Title: The Woebegone Wanderers

Author: Nimohtar

Pairing: Harry/Severus

Rating: PG-15

Warnings: None

Summary: AU. What if Severus heard about a plot to kidnap Harry and use him in a ritual to restore the Dark Lord? What if Severus decided to take matter into his own hand and came to Privet Drive before the Death Eaters, and took Harry away? Anything is possible.

Notes:

Disclaimer: The following story is based on situations and characters from the Harry Potter books which are created and owned by J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoat Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

Originally started August 2006.

Title comes from the Wild Beasts' track of the same name.

Banner artwork is my own.

_I_

October 1989

Severus Snape stepped out of Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, a small parcel tucked under one arm, and an irate scowl on his face. It was the middle of the day, Saturday no less, and the street was crowded. If not for the fact that the rare potions ingredient he had ordered was too delicate and volatile to be sent by owl post, he would not have ventured anywhere near here, especially today. He had planned on spending the day sitting in his room, curled up in his favourite armchair reading the new Potions Weekly, a quill and parchment beside him that he could use to scribble down any interesting new developments or ideas. He hated it when his plans were ruined.

Sighing, Severus turned to walk in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron where he could then Floo back to Hogwarts, when his eyes were caught by two wizards strolling along Diagon Alley. There was nothing overly suspicious about them at first glance - like many others, they wore long robes in muted colours with thick black cloaks thrown around their shoulders and held closed against the chill October air - but to Severus, the deceptively casual way they walked was clearly visible. He had not survived for so long without being able to notice these things.

Severus watched them go, curiosity lingering in his black eyes, but it wasn't until he saw the two wizards turn towards the entrance of Knockturn Alley that he committed himself to satisfying it, and finding out what they were up to. After all, anything involving Lucius Malfoy and Walden McNair was bound to mean trouble.

Checking to see whether his wand was secure in the holster on his right forearm, Severus set off down the street after his one-time comrades. He kept out of sight, using shadows and doorways, even the occasional passer-by. He needn't have worried, as neither Malfoy nor McNair turned to glance back. In a few short minutes, the two wizards, and Severus behind them, reached the seedier part of Wizarding London's shopping district: Knockturn Alley - the home of the less-than-legal and darker dealers of merchandise and the dregs of Wizarding society. Everyone who entered here had better have a hand on their wand and a curse on their lips, because here, only the strongest survived.

Following the two men, Severus kept an eye on his surroundings, sending an intimidating glare at the dirty-clothed people huddled on a corner who were eyeing him distrustfully. He was a familiar sight in some of these areas, especially when his potions required elements deemed somewhat suspect, and so was left largely alone.

The two Death Eaters in front of him were nearing a fork, and Severus hurried his pace so as not to lose his sight of them, a small frown adorning his brow. If the two of them turned to the right, they could be lost within mere seconds in the maze of what was unofficially named 'Knockturn Warren', a multitude of winding lanes and sharp turns. It was the more dangerous side of Knockturn, and it was not without a small sigh of relief that he saw the two turn instead to the left, where the street would lead to the shopping Quarter; it was considered the respectable part of Knockturn - if any place in Knockturn could boast of a title such as that.

He followed them down the cobbled street, past dingy shops and unsavoury customers, until he saw them enter the heart of the district: Knockturn Square, where witches and wizards gathered to meet in and around the market stalls. Narrow alleys and streets led off in every direction; every part of the district reached here, and in turn, every part of the district could be reached from here. This was the place where darkness thrived, a mutating and living thing that fed off the inhabitants who came here. Here, everything had a price, and if you were willing to pay, someone, somewhere, was willing to sell.

Malfoy and McNair stopped near an old, crumbling fountain, with the aristocratic blonde looking around himself disdainfully, hand gripping the black and silver cane which Severus knew held his wand. So even Malfoy was cautious. It did not bode well. Not well at all.

Glancing around him, Severus spied a narrow niche near to the fountain, where withered ivy hung in a curtain, obscuring it from view. Surreptitiously, he made his way around the edges of the square, all the time keeping his eyes on the two Death Eaters waiting by the fountain. When he reached it, Severus slid inside, after quickly checking and finding no harmful spells or hexes. He made sure his wand was easily available, and kept his back to the wall. When he looked back to the fountain, he found that Malfoy and McNair had been joined by two others, and narrowing his eyes slightly, he recognised the faces of Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood.

