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Once upon a time, there was the Boy Who Lived. His parents were killed by a villainous warlord who was intent on ruling the land and ridding it of all those who were not blessed with magic. The warlord seemed unstoppable, until the infant son of two of his most bitter enemies all but killed him due to the force of the baby’s mother’s overwhelming love.
Despite this heroic defeat, however, young Harry Potter’s life did not continue on as the life of a hero should. His mother was dead. His father was dead. The last of his living family were forced to take him in.
They abandoned him the very next day. Sold the boy to a noble who lived in a nearby town as a slave.
There, the boy was raised by the other slaves and servants, and treated as well as one could be in such circumstances. The noble was haughty, but not unkind. The servants made sure he was fed. The child could have certainly had it far worse.
Three years passed, and on young Harry’s fourth birthday, yet another large shift in his life occurred.
By sheer coincidence, the boy was filling the noble’s bath when he came across someone who he did not know, but knew him.
A world-renowned Potions Master and Alchemist from a nearby village, Severus Snape, was there treating an illness the noble had. Master Snape, you see, knew young Harry Potter the same way any magical person would, by the brand of lightning he bore on his forehead, and knew of his importance in the world of wizards.
He knew it was not safe for the boy in a manor full of those who lacked magic, where any of the warlord’s lurking followers could hurt him, so he bought the child from the noble on the spot, intending to protect him and train him as an apprentice.
Young Harry had hated this, of course. For the second time in his life, he had been ripped away from everyone he had known and loved.
He caused so much trouble for Master Snape that the poor man quickly became sure that he was intentionally ruining potions and shattering stock in an attempt to be sent back to the noble’s manor.
Under normal circumstances, Master Snape would have done it, too, but- and this is only a rumor- he had sworn a vow to do everything in his power to ensure the boy’s safety, so he kept him.
No one knows just how young Harry came to accept his new life, or just how Master Snape came to love Harry Potter as his own son, but the word quickly spread through the land. If the Potions Master, known for being cruel and cold, was holding a little boy on his hip and smiling at him, it was almost guaranteed that he loved the child.
Five years passed under the care of Severus Snape, and young Harry Potter was soon nine years old. It was the fifth day of the month of October, a full moon. A werewolf had moved into the village a few months prior, so Potions Master and Apprentice had developed a routine of brewing and delivering a special potion for werewolves each month. This was one such night. Only, things went horribly, terribly wrong.
That brings us, dear audience, to our story today.
— — — — — — — —
“Harry, I am going out to deliver Mr. Lupin’s wolfsbane potion. Do not leave the shop while I am away.” Severus called from the front door to Harry, who was sitting behind the wooden table that customers were greeted at.
Severus’ call, quiet as it was, was still easy for Harry to hear, given that the table was mere feet from the front door. Most of the shop was overtaken with shelves upon shelves of potions and ingredients behind Harry.
“Sir, I can take it!” Harry said, quickly jumping to his feet.
“No, Harry. I am going to deliver his potion. I need you to make sure that no customers are left waiting.”
“But sir, please?” Harry pleaded.
Severus raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a look that suggested he was reading Harry’s mind. Harry was almost tempted to look away. What if Severus discovered that he only wanted to visit Mr. Lupin in order to ask him for one of his hairs?
Severus had been teaching Harry about wand making in preparation for when Harry would make his first wand on his eleventh birthday. The man had said that he had made the foolish mistake of not practicing beforehand, and that his wand had been nearly ruined because of his lack of skill. So, two years early, Harry was already learning how to work wood and insert cores.
And Harry very much thought that the hair of a werewolf would be quite the incredible core for his wand. Severus had told him that there had never been a wand with a werewolf hair core before, and Harry was quite interested to see how it would work. Also, Harry was very fascinated with the topic of werewolves, if the hundreds of stories of werewolves he had pestered his master with were anything to go by. So, he wanted a werewolf hair for his wand. And he was fairly certain that Mr Lupin was a nice enough man that he would give him one, too.
As all of these thoughts passed through Harry’s mind, Severus’ look hardened.
“No, Harry. You are not permitted to deliver wolfsbane potions. Any number of things could go wrong and end with you being hurt, turned, or even killed.”
“But-!”
“No.” The man insisted, the word almost a shout.
Harry flinched back, a little frightened. Severus’ looked softened a bit.
“Even if nothing happened and the potion worked perfectly, the transformation of a werewolf is terrifying to behold. I do not wish for it to be viewed by such young eyes.” He whispered gently.
“Fine.” Harry agreed, sagging.
He didn’t even bother to request that Snape ask for one of Mr. Lupin’s hairs.
It probably wouldn’t make a good wand core anyways.
— — — — — — — —
When the closing time for the shop had come and gone and Severus still hadn’t returned, Harry became worried.
The minutes ticked by and the boy grew increasingly more jumpy. He was seriously starting to consider that Severus was simply angry at him for arguing earlier.
Well, if he was, Harry would just have to make it up to him.
