harry leans back in his chair, waiting impatiently for the lecture to be over and for the practical part of the class to start.

Much to his (and apparently most of his classmates') disappointment, Quirrell goes on with his unappealing speech almost until the end of the class.

'V-very w-well.' he says finally. 'L-let's check if y-you p-paid attention d-during the l-lecture. W-who can d-describe the physical appearance of a R-red C-cap f-for me?'

A bushy-haired girl sitting in a front row raises her hand and moves her fingers in the air to draw Quirrell's attention.

'M-miss...?'

'Granger, sir. Red Caps are short creatures, approximately three feet tall. Their claws are long and sharp. Their eyes are reddish and their skin color is an olive shade of green.'

The girl's voice is obnoxious. She seems to be a kind of person, who is extremely full of herself.

'S-splendidly, Miss Granger. F-five points to G-Gryffindor. N-now, I n-need somebody to d-describe the places, w-where the R-Red C-Caps can be found. P-perhaps s-somebody f-from S-Slytherin f-for a change?' Quirrell stutters.

Nobody from Slytherin is as eager to answer in front of the class, as the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl.

'Anyone...? P-perhaps...M-Mr Gaunt...?'

~Red Caps are known for inhabiting places, where the soil is fertilized by human blood. ~ Harry hisses quietly. ~Usually, they settle down on former battlefields, and other places where a violent bloodshed had once happened.~

Eyes of everybody in the classroom focus on Harry, who suddenly realizes that his answer has obviously been incomprehensible.

~Splendidly, Mr Gaunt, Slytherin earns ten points.~

Harry's eyes widen; the words in Parseltongue have just been uttered by Quirrell.

~Speaker? ~ Harry asks in disbelief.

Quirrell's face unexpectedly turns horribly white, like if he has just caught himself on doing something awfully wrong.

'Mr G-Gaunt, p-please stay after c-class. T-the rest of you i-is d-dismissed.~ he says, switching back to English (and to his usual stuttering).

The freshmen eagerly leave their seats and chaotically head towards the door, nudging each other and yelling.

Harry stays in his desk, with his heart pounding. Finding another Speaker inside of this good-for-nothing school is a true miracle.

His decision of going back to Hogwarts after being deadly injured has just turned out to be a blessing.

As soon as the last student leaves the classroom, Harry turns towards the young teacher.

~Are you really a Speaker?~ he asks.

'N-no... actually, it's n-not me.' Quirrell answers.

'Let me handle it, Quirinus.'  a different, deeper, far-reaching voice says, causing both Harry and Quirrell to flinch.

'M-my L-lord...' Quirrell mutters, clearly terrified.

'Quirinus, you coward; let me speak to the boy!' the deep voice says harshly.

Quirrell's face winces. In a quick, panic-stricken movement, he tears his weird purple headgear off, and turns around, standing back to Harry.

The boy squeaks in shock. The backside of the man's head is another person's face.

A flat forehead,  very pale, almost grayish skin and a non-distinctive, almost nonexistent nose, make this face serpent-like.

~I am the Speaker.~ the Other Person says in a deep, but soft voice. ~You've intrigued me, boy. I'd never thought I would encounter another one here, at Hogwarts.~

~Who would imagine...~ Harry whispers.

~Your last name sounds familiar, boy.~ the stranger says. ~Any relation to Marvolo Gaunt?~

~I'm his grandson.~

The stranger's eyes widen.

Harry is shook by these eyes' striking appearance: the irises are scarlet like arterial blood, with darker, crimson rings around each pupil.

~Could you possibly be... ~ the red-eyed stranger hisses. ~No, that's not possible, you're far too young to be Merope Gaunt's child...~

~Merope is my Aunt, although I never had a chance to meet her.~ Harry explains. ~I'm a son of her elder brother, Morfin.~

Silence.

The stranger seems to be shocked by Harry's words.

~I'm Merope Gaunt's son and Marvolo Gaunt's grandson, what would make the two of us first cousins.~ the red-eyed hisses finally. ~ Considering fact that ability to Speak is passed on via blood, the two of us were bound to be related in one way or another, but I would have never expected having such a close living family member.~

~That's not all. ~ Harry notices. ~ That would also make you a Heir of Salazar Slytherin, wouldn't it? You're older than me, that makes you first in line to the heirship.~

The red-eyed looks at the boy cautiously.

~Is ... your Father dead?~ he asks.

~ Unfortunately, yes. He died in a fire a couple of months ago.~ Harry admits.

The red-eyed goes silent for a while, apparently lost in his thoughts.

~Ehm... I don't mean to be disrespectful or whatnot...~ Harry starts hesitantly. ~But... what happened to you?~

The boy didn't mean to ask so bluntly about his cousin's weird condition, that causes him to be somehow attached to Quirrell's body, but he figured that the red-eyed man isn't going to address the issue on his own.

~You have the misfortune to see me in a vulnerable, pathetic form, young cousin.~ the red-eyed hisses quietly, lifting his eyes at the boy.. ~ At this point, I am less than a human being, less even than a ghost. In order to survive, I have to inhabit other forms of life. I have to live like a parasite, using other creatures' respiratory systems, circulatory systems and digestive systems to support my severely weakened body.~

Harry gasps.

~Do you mean, that your body wouldn't be able to sustain itself on its own? You have to be attached to other creature to survive?~ he asks.

~ Exactly.~ the red-eyed admits.

Harry thinks about Quirrell- a stuttering, extremely insecure mess as a man and a personification of mediocricity as a Wizard.

~ Please don't get me wrong, but why was Quirrell your man of choice? I mean, as a Speaker, you surely do have  a snake familiar...?~

The Cousin's scarlet eyes brighten.

~I do.~ he hisses quietly. ~I have been living thanks to her sacrifice for years. Quirrell was an only way for me to get into Hogwarts.~

Harry winces.

~This place is a mess.~ he states with disgust. ~ Why would you want to get in here?~

The red-eyed looks at the boy cautiously for a while.

~I suppose you've already had a chance to meet our beloved Headmaster.~ he hisses.

Harry's emerald eyes darken and a deep shadow filts across his face.

~I have.~ he admits gravely.

Seeing emotions reflected on the boy's face at the mention of Dumbledore, the red-eyed's thin lips curl up into a smile.

~Young cousin.~ he hisses quietly. ~Could you do me a favor?~

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

~Unbelivable.~ Harry hisses quietly, petting a middle head of a giant Cerberus.

The enormous animal seems to be the most miserable, unhappy creature Harry has ever seen.

~Keeping the big dog here at school posssessss a danger to itssss ssstudentsss.~ Grassie says, apparently interpreting Harry's concern the wrong way.

~Screw the students.~ the boy hisses. ~ Look at him. He cannot even turn around in this cramped room. He's forced to lie down in the middle of his own feces.~

Harry indicates the floor, which is indeed  covered with a thick layer of some nasty stuff.

~And what is that?~ Harry adds, looking at two big bowls in a corner of the room.

 The first one contains some leftovers of what looks and smells like rotten meat. The other one is empty.

~It's so stuffy here, and he doesn't even have water to drink.~ Harry mutters, grossed out and outraged.

~They might not be giving the big dog enough food and water, young Ssspeaker, not to have it urinating and defecating  too much.~ Grassie notices. ~It sssemsss that nobody isss cleaning thissss room either.~

~That's barbaric.~ Harry mutters. ~Aquamenti!~

His spell fills the Cerberus' bowl with fresh water. The enormous dog reacts immedietly; he bolts upright and pounces on his bowl, almost knocking it over. He drinks greedily with his all three heads at once and empties the bowl in notime.

~He really is thirsty.~ Harry hisses and refills the bowl.

The Cerberus empties the bowl within a couple of seconds and Harry keeps conjuring water for him, until his burning thirst is finally clenched.

In the meantime, the boy casts a couple of cleansing spells; not enough to get rid of the thick layer of feces, but enough to create a clean spot for the huge dog to rest on.

When the creature lies down on the clean floor, three pairs of small black eyes are looking at Harry... he could swear, they are looking at him gratefully.

~Hope you don't mind if we use the trapdoor?~ the boy whispers.

The Cerberus doesn't look like he was about to get up anytime soon.

Harry opens carefully the wooden trapdoor.

A dark hole; no rope and no ladder.

The boy asks Grassie to keep his head low and jumps into the hole.

The landing is unexpectedly soft, thanks to a rampant plant growing in a dark room.

Grassie sticks his head out and opens his flat nostrils.

~Devil's Snare.~ he hisses warningly.

Harry draws his wand in a quick move, and casts a powerful "Lumos", creating a bright light sphere upon the soft green surface.

The Devil's Snare sprouts immedietly shrink. Contrary to Harry's expectations, there is no floor underneath the monstrous plant - just another dark hole, apparently leading to a lower level.

Harry falls down in and lands gracefully on bent knees.

He finds himself in a gloomy, humid passageway, which seems to be the only way forward.

The corridor leads to another room, this time - an enormous, high-ceilinged one. Unlike the cramped room upstairs,  this one seems optimal to keep a huge Cerberus, without risking him to develop ulcres and rashes from lying in his own feces.

However, somebody had a brilliant idea to fill the room with a bunch of tiny birds instead.

~Young Sssspeaker, thesssse are no birds.~ Grassie speaks, after Harry has verbalized his poor opinion about the obstacles' designer. ~Thesssse are keyssss. Apparently one of them issss fitting to the lock of the door leading forward.~

Harry raises his eyebrows, walking across the high-ceilinged room towards the door.

~These are keys? Well, the designers had no luck again.~ he says and kicks the door powerfully.

The door violently breaks apart into wooden planks.

Grass Snake lifts his bright, yellow eyes at his young master.

~Dragon leather boots with enhanced soles.~ the boy explains shortly, smiling at his familiar.

~Well, thinking about thisss, young Ssspeaker, you usssed to be a decent kicker even being bare-footed.~ Grassie notices. ~With durable, sssolid shoesss, you can probably break mossst doorsss down.~

The next room is also quite spacious (how could they lock a giant dog up in such cramped conditions, having so many better options?!) and contains something, what looks like an engorged version of a board game Harry'd seen on Spinner's End amongst Severus' stuff.

Black and white marble statues stand in rows on the board, facing each other.

~Is that a game we're supposed to play?~ Harry mutters.~ I don't even know the name of it.~

He starts slowly making his way across the huge board, and - just like he's anticipated - the giant figures all pounce on him at once in a quite uncoordinated attack.

Of course, being huge, heavy and made of marble, the statues have much less freedom of movement and dexterity than an athletic, quick-witted young boy.

Harry effortlessly dodges the clumsy attacks and reaches the other side of the chamber, where he gives the oak door the same treatment he gave the previous one.

Another huge room. A strong, rotten odor hit Harry's nostrils powerfully.

~Watch out, Ssspeaker. Moutain Troll.~ Grassie hisses warningly.

Harry lifts his head, just in time to see a huge, grey-skinned anthropomorphic creature taking a wide swing backwards with its mace.

Harry dodges the strike and pulls his wand out, preparing for a fight.

He catches himself on watching the Troll's toes, and curses quietly. He is so used to fight in a team with Grassie, that he subconsciously expects the snake to spring vigorously on the giant creature's legs and - like always- tie them up together, immobilizing the enemy.

Not anymore.

They are never going to fight together anymore, now, when Grassie is permanently crippled.

Now, Harry has to fight alone to protect both himself and his familiar.

~Confringo.~ the boy hisses, aiming his wand at the mace. The crude tool explodes into wooden splinters, and the Troll goes berserk.

He growls in a horrible, far-reaching voice and charges the boy, apparently willing to smash him to the ground.

Harry points his wand towards the Troll's knees and hisses a command in Parseltongue, creating a durable black smudge - the same one, that he used in Hogwarts Express to seal his compartment up.

The smudge glues the giant's legs together. He collapses on his belly with a muffled bang.

Harry immedietly immobilizes also the Troll's arms.

~What should we do with him?~ he asks hesitantly, looking down at the wriggling creature on the ground.

 The Troll is just another magical creature who had been taken from its natural habitat and locked up in an underground room, without proper nourishment or fresh water,  as a part of a ridiculous obstacle course. He's a prisoner here, just like the Cerberus.

~Put him to sssssleep.~ Grassie hisses quietly.

Harry's eyes brighten.

 Parselmagic-induced sleep introduces one's body into a state of deep hibernation.  That simple ability has been helping the serpent throughout the centuries  to survive cold seasons and long periods of time without food.

He kneels down beside the Troll's disproportionally small head and presses his wand against it, hissing some complex, soothing incantations.

The giant creature gradually relaxes, finally closing his watery eyes and plunging into sleep.

Harry and Grassie leave him, heading towards the entrance.

The next chamber is not spacious and reminds an ordinary room in a basement. The only piece of furniture it contains, is a long table with seven glass vials standing on it in a line.

As soon as Harry finds himself close to the table, suddenly a fire springs up in the doorways, both in the one leading onwards and in the one leading back.

Flames are glittering with some unusual colors; a bright shade of violet in case of the doorway behind Harry, and a deep dark, almost black for the doorway in front of him.

The seven glass vials on the table in the middle of the chamber clearly indicate some kind of a riddle, which  is supposed to  be solved to go further. There is even a piece of parchment, written in a neat penmanship, apparently containing a list of clues.

~Isss one of thesse potionsss going to enable walking through the flamesss, young Ssspeaker?~ Grassie asks.

~Dunno. I can't read that anyway, so I'm going to solve this riddle in a good old-fashioned way.~ the boy replies and draws his wand, casting a wordless "Expulso" upon the table.

The seven glass vials blast apart, spilling their contents all over the table. Mixed fragrances of seven different potions hit Harry's nostrils powerfully.

After a couple of seconds - much to the boy's astonishment - the glass splinters and spilled fluids vanish without a trace. The glass vials, unscratched and filled with potions, reappear on the table out of nowhere.