The four greeted each other with polite nods before moving closer together and beginning to speak in hushed voices. Severus could only just hear the occasional word, and was looking around for a better place to eavesdrop, when a witch with a large cart rushed passed the group, causing them to leap out of the way, and incidentally, nearer to Severus. Rookwood was glaring after the witch, but Malfoy's sharp command brought his attention back to what he was saying.

'...we have three days, and all is in place. I've had others tampering with the wards for weeks now, and by then, they will have sufficiently weakened enough to allow us to enter without triggering the alarm. We will have approximately two hours, then, to kill the Muggles and get the boy, before someone notices that the wards have been breached.'

'More than enough time,' Rookwood murmured.

Lucius Malfoy nodded. 'Exactly.'

'But Lucius, how do you know that this plan will work?' Dolohov began, lifting a quivering hand to rub over his mouth. 'Why go to all this bother when the potion to bring Our Lord-'

'Quiet, fool!' McNair hissed. 'Do you want us to be overheard?'

Dolohov quickly shook his head.

'Are you having doubts, Antonin?' Rookwood murmured, a small note of warning in his tone. 'Are you too much of a coward to serve Him?'

'Of course not!' Dolohov retorted hotly. 'I was just questioning whether it was necessary, that is all! Why go to all this danger and trouble when anyone would do?'

Rookwood kept his level gaze on Dolohov for a moment longer, before his lips curled into a sneer and he answered. 'We know that, but using the boy's blood would be so much more fitting. Just think; the one who defeated Him will be the one to bring Him back.'

'Besides,' Malfoy said coldly, 'it is not for you to question, Antonin, only to follow orders. Is that understood?'

Dolohov nodded sharply, though it was clear from his expression that he was anything but happy with the situation. The others ignored him, and were about to start speaking once more, when they were interrupted by the sounds of a fight that had just broken out between two wizards near to them. They watched dispassionately as the larger wizard picked up the smaller, and tossed him against a wooden stall. The wood cracked under the impact, and the stall owner proceeded to join in with the fight, only this time brandishing a wand. Malfoy and the others sneered in distaste.

'Let us leave, before we become broiled into this. We can discuss this elsewhere,' Malfoy said, and the others nodded, before the small group set off down one of the nearby streets, the arrow on the wall labelling it as the one that led towards Diagon Alley.

Severus waited until they were out of sight, before he too left Knockturn Square, hurrying in the other direction towards the Leaky Cauldron. His mind was awhirl with what he had just heard, and was working frantically to make sense of it. It wasn't until he reached the entrance to Diagon Alley that he finally realised just what exactly the four Death Eaters had been discussing, and when he did, he came to a standstill in the middle of the street, ignoring the angry exclamations from passer-bys.

In three days, the Death Eaters were going to attack the home of some Muggles, kill them and then take away with them a 'boy'. The boy's blood was to be used in a potion to bring back the Dark Lord, and as far as he knew, the only person who could be referred to as 'the one who defeated Him' was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

In a daze, Severus began to move again, faster now, as he wanted to get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible where he would be able to think through and cement the foolish thoughts and plans that were even now running through his head. He had only three days to plan.

On October the Thirty-First, Death Eaters would attack the house of Harry Potter, while the rest of the Wizarding World celebrated the eighth anniversary of the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

It was two days later, and Severus stalked through the halls of Hogwarts, glaring at any student to cross his path, as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. He himself was on another mission.

The Potions Master reached the Transfigurations corridor, and made his way to the office at the end. If he was in luck, Minerva would be at dinner long enough for him do what he had come to do, and no one would know he had even been here. Severus glanced round, and with a flick of his wand and a muttered spell, had the door to the Deputy Headmistress' office unlocked and open. He slithered through, and entered, pushing the door closed softly behind him.

He looked around the room, wincing at the - in his opinion - garish red and gold colour scheme. If a stranger had entered, they would have been in no doubt as to which House Minerva McGonagall had been in at school. Ignoring the cheery fire and welcoming armchairs in front of it, Severus made his way over to the large mahogany desk, and pushing aside the solid wooden chair, he began opening drawers and rifling through papers. He opened one of the drawers, and could only raise an eyebrow at the assortment of furry mice and balls inside. He was about to close it again when the door to the room opened, and he looked up to see the tartan-robed witch looking at him oddly.

'Severus,' she greeted, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

'Minerva,' he said, straightening, and he tried to paste a warm smile on his face. It took some effort, but he seemed to manage it, because Minerva relaxed somewhat and stepped further into the room.

'What in Merlin's name are you doing here?'

'I was looking for the Book of Records. I need to send a letter to a student's family,' he improvised.

