Remember: Peace, Love and be a Marauder! I mean, why wouldn't you be? (I'm including Sev in that statement)
Disclaimer: No, sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. The concept was sort of borrowed from Severitus (especially what's going to happen later plus the fact I'm planning on twisting it way out of proportion) and from Jazz, who I wish would finish his/her story "The Severus He Saved" which is quite excellent I suggest you read it. The only thing I own in this chapter are Harry's interesting abilities and Octavian.
At number four Privet Drive, where the residents would tell you they were quite normal thank you, lived a not so normal boy. His, and I use this term loosely, 'family' consisted of a bony, horse-faced aunt, a beefy, purple-faced uncle, and a whale-like cousin who ate his own weight in food everyday. All were perfectly normal, led normal lives and did normal things; though they had a secret, one they were sure would ruin them if it were to ever be revealed. The 'secret' was at the moment upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom, trying desperately to focus on his homework while ignoring his fatigue and the pain that flaired through his back at any sudden movements. Harry sighed and once again pushed a long black lock of hair behind his ear. Since the end of the Triwizard Tournament his body had subtly begun to change. Even with the meager rations he was being served he'd shot up. He was no longer the 'midget with glasses' but a teenager of six feet tall. That he'd ever reached that height amazed him. Not only had his height changed but others parts of him as well. His shoulders had broadened and he'd put on quite a bit of mucsle. This he attributed to the chores he was being forced to do night and day. His face had thinned out, his features becoming more accented; though the constant circles under his eyes made him seem more dead than alive at times. He put that down under the lack of food and proper sleep, though sometimes his eyes weren't black because of lack of sleep. His hair had been the first sign of change. You tend to notice when it grows several inches over night. Though he had no explanation for it, he didn't mind, not one bit. It was easy to tie back now. His glasses had been snapped in half by Vernon's fist the moment he'd gotten 'home'. When he'd awoken many painful hours later he'd discovered he didn't need them anymore; his vision was perfect; which was good, he could see to do his chores. The Dursleys thought it funny that he didn't have them. They didn't know he didn't need them. If they had watched and paid attention to his movements around the house, the fact that he didn't stumble or grope for anything, they would have noticed this. But they didn't. Bunch of unobservant idiots. Harry sighed and sat the potions essay aside, too tired to focus properly. Not surprising since he had mowed the lawn, cleaned out the garage, painted the garage door and scrubbed the kitchen floor. He was supposed to have washed the windows, inside and out, but there simply hadn't been enough time. He knew it wasn't humanly possible to do all of this; there just weren't enough hours in the day. The Dursleys, however, didn't acknowledge this fact and had given Harry a sound thrashing for being too slow. This hadn't been the first time, not by a long shot. Everything Harry did was wrong to them. He bet that if he saved their lives, Vernon would still find some way to complain about the way he had done it. He, of course, didn't know how right he was.
I haul my pathetic body to its feet before stumbling over and kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. My 'master' has just completed a wonderful five hour torture fest of his Death Eaters. Wonderful for him, not for me. Not that I was alone, I was one of ten that the Dark Lord had decided to have his fun with (A/N: No Gil-Celeb, not THAT, just good old fashioned torturing so don't worry). It was all to see if we were still loyal of course. Into the third hour, two had admitted to giving information to the Ministry. I knew both, and knew they were lying. Not surprising, they had only wanted the torture to end. It had, with Voldemort's Killing Curse. I had only been allowed a moment of coherency to send a silent prayer to the families of the two. Didn't Riddle ever wonder about the people left behind after he was through? After he had killed? Probably reveled in the pain he caused. Sadistic, pyscopathic bastard.
The rest of us had endured another two hours of bouncing off gravestones, endless shouts of "Crucio!" and physical abuse from other Death Eaters that had already proven their loyalty. In the end Voldemort had been satisfied he had weeded out those unloyal to him. How ironic. I'm not loyal, yet I survived. As I turn to leave, my thought drift to Hogwarts, my home. It's hard to think anyone would believe that a school to be their home, yet I do. But can you blame me, honestly blame me for thinking that of the only place that I ever felt I'd belonged? I didn't think so. Hogwarts was more than just a school to me, it was a symbol of hope; as was its headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. That such a man as Albus even exists is a constant amazement to me. He stands proud and tall (he's taller than me in fact), white beard and hair giving off a luminescent glow as they fell in curls to his waist. Those cerulean blue eyes were always alight with a twinkle that not even the darkest of situations could put out. Dim, yes. Put out, no. Monumental difference. The wrinkles that crease his ancient face are mostly from laughter. Some are from hardship (I always had a feeling that his past was worse than mine), some from age, but mostly from laughter. He is the wizarding world's beacon of hope and light.