~Crap.~ Harry mutters, somewhat confused. ~So much for the effect.~

He approaches the doorway leading onwards. Despite of the altered color, the dark fire looks like a variation of Cursed Flames .

~Grassie, keep your head low.~ Harry says. ~ I'm going to mix these flames with my own. The entirety will be easier to put out.~

As soon as the snake disappears entirely in the pocket, the boy points his wand towards the burning doorway.

~Fiendfyre!~ he hisses, and a blazing stream shoots out of his wand.

Contrary to Harry's expectations, his red and golden fire stream doesn't fuse itself into the dark flames in the doorway. It interlaces itself with them, creating an astonishing, beautiful riot of colors.

The boy, stunned by the amazing spectacle, takes a wide swing backwards with his wand and lowers it violently, turning the pointed end towards the ground.

The flames vanish.

Harry sighs and walks through the empty doorway.

The next chamber is... odd.

There is nothing inside, except for a wardrobe-sized mirror.

Another riddle...?

Harry frowns and looks around the room, looking for any hint or a hidden clue. Grassie sticks his head out of the pocket.

~Young Sssspeaker, there is no door leading forward.~ the snake notices.

Harry feels a rush of excitement; his familiar is right. They have apparently reached their final destination.

~The Sorcerer's Stone has to be in this room!~ the boy exclaims.

~Posssibly. But there alssso may be a hidden passssage inssside of thisss mirror.~

Harry comes up to the mirror and extends his hand to touch its smooth, cold surface.

He feels disappointed. There is nothing special about this mirror; except maybe for a long caption engraved in its frame, which Harry is unable to read anyway.

There is nothing indicating existence of a hidden passage inside.

No trace of the Sorcerer's Stone.

Harry clenches his fists, ready to punch the mirror and smash it into tiny pieces. He has yet another reason to be outraged and infuriated by Dumbledore's politics.

There is a barely alive man - Harry's first cousin - who cannot breathe, eat or move around on his own and has to lower himself to a level of a leech, surviving by parasitizing on others.

There is a miraculous artifact - the Sorcerer's Stone - which could give Harry's cousin a new life providing him with a new, strong, healthy, fully-functional body.

And finally, there is a twisted-minded, old megalomaniac -Albus Dumbledore - who is apparently obsessed on keeping the Stone for himself to such a ridiculous degree, that he had even designed a complex obstacle course to protect it.

Granted, the obstacle course is easy enough to be efortlessly destroyed by an eleven-year-old with a crippled familiar. Then again - the course clearly had not been designed for a fully capable, physically fit Wizard, but rather for someone with some major physical and magical restrictions.

Specifically - for Harry's half-alive cousin.

The boy takes a swing backwards with his clenched fist  to smash the old coot's disgusting mirror, but suddenly - he feels a significant weigh and unpleasant coldness in his hip pocket.

Taken aback, he reaches back to his pocket and touches a smooth, cold surface of an oblong object.

He pulls it out and gasps.

A small, sleek stone, in a beautiful shade of scarlet - identical with his cousin's eyes.

~Young Sssspeaker, that's the Ssssorcerer'ssss Sssstone! How did you do that?~ Grassie hisses in disbelief.

~I'm... not sure.~ Harry admits, stunned. ~I was just standing in front of this mirror and suddenly felt it in my pocket.~

~Sssso, the mirror wasss not a portal, but rather an ultimate protection of the Ssstone?~ the snake whispers.

~It seems so, but that's ridiculous, ain't it? Dumbledore could have just kept the mirror in his office, instead of creating this whole assault course.~ Harry mutters.

~And, if he wanted the Sssstone for himssself ssso badly, he could just have keept it alwayssss  in hisss pocket.~ Grassie adds.

~Or better in his ass.~ Harry mutters. ~Let's go to the Quirrell's office. My cousin is there; as soon as we deliver the Stone, he can immedietly start brewing the potion.~

~Young Ssspeaker, it's three in the morning.~ Grassie notices.

~Crap.~ Harry swears and casts a quick "tempus". Not surprisingly, the snake's internal clock again proves itself to be flawless. ~The whole endeavor took us longer than I had expected.~

He puts the Stone into his inner pocket and turns around, quickly heading back towars the door.

~You must rest, young Ssspeaker. Did Ssseverusss  ssspecify where isss a place for you to sssleep in that ssschool?~

Harry blinks. He realizes, that he has no idea where he should head for a night rest while at Hogwarts.

He had a couch in a living room at Spinner's End, and he had his sickbed as an inpatient in St Mungo's. Here, he has never been told anything about sleeping arrangements.

Having his way almost cleared, Harry quickly and effortlessly reaches the end of the first corridor, where the ceiling is covered with rampant sprouts of Devil's Snare.

The boy deals with the nasty plant, conjuring a glowing orb, and casts a powerful Levicorpus jinx upon himself.

Harry allows himself to freely ascend upside-down, until he reaches the closed wooden trapdoor. He breaks it down with a single powerful kick, and climbs up back to the cramped chamber on the castle's third floor.

The Cerberus appears to be sleeping - or, at least, two of his three heads are.

The third one is apparently on a guard; small black eyes glitter in the dim light of Harry's wand.

There is something in the giant dog's eyes...

~We don't have a place to sleep.~ Harry whispers to him.

The boy is perfectly aware that the dog probably cannot understand his words, but his Parsel-Legilimency is a tool powerful enough to get the simple message across.

Much to Harry's astonishment, the Cerberus moves his "guarding  head" to the side, clearly making a place for the boy.

Harry makes an eye-contact with the beast again - this time making sure, that he and Grassie are invited to spend the night in the Cerberus' company.

The boy crawls up inbetween the massive heads and makes himself comfortable, leaning back against the middle-head's giant neck.  He also helps Grassie to climb up on one of the huge paws, where the snake immedietly curls up, burying himself in the furry softness.

In the pleasant warmth, Harry's eyelids are quickly getting heavy.

Slowly falling asleep, he notices with half-open eyes the giant dog's "awake-head" getting close to him and sniffing him curiously.

~Oh, right.~ Harry whispers. ~You deserve an explanation.~

He reaches to his inner pocket and pulls out the scarlet Stone, lifting it up for the dog to see.

~That is the only reason you had been dragged to this place.~ Harry says apologetically. ~ That is the only reason you had to endure imprisonment in a cramped room, without proper food or clean water, lying in the middle of your own feces.~

The Cerberus' "awake head" droops and lies down on the floor.

Harry sighs.

Yes, he has never seen a more unhappy and miserable creature than this one.

~It's already over.~ the boy whispers soothingly. ~ Soon, you are going to be free again. I'm in charge of the Stone now.~

Chapter Text

'There you are!  Harry, where on earth have you been?'

~Oh, Ssseveruss, good to see you. Do you know where I can get raw meat ? But, like, in a large quantity?~

'I...wh...raw meat?' Severus repeats in confusion. 'Harry, you have no idea how worried I've been! You disappeared for the whole night!  Now, what do you need raw meat for?!'

~For a Cerberus. He probably hasn't had any proper meal in weeks.~ Harry explains.

"White as a sheet" would be a good term to describe Severus' face after the boy's words.

In a panic-stricken movement, he grabs Harry's wrist and drags him into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind.

'Harry, what have you done?!' he whispers, looking at the boy with wide eyes. 'You have been on the third-floor corridor, haven't you?'

~Yes, I have.~ Harry hisses impatiently. ~ So what? Is it forbidden or whatnot?~

'Actually, yes, it is.' Severus hisses.

Harry raises his eyebrows.

~Oh, because of this?~ he asks coldly, reaching to his hip pocket.

He pulls the scarlet Stone out.

 Snape gasps loudly and takes a step back.

'Harry...How...Why...?' he whispers.

~There's no need to keep this ridiculous obstacle course up there, so I'm taking the dog away from this castle.~ Harry says firmly. ~I'm thinking upon a best way to sneak him outside, and I want to feed him beforehand, because...~

'Harry!' Snape places his hands on the boy's shoulders and shakes some sense into him; not violently, but hard enough for Harry to hiss in confusion and irritation. 'Are you even aware, what kind of danger did you expose yourself to?  Why on earth did you decide to go there? What kind of insane idea was that?! How did you even...wait...'

Snape stops mid-sentence, and his pupils widen suddenly.

'Harry.' he says cautiously. 'How did you manage to solve the potions riddle?  You're illiterate!'

Harry narrows his eyes.

~No, you wait.~ he hisses. ~How do you know about the potions riddle? Have you been down there?~

Snape sighs.

'Harry, I have designed this riddle.' he says slowly.

Harry's eyes widen.

~You were the one to design this assault course?~ he asks in disbelief.

'No, not the entire thing.' Snape explains anxiously. 'Only this particular chamber. A big part of the Hogwarts' faculty was involved into designing this assault course. Dumbledore had made us each come up with an obstacle, and then he put everything together himself.'

~Oh.~ Harry mutters, actually not surprised. ~ Tell me then, was it the old coot's idea to make this assault course so approachable? I mean, the toddler-level obstacles seemed suspiciously to be designed specifically for my disabled cousin. That would make a lot of sense, judging by the fact, that my cousin seems to be the only person to actually need this Stone.~

Harry lifts his eyes at Severus and flinches, seeing countless drops of sweat on the young man's pale forehead.

'Your... your cousin, Harry?' he asks slowly.

~ Ssseverusss, you really freak me out today. ~ Harry states, annoyed. ~What you are so paranoid about? Yes, it turned out that I have a close relative here at Hogwarts. Is that really so shocking? Why are you behaving so oddly?~

Severus stares at the boy, clearly unsure what to say.

Harry puts the Stone back into his inner pocket and extends his hand towards Snape.

~Would you like to meet my cousin? I have to deliver the Stone to him anyway and the sooner I do it, the better. Please, Ssseveruss. Come with me. There is nothing to be scared of.~

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry watches Severus falling down on his knees in front of the Scarlet-Eyed.

'My...my Lord...' Snape whispers in disbelief.

Scarled-Eyed's thin lips curl up into a smile.

'Severus, my friend.' he says quietly.

Harry raises his eyebrows.

~ You two know each other?~ he asks in confusion.

Snape turns his head towards Harry and meets his eyes. For a good while, he seems to be searching for adequate words.

'Harry.' he says finally. 'There is... a lot of things out there, that you don't know about... yet.'

Harry snorts.

~Enlighten me.~ he says dryly, crossing his arms on his chest.

Severus picks himself up from his knees and sits in one of the armchairs.

'Harry, most importantly, you need to know, that the Wizarding Britain... has not always looked the way it looks now. It hasn't always been ruled by Albus Dumbledore.'  Snape starts apprehensively, his eyes clearly saying  I'm not supposed to tell you that.  'Once upon a time, our Headmaster was not as influential and popular as he is now.' Severus continues.  'Actually, he used to have a large group of political and ideological opponents, Wizards and Witches of all ages, and this group... used to be led by no other, than your cousin here.'

Harry gasps, looking at Scarlet-Eyed.

Scarlet-Eyed nods, confirming Severus' words.

~Our group has been getting larger and stronger throughout the years, more and more Wizards and Witches were willing to unite under our banner.~ he hisses. ~Eventually, we started a war for domination over the Wizarding World. This was one of the biggest conflicts in our history, known as the Great Wizarding War. I am sure you are familiar with that term.~

~Well, I'm too young to remember the War, but yes, I have heard about it.~ Harry admits. ~I assume that you must have gotten severely injured during the War, what resulted in your... current state. Am I right?~

Severus and Scarlet-Eyed exchange quick looks.

'Harry.' Severus says cautiously. 'You were the one to reduce your cousin to such a state.'

 Harry feels an ice-cold cramp in his stomach.

No, that's not possible...

~W-what...?~ he asks absently.

Severus looks at him with a genuine compassion in his dark eyes.

'Harry, please, sit down. We are going to explain you everything.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the next hour, Severus and Voldemort are sitting in front of the boy, telling him the long and complex story of the Wizarding War, the Prophecy and  the disastrous Halloween night, when the Dark Lord has fallen.

The whole dreadful truth, that has been concealed from Harry for years, is now being revealed.

Voldemort is telling the major part of the story, using Parseltongue and keeping his voice calm and soothing, trying to keep the boy's emotional shock to minimum. Snape supplements his Lord's explanations, interjecting stories from his own experience.

Harry doesn't interrupt. He is sitting with wide, round eyes and impenetrable face.

When the topic is finally exhausted and neither Severus nor Voldemort have anything more to add, silence falls over the room.

Dead silence.

'...Harry?' Severus asks apprehensively after a while.

~Prophecy...~ Harry hisses absently. ~ All of that... was based upon a Prophecy...?~

'Well...' Snape mumbles.

The Dark Lord nods silently.

~Ssseveruss, you said you had overheard  contents of the Prophecy yourself.~ Harry's voice is surprisingly cool and emotionless. ~Could you repeat the part you had managed to register?~

Snape leans forward.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.'  he recites quietly. 'That's not the entirety. I had been thrown out of the pub before hearing the rest...'

Harry's eyes widen.

~From the pub? You didn't mention a pub, Ssseveruss. You've been eavesdropping on the Seer in a pub?  ~ he asks, confused.

'The Seer who had created the Prophecy is currently one of the Hogwarts' Professors.' Snape explains. 'She's gotten the premonition during her job interview the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade. This pub belongs to the Headmaster's brother, Aberforth Dumbledore.'

Harry exhales slowly.

~The Headmaster was the one to hold the interview.~ the boy's words are a statement, not a question.

'Yes, that's correct.'

~You've gotten a tip before, that the interview is going to take place in a pub.~

Another statement.

'Yes, I have.' Severus admits.

~What is your point, young cousin?~ Voldemort asks quietly.

~Who holds a legit job interview in a pub?~ Harry asks.~ A pub, that belongs to their brother? How is that possible, that this so-called "Seer" has gotten her premonition precisely during this suspicious interview? How come you have been conveniently thrown out of the pub exactly half-way into her "revelation"?~

Severus feels a cold cramp in his stomach.