But how? The stock was organized, as were the ingredients. The basement brewing room was spotless. Even the wooden customer table had been rubbed clean.
What was there left to do?
Well, a glance at the ingredients shelves showed that they were a bit low on stock. And since Severus had been busy delivering wolfsbane the last few months, there hadn’t been much time for full-moon foraging, which yielded the finest results…
Yes, that was how Harry would make it up to Severus. He would go full-moon foraging, by himself, for the first time, and prove that he could still be a good apprentice. Even if he had argued with his master.
So he grabbed his foraging bag, locked the front door with a big, iron key, and strode off towards the forest that pushed up against the village.
— — — — — — — —
Harry had gathered a successful yield thus far, he thought. One deathcap. A vial of pristine moon dew. Three shed bicorn horns, and a whole patch of leaping toadstools.
His bag was positively bulging, but not full enough to trigger the automatic extension and lightening charm Severus had installed on the thing.
Just one more toadstool ought to have done it…
Crash!
Loud, uneven, galloping footsteps came crashing through the underbrush towards Harry. The boy suddenly became very, very alert. Every other sound that had previously filled the clearing was completely absent.
Almost instantly, the boy dropped his toadstool, bolted towards a nearby tree, and scrambled up it. He had always been good at climbing trees, and he was certainly going to use that talent to evade whatever loathsome creature was being that loud deep in the woods that late at night.
A moment later, Harry’s decision was proven to be the correct one when a massive wolf with a noticeably puffy tail burst into the clearing he had just been gathering toadstools in. The creature was obviously in distress, and obviously in pain, and Harry was terrified.
When Mr. Lupin had first moved into their village, Severus had taught Harry every single way to spot a werewolf. Large body. Bushy tail. Golden eyes. The wolf now exiting the clearing was certainly a werewolf. And if there was a werewolf here, so shortly after the moon had risen, that could only mean one thing.
Lupin’s wolfsbane had not worked this month.
And if Lupin’s wolfsbane hadn’t worked, that meant that he had likely attacked Severus as well. No wonder the man was late!
Panicked, Harry attempted to slow his frantic heartbeat so that he could hear if the wolf had moved far enough away yet. He knew that the safest thing to do was to wait in the tree until morning, but if Severus had been hurt, the little healing potions Harry kept stowed in his foraging bag could end up saving his life.
After an indiscernible amount of time sitting in complete silence, the sounds of crickets, squirrels, and birds slowly returned, signaling that the threat was gone.
Harry slipped out of the tree, grabbed his last toadstool to make his bag lighter, and sprinted off towards the edge of the village where Lupin lived, silent as can be.
— — — — — — — —
Harry crept up to the new little hut on the outskirts of the village that was owned and built by Mr. Remus Lupin, a werewolf.
The man had moved to the village only three months prior, intent on living near a renowned potions master. Harry and Severus had come to know him as a wizard gifted in transfiguration, as he had quickly acquired all necessary building materials for a house, then built it just as fast.
It was a small place, only one room, but Harry knew that most houses in the village were. Growing up in a vast manor skewed one’s perception of the average size of houses, he supposed.
Speaking of houses, as far as Harry could tell, nothing with Lupin’s seemed to be amiss.
There were no broken windows or doors. There was no blood. There was no sign of an escaped, feral beast at all. In fact, light from the fireplace inside cascaded merrily through the windows that were just a mite too high for Harry to see through.
So instead, the boy opted to sneak up to the door, plaster his back against the wall beside it, and slowly crack the door open.
Harry was braced for a scene of gore. He was braced to see the mangled body of his master and father figure strewn across the floor. He was braced for the worst sight of his entire life to meet his eyes when he opened that door.
But he was not braced to see Severus, the typically cold, stoic man, sitting on the cold, stone floor, outlined by the fire behind him, beside a great, grey wolf, stroking its massive head with a soft look in his eyes.
Both man and wolf’s head snapped up when Harry, relieved, opened the door fully and stepped inside.
“Harry. What are you doing here? I expressly told you to stay in the shop, and even more importantly, away from here tonight.” Severus said in a low, dangerous voice.
“I-I, sir, I-“ The boy stammered out, now finding that he was feeling terribly shaken from his recent experience.
Concern shining in his great, golden eyes, the wolf stood and crossed over to him, then nudged his hand with his soft, wet nose.
Despite the movements being entirely gentle, Harry still flinched. The memory of the feral beast in the woods was still far too fresh. Lupin immediately backed away, crouching down low to the floor and doing everything possible to show Harry that he meant no harm.
Severus, with a look of intense worry on his face, crossed the room, stepped in front of Lupin, and carefully assessed Harry.
“What is it, child? Were you attacked? Was the shop robbed?”
“U-uh no. I m-mean, yes, I was attacked. No, the store wasn’t stolen from.” Harry croaked, finally finding his voice.