Does anyone sense a bit of heroworship? I thought so. I guess I do heroworship Albus a bit (okay, more than a bit but I would never admit it aloud). Why, I'm not really sure. Maybe it's that unwavering trust he places within me. That was something I always wondered about; why did he? Did he sense some inate drive to do good inside me? Now that I have to laugh at. Me, do good? Hardly. I'm a bastard in every sense of the word. Yet.....there's always that inkling of doubt. Why does he trust me?
I remember back about six years ago, the year before Harry and his gang started school, and Albus became sick. At first he thought nothing of it, as did we. Who would think much of a slight cough? The only problem with that "slight cough" was that it kept getting worse. So much so that we feared that we would lose him. When Pomfrey had tried to treat him, emphasize on the word
All of this is not to say we didn't argue, we did. The worst were about my treatment of the students, Potter in particular. We shouted, threatened but in the end we compromised (I gave in). Usually our arguements are academic in nature, and those are the best; a lot of fun. It's nice to have an
Speaking of Potter.....Albus had once been brave enough to ask
Then he'd claimed I was stalling and trying to put them off the track. He was right, as always, and I'd finally gave in. I told him the deepest, darkest secret of my life. It had shocked him I think, for only a moment before he asked the possibility that Harry might be.....I had denied it straight out. How could he? He resembled James Potter so much the two might have passed for twins. the possibility that he could be....mine.....was out of the question. Had I actually ever tested that theory, no, but why should I? Albus had persisted and I'd finally gave in. The test was performed that night with a bit of his bloody robes that Pomfrey had saved. The Headmaster had hovered over me the entire time the potion was brewing and when he wasn't doing that he was pacing back and forth the length and breadth of the room. You would think he was more nervous that I. Perhaps that had been because I had been so certain of the outcome. That is also perhaps why I had fainted when I had seen the results.
How, how could he be mine? It had only been one time, but then again, once was enough. I hadn't wanted it to happen but there was nothing I could have done. Voldemort had ordered the capture of Muggle-born witches, specific ones, known for their talents in different fields. Lily had been among those taken. She and I were very good friends through school and I had always been a bit jealous of James that he was able to date her. See, Lily did not view me in that way. We were just friends, and I was willing to leave it at that. Eventually, my feelings changed to more of a brother like fashion as her only sibling was her sister Petunia, whom I had the unfortunate opportunity to meet once. A face to scare a hag and a voice to outmatch any banshee that one. So when Lily was captured, I chose her to come with me. The Dark Lord had wanted use the women to produce children for him, ones that he would raise and train. They would be souless, mindless killing machines by the time he was through. I knew what the others would do to the women and I could not let that fate befall Lily. Under the great risk of exposing my position as a spy, I revealed myself to her and explained the situation. Lily, God rest her soul, agreed to.....ahem....well, let me put it this way: she agreed to maintain my charade as a Death Eater. If you can't figure out what happened I'm certainly not going to tell you. Any bumbling idiot ought to be able to since Harry came nine months later. Harry.....why didn't I think? Why didn't I count the months and realize what had happened? He could have been with me, he could have been my son. I could have had a son. That is perhaps why I was so hateful to the boy. I was jealous that he had been James's son and not my own. But now.....what am I to do? Why, how, did Harry, my son, look so much like James Potter? A question that was pondered after I had regained consciousness in the Headmaster's office. He'd pressed a cup of hot tea into my hands and asked, with the utmost concern, if I was alright. I think I stuttered out a yes, I can't really remember. It was around then that he reminded me that Lily had been as masterful in Charms as Fredrick Flitwick. Upon seeing that I was shaking like mad he'd sat down beside me and opened his arms. I'll admit it, I'm not ashamed, I ran straight to him like a small child to a parent. That's how I view our relationship, as a father (Albus) and child (me). He had rocked me and assured me that all would be well.
"Would it?" I had demanded bitterly. Those all-knowing orbs had arrested me in their intense gaze.
"It will child, it will."
Right now that is where I want to be, at Hogwarts with Albus. Albus would always take care of me, and I him. I'd promised myself that a long time ago. That is a promise I never intend to break.
Just as I reach the last row of gravestones, Voldemort calls me back. Damn him, hasn't he done enough already? Reluctantly I turn and trudge back to find that I am not alone. The Death Eaters were gathered around a large map, how strange. What was going on?
"Alright my servants, we are going to have a fun tonight with a bit of Muggle torture." Good Lord, more torturing? Couldn't this man find a less destructive and less painful hobby? Knitting, for example, would be good.