It's not like he has never pondered upon this series of odd coincidences - but, at that time, twelve years ago, he seriously had many other things to be preoccupied with.

Back then, he used to be a hot-headed, twenty-years-old kid, who struggled to re-structure his identity - from a timid pushover from an extremely abusive background, to a genuine Death Eater, respected and acknowledged by his colleagues and supervisors.

Back then, he wished to be "somebody" and accomplish "something" - at the same time being held back, haunted by painful memories of his one and only Love.

When he had managed to overhear the part of the Prophecy, he was sure, that he has achieved something meaningful. The Prophecy was believed to be the most precious piece of information out there, and Severus was excited and anxious to be the one to obtain it.

The odd circumstances of the Seer's premonition was a secondary issue and back then, and nobody paid much attention to it.

Now, however, the fishiness and inconceivableness of that situation strike Severus like a blow in the stomach.

~My Father always used to say, that the future is in a constant motion, and only our choices have a power to determine it. ~ Harry hisses. ~He considered the art of Divination a tool for manipulative Wizards and Witches.  In his eyes, the Seers were nothing more than frauds, and their Prophecies were nothing more than scam. I've always agreed with my Father on that, and our situation is just a confirmation to his beliefs.~

Silence. Snape can hear his heart pounding.

~Ssseveruss, can't you see? Dumbledore had managed to fool all three of us.~   Harry goes on. ~Now I finally know, why is he so obsessed over me. I finally understand, why was he so fixated on bringing me here, to Hogwarts. And his reaction to my Sorting...? I mean, he  completely lost it, didn't he? He hadn't wanted me in Slytherin for some reason, and when the Hat didn't act in accordance with his wishes, he went berserker...~

~What does that mean?~ Voldemort asks, narrowing his scarlet eyes. ~Did Dumbledore try to manipulate the Sorting Hat?~

Snape sighs. The memory or the disastrous Sorting Ceremony is still difficult to handle.

'Yes, he wished the Sorting Hat to put Harry into Gryffindor without even considering other options. After the Hat had disobeyed him, he wanted to vent his anger on me. When Harry stood up for me, Dumbledore literally lost control over his magic. He used an enhanced version of the explosion spell, nearly killing Harry and permanently crippling his familiar.' Severus explains briefly.

Dangerous twinkles light  Voldemort's eyes up.

~Is that true, young cousin?~ he asks.

~Yes, it is.~ Harry confirms. ~I have obviously gotten the vibes that he is specifically interested in taking control over my life, but now, the picture is complete. I think... I think I can understand everything. Would you listen to my theory?~

~If you have a theory, young cousin, I am more than willing to hear it.~ Voldemort declares.

The boy clears his throat.

~As I  picture it, Dumbledore's War efforts  seemed to be all in vain, because for so many years he hasn't managed to successfully end the conflict and achieve victory. His followers were slowly getting fed up with him, because he turned out to be an incompetent warchief and a weak leader, and nobody wants such a person to rule the Wizarding World. Having that in mind, Dumbledore has decided to come up with a secret weapon.~

Severus starts to follow Harry's track of thoughts. The boy speaks with an unbelievable maturity, forming logical conclusions, even despite of the shocking truth he has just discovered.

~A golden uber-soldier and a sacrificial lamb, all in one person, do you get it?~ Harry looks at the Dark Lord, and then moves his eyes onto Severus.  ~The Prophecy is a scam. I never had, and never will have, any power to "vanquish" you, cousin. Dumbledore had created the contents of Prophecy himself, only to make you believe in that crap. That is what made you do something as unreasonable, as going after a baby. Yes, I had repelled your Killing Curse, but I'm afraid this had nothing to do with the Prophecy. I'm afraid there was some far more creepy stuff involved.~

~What do you have in your mind, young cousin?~ Voldemort asks quietly, but - judging by his facial expression -  Severus assumes, that his Lord already knows what Harry is referring to.

~If I had an eidetic memory, I could provide you both with a penseive trail.~ Harry says calmly. ~ Unfortunately, like most people's, my long-term memory started storing information only after the age of infancy. Nevertheless, I can submit my mind to a Legilimency search. You, cousin, happen to be one the greatest Legilimency masters out there, are you not?~

Voldemort nods slowly.

~I believe I could restore your memories from when you were a baby.~ he says cautiously. ~However, young cousin, I have to ask you first: what do you expect to see?~

Harry exhales slowly.

~Our Grandfather, Marvolo, used to research dark Blood Sacrificial Rituals.~ the boy starts, and his words give Severus creeps. ~An ancient, forgotten, and very powerful branch of magic, that is able open pathways to many unnatural abilities... such as putting a stopper to death.~

Severus cowers. He does not like the direction, in which Harry's deliberations are going. Is it possible, that Dumbledore...?

~Only reaching to my earliest memories can prove me right, but I believe one of such rituals must have been involved. An infant-me has been "enhanced"  with a death-stopping sacrifice.~ Harry goes on. ~Dumbledore is a kind of person to have a knowledge in all branches of magic, and at the same time he is a kind of person to go this far to achieve his goals.~

~I am willing to prove you right, young cousin.~ the Dark Lord whispers, apparently as shocked by the boy's words as Severus.

He uses Quirrell's hand to draw a wand and point it towards Harry.

'Severus, I will need your help.' he turns towards Snape, rousing him from his thoughts. 'Even using Quirrell's magical stores, my power is insufficient to perform Legilimency on such a deep level. We will have to cast the spell simultaneously.'

Severus immedietly pulls his wand out and joins Voldemort.

'Yes, my Lord.' he replies shortly.

'Follow my lead and don't diverge, Severus.' the Dark Lord instructs. ~Harry, lower your shields and relax. It's not going to take long.~

Snape waits for Voldemort to make an eye-contact with Harry, and they utter "Legilimens" at the same time, entering the boy's mind.

According to his Lord's wishes, Severus follows his lead obediently. Voldemort makes his way quickly and surely towards Harry's earliest memories, without violating unnecessarily the more recent ones.

*

When  the journey through the boy's mind is over,  Snape finds himself in a small room.

He gasps, recognizing nursery in the Potters' house in Godric Hollow.

Walls covered in light-blue wallpaper. A small window. A wooden crib with a sleeping baby inside.

Exactly how Severus remembers it. Exactly like back then, on that disastrous night, when he found a lifeless, still warm body of Lily Evans among the debris...

Snape gasps, when the emerald-eyed, auburn-haired and still alive Lily enters the nursery.

The young man finds it painful and hard to look at his old love. He lowers his gaze, as the girl leans over the crib to hug her baby son.

'That won't make your decision any easier, Lily.'

Severus flinches at the sound of the loathsome voice. He turns around; Dumbledore is standing in the doorway.

'Albus.'

Severus' heart sinks, when he hears Lily's vibrant, youthful voice.

The girl is apparently surprised by the old Wizard's visit.

'Albus, I know how important this is, but ... I'm still hesitating. I mean... Harry... He's just a baby. We are talking about basically turning him into a walking weapon...' Lily whispers, clearly avoiding Dumbledore's eyes. 

'We are talking about turning him into a hero, Lily.' Albus replies gently. 'We are talking about turning your baby into a Savior of the Wizarding kind, worshipped and cherished worldwide. Most Mothers would be proud and happy, having the opportunity to provide their son with such a bright future.'

Lily closes her eyes and turns towards the crib.

'Does it have to be Harry, Albus?' she asks quietly.

'Well, the contents of the Prophecy have already been revealed to the Dark Lord.' Dumbledore says calmly.  'If you refuse, I will have to appoint the Longbottom boy, who also meets the requirements. Nevertheless, I won't lie to you; I would much prefer young Harry in the Savior's role. According to Frank and Alice, baby Neville was born practically a Squib, what makes Harry a much better candidate.'

Lily sighs.

'I will do it, Albus.' she says finally.

Albus smiles.

'Terrific. Have you familiarized yourself with the introduction to the Sacrificial Rituals, like I had asked you?'

'Yes, Albus, I've read everything carefully, and I already know how to perform the Ritual.' Lily answers apprehensively. 'However, this ... this is another thing in this whole endeavor that  repels me. Dark Magic... It's just not my cup of tea. Besides, I have graduated from Hogwarts merely two years ago. At school, I would have gotten punished or even expelled for practicing Dark Arts. Now, resorting to the Darkest branch of magic out there, additionally under the supervision of the Hogwarts Headmaster himself... It just doesn't feel right.'

Dumbledore snorts.

'Lily, my dear girl, school is school, and the grown-up world is the grown-up world.' he says lightly. 'In the grown-up world, nobody is going to give you a detention or take points for your actions. In the grown up-world, we do what we have to do to achieve our goals.'

Lily winces.

'I get it, Albus, but don't you think this is a little bit hypocritical...? I mean, you are the Headmaster. The words you've just addressed to me... Would you address these words to any of the Hogwarts students?'

Albus smirks.

'Lily dearest, of course I wouldn't. I wouldn't even have to; the students are going to find that out themselves sooner or later. They are going to find out as soon as they grow up.'

Lily turns towards the elderly Wizard, clearly confused and disappointed.

Albus gets serious.

'Enough small talks, Lily. Perform the Ritual as soon as you can, and when the time comes, remember which factor is necessary to unlock the ultimate protection for your son.'

Lily's emerald eyes darken and Severus' heart sinks.

'My sacrifice...' she whispers.

'Exactly. You will have to sacrifice your life to make Harry the Savior. When Voldemort will come for Harry, you are going to purposely stand on the line of fire, exposing yourself to his attack. Thanks to your sacrifice, Harry is going to become untouchable. Voldemort is undoubtedly going to use the Killing Curse against him, but the boy is going to simply bounce it. The Dark Lord is going to fall, stricken down by his own ricocheted spell, and young Harry is going to become a hero.'

Severus looks at Lily's tense, pale face. He feels unwanted tears falling down his cheeks.

'If that's what it takes, Albus.' she says quietly.

Dumbledore nods, clearly satisfied.

'I have only two terms.' Lily adds.

Albus raises his eyebrows.

'Yes?'

'After I'm gone, I want Harry to have a normal, happy childhood.' she says, looking affectionately at the sleeping baby.

'Of course.' Dumbledore shrugs  'And the second term?'

'James cannot find out.'

*

Snape gasps loudly, when the Dark Lord retreats from Harry's mind.

When Severus opens his eyes, he finds himself kneeling on the floor, with his eyes burning and his face in tears. A pair of emerald eyes and a pair of scarlet eyes are looking at him with concern.

'It's true.' Severus whispers in disbelief, looking at the Dark Lord. 'He did it. Dumbledore sacrificed Lily.'

'I'm really sorry, Severus.' Voldemort says quietly. 'I admit that I should have connected the dots earlier. I have asked the girl to step aside no less than three times. She refused, literally putting herself under my wand. I could have guessed, that it all was a part of the old coot's scheme.'

~I assume, that after Dumbledore realized, that the ricocheted Curse had failed to kill you, cousin, he decided to extend his schemes even further. He still wanted to use me as the "Savior", and that's the reason he's developed an unhealthy obsession over me and my life. There is only one thing he hasn't taken into consideration.~ Harry turns towards Severus. ~I'm not his "Savior" anymore. After the Blood Adoption, the "ultimate protection" I have gained thanks to the Sacrificial Ritual, has worn off and lost its power. I'm not the same person we have seen in the memory; I'm a Gaunt now. Besides, Dumbledore may not realize that, but there is one more reason I would never decide to fight against my cousin. A Speaker is forbidden from fighting against a fellow Speaker. This is a sacred rule, established a thousand years ago by Salazar Slytherin himself to protect our bloodline.~

~Indeed, this is a sacred rule.~ Voldemort confirms. ~A Speaker standing against other Speaker is an abomination and a blasphemy.~

~Dumbledore is out of luck.~ Harry sneers. ~I want you to accept my apology, Scarlet-Eyed cousin, for my unwilling contribution to your ordeal. You have been suffering a miserable fate for many years, and I'm glad I will be the one to put an end to your misfortune.~

The boy pulls the Sorcerer's Stone out of his pocket and hands it over to Voldemort.

The Dark Lord's scarlet eyes brighten.

'If I may, my Lord...' Severus starts shyly.

Voldemort and Harry turn their heads towards him.

'I want to brew the Elixir of Life for you.' Snape says quietly.

The Dark Lord looks at Severus cautiously.

'Would you really do this, Severus?' he asks with acknowledgement.

'Of course, my Lord.' the young man answers simply.

Voldemort hands the ruby-red Stone over to Severus, and the young man accepts it.

'I wish I could bring Lily back to life, Severus.' the Dark Lord says sincerely. 'Sadly, that's not possible, even having the Stone.'

Severus' face tenses, as the painful flashback kicks in powerfully.

 Lily, standing in front of Dumbledore beside Harry's crib. "If that's what it takes, Albus.."

Snape forces himself to sober up and looks up at his master.

'Bringing Lily back is not possible, my Lord.' he says quietly. 'But destroying the one who manipulated her into sacrificing herself, is.'

Chapter Text

Apart from the Sorcerer's Stone, which is extremely hard to get, the Elixir of Life doesn't require any other rare ingredients. It doesn't even require any special brewing skills.

Literally anyone, having the Stone, a cauldron, a basic ingredients kit and enough time is able to brew the potion. For an unparalleled master of this art like Severus, it doesn't even pose a challenge.

Time is the only factor needed in a large quantity. The Sorcerer's Stone has to be in its liquid form to blend into the other ingredients. It takes a good three hours to heat the Stone up in a cauldron to the temperature high enough to melt it.

Severus, Voldemort, Quirrell and Harry have locked themselves up from inside in one of the Potions labs. While Snape is busy brewing the potion, the Dark Lord has put himself and Quirrell to a parselmagic-induced sleep; in order to save as much energy for the rebirth process, as possible.