Severus, his eyes sharp as ever, then found Harry’s foraging bag
“Harry, do not tell me that you were attempting to forage by yourself.” His voice was low and dangerous again.
“W-well, um, I-I just wanted t-to do some of the full-moon foraging you’ve been missing out on… to make up for arguing with you earlier…”
Snape pinched the bridge of his hooked nose.
“Hadrian Potter, you do not have to ‘make it up to me’ for something as simple as arguing. And you certainly will not gain my favor by putting yourself in danger to do so.” The man groaned.
Harry flushed, suddenly feeling very foolish. He often forgot that his new master did not expect unflinching obedience like the servants and slaves who raised him did, even five years later. And he also found it easy to forget that his new master cared.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“It is nothing. Now, are you hurt? What attacked you?” He asked.
“Oh!” Harry suddenly snapped out of the strange stupor he had been in. The wolf! If it wasn’t Mr. Lupin… “Sir, it was another werewolf!”
In a flash, Severus had grabbed Harry, shoved him away from the door, and slammed so many wards over it and the rest of the hut that Harry was sure that said werewolf must have been directly on the other side.
“A werewolf! You were attacked by a werewolf! Were you bitten? Scratched? Hurt at all?” The man searched the boy over, looking frantic now.
“No! No, it had just transformed so it was out of its mind and I had hidden up a tree, so it didn’t even notice me.” The boy quickly assured.
Severus sighed in relief and Mr. Lupin finally decided to stop showing his submission in order to give Harry’s hand a lick. Harry giggled.
“I’m ok, Mr. Lupin.”
The wolf gave him a look that was a mix of both relief and sorrow.
“It is not safe to wander outside. We will stay here tonight.” Severus declared.
Lupin immediately stood at attention and bowed his head, seemingly agreeing.
“Wait!” Harry yelped, “The people of the village! They need to be warned!”
“Absolutely not, Harry.” Severus said.
“But people could die!”
“I am choosing to put your safety first this time, Harry. There is only one werewolf I know of who is both stupid and evil enough to transform near civilization. Fenrir Greyback.”
Lupin’s head snapped up and a low whine began in his throat. Then, the great beast nudged Severus’ hand, where his wand still hung loosely.
Severus lifted his head and gave Lupin a questioning look.
“What is it, Remus?”
The wolf backed away and took three graceful leaps around the room, coming to a halt back in front of the man after only a moment. Harry was amazed. Severus looked confused.
Mr. Lupin licked Severus’ wand, then made eye contact with the man.
Suddenly, the Potions Master seemed to understand.
He drew up his wand, muttered an incantation, and a large, silvery, translucent doe erupted out of the tip of his wand. Harry, who had never seen such magic, was astonished.
“Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf known for exclusively attacking children, has been spotted near the village. Everyone must stay indoors.” The man whispered to the doe, which then bowed its pretty head and took off straight through the wall.
“What was that?” Harry asked, excitement breaking through his other raging emotions.
“A patronus charm. A kind of magical guardian. It can be used to carry messages. I have just given mine a warning to deliver to everyone about that werewolf.”
Harry hums, feeling satisfied that his master had done something. Then, he realizes something.
“Sir, you said you knew who this werewolf was. How?”
Severus looked thoughtful for a moment, then answered.
“He is a vicious and cruel man who likes to specifically attack children, as I said. He lives by the motto ‘bite them young, raise them away from their parents’.” Severus started.
Mr. Lupin whined and padded over to the man’s side. Severus absentmindedly began to stroke his head again.
“Greyback was the werewolf that bit and turned Mr. Lupin, here. He was only four years of age at the time.” The wizard continued, softer now.
Harry looked down at the massive wolf who was now leaning heavily against Severus’ legs. He looked so tired. Werewolf transformations were reportedly awful, and the man had been forced to endure them since the age of four? Harry’s mind briefly made him imagine what it would have been like if, when he had turned that age, he had been irreversibly changed into a monster rather than taken into the best home he could remember having. It was very unpleasant to think of.
“It is not safe for you to leave the house, as he would target you immediately. It is not safe for me to leave, as I am unsure that even Remus would be able to protect you completely. As such, we will stay here tonight.”
Harry nodded his agreement, deciding that it was not worth the chance of being turned just to go back home.
“Remus, may I transfigure your chair into a cot for Harry?”
The wolf nodded its head.
With a bit of difficulty, as transfiguration was not one of Severus’ strong suits, the cot was made, and a large, soft blanket was draped over it. Severus made his way over to Harry, took his foraging bag, and gently guided him to his bed.
“Greyback is not likely to enter the village, Harry. And with my warning, I am sure that everyone will be alright.” He assured Harry.
The boy was unsure, but nodded. If there was anyone he could trust, it was Severus. Nobody else tucked him in. Nobody else assured him that everything would be alright. Nobody else put up a hundred wards at the slightest hint of Harry being in danger.
That’s why, even in a near-stranger’s house, on a bed that wasn’t his, with danger lurking right outside, Harry Potter fell right asleep.