"The destination for tonight is Privet Drive (A/N: Okay, let us assume that Voldemort doesn't know that's where Harry lives, otherwise this won't work. Okay? Good.). You will divide into groups of ten and attack all of the homes simoltanously. Dobson you have one, Gracia two, Avery three, Malfoy four...." That would be my destination. Malfoy has been ordered to keep an eye on me to make sure I'm a loyal Death Eater. Fat lot that litte unobservent bastard will see. I have not been a spy and survived this long without being good at it. The assignments are dealt quickly and we prepare to apparate.
The house we appear in front of is typically Muggle. There is something special about this house that I should remember, but at the moment it escpaes me. The door opens with a simple 'alohomora' and we file in one at a time. The muggles have the television playing so loud they weren't aware we had entered until we had surrouned them. The blonde, horse-faced woman let out a scream that would have put a banshee to shame and jumped from her seat. She was immediately grabbed by the closest two Death Eaters and the males, not given a chance to react, are sent flying into the air. I watched dispassionately as the men (though one is a boy about Harry's age) were spun and thrown around the room. The older man, obviously the father, was yelling obsenities until someone shut him up with a silencing spell. The man's an amatuer; when I yell, usually I can strip the paint right off the wall. A faint padding of feet reach my ears and I turn ever so slightly. My heart freezes.
The sound of Aunt Petunia's screams echoing through the house jolted him awake. He glanced at the clock: 8:30, he hadn't been asleep that long. Ignoring the protests of his muscles he jumped to his feet, grabbing his wand from the inside of one of the drawers and raced downstairs. What he found was a disastor. Vernon and Dudley were floating in the air. Petunia was sobbing, struggling fruitlessly against the grip of her captors. The Death Eaters laughed as they set Vernon to spinning like a top, his bobbing head coming dangerously close to the ceiling. Petunia shrieked again, making them laugh harder. Harry'd had enough.
"LEAVE THEM ALONE!!!" he bellowed. Silence fell over the house at once. As one, the Death Eaters turned, their white, expressionless masks flickering in the light of the television. Vernon and Dudley crumple to the floor as the spell was terminated and Petunia, released from her captors, rushed to them, still sobbing.
"Potter," one growled, raising his wand. Harry was prepared.
"Inpedimenta! Expellerimus!" A few were able to block the first and some the second but none both. Several wands flew to him as he ducked behind the couch. After throwing another Inpediment curse over the sofa's top he placed the wands before him and hit them with the strongest burning spell he knew. They instantly ignited. Deciding he'd stayed in one place for far too long he sprang, casting a particularly nasty cuse that would make one sprout extra limbs (while causing terrific pain in the process). He smiled grimly at the howls of pain and crouched behind an armchair. He peeked over the arm to access the situation. Ten Death Eaters, four wandless and two were writhing on the ground from the effects of his curse. That still left four. Bloody wonderully. Wanting to retain his element of confusion he had caused, he stood and sent a barrage of stupefying spells. The disarmed ones stood no chance and it caught another one square in chest but the other three were able to move out of the way.
Harry paused a moment at the bottom of the stairs, fury working over his expression.
"LEAVE THEM ALONE!!!" he bellowed. We turn, as one, to face him. My mind is racing to come up with a plan to protect him. Surprised? He
'I really need to work on my aim,' Harry thought as he went to duck back down. It was a fraction too late as two curses surged toward him. He was able to fend off one but the other slammed into his stomach, throwing him against the fireplace. He grunted from the impact and slid to the floor. He tried to ignore the screaming pain from his abused back and opened his eyes to see two dark figures approaching.
"Valient effort I must say Potter," It could have only been the elder Malfoy, "Pity it was for nothing." A wand rose. "Now for a bit of retribution for my Death Eater brethren. Crucio!" Harry squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to prepar for the pain. It never came. Harry's eyes snapped open to see a large figure, the third Death Eater, convulsing in a manner that spoke of the Unforgivable curse. The teenager reached for the man but before he could even get within a fingerlength of him, his mask fell away. It was Snape.
Malfoy catches a lucky break and slams Harry against the wall. I wince behind my mask sympathetically. I understand what he's going through. If you will remember I spent the entire day becoming intimately aquainted with various tombstones. The day's events flood back to haunt me at the most inopportune moment and I'm frozen to my spot. Malfoy and the other Death Eater have no such restraints and commence towards their intended victim. Malfoy's voice snapped me back to reality and I foresaw what was about to happen. Without even a thought to my safety, I darted in front of Harry as Malfoy yelled 'Crucio!' A grim sort of satisfaction follows me into the darkness. At least this is a start to my repentence.