Severus is stirring in the cauldron, watching the heated Stone slowly turning into thick, scarlet liquid. Harry approaches him timidly.

~Need any help?~ the boy asks quietly.

Severus smiles at him.

'Thank you, Harry, but no, I don't. The Stone has to melt before I start adding any other ingredients.' he explains.

~You seem anxious though.~ Harry notices.

Snape nods reluctantly.

'I am, because of the amount of time it requires. I'm slightly worried about the Headmaster spotting us before the potion is ready.'

Harry's lips curl up into a smile.

~Relax. I'm sure we can hold him back if needed, giving you enough time to brew. And the potion is ready, my cousin will be able to tear Dumbledore into shreds. I heard he's pretty overpowered in his top form, isn't he?~

'Yes.' Severus smiles. 'Yes, he is.'

~Ssseverusss...~ Harry says hesitantly. ~I hope you're not too upset. You know... about my Mother.~

Snape sighs.

'No, Harry, I'm not upset.' he says. 'Disappointed would describe my feelings better. I'm disappointed in the Headmaster, because although I always knew he is an extremely manipulative person, I also always trusted him with Lily. Years ago, after the Prophecy had been revealed, I asked him to look out for Lily's safety, in exchange reducing myself basically to the role of his servant. I've always believed, that he had protected Lily to the best of his abilities, in accordance with our agreement. Finding out that he had deliberately sacrificed her life to enforce his ideas... He's just hit a new low in my eyes.'

Harry nods understandingly.

'And Lily... That may surprise you, but I'm disappointed in her, too.' Severus adds, deciding to share his deepest thoughts with the boy. 'She... she was a bright, young, talented Witch. She had so many other options, so many possibilities. If only she didn't decide to trust Dumbledore... If only she decided to approach me for help... She would still be alive, and your life could have looked completely different.'

Harry smiles.

~Acually, I wouldn't trade my life for any other.~ he states. ~You, Ssseverusss, also shouldn't spend your life on deliberating "what would happen, if". Lily wouldn't want it.~

Severus stares at the ruby-red liquid in the cauldron, feeling his cheeks flushing slightly.

~Besides...~ Harry goes on. ~It looks like she has genuinely regretted her decision. Otherwise, she wouldn't have included you as a beneficiary in her last will.~

Severus' eyes brighten.

'You're right.' he admits.

~I'm sure that leaving you the money was her way of making amends.~ Harry says. ~As soon as she knew that her life was about to end, she decided to use the means that she had left to make your life better, at least to some extent.~

Severus feels a painful cramp grabbing his bowels and throat. He finds himself unable to utter a word for a while.

He wordlessly summons some powdered newts claws and some chopped groundgonk roots and adds them to the potion. Steam billows out of the cauldron, and the thick liquid changes its color from scarlet to golden-orange.

'Speaking about your Mother's money, Harry.' Severus starts apprehensively when the cramp lets go of his throat. 'I have made a purchase that I believe you should know about.'

The boy looks at Severus curiously.

'You know that all four of us-' Severus starts, indicating Quirrell and Voldemort '-are going to need a place to stay as soon as all of this is over. I mean, the Dark Lord doesn't have any place to stay and Quirrell will be forced to go into hiding. Your house had been destroyed in the fire, and my house... Eh, you've seen the Spinner's End yourself. It's a disgusting place, without a connection to waterworks, full of cockroaches and bad memories. I decided to sell it back to the Muggle community where it belongs.'

Harry's looks at Severus, encouraging him to go on.

'Have you ever heard about Fenlands?' Severus asks, flushing slightly. 'It's a peaty lowland in eastern England, homeland of Salazar Slytherin. Quiet, peaceful area, currently inhabited mostly by croppers and cattle farmers. The most beautiful place I've ever known. I decided to... well, make my teenage dream come true. I bought an old, abandoned manor in the Fens.'

The boy's eyes widen.

~You bought a manor? But, like, an actual manor, with dozens of chambers, elaborate gardens and stuff?~ he asks in disbelief.

'I've seen the building only from outside, but I don't think there are "dozens of chambers" there, Harry. For what I've learned, it has a large drawing room and a set of six bedrooms, along with kitchens, a pantry, a laundry room, dungeons  and three bathrooms. The estate outside cannot be called "elaborate gardens", because nobody has been living there for decades. There are probably just waist-high weeds and grass there.' Snape smiles.

Harry looks at him, confused.

~Have you never been inside, then? How did you even know about existence of this manor?~ he asks.

Severus flushes slightly.

'Well, I've been to the Fenlands with Lily.' he admits. 'Summer holidays before our fifth year a Hogwarts. The most beautiful summer of my life. We... we were walking  across a heathland and saw the manor from afar. We made a promise to each other, that after we graduate, we were going to leave Cokeworth and move to the Fenlands together. I swore to Lily, that I was going to find a way to make enough money to afford the manor and make it our new home.'

Harry smiles.

~Do you think that she remembered this promise after all these years, and decided to make your dream come true?~ he asks.

Severus budges.

'Possibly.' he says quietly.

~It's so cool, that you're going to abandon Spinner's End and move to the place of your dreams. ~ Harry says cheerfully. ~The way you describe it... it really sounds miraculous. And I'm stoked that me, Grassie and Scarlet-Eyed cousin are going to move in with you.~

Severus freezes over the cauldron.

He suddenly realizes, that there is one more issue he has to come clean about.

'Harry.' he says cautiously. 'There is one more person I'd like to invite to live in the manor with us.'

~Yeah? Who, then?~

Severus lifts his eyes up at the boy.

'Your Father, Harry.'

Harry narrows his eyes, puzzled.

~My Father...?~  

'Yes, your Father. Morfin Gaunt.' Severus says calmly and firmly.

Not surprisingly, the boy is confused.

Severus takes a deep breath and tells Harry the whole story about the disastrous day, when Dumbledore burned down the Gaunt Shack and made an attempt to kill Morfin. He also describes his own contribution to Gaunt's narrow escape, followed by Dumbledore's unrefined punishment.

Having revealed the truth to Harry, Severus hangs his head low. He expects  an understandable outburst of anger from the boy.

Instead, he feels Harry's skinny arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, accompanied by the boy's cry of uncontrollable joy.

~I knew it!~ Harry yells happily. ~The rational part of my mind has accepted his death, but the emotional part of my mind's kept telling me the whole time, that Father might have survived! ~

'So... aren't you mad for concealing the truth from you?' Severus asks apprehensively.

~Are you kidding me, Ssseverusss? ~Harry exclaims. ~These are the best news I could dream of! Besides, I know perfectly well why did you have to hide the truth from me. The most important thing now, is that my Father is alive!~

'I was also thinking about a way to reunite the two of you.' Snape confesses. 'However, I still know nothing about your Father's whereabouts; and, having to remain vigilant, I haven't even tried to contact him yet...'

~Oh, that won't be a problem at all.~ Harry says airly. ~I have an idea where he might have gone, and according to my cousin, we are going to make a stop there anyway!~

Severus raises his eyebrows.

'What do you mean?' he asks, confused.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Severus and Harry freeze, when they hear somebody vigorously knocking on the door.

~Crap.~ Harry whispers, paling rapidly. ~I must have made too much noise.~

CLANK!

The knocking turns into violent hammering, as if someone was trying to break the door down.

Severus stirs anxiously in the cauldron, shooting an anxious glance towards the door.

'Severus?' a muffled, familiar voice resounds in the lab. 'Severus, I know you're inside. Open up.'

Snape catches Harry's eyes and indicates the potion, giving the boy a clear signal: "It's almost ready."

Harry nods and reaches towards a shelf, grabbing a glass bottle.

Severus sinks a ladle in the golden-orange liquid, and pulls it out, sniffing the potion.

Yes, the Elixir of Life is ready to be applied. Snape accepts the glass vial from Harry's hands and pours the potion inside.

'SEVERUS!' Dumbledore's voice gets louder and more obnoxious; hammering on the door doesn't stop. 'OPEN UP THIS INSTANT!'

Severus is really thankful to Harry for sealing the door up with his parselmagic-created black slime. Even a Wizard like Dumbledore needs some time to figure out how to undo the spell and unlock the door.

Voldemort is still plunged in deep sleep, leaning against cold stone wall. Severus kneels down beside him and presses the bottle against his thin, white lips.

'SEVERUS!' Dumbledore yells. The door crackles dangerously.

Snape shots a quick glance back; Harry - pale and sweaty - is standing in front of the barely holding door with his wand extended, ready to attack.

Severus leans the bottle out, pouring its contents into Voldemort's mouth. The Dark Lord swallows the potion in one gulp.

Much to Severus' relief, the Elixir of Life starts working immedietly.

Snape takes a couple of steps back, when Quirrell's body furls a couple of feet upwards and starts floating above the floor. The young  Wizard's muscles stiffen and his skin starts radiating a dim light.

Severus gasps, when Quirrell opens his eyes and starts screaming. Reattaching Voldemort's weakened, parasiting body from his own has just started, and apparently is unbelievably painful.

Behind the door, Dumbledore yells incantations of hexes and curses, trying more and more desperately to get inside.

 Quirrell's body falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes, leaving a misshapen, deformed homunculus up above the floor.

Snape watches the small, grotesque creature growing and building up a new, strong body. Its skeleton expands, muscles form themselves and attach to the frame, and a layer of grayish skin wraps them tightly. New internal organs prove themselves working properly, when Lord Voldemort takes a first, deep breath.

Severus summons wordlessly one of his black cloaks from the closet, and hands it over to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort descends and stands upright on his bare feet, putting on Snape's cloak. He narrows his scarlet eyes, turning towards the door, still stormed by Dumbledore.

~Harry.~ Voldemort hisses softly. ~Let him inside.~

The boy turns his pale face towards his cousin and nods. He hisses a command in Parseltongue, removing the black sludge from the doorframe.

Albus storms inside, red-faced and furious.

Seeing the Dark Lord, his light-blue eyes widen in horror.

He extends his wand towards Voldemort and casts a nonverbal spell; a stream of bright, purple light reaches the Dark Lord's newly formed body, but fails to even scratch his grayish, moist skin.

Severus watches with wide eyes the Dark Lord moving slowly towards Dumbledore.

 Voldemort's thin lips curl up into a smile, when he efortlessly grabs Albus' extended wrist and violently twists it upwards.

A horrible crack of breaking bone makes Severus flinch. Dumbledore lets out a cry of pain and falls down on his knees.

'I believe this is mine now.' Voldemort says quietly, pulling the Elder Wand out of Albus' limp hand. 'Severus?'

'M-my Lord?' Snape steps forward, feeling his mouth going dry.

'This is your revenge.' the Dark Lord whispers and steps aside.

Severus' hand is shaking, when he draws his wand and points it towards Dumbledore.

The old Wizard, deathly pale and bug-eyed, looks at Snape.

'Severus...' he whispers in a hoarse voice. 'Severus, please... I beg you...'

Severus snorts.

'You beg me?' he repeats absently. 'You beg me? Just like I begged you to protect Lily?'

The old man's face is tense and terrified.

'Severus...' he whines.

'Avada Kedavra.' Snape whispers.

A stream of green light washes over Dumbledore's chest.

It's over...

Chapter Text

Severus can still feel his heart pounding.

It cannot be true; it's way too surreal.

Yet, the evidence is right in front of him.

Dumbledore's body is disappearing quickly in three, extremely hungry mouths. The Cerberus' sharp teeth tear the old Wizard's corpse into pieces and swallow them greedily.

Blood is splattering all over the place.

The potions lab's floor is covered in blood.

The Cerberus' three mouths are dripping with blood.

Blood.

It's everywhere.

Should Severus be disturbed about the fact, that they are casually feeding the Headmaster's body to the giant dog? Killing the despised, manipulative, self-proclaimed Light Lord is one thing; disposing his corpse this way is a completely different story.

 But, then again... there they are, Harry and Voldemort; standing dangerously close to the giant creature and apparently perfectly comfortable with the horrifying sight of Dumbledore being eaten.

They definitely behave too frivolously for the given circumstances.

Leaving Severus to take care of the unconscious Quirrell, they recklessly went upstairs, protected only by a generic Disillusionment Charm. Severus didn't even try to figure out how had they actually managed to bring the Cerberus down to the dungeons, unnoticed by anybody.

~I didn't want the old coot to become a martyr, what would definitely happen if we decided to give him a proper burial.~ Voldemort explains to Harry. ~He still had way too many followers and supporters. His grave would have possibly became their place of gatherings, which might have given a birth to a new, hostile movement.~

~True.~ Harry admits, touching the Cerberus' paw. ~Besides, Dumbledore had sentenced this Cerberus to long months in captivity in appalling conditions. The giant fella deserves to at least snack on the old coot's worthless body.~

Severus exhales slowly. The conversation between two Parselmouths is so light-hearted and calm. So inadequate to the given circumstances...

~Tell me, cousin.~ Harry says airily. ~I was wondering how should I actually address you. I know you hate your given name, because you share it with your Muggle Father. I also know, that I cannot use the new name you have given yourself, because it upsets Ssseverusss' snake. Is there any other way I could call you?~

Voldemort's thin lips curl up into a smile.

~What was that name you were calling me before, young cousin?~ he asks.

Harry grins.

~Scarlet-Eyed.~ he says.

~Well, that would be an appropriate name, don't you think? You may call me Scarlet.~ Voldemort answers softly.

Snape flinches. Is it really appropriate to call the Dark Lord "Scarlet"? Well, definitely not for one of his Death Eaters... but for a young cousin of his, it may actually be plausible.

'Severus.' the Dark Lord says unexpectedly, turning towards the young man. 'Did Dumbledore use to violate your Dark Mark?'

Severus hangs his head down.

'Yes, my Lord.' he admits reluctantly.

Voldemort narrows his red eyes and extends his hand towards Severus. Snape clenches his teeth and rolls up his left sleeve, showing his forearm to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort mutters something, eyeing Snape's Mark cautiously. He presses his white, thin finger against the snake and starts whispering in Parseltongue.

The snake starts writhing like a caged animal at first, but progressively relaxes under the Dark Lord's touch.

Snape exhales slowly, as a pleasant warmth, radiating from his Mark, washes all over his exhausted body.

'The old fool has been messing with it.' Voldemort hisses angrily. 'He has polluted it with his touch. That is an abomination.'

'Forgive me, my Lord.' Severus whispers.

'That's not your fault, Severus.' the Dark Lord replies in a softer tone.

~Scarlet!~ Harry exclaims. ~Were you the one to burn the snake into Ssseverusss' skin? I knew only a fellow Speaker could be able to do this!~

Voldemort nods, still focusing his attention on the slowly writhing snake.

~I saw Dumbledore hurting it, many times.~ Harry says quietly.

The Dark Lord's eyes widen. He turns his head towards the boy.

~I was able to calm it down, but not to fix it.~ Harry goes on, indicating the snake. ~It's still squeamish and jumpy; I assumed that only its creator can fix this damage.~

Severus feels a pleasant shiver, when the snake on his Mark stops writhing and freezes.

'Thank you, my Lord.' Snape whispers.

Voldemort nods.

~Harry.~ He turns towards the boy. ~You've mentioned, that your familiar had suffered injuries from Dumbledore's hand as well.~

Harry reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out the tiny, mutilated Grass Snake. The serpent, jolted awake, opens his bright yellow eyes.

~This is Grassie.~ Harry says quietly. ~He was injured in the explosion. His tail basically blasted apart, leaving him permanently crippled. With such a large part of his body gone, he cannot move around on his own anymore.~

Voldemort nods and waves his wand, summoning nonverbally the glass vial with the Elixir of Life's leftovers.

Harry gasps and steps forward, extending Grassie towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord takes the snake gently from the boy's hands.

~I need you to tilt your head back and open your mouth, little one.~ Voldemort hisses.

Grassie, half-asleep and clearly confused, obeys the command absently.

An unusual, stunning  spectacle causes Severus' eyes to go watery.

The Dark Lord places the vial upside-down above the snake's widely open mouth. A single drop of the thick, ruby-red liquid runs down the glass and falls straight into Grassie's throat.

The small, bright-scaled body starts radiating dim, reddish light. Voldemort takes his hand off; Grassie hovers in the air on his own.

Severus can see the reddish light reflecting in Harry's wide pupils. The boy is holding his breath, watching his familiar's body healing itself and extending. Grassie is slowly building up the missing part of his backbone and ribs, wrapping them tightly with a layer of muscles and topping it off with glittery, bright scales.

Harry looks at his cured familiar in a speechless disbelief. He takes Grassie gently into his hands. The small snake almost immedietly falls asleep.

~The process uses up a lot of energy and is exhausting for a small creature.~ Voldemort explains. ~Let him sleep.~

Harry grins and places his familiar back in his chest pocket.

~I cannot believe Grassie is cured.~ the boy says cheerfully. ~Say, Scarlet; the huge dog is going with us, isn't he? Me, Grassie  and him are getting along really well; besides, I'm sure we could use some help from the giant fella .~

The Dark Lord turns towards the Cerberus, who is now licking his mouths of Dumbledore's blood.

~His species haven't been developing to live as domesticated creatures.~ Voldemort says. ~The best thing we can do for him, is releasing him into the wild.~

Harry looks somewhat disappointed, but he nods his head.

~Besides-~ Voldemort goes on  ~-there is one more person we have to take on our journey with us.~

Severus frowns and shoots his Lord a confused glance.

~Who?~ Harry asks curiously.

~Come with me.~ Voldemort says. ~I'd like you to meet my familiar from my teenage years.~

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Chamber of Secrets.

A legendary place, believed to be created by Salazar Slytherin himself.

Severus has never considered its existence to be anything more than a legend; a bedtime story for very young Wizards and Witches.

Well, not anymore.

The Chamber is a high-ceilinged, spacious room, filled with dim, greenish light, which seems not to have a source. The air around is incredibly humid and sweetish-scented, making it barely possible to breathe.

In addition to this, it's at least ninety-five degrees inside. Severus is sweating. His robes, hair and face are drenching in sweat.

He's following Voldemort and Harry across the Chamber, at the same time supporting half-conscious, weakened Quirrell. The weight of the young man draped over his shoulder causes Snape to sweat even more excessively.

The Dark Lord stops in the central point of the Chamber and starts hissing. The command in Parseltongue is complex and incomprehensible.

What happens next, makes Severus flinch, step back and almost let go of the barely-conscious Quirrell.

An enormous monstrosity appears from behind a moss-grown bulkhead and crawls up towards Voldemort.

A giant serpent. The legendary Basilisk.

The creature is at least fifty feet long. Its massive body is covered with vividly green, shiny scales. Its giant head reminds more of a dragon, than of a snake, and its eyes...

Wait. Eyes? Did Severus just look into the Basilisk's eyes, without suffering any consequences?

Yes, Severus is pretty much alive and intact, despite looking straight into huge, bright yellow eyes with darker, sandy rings around each vertical pupil.

~Young massster Tom.~ the Basilisk speaks, revealing a set of sharp, pointed teeth. A rotten, sweetish scent of its breath hit Severus' nostrils powerfully.

~Greetings, my friend.~ the Dark Lord's thin lips curl up into a smile. He seems genuinely happy to see his old familiar. ~Prepare yourself for leaving this place. We are about to depart together.~

Severus could swear, that the shade o the Basilisk's captivating eyes changes from bright yellow into golden amber.

~Depart?~ the giant creature repeats quietly. ~What about masster'sss Ssssalazar'sss asssingment?~

~It's over, my friend. You are hereby released of your post. Hogwarts is no longer under the reign of master Salazar's enemies.~ Voldemort replies.

The Basilisk's vertical pupils widen.

~Young massster Tom isss in charge of the castle now?~ he asks with a clear disbelief.

~Yes, my friend, I am in charge now.~ Voldemort confirms.

The giant serpent's eyes brighten, turning back to their original shade of yellow.

~Isss Herpo really allowed to leave hisss posst now?~

Herpo? Does the Basilisk have a name? Severus is a well-read man and he knows history; Herpo is a name of an ancient Greek breeder, who had given rise to the Basilisk species through experimental crossbreeding.

~Yes, my friend, the days of your life in captivity and loneliness are over.~ Voldemort answers.

~Isss young masster Tom going to take Herpo out of the cassstle?~ the Basilisk asks.

~No, Herpo. The other way around.~ Voldemort corrects the giant serpent with a smile. ~It is you who are going to take us out of here.~

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rational part of Severus' mind understands the necessity of travelling on the Basilisk's back through Hogwarts' sewage system to get outside of the castle in full strength.

The rational part of his mind knows, that making the giant serpent leave the castle through the front door would be both dangerous and impractical.

However, clenching  rough, slippery scales in his hands, desperately balancing his body to keep himself from falling, Severus dreams of literally any other way of travelling.

Harry, who seems to be enjoying himself, is sitting in front of Severus with his hands wrapped around Quirrell's midsection to prevent the weakened man from slipping off the giant serpent's back.

The Dark Lord is sitting right behind Basilisk's massive head, leaning forward and whispering instructions.

Severus, already fed up with travelling through a dark, narrow, claustrophobic pipe, sighs with a relief, seeing a bunch of light coming from an outlet.

The Basilisk increases his pace. Severus tightens his grip, when he shoots out of the outlet like a Muggle rocket.

The next thing Snape knows, is having his mouth, nose and upper airways filled with water. He opens his eyes and immedietly closes them,  feeling unpleasant burning.

Much to his relief, Basilisk manages to ascend to the water's surface within a split second.

Severus looks around in shock and disbelief.

Voldemort leans forward to calm the giant serpent down. Harry looks stunned and confused. Quirrell is coughing violently, barely holding himself upright.

The surroundings look strangely familiar.

The Black Lake. They have found themselves somehow in the middle of the Black Lake.

Snape turns backwards and gasps.

 A huge pipe outlet is right behind them, what clearly indicates the Hogwarts' sewage system ending in the Lake. All the filthy water from bathrooms, restrooms, kitchens and potions labs is disposed in the gigantic reservoir, in the natural habitat for countless aquatic animals.

How...  eco-conscious.

'Watch your heads!' the Dark Lord growls, turning towards his three journey companions. 'I am going to side-along apparate Herpo and the three of you as soon as we get past the anti-apparition wards.'

'My Lord!' Severus cries, before he manages to get  a hold of himself. 'This beast is gigantic, side-along apparating it is not safe at all...'

'Do not forget who are you talking to, Severus.' Voldemort replies, not obnoxiously, but also not tenderly.

Severus lowers his eyes and clenches his teeth, regretting his outburst. After a couple of seconds, he feels a familiar jerk of side-along apparition.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Stormy sky. Tractless water. A tiny island with a single, massive, triangular tower.

Severus should have expected this. Voldemort is doing a logical thing, starting his reign with releasing  his imprisoned followers from Azkaban. After all, Wizards and Witches who had decided to spend their lives in prison rather than renounce their Lord, are faithfully waiting for him to return.

It looks like the manor in the Fenlands is going to host a lot more people, than Severus had initially anticipated.

He tries to recall the faces and names of the imprisoned Death Eaters.

A beautiful, black-haired girl with unusual, high cheekbones and full, heart-shaped lips. Five years Severus' senior at Hogwarts. Her dark eyes were blazing with fire, when - during her Wizengamot trial - she stood up from the accused's chair and yelled "the Dark Lord will rise again!" on the top of her lungs, making the entire court room go silent.

Bellatrix.

Two timid, auburn-haired brothers. One of them was Bellatrix' coeval, while the other was one year younger. Skinny, quiet, troubled boys.

Rodolphus and Rabastan.

A middle-aged Unspeakable, well-read, highly intelligent. Working as a spy since the very beginning of the Great Wizarding War.

Rookwood.

A sarcastic, cynical and foul-mouthed Eastern European rogue. Uncommonly for a Wizard, incredibly athletic and strong.

Dolohov.

Looking at the intimidating, triangular tower of Azkaban, Severus feels an ice-cold cramp in his stomach. The nightmarish ordeal these people have been exposed to over the last ten years is hard to imagine.

~Ssseveruss!~ Harry's voice rouses Snape from his thoughts. ~I'm about to see my Father again, isn't it wonderful?~

Confused, Severus lift his eyes up at the boy. Harry's face is pure, cheerful, excited. Child-like.

'Harry... you must have misunderstood.' Snape says cautiously, raising his voice to outshout the rough waves. 'We are not here for your Father; we came here to release our imprisoned comrades-in-arms.'

Harry doesn't stop smiling; he opens his mouth to answer Severus, but at the same time both of them fall backwards and almost slip off the Basilisk's back after a violent crash-dockage.

The giant serpent, instead of reaching the shore calmly, vigorously sprung onto the tiny island, throwing his entire crew off balance.

Quirrell falls on the ground with a muffled thwack and a cry of pain.

Severus curses quietly and jumps off Herpo's back, followed by Harry.

At the corner of his eye, Snape sees Voldemort drawing the Elder Wand and pointing it towards the triangular tower.

The Dark Lord's incantation drowns out in the sound of waves crushing against the shore.

The next thing Severus sees is a massive explosion in the upper part of the prison's building. An entire pyramidal corner of the triangular tower blasts apart and turns into a pile of debris.

Snape stares, with wide eyes and his head painfully tilted backwards. Unable to move or utter a word, he feels somebody  grabbing him by the arm and jerking forward.

The excess of stimuli numbs Severus' senses. He feels being led, almost dragged, along dark passageways of Azkaban.

Feeling a first whiff of coldness and despair spread by the Dementors, his body reacts instinctively, reaching towards the wand and casting the Patronus.

A silvery doe. Severus closes his eyes tightly. Doe... Is her image is never going to stop haunting him...?

On the second thought, Severus would rather get across Azkaban accompanied by the pain-filled doe, than accompanied by a bunch of life-sucking Demenors.

Climbing up countless stairs. Running along the main corridor. Turning towards a side passageway.

Stopping. Severus flings himself to the ground, breathless and shattered.

Scream.

Deafening scream of joy.

Severus lifts his head with an effort and opens his watery eyes.

He sees Harry, running towards a broad-shouldered, older Wizard dressed in a ragged dark cloak.

Morfin Gaunt extends his left hand towards his son to hug him.

His right hand is outstretched upwards, holding a short, thick wand. A protective force-field, apparently  created and kept up by Gaunt, is spread upon his head like an umbrella.

Severus lowers his eyes. Apart from Morfin himself, there is a small group of other people protected by his powerful shield.

Five young Wizards and Witches in ragged, striped prison gowns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Questions. They race in Severus' head as he walks alone down the shore.

 The fresh sea breeze and soothing sound of waves crushing against the rocks help him relax.  Gather his thoughts. Recover from the sensory overload from the past couple of hours.

The lonely stroll along the shore helps tremendously, but does not provide an answer to any the question, that've been building up in Severus' mind.

'Can we have some water to drink?'

Severus freezes, hearing a weak voice.

The released prisoners are sitting, gathered together, leaning against large, flat rock, wrapped tightly in thermal blankets restored from Azkaban's reserve supplies room.

The Dementors do the Dark Lord's bidding.

 Taking the five Death Eaters outside and emptying the storage room went unbelievably easily. Goods taken from the storage, such as food and nourishing potions, have been distributed amongst the resting prisoners, in order to get them in better shape as fast as possible. Their partial, basic recovery is necessary to take them away from this place via a long-distance side-along apparition.

'Water, please.'

'...Y-yes. Of course.' Severus sobers up and conjures nonverbally a small cup.

'Aquamenti.' he whispers, filling the vessel with clean water, and hands it over to a pair of extended, skinny hands.