Snape went limp in my arms as the curse died away. I pull him close and call his ear repeatedly but no response was forthcoming. I was dimly aware of Lucius Malfoy swearing colorfully under his breath, which drew my attention back to them.
"That double-crossing son-of-a-bitch! I knew he wasn't to be trusted. I'll just take care of him now." He raises his wand again and points it at the fallen man's heart. "Avada Ked-" At that moment, two things explode violently. The wands I had set ablaze behind me, and my temper. As the raw magical energy surged forth I summon it to me. My palms grew warm as the enormous power circle them. By Malfoy's expression, I have suffiecently scared him. Time then, to up the anty. I strip back the Potions Master's left sleeve, my hand hovering centimeters from the Dark Mark. Silver-grey eyes lock with my own emerald green as I give him a sinister smile.
"Say hello to Voldemort for me," I whisper before clamping my hand around the evil symbol.
A tremendous boom shook the house to its very foundations. The Death Eaters in the house, and every house surrounding, vanished so abruptly that it seemed as though they had never existed in the first place. Harry slumped over the man's body and panted. With a silent groan he sat back up and shook the prostrate man once more.
"Professor?" his voice cracked like eggshells. There was no response. Takin up his wand he pointed it at the man's chest.
"Enervate." Severus only groaned but did not wake. Sighing resolutely he stood and picked the other up, surprising himself by the feat. With a glance in his aunt's direction to be certain they would survive, he stumbled up the stairs. Ten minutes of strenous labor later, he made it to his bedroom. He laid the professor on the floor and quickly tidied his bed coverings before levitating him onto the matress. It was fruitless to attempt to lift him again so he used magic. Though, he promised himself, he wouldn't use it anymore. He was positive the Ministry of Magic would be there any moment and he didn't want to be expelled. Though how they could do that with someone who was only trying to protect themselves was beyond him. He didn't think they could, but he wouldn't put it past them. He'd developed a deep distrust for the Ministry ever since they had falsly imprisoned Hagrid in his second year. Their actions in the following years had only cemented that feeling. Oh yes, there were some you could trust within there, Arthur and Percy for example, but Harry sensed corruption, like a bruise on a tomato it would only grow. The feeling also suggested it began from high up, may be even with the Minister of Magic himself.
Harry shook himself from his thoughts. This was not time to be contemplating military coups, Snape needed his help. First order of business was to discover why he would not wake. Sitting beside him, he placed two fingers lightly at either temple and began a scan. During the last weeks of the following year he'd discovered an interesting, and useful new talent. He had the gift of healing. Uncertain how he had come by this he'd let Hermione and Ron in on the secret. The bushy headed girl had immediately aquired several books for him to read on the subject and even Ron had provided a few as well. From then on, any spare time he'd had he'd put to good use by reading. A fascinating and delicate field of study. One had to possess nerves of the finest steel in order to perform the operation he'd read about that had been performed by Healer-surgeons. One particularly interesting point in being a healer was being able to perform a body scan. It allowed the healer to view all internal organ, bodily functions, and brain activity. The human body was like a symphony orchestra; its functions all worked in harmony. Even the smallest of problems would cause discord. This was the first time he'd ever performed a scan on anyone before and he didn't know what to expect.
He was not prepared for the deafening screams of torn muscles, the pounding of bruises and resonant crash of the Cruciatus curse. He jerked away, too far away, and landed on the floor. The 'sympathy pains' if you will, lingered for a moment before fading. Harry sat on the floor, dazed by the sensory reception overload. Taking a deep breath, he hauled himself to his feet and back on the bed. Carefully he began removing the man's clothes. If what he'd sensed was anything close to the truth, he had his work cut out for him. The heavy outer cloak and robe gone, the student began to remove the shirt. What it left behind was worse than he could have ever imagined. Fighting the urge to look away he clinically began to examine the damage. The bruises discolored the pale skin to the point that it was difficult to discern the true color. Deep cuts cris-crossed one another over the chest and oozed blood. The man's right arm twitched as well as his right leg. With the bruises as they were, massaging that twitch away was out of the question. It would only add to the damage, not to mention be painful. As he continued to stare, a vague horror passed through him. What could have possibly caused so much damage to his Professor? Was it Voldemort's work? At that thought, his eyes drifted towards the man's left arm. To his surprise, the Dark Mark had vanished. He ran a thumb over the area and could feel the heat of recent magic, his magic. Could he be the cause of its disappearence?