Black, curly hair. Fragile frame. Dark eyes burning with fire.

'Severus...?'

Severus forces himself to smile.

'Hello, Bella.' he says, trying to keep his voice airy.

Bella drinks her water greedily and hands the empty cup back to Severus.

'Would you like some more...?' Snape starts.

'Severus.' Bella cuts him off. 'Did Narcissa survive? Is she alive?'

'Alive and intact, Bella.' Snape answers soothingly. 'So is your godson Draco, who has grown up to be a fine and bright young man.'

Bella's full lips curl up into a smile. She closes her eyes and leans back.

Severus suddenly feels an unpleasant cramp grabbing his bowels. He falls on his knees beside the young woman.

'Ten years...' he whispers. 'Ten years in this place... It's hard  for me to imagine what have you been through, Bella...'

'It would have been much worse, if not for him.' Bella says, lifting up her index finger to indicate somebody behind Severus' back.

Taken aback, the young man turns around.

Morfin and Harry, sitting a few yards away on a flat rock, catching up. Gaunt - with milky-eyed Adder wrapped loosely around his neck - is holding his son on his lap. He is smiling, listening to Harry's story. The boy's face is flushing with excitement; he is speaking passionately, gesticulating a lot.

Severus picks himself up from the ground and approaches the Parselmouth duo.

Harry trails off, noticing Snape's presence. Gaunt turns towards the young man.

~I know you.~ Morfin says calmly, his dark eyes brightening. ~You were the one to save me from this  psychopathic old duffer.~

Severus nods absently.

~Why don't you sit with us, Ssseveruss?~ Harry offers with a smile. ~According to Scarlet, we have at least an hour before departure. The prisoners must regain some strength to be able to survive side-along apparition.~

Snape shakes his head.

'Why, Gaunt?' he asks quietly. 'Why have you willingly decided to return to Azkaban?'

Severus is a man of knowledge. He feels uncomfortable every time he fails to understand something obvious to other people, and Gaunt's decision is one of the most illogical, incomprehensible things he has ever heard of.

Yet, Harry... Harry knew about it somehow. Or at least had a right hunch.

How? Why?

~Multiple reasons.~ Gaunt smiles, stroking Adder's head. ~First of all, there was a certain violent psychopath, who hated my guts and wanted me dead for some damn reason I fail to understand. This place is an insurmountable fortress;  safe even from vile masterminds of his kind.~

Severus exhales slowly.

'Yes, Gaunt, but there must have been some other place you could go... I mean, Azkaban.... Azkaban is...'

~...is a complete and utter shithole. I know that, lad. But even a complete shithole turns into a plausible place, if you spend a majority of your freaking life there.~

Snape's eyes widen.

'That means...?'

~Yes, exactly. I've spent in this place forty-eight years in total, which is a major part of my life. One doesn't survive such a long time here, if he doesn't learn survival skills; such as ducking the Dementors and avoiding their destructive influence.~ Morfin explains.

'Are you trying to tell me, that you have learned to... duck Dementors?' Snape asks, stunned.

Gaunt shrugs.

~Sure thing I have. I've developed a ton of survival skills down here. Believe me, lad, that putting up with creatures that spread freezing coldness, misery and suicidal thoughts is no fun at all. If you had to endure this for almost fifty years, you would have gone batshit crazy.~

Severus looks at Morfin. Scruffy-looking, unshaven older Wizard looks exactly the same like he looked back in Little Hangelton two months before. Indeed, is recent stay in Azkaban doesn't seem to have made any impact on his body or on his mind.

~And there you have another reason I decided to come back.~ Gaunt goes on. ~Ten years ago - a year  before my previous release - them kids were brought here.~

He indicates towards Bella and the other prisoners resting on the shore.

~Five kids, each sentenced to lifetime in this cesspool. These kids've been treated like shit for some reason,  from the very begging. No furloughs for them, no medical supervision, no extra food rations, no sleeping mattresses. Obviously, them kids... dumb like a bag of hammers, zero experience, zero survival skills, first encounter with them Dementors whatsoever. These are some passionate, hot-blooded, courageous kids, but exposed to the Dementors influence like that, they were screwed like a bunch of house cats. So, I helped, sure thing I helped. I'd been helping them until I was released a year later. Yet, forced to flee and hide from the old nutter, I figured I might as well check on them; It'd be a pity if them good kids gave in to the Dementor terror.~

Morfin sighs.

~Obviously, this time around, I had my wand. I wasn't dumb enough to let it be taken from me. With my wand and with my experience, I was genuinely able to take care of them kids. Mattresses and blankets, fresh water, basic checkups, even though I'm no healer. They all had scurvies. I'm good enough to heal it. They all had pellagra. You need a special supplements to cure that shit, but at least I could relieve their pain with a numbing spell. The same story with some nasty ulcres. They all had night terrors. I've been putting them to sleep each night like snakelets. ~

Snape looks at the older man with a reluctant admiration.

'You...you're a good man, Gaunt.' he says silently.

Gaunt looks up at him.

~My Harry's told me, that you were the one to finish off the old psycho.~ he says.

Snape nods.

~You're some courageous kid.~ Gaunt says with acknowledgement. ~The entire Wizarding kind owes you, y'know.~

Snape nods again, absently.

~Head's up, lad.~ Gaunt says. ~It's all over now, ain't it? This nephew of mine, Scarlet, told me, that we're all going to get the hell outta this place, together. He's even mentioned some nice place we are going to live in.~

Severus exhales slowly. He tries to cancel the events of the past hours of his mind, replacing the nightmarish memories with a beautiful image of Fenlands' meadows.

'Yes.' Snape says finally. 'We're all going home.'

Chapter Text

ONE MONTH LATER

Macgonagall's thin lips are deathly pale and tightly clenched.

Severus watches her through heavy eyelids, leaning lazily against a wall in the elderly Witch's office.

'Are you even... Severus... What you are saying, is...' Minerva  stutters, unable to put a sentence together.

'It's a complete waste of time, Minerva.' Snape says in a bored tone. 'It's over, don't you see? The Ministry and the Auror Office are already in our hands. Both Fudge and Scrimgeour have been overthrown. We control  Azkaban and press editorial office. All of that accomplished without a single drop of innocent  blood spilt. Please, don't make this difficult for everybody; Hogwarts is the last place the Dark Lord would want to cause a bloodshed in.'

Macgonagall's lips start trembling.

'Severus... is it true, then? I didn't believe it, even though others did. I used to cover for you during all of these Auror investigations that have been taking place after Albus' sudden death. But now, after what you've just said... It really seems like you had indeed  been involved in this assassination.'

Snape sighs.

'I was not only involved in the assassination, Minerva. I killed the Headmaster myself, with my own wand and with cold blood. And I am proud of what I have done.' he says slowly, emphasizing words.

Macgonagall takes a step back, looking at the young man in disbelief.

'Severus... What are you saying...?'

Snape rolls his eyes.

'Minerva, do you remember the Halloween of nineteen eighty-one?' he asks patiently. 'Do you remember the across-the-board joy outburst? Parties thrown randomly all over the Wizarding World? The Ministry employees taking a day off from work in favor of celebrating?'

'That happened because... because our victory over You-Know-Who...' Macgonagall stutters.

'Yes, it did.' Snape admits. 'And now I want you to use this rather impressive brains of yours, Minerva. Why exactly was my Master's downfall an occasion to have a joyful celebration day? And, more importantly, why didn't that outburst of happiness reoccur after the Headmaster's death?'

The elderly Witch looks at Snape with wide eyes, like if it was her first time seeing him.

'What are you even saying, Severus...? Do you even hear yourself?' she asks quietly.

'Think, Minerva.' Snape repeats calmly, placing his index finger on his forehead in a meaningful gesture. 'What would your first thought be, if  you were told, that one man holds a cumulative power over all branches of Wizarding political and social life? A man, who is in charge of judiciary as the Chief Warlock, holds the executive power by having his obedient puppets all over the Ministry, and - on the top of that - has an indisputable control over our young generation as a Hogwarts Headmaster?'

Macgonagall nods absently.

'Yes, Severus, Albus ... Albus used to be in power.' she says slowly. 'He used to have a strong influence - if not a total control - over various parts of our society, including the Government. Nobody questions that. Nobody denies it. Dumbledore has been developing his authority throughout decades. Decades, Severus. He couldn't entirely avoid making occasional mistakes and poor choices, but he has proven himself a good leader, and he used to be acknowledged by Wizards and Witches countrywide.'

Snape shakes his head.

'Nobody has ever questioned him being a dictator, Minerva?' Severus raises his hand, seeing the elderly woman opening her mouth to protest. 'Yes, a dictator. How else would you call a person with an absolute power? You are a woman of knowledge and a book-lover, Minerva.  I'm sure you have read Lord Acton.  His words "power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely" are wise and truthful. You are talking about Dumbledore's  occasional mistakes. The point is, that he... he  didn't use to make mistakes, Minerva. All of his cruel, outrageous, disgraceful acts were deliberate and well-thought-out. And on the top of that, his hands were soaked with blood of countless men, women and children, sacrificed on his path to power.'

Macgonagall's wrinkled face pales rapidly.

'Severus, what are you saying?' she whispers.

'Don't tell me, that you have never noticed his crimes, Minerva.' Snape answers quietly. 'In your defense however, I must admit that the Headmaster used to make his most disgusting, malicious actions look perfectly acceptable in people's eyes. Seeing through his wicked schemes require snapping yourself out of his cult. Let's see... Take the Potter family as a prime example. Dumbledore wished to create a "Chosen One" in order to get an upper hand over the Dark Lord. To achieve his goal, he faked a Prophecy, thereby lying to the entire Wizarding community. On the top of that, he was more than willing to sacrifice lives of three innocent human beings, one of whom was a child. Fortunately, Harry is smart and independent; he managed to break away from all the Chosen One nonsense and safe his life. But what about Lily? A twenty-years-old Mother manipulated into sacrificing her life for her baby? There is even more than that - she was left with a horrifying dilemma: giving her own life and destining her son to years of ordeal, or sacrificing the life of Alice Prewett-Longbottom and making her Squib son the Chosen One.'

The elderly Witch looks at Snape absently, apparently analyzing his words in silence.

'I've never thought I'd ever say this, but even James didn't deserve such an end. He died in obliviousness, unlike Lily, not even being aware of this whole ridiculous endeavor.' Severus goes on. 'And what about other Wizards and Witches, directly or indirectly influenced by Dumbledore's whole Chosen One madness? You are a person who puts safety and well-being of her students first, Minerva. What about the first-year students, who have been mis-sorted in order to fit in the Headmaster's perfect picture?'

Macgonagall flinches. Severus knows, that he has just managed to hit her tender spot.

'I cannot say I gave a lot of classes this term, Minerva; as you know, the circumstances of the past few months were less than favorable. However, I had enough encounters with this year's freshmen to notice an unbelievable paradox; a clear evidence, that the Ceremony had been rigged. A know-it-all, book-loving girl, who believes extensive knowledge to be a greatest virtue? In normal circumstances, it would have been unbelievably to Sort her, wouldn't it? What about the dumbest, most lazy, opportunistic and whiny one of the Weasley scions I ever had a displeasure to encounter? Isn't he an antitype of a Gryffindor, Minerva? And finally, the most ironic and pitiful example of them all: a nearly-Squib boy, who isn't able to handle literally anything magic-related. With all due respect for you, Minerva, but in Gryffindor, young Longbottom is going to be eaten alive. A House full of skilled, perky, competitive teenagers  is literally the worst House choice for him, while in Hufflepuff he would find a support and comfort, surrounded by incomparably larger number of weaker, less skilled students.'

Silence. Minerva, unable to polemize with Snape's words, hangs her head down.

'What say you, Minerva? You know perfectly well, that these children cannot be re-sorted. They are destined to spend seven years of their lives in places they do not belong in.' Severus says. 'And you should know, that everything I have told you about so far, is only a top of an iceberg of Dumbledore's manipulative schemes.'

Macgonagall lifts her eyes at the young man.

'Is he really back, Severus?' she asks quietly.

Severus frowns, confused. It takes him a couple of seconds to figure out, who is Minerva referring to.

'Minerva, if he wasn't back, I wouldn't have had the courage not only to kill the Headmaster, but even to share with you my thoughts like I just did. I used to be scared of Dumbledore, I honestly admit that. I did live like a sheep, in constant fear, cowering under his piercing eyes. And judging by my more or less superficial observations, I was not the only one.'

Macgonagall lowers her eyes, apparently embarrassed.

'Severus, if you'd ever...' she trails off mid-sentence. 'You've mentioned taking over the Ministry.' she changes the topic. 'You claim, that the coup d'état happened without spilling blood of the innocent, but we both know, that innocence is a subjective term. I hope that You-Know-Who didn't  in reality turn the place into a slaughterhouse.'

Severus snorts.

'Minerva, I can swear on my magic and on Lily's grave, that no Ministry employee with a basic moral compass and general decency has been killed. All we did with these dumb-but-harmless puppets of Dumbledore such as Fudge, was removing them permanently  from their posts and from the political scene in general. Nevertheless, Minerva, you should know, that a lot Ministry officials had unexpectedly dark, dirty secrets they'd been trying to hide from the world. To name an example -  you surely remember Barty Crouch Junior?'

Macgonagall's eyes brighten.

'The prodigy boy, who has achieved twelve OWLs and ten NEWTs, all of these with straight O's?' she asks.

'Exactly.' Severus nods. 'Do you know, what has been happening with this boy over the last ten years?'

'I... I don't trail my pupil's careers...In Barty's case... Well, I assumed, that with such a brilliant mind, he would follow in his Father's footsteps, making career in the Ministry...' Macgonagall says cautiously.

'Well, that's not exactly what happened.' Snape says dryly. 'The boy has been held under the Imperius curse in a house arrest by his own Father, Bartemius Crouch Senior. Ten years under the Imperius, Minerva. More than one-third of his life. Can you possibly imagine, what is happening to mind and body of a young boy, reduced to a role of a mindless, inert puppet for ten years? A prisoner in his own head, unable to think on his own, unable to move a finger without his Father's consent? And Barty Crouch Senior, I remind you, used to be a head of DLE. He used to lead Wizengamot trials. He used to be a well-respected representative of our Government.  '

Minerva's face turns pale-green. She looks both shocked and nauseous.

'Hard to believe, ain't it?' Severus mutters flatly.

'Did you kill Barty Senior, Severus?' Macgonagall asks quietly.

Snape raises his eyebrows.

'I didn't. Bellatrix did. She went berserker. Barty Junior has always been like a little brother to her.'

'How is the boy?' Macgonagall asks.

Severus smiles. Minerva doesn't condemn killing the disgrace of a Wizard, Barty Crouch Senior. What is more, she is interested in the state of the young Barty.

This conversation could have looked much worse.

'He will recover.' Snape says calmly. 'Obviously, after so many years of mental abuse, he needs plenty of rest and a peaceful environment, but we have managed to provide him with such.'

He makes a pause and looks at the elderly Witch.

'Did you know, that Barty Senior used to have a nine thousand square-foot luxurious mansion? We have seized it. Currently, it's being rearranged to serve as an orphanage for Wizarding children. Did you know, Minerva, that it is going to be first facility of this kind in Wizarding Britain?' Snape asks in a conversational tone. 'Our Government has always been preoccupied with petty arguments and superficial resolutions, but somehow failed to notice the lack of basic establishments our society desperately needs. The Dark Lord is planning to build and fully equip ten more orphanages until the end of this year, at the same time developing a network of Wizarding foster families. All of the orphaned and abandoned magical children are going to get a new home, but this is only the beginning. Thanks to the new facilities, the term "Muggle-raised" is soon going to be nothing more than history.  All of the Muggleborn children are going to be taken from their Muggle families, in favor of being raised by Wizarding foster-parents or in Wizarding orphanages.'

'Isn't it... a little bit extreme, Severus?' Macgonagall asks hesitantly.

Snape shrugs.

'Not at all. A magical child born and raised in a Muggle family is prone to create not only antagonisms within the family, but oftentimes even mutual hostility and hatred between family members. Not each young Wizard and each young Witch raised by Muggles has a rough or abusive childhood, but simply too many of them do. Why exposing these kids to such a possibility, if we can make sure they grow up in a safe, supportive environment amongst their own kind? I'll tell you even more, Minerva. Even the half-blood children with one Muggle parent are going to be taken into our care. Mixed couples with kids are going to have their households strictly monitored; each sign of child abuse will result in taking the child away. Children born to the mixed couples tend to be the most mistreated group; their Parents are often the most unhappy and mismatched ones, what results in domestic violence. Up to this point, nobody seemed to give a damn about these kids...'

'Aren't you being a little bit overdramatic, Severus?' Macgonagall cuts him off apprehensively.

Severus clenches his fists, looking daggers at the elderly Witch. Minerva immedietly lowers her gaze.

'No, Minerva, I am not being overdramatic.' Snape hisses, emphasizing words. 'Have you - or any other faculty member for that matter- ever asked me about my home arrangements during my student years? No, you haven't, you didn't care, that was none of your business, and since I am half-blood, you weren't even obliged to come over before my first year to introduce me. I swear, Minerva, in any other school, Muggle or Wizarding, any sane adult would have taken me away from my family as a matter of urgency. In Hogwarts, there is an unspoken rule "don't ask - don't tell". You simply keep a blind eye on the students from abusive backgrounds, not even trying to help them in any way. I have taken it as my point of honor to change that.'

Minerva flinches.

'And here comes your point, doesn't it, Severus?' she asks bitterly. 'We may have had a decent, civilized conversation, but you are going to say now it anyway, aren't you?'

Snape raises his eyebrows.

'Say what?' he asks, confused.

'Don't play around, Severus. Hogwarts is your next target, you've admitted it yourself. We need to prepare for a battle, don't we?'

Macgonagall's face is deathly pale, but her eyes are glittering with determination.

Severus smirks. Fear in Minerva's voice makes him genuinely amused.

'Minerva, if we wanted to take Hogwarts by force, we would have done it long ago without even breaking a sweat. You have no idea how powerful the Dark Lord currently is. Unmeasured forces, which had never been allied before, decided to unite under his direct command. Dozens of Death Eaters with a combat experience, a pack of deathly loyal Werewolves, a herd of giants, the entire tribe of Dementors, a Basilisk... A Basilisk, Minerva.' Severus emphasizes. 'The Dark Lord could smash Hogwarts to the ground in notime, blindfolded and with his wrists tied up. Do you get the point, Minerva? If he wanted to have a pile of debris instead of Hogwarts, he would have a pile of debris instead of Hogwarts. He doesn't want it. He doesn't want to attack the school, yet alone to turn it into a slaughterhouse.'

Macgonagall turns her head back, clearly not wanting Severus to see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

'What do you actually want me to do, Severus? Ever since Albus' death, I've been executing the function of a Headmistress...'

'...and you shall continue, until the end of the term.' Severus finishes her sentence. 'Right after the Winter Break, you are going to pass this function down to me. Peacefully, calmly and in a civilized manner.'

Minerva freezes. She stares at Severus with wide eyes.

'Is ... is that an ultimatum?' she asks cautiously. 'Signing my right to be a Headmistress away in your favor, or a violent bloodshed in my school?'

Snape sighs. Macgonagall has always been a smart, thinking person, but Dumbledore's extended process of brainwashing is more than showing in her case.

 The Witch's mind isn't able to comprehend the Dark Lord's willingness to deal with certain issue in a non-violent manner.

'No, Minerva, no ultimatum and no bloodshed. Believe me, if the Dark Lord wanted a bloodshed in Hogwarts, the school's passageways would have been already running crimson, and its dungeons would have been filled with rotten corpses.'

Minerva clenches her teeth and shoots Snape a vicious look.

'I'm not offering myself to be a Headmaster, Minerva.' Severus goes on lazily.  'I'm just politely informing you, that I'm going to seize the post after the Winter Break, and your opinion in that issue doesn't matter to anyone.'

Macgonagall exhales slowly.

'The school is going to undergo some dramatic changes under your reign, isn't it?' she asks reluctantly, in a defeated tone.

Snape raises his eyebrows.

'Actually, no, it isn't.' he replies simply. 'If you are worried about your job, don't be. As long as you won't cause trouble, I have no intention of removing you from your teaching post. Personnel cuts in general are not anticipated. On the contrary, I will have to hire a couple of new faculty members. I am going to resurrect certain useful subjects, that had been discontinued in our school during Dumbledore's headmastership, such as Alchemy, Wizarding Etiquette, and Combative Spells. Obviously, the ridiculous, insensible persecution of the Dark Arts is going to be stopped. Our students have all the rights to explore a variety of branches of magic, therefore, Dark Arts classes are going to replace Defense... Don't give me that look, Minerva, Hogwarts is the only Wizarding school in Europe who punishes its students for using dark magic and teaches them "Defense" instead. It reeks of Middle Ages and is makes our school look... undeveloped. Everybody with half a brain is able to understand, that dark does not equal evil. And you, Minerva, are not a half-brain; you happen to be one of the most intelligent people I know.'

'Severus...'

The elderly Witch looks up at the young man, clearly fighting an internal battle.

'Please, Minerva.' Snape catches her eyes. 'Don't make it difficult.'

He doesn't need to ask her any favors, he doesn't need to use any manner words.

He didn't need to be so open and honest. He could have make up some convenient lies and wrap them up in a flowery language to deceive her.

He didn't need to be so patient and tender. He could have blackmailed her, threatening to kill her loved ones if she wouldn't obey.

He didn't have to handle this peacefully. In the name of the new Government, he could have simply grabbed her by her arm and violently dragged her to Azkaban. In case she put up a resistance, he would have all the rights to blow her brains out.

He would never have done any of these things. He is no Dumbledore.

'I guess I can give your ways a try, Severus.' Minerva whispers finally.

Chapter Text

Severus is standing in the exact same spot, where he stood sixteen years before with Lily.

He is looking at the magnificent Victorian manor from the other side of a spacious pastel-violet heathland, just like he did in the summer before his fifth year, with the auburn-haired girl's arm wrapped around his shoulder.

After his successful negotiations with Minerva, he could have apparated from Hogsmeade directly to his manor's entrance hall. He chose to take a walk across the heathlands instead; a light stroll to clear his head and remember the old, miraculous times.

Entering the estate through a heavy iron gate, Severus looks around and smiles to himself. Grounds around the manor cannot be called "elaborate gardens" in a traditional Victorian way; there are no flower-beds, ornamental fountains  or carved wooden alcoves. Severus, along with the other new residents of the manor, has decided to arrange the exteriors in a more practical manner.

Fertile Fens soil around the manor has been utilized for growing vegetables. Everybody has agreed, that  the benefits of having fresh vegetables for their own use with a minimal effort outnumber the benefits of having fancy garden decorations around the estate. Morfin had volunteered to take care of growing the crops (~I've been a gardener for decades, lad~) and - thanks to his experience and attention to detail - quickly created, neatly organized garden patches have soon started to bring rich crops.

Walking across the estate, Severus smiles. There is a row of sheaves of freshly cut grass standing   along the field. Harry Marvolo Gaunt, with his arms and legs outstretched comfortably, is napping on one of the sheaves, bathed in the last, late evening sun rays.

Severus touches gently the boy's shoulder and watches him opening slowly his bright, emerald eyes.

~Sssseveruss.~ Harry smiles, half-asleep.

'Harry.' Snape extends his hand to ruffle Harry's hair. 'Listen, champ. I've just been to Hogwarts and everything is going as planned. I will be the Headmaster, and having that in mind, I'd like to ask you a question. I'll obviously understand if you decide to refuse, but, nevertheless, I'm offering you to go back to school.'

He trails off, watching Harry's widening eyes.

'I promise you, that with me in charge this place is not going to be like you remember it.' Snape goes on. 'Moreover, nobody will expect you to continue your education from a beginner's level. You obviously wouldn't be assigned to the freshman year anymore; you would be attending way more advanced classes instead. Maybe even OWL-level ones. Then again, I won't blame you - and I won't get mad - if you'll decide not to attend school and stay here in the manor with your Father. It's all up to you.'

Harry's face expresses deep confusion, an internal battle; the boy lifts his bright eyes up at Severus only after a couple of minutes.

~Sseverusss, please, let me talk to my Father before I make my mind up. I don't wanna make such an important decision without asking about his opinion.~

Snape nods.

'Perfectly understandable.' he says calmly. 'You have plenty of time to your mind up. My term of office as a Headmaster starts only after the Winter Break, and I'm not planning to return to Hogwarts anytime earlier.'

Harry nods and slides off the sheaf of grass. Severus watches the boy running towards the fields.

Pushing the heavy  front door to enter the manor, Severus encounters an unpleasant surprise. Before he even has a chance to enter the atrium, a loud bang deafens him;  an impact of a small explosion hits his body quite powerfully, sending him a couple of feet backwards.

Shaking his shock off, Snape narrows his eyes in irritation.

'Bella!' he snaps angrily.

Bellatrix Black Lestrange lowers her crooked wand, giggling amusedly.

'Welcome back, Severus.' she says wholeheartedly. 'How did it go? Did you tell her?'

Snape sighs, brushing his black cloak down. Bellatrix, recovering from her ordeal in an impressive pace, has lately been bringing a lot of her restored, untamed energy into the life of the manor.  

'I've explained it to you, Bella.' Severus says patiently. 'I couldn't have told Macgonagall, that you're going to teach Combative Magic since the next term. She would have died from a heart attack right on the spot, and I would have trouble disposing the corpse.'

Bella chuckles.

'Guess the old hag's going to kick the bucket right after the Winter Break, then?'

Snape sighs.

'No, Bella. You're going to behave in a manner that befits your position and make a good first impression. We've been through this!'

Bella doesn't stop laughing.

'By Salazar's name, I swear I'll find other teacher for the subject if you won't behave like a Professor should.' Snape mutters.

Bella gives him a playful look.

'Sevvie, Sevvie, where would you find another person with my set of skills and my charisma? Besides, the Dark Lord himself wants me to take up this job.' she swells her chest high with pride.

Severus looks at the girl with an unmasked concern.

It'd be really hard, if not simply impossible, to find an equally as passionate, vigorous and high-spirited person as Bella is. The girl seems to have boiling quicksilver flowing in her veins instead of blood.

 The Dark Lord wants her to teach at Hogwarts. Combative Magic? There's indeed hardly a person in the manor with more practical combat experience and inborn talent in that field.

The problem is... will Bella really be able to make a good teacher? Skills, stamina and charisma are one thing; patience and mature approach are a different story.

'Bella.' Snape says. 'What would you do, if a student acted up in your class or didn't submit their homework assingment?'

Bella raises her eyebrows at the unexpected question.

'Hmm, dunno. Curse them into oblivion?' she asks innocently.

'No!' Snape growls. 'You take the House points or assign a detention! We've been through this, Bella, for heaven's sake!'

Bella chuckles and opens her mouth to answer, but at the same time, Morfin and Harry step into the entrance hall.

Morfin holds a blood-stained bucket in each hand; the buckets seem to contain rabbit bones and other gross leftovers.

~I've been feeding the snakes.~ Gaunt explains, seeing Severus' questioning look.

Snape nods.

Elaborate dungeons of the manor have been rearranged to serve as a giant snake habitat. Warm, humid place, designed to imitate the interior of the Chamber of Secrets, has primarily been designed to host only Herpo the Basilisk. Nevertheless, favorable conditions had appealed also to Grassie, Adder and Nagini, who soon have became Herpo's permanent "roommates".