It was....a possibility, and one to be thought of later. Rising from the bed he grabbed the box of matches and began a fire under his cauldron. He would need to dress those wounds before they became infected. Since he had no sterile gauze to use and he didn't know where the Dursleys kept their first aid kit, he would have to improvise. Seeing that the water in the pewter cauldron was steadily warming he took one of his bedsheets and methodically began to rip it. They would not be the best bandages in the world, but they would have to do. Seeing the water was now boiling happily he tossed them in. Not the best sterilization job in the world but was the best he could do. Leaving the cauldron, he slithered under the bed to the loose floorboard. He kept all of his ready made potions (thank God he had some) here. Pulling out several bottles he sat them on the night stand and uncorked one. The substance was as thick as lotion in his hands as he rubbed it over the numerous lacerations. He'd cleaned the blood away earlier and glad of it. Once that was done he evaporated the water in the cauldron and removed the strips. There was no way to get around using magic, not if he was going to help his teacher. Raising the man to a sitting position he gently wrapped the clean bandages around the damaged flesh. Leaving him sitting he grabbed another bottle from the table. Pulling the man's mouth open he tipped the contents inside while simeltanously stroking the throat to induce swallowing. Snape choked and sputtered but managed to take in the majority of the simple healing draft. Harry dared not risk anything else, not until he knew more. Easing the man to lay back down, he covered him lightly so as not cause discomfort.
Now it was time to take care of himself. Rifling through the closet he found Dudley's old but never used sleeping bag. Rolling that out beside the bed (and between the door) he made it as comfortable as possible before going about his normal night routine. Hedwig, who had been watching silently, hooted gratefully as Harry placed her dose of medicine inside her cage.
"You'll have to get better soon girl, I'm going to need you to go to Hogwarts since it seems as though the Ministry's not coming." True, it had been several hours since the battle with the Death Eaters and no one had come. If they hadn't by now, he figured, they wouldn't at all.
"Don't worry about dinner, I'm sure Octavian will be back soon." A hiss flowed from the window. "And there he is now." The snake slithered its way towards the two and laid his prize, a fat dead rat, before the bird cage.
#Dinner is served,# he hissed playfully. Harry smiled and placed the rat inside the cage. The owl gobbled it down greedily after giving the snake her thanks. Octavian, or Tave, was a new friend of Harry's that had attached himself to the boy ever since Harry had rescued him from a bird. He was albino, skin devoid of all color. The only color he possessed were in his eyes which were coal black. Harry was eternally grateful for having him around, not only to talk to but to catch Hedwig's dinner. The owl had been poisoned by Dudley at the beginning of the summer, two weeks before, and she was only now regaining her appetite and strength. As well as she looked, Harry knew he could not risk her on a flight to the school for at least another week. That meant he was on his own with Snape for a week. He only hoped his uncle was too sick from the attack to do anything about it. With Tave wrapped around his wrist he moved to his make-shift bed on the floor.
#Who is the man, young master?# the snake asked as Harry laid down.
#One of my professors, Severus Snape.# The reptile's tongue flicked in the man's direction.
#He is very sick, young master, is there anything you can do for him?#
#I've done all I can right now, all ne needs is time.# The young snake hissed in understanding and laid himself to sleep. Harry placed his wand and the professor's within an arm's reach in case he needed them. He only hoped he wouldn't.
Voldemort sat musing over a large map. Everything was going perfectly, if only he could get his hands on that Potter brat. But, there was no need to rush, he would get him in due time. He didn't want to kill him, oh no, what he planned to do with him was much more useful than his death would ever be. Only time would be necessary. Suddenly a golden light appeared above him. He watched as it expanded then collapsed with a sudden and resounding 'boom!'. His Death Eaters, the one's he'd sent to Privet Drive, fell to the ground uncermoniously. He went to the one closest and hauled him to his feet.
"What happened?" He demanded. The Death Eater coughed before answering.
"Potter sir," It was Malfoy, "He and Snape, Snape's a traitor." Voldemort let the man drop in disgust.
"Potter," he growled, "I will get you, mark my words. You are mine."
A/N: Well, what do you think? It's a different approach to my other story, Gold and Silver, Fire and Ice. In that one, Harry is not Severus's son. And Severus is not....wait, I can't tell that, that would ruin part of the story. If you read my other story, don't fret, I haven't given up on it. This is just to clear my brain of it for a while so I can write on it again. Anyways....hope you like it! If you do, I'll continue it. I do have the next chapter sort of planned out but after that I'm a fish out of water. Probably just let my pen take me where it wants to. Okays, bye for now!
One last thing, please review!