~Sseverusss, I've made my decision.~ Harry declares firmly. ~I want to go back to Hogwarts.~

Snape smiles. That's a pleasant surprise, especially, that the boy's decision must have been approved and supported by Gaunt.

Severus looks at the older Wizard; Morfin shrugs.

~You're a fine, clever lad; since you're going to be in charge of the school, I ain't see no problem in my Harry attending it.~

Snape nods.

'Thank you for being open-minded, Gaunt. I...I must say I'm honored by the credit you are giving me.'

~Don't you get too overdramatic, lad.~ Morfin answers, rolling his eyes.

Snape smiles.

'I'm going to find a way to deal with your illiteracy issue, Harry.' he says. 'I'll find a right person to teach you how to read and write, and to give you a proper tutorial in penmanship.'

Harry raises his eyebrows.

~Why don't you teach me yourself, Ssseveruss?~ he asks, confused.

'I'd prefer a pure-blooded person to teach you penmanship.' Snape admits. 'These are people, who have been tutored in this art since their early childhood, and therefore they usually have flawlessy legible handwriting.'

'How about I'll teach Harry penmanship?' Bella offers eagerly.

Snape rolls his eyes.

'You are literally the last person I would allow to teach Harry penmanship.' he declares harshly.

Harry frowns.

~Why can't Auntie Bella teach me penmanship, Ssseverusss?~

Snape raises his eyebrows, looking at emerald-eyed boy.

Well, that's quite clear; a teenager raised by a single Father, subconsciously looking for a Mother figure. Bellatrix may be flawed; impulsive and reckless, but her compassion and actual caringness are unquestionable.

Additionally, raised a Black, her handwriting is probably old-fashioned italics;  one of the neatest styles.

'Bellatrix, you may teach Harry penmanship.' Severus says, defeated.

Bella exposes her teeth in a wide grin and ruffles Harry's hair.

~Go learn something useful, kiddos.~ Gaunt growls, putting the dirty buckets down on the ground and drawing his wand to clean them.

'Gaunt, how does Barty feel?' Snape asks, after Bella and Harry leave the room.

Morfin shrugs.

~A ridiculous dose of the calming draught and just-the-usual.~

Snape sighs. Although almost a month has passed, Barty still suffers from night terrors and random panic attacks.

Gaunt lifts up his index finger, apparently remembering something.

~Apart from that, he wanted to talk to you after you had left.~ he adds.

Severus raises his eyebrows in a surprise.

He nods curtly at Morfin and walks towards Barty's room.

A deathly pale, freckled young man with sandy, longish hair is sitting up on his bed, holding an open book on his lap. Seeing Severus, he puts it away and smiles weakly.

'Hi there, Barty.' Snape says, making an effort to sound airily.

The blonde boy's unhealthy paleness and his rather slow recovery worry Severus.

Killing Barty Senior, for what he had done to his son, was not enough.

'Severus.' Barty says quietly. 'I...I heard about your peaceful takeover of Hogwarts and, erm ... I'd like to ask you something. I'll understand if you refuse, but I want you to hear me out.'

Snape looks at the younger man curiously.

'Yes?' he asks.

'You probably know about my academic scores as a Hogwarts student.' Barty starts timidly. 'Ten years ago, the War's gotten into the way...  But you know, I had one dream about the peaceful times; when it's all over and when we're finally in charge. I've always dreamed of becoming a teacher.'

Severus gasps.

'Even all this time when my mind has been ... held a prisoner...' Barty goes on, his voice shaking slightly 'All the sparkles of consciousness I've gotten, all the times when I actually remembered who I was... I somehow knew, that my Lord ... my comrades... you guys... won't abandon me... that somebody will actually turn up and release me from this neverending nightmare... and you know, Severus, there was one thought that helped me throughout these hard times, one image in my head that kept me sane... A vision of new Hogwarts. Hogwarts without Dumbledore. Hogwarts ruled by us. I used to picture myself returning there to make my dream come true; to teach the new generation of Wizarding kids...'

Severus feels his mouth going dry.

'You don't have to say anything more, Barty.' he says quietly. 'I'll be more than willing to help you make your dream come true. I also believe you'll make an excellent teacher. The only thing is...'

He trails off, looking at the pale boy hesitantly.

'I'm getting better every day, Severus!' Barty reassures, sitting up straight, apparently to show how "strong" he is. 'I'm positive that by the start of the new term I'll already be in a perfect condition.'

'We'll see about that.' Severus answers gently. 'I'll be delighted to introduce you to Hogwarts as a new Professor, but you must understand, that right now, your health is more important. It's possible, that your mind and body are going to need more recovery time; in that case, you will wait until next year to start working as a teacher. Is that acceptable?'

Barty flags, apparently slightly disappointed.

'Barty...' Severus starts compassionately, but trails off, when the room's door open vigorously.

~Ssseveruss, the pretty boys are here.~ Gaunt hisses, sticking his shaggy head into the room.

Snape chuckles at the way Morfin describes the Malfoys.

'We'll talk in a while. Have some rest.' Severus says to Barty and leaves, following Gaunt back to the entrance hall.

It is the second time Lucius has brought Draco into the Fenlands manor. He has usually been coming around accompanied by Narcissa - so she could have some time to spend with her beloved elder sister. Now, while Lucius is standing there with his son instead, Severus can only admire how much the young Malfoy has grown to remind his Father. Platinum-blonde, sleek and neatly combed hair; aristocratic facial features and premium-quality rich black robes converge both men and make them look equally distinguished.

Draco, already tall enough to reach his Father's chin with his forehead, looks a little bit insecure. His first encounter with Harry a couple of weeks before couldn't have been called a pleasant one.

Severus, on his part, didn't intend to make the boys interact with each other, even though a friendship with somebody his age - especially with a fine boy like Draco - would definitely be beneficial for Harry. He silently hoped for the resourceful Draco to sort things out with Harry on his own;  the blonde-haired teenager has expressed some obvious curiosity of his wildish, less-civilized peer.

Shaking hands with Lucius, Severus feels pleasant warmth; the familiar, reassuring presence of his childhood protector. Lucius is, and will remain forever, a first person in Severus' life, who has genuinely and selflessly stood up for him and shielded him from all the bullying and torment he'd been getting.

Friendship between a tall, aristocratic, well-mannered Head Boy and a filthy, scrawny freshman from an industrial district was definitely one of the most unusual bonds Hogwarts has ever witnessed.

This amazing friendship has survived past their graduation and pat the War, throughout which Severus has served under Lucius' command as a lower-ranked Death Eater.

'Is the Dark Lord still on his quest?' Lucius asks, rousing Snape from his thoughts.

'Yes, he is.' Severus confirms.

Lucius nods understandingly.

The secret quest the Dark Lord has gone on a couple of weeks before, leaving the manor and the recovering Death Eaters under Morfin's and Severus' care, is not a topic to be discussed aloud.

Knowledge about the most powerful magical artifacts, that are able to put a stopper to death, is way too valuable and dangerous to be widely spread. The Dark Lord, leaving the manor in order to collect and secure all of his Horcruxes, didn't even disclose the reason of his departure to anybody but Gaunt, Severus, Lucius and Bella. Even said four never learned the details of his lone endeavor.

Draco quietly clears his throat, anxiously changing his weight on his feet.

Lucius turns toward his son.

'Oh, right.' he says. 'Severus, Draco has asked to accompany me today. He wishes to give befriending  the young Gaunt one more try.'

Severus smiles.

'You have to be patient, Draco.' he says. 'Harry just isn't used to being around his peers. His upbringing has been drastically different from yours, and his lifestyle is also far from ordinary. He just needs more time to get comfortable around you, but I'm positive the two of you can eventually make good friends.'

Draco flushes slightly.

'I am not intending to beg him to be my friend.' he says with dignity. 'I just consider a friendship with him would be for our mutual benefit.'

Snape smiles.

'Sure it would. Harry is now with your Godmother; they're having a calligraphy lesson. Feel free to join them in the study.'

Lucius chuckles at the mention of Bella giving a calligraphy lesson. Draco grins and leaves Severus and Lucius in the entrance hall.

Snape turns towards his friend; an unexpected idea pops into his mind.

'Listen, Lucius.' he starts apprehensively. 'You surely do know about the recent events at Hogwarts?'

Lucius nods.

'There are several subjects I would like to reactivate as the new Headmaster.' Severus says cautiously. 'One of them is Wizarding Etiquette. I've always found ridiculous how Hogwarts'd been offering its students only Muggle Studies classes, without balancing it out with offering also Wizarding customs classes. How much value does  knowing it all about the Muggle society have, while knowledge about our own kind is severely lacking?'

'I couldn't agree more.' Lucius declares.

'Lucius.' Severus says, making an eye-contact with his friend. 'Wouldn't you like to teach Wizarding Etiquette?'

Lucius' eyes widen; he is clearly taken aback by the offer.

'Me...? A Professor?' he asks, stunned.

'Look, Lucius, there is a reason I'm asking you specifically. You know... in my eyes, you are a personification of the term Wizarding Etiquette.' Snape explains. 'You have always been, ever since you had taken an eleven-years-old, broken, filthy me under your wing. Ever since you have shown this shattered, neglected boy how to behave in a way that befits a Wizard.'

Lucius looks slightly abashed. His pale cheeks turn pinkish.

'Severus...' he starts.

'Lucius, you have been a member of the Board of Governors for years.' Snape notices, cutting him off. 'Your long-termed involvement in the educational branch of the Government makes things even easier. You are perfect for the job, and I'll tell you even more; there will be some more extraordinary additions to the Hogwarts faculty since the next term. Bella and young Barty are both going to become Professors.'

Lucius raises his white eyebrows.

'Bella is going to give combat classes.' Severus explains with a smile. 'She may be lacking patience and finesse, but her passion, spell repertoire and interpersonal skills are unmatched. Barty's teaching career depends on his recovery pace, but if he manages to snap out of the mental trauma, I want him to teach the Dark Arts. Unlike Bella, the boy is all brains and almost no raw power, but academically he really is a genius. I cannot imagine a better person to teach the theory of various complex branches of the dark magic than he is. I sincerely hope he recovers soon enough to return to Hogwarts as a Professor  right after the Winter Break. And you, Lucius... with you, our new team would be complete. I want Hogwarts to be better under our reign. Unlike Dumbledore, I really want to take a good care of these kids. We need people like you, Lucius, to give the new generation a chance to see a difference.'

Lucius' silver eyes brighten; he nods slowly. Severus feels warmth spreading all over his body.

~What the hell is wrong with you?!~

Severus and Lucius both turn their heads towards the door.

Harry violently drags Draco by the collar into the entrance hall. He lets go of the blonde boy and pushes him not-so-gently towards Lucius.

Bella sticks her dark, curly head into the door, laughing so hard she's almost chocking.

~Sssverusss!~ Harry hisses, flushing with anger. ~Tell the pretty boy, that I don't wanna hang out with him! I don't get it; he follows me around, I've told him a thousand times to get lost and leave me alone! Is he stupid or something?!~

Draco, crimson on the face, looks embarrassed and confused.

Severus coughs to conceal a chuckle.

~Tell the posh boy to go screw himself!~ Harry almost yells, getting progressively more angry. ~Tell him to go paint his fingernails, or style his hair, or put on some makeup,  instead of nagging me!~

Severus is immensely glad, that Lucius doesn't understand Parseltongue.

He looks at the boys standing in front of him; tension between these two is only enhancing the fact, that they look literally like night and day.

 Draco, pedantically clean, combed, neatly dressed and wearing cologne. Harry, with his everlasting relaxed approach to hygiene - unbelievably filthy and greasy.

'Harry.' Snape says patiently. 'Why won't you spend some time with Draco?'

Harry snorts.

~I don't hang out with posh boys!~ he snarls.

'Define a posh boy.'

Harry stares at Severus in confusion.

'The fact that you two are different from one another, doesn't mean, that you cannot spend time together.' Snape explains. 'Harry, you don't even know Draco. How can you dislike him, not even knowing him? How can you tell, that he's a posh boy, how you've put it? Did you happen to judge him only by his physical appearance?'

Harry nods apprehensively.

'Harry, you are so mature, in so many different ways.' Snape says calmly. 'Judging others by their looks doesn't even befit your maturity and apperception. I would say, you of all people should know better than to judge a book by its cover.'

Harry looks abashed. He reluctantly turns towards Draco.

'I just wanted to fly brooms.' Draco explains, embarrassed. 'I brought mine; I thought we could take turns flying around and then I could show Harry some Quidditch tricks.'

The blonde boy pulls a broomstick, shrunken to the size of a matchbox, out of his robes pocket. The broom - a new, shiny Nimbus 2001- unshrinks itself in his hand.

Harry's emerald eyes widen.

Severus and Lucius exchange amused looks.

'Look, Harry, Draco was willing to share his most precious thing with you.' Snape notices. 'He wanted to let you use his new broom. How do you feel now?'

Harry blushes.

~Stupid.~ he admits. ~I'd never have expected something like that. I've always thought posh boys don't share their stuff. I've kinda thought that posh boys aren't nice at all. ~

Severus looks amazed at Harry, approaching Draco to shake his hand with a hissed apology.

He cannot get over how much these two remind him young versions of himself and Lucius.

"I've kinda thought that posh boys aren't nice at all." Severus had always thought exactly that - until one of the "posh boys", Lucius, took care of him like an older brother.

Harry and Draco rush outside.

'Draco is a bright, proactive boy, easy-going and fun to be around.' Severus says. 'I'm sure Harry is going to appreciate his company. I'd be glad if he made a friend like your son, especially, that after the Winter Break these two are going to become classmates.'

Lucius raises his eyebrows, surprised, but doesn't asks anymore questions.

'I have a feeling, that after the Winter Break Hogwarts is going to turn into... an interesting place.' Malfoy says cautiously. 'Don't you think, Severus?'

'Oh, but it has always been an interesting place.' Snape answers, amused. 'Hasn't it?'