Minerva hadn't moved from the doorway. 'Severus, you usually ask me for the address. You never look for it yourself.'

'Yes, well,' he sneered slightly. 'The reason behind the letter is of a...delicate nature, and would cause undue embarrassment if the party in question were to be revealed,' he lied. 'I didn't think it worth disturbing you over.'

Minerva continued looking at him strangely, but finally she smiled at him. Severus hid a sigh of relief.

'Why Severus, you only had to ask. I'll get you the book at once.'

The old witch turned away from the desk, and Severus watched as she walked over to an ornately carved door in a bookcase, pulling a tiny gold key from around her neck. Unlocking it, she proceeded to pull out a dark brown leather-bound book, bringing it over to the desk, and putting it down in front of Severus.

'Now, take as long as you need. When you're done, just place the book back in the cabinet and it will lock itself. I'm going back to dinner; Albus says the House-Elves outdid themselves on the trifle tonight.'

Severus nodded, watching her closely. She didn't seem suspicious, but with Minerva, it was hard to tell sometimes.

Minerva moved towards the door, but just as she was about to walk through, she turned to look back at Severus. 'You could never bother me, Severus, I hope you know that?' With those parting words she left, closing the door behind her.

When Severus was sure she would not return, he sat down in her chair, and opened the book. At first glance, it appeared to be empty, but when Severus picked up a quill lying on the desk and wrote down a name, the still-wet ink dissolved into the pages, and in its place, four lines of script appeared.

Harry James Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Number Four Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Tearing off a piece of parchment from the stack on the desk next to him, Severus copied down the address, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He would memorise it later, just before he burned the slip of parchment. Severus then tapped the end of his quill twice on the page of the book and when the address before him dissolved, he wrote down a different name. He repeated the process another eight times. It was probably an excess, but he doubted that anyone would look back further than a few names.

Standing up, Severus closed the large tomb, and swiftly returned it to its place in the cabinet, waiting until he heard the sound of the lock closing and the tingle of wards engaging before leaving the room. After that he swept down the corridors and back into the familiar coldness of the dungeons. No matter what others said - and there were a lot - to him, they were home.

Severus nodded to a few Slytherin students hurrying past him on their way to dinner, and within moments he had reached the corridor that led to his Chambers. Placing a hand on the black stone next to the flickering torch, he whispered the password, and a short second later, the wall in front of him dissolved, leaving him looking at a thick wooden door. He opened it easily, and passed through into his rooms.

The once comfortable room was now bare, all furniture and personal belongings cleared out during the last two days. All that was left was the stack of shelves against one wall, and the patches of dust; the only testament that at one time, someone had lived here. His office was just as empty.

Severus glanced around him, taking in the unlit grate and the large mantelpiece where only a few short days ago, trinkets and an old clock had resided. He moved into the bedroom, empty also, and into the bathroom beyond. He went into his personal lab, next the library, on the pretence that he was checking for any last minute items that had been overlooked, but in reality memorising every single part of the chambers. Here he had hurt, had healed, had cried, and hated. This had been his home, his sanctuary, for over eight years, and he knew that he may never return here.

Firming his resolve against the doubts surfacing in his mind, Severus returned to the living room, pulling out the parchment in his pocket. He read the address until he had it memorised, then used his wand to burn the paper. He conjured a quill and another parchment, and sat down at the plain wooden table and chair that he had left.

Dear Albus,

By the time you read this I shall be gone, and this time, I do not jest. What I am doing is important, even though I cannot tell you at this time.

I am grateful to you Albus, for all that you have done for me; so very grateful, that I sometimes wonder whether you really know how much it means to me. You believed me when no one else would dare and you befriended me when no one else wanted to. We have had our differences, and I know that there were times when I hated you so intensely that there was very little stopping me from cursing you.

I am sorry to leave you like this, with no warning, but it had to be done. I have cleared out my quarters and have taken all of my belongings with me. I do not know whether I will return, but if I do, I hope that I shall still be welcome. For my duties, I would recommend Sinistra for the position of Head of Slytherin House, as she is a fair witch, and will look after my Snakes well. As for the position of Teacher of Potions, at least try to find someone competent, rather than the useless imbeciles you hire each year for Defence.

I cannot tell you where we will be, but I shall endeavour to write to you, at least to let you know all is well.

I have no doubt that you will be disappointed in me, but this is the path I have chosen to take, and I know that it is one that I must; all that I ask is that you do not judge me too harshly.

Farewell, Albus, and know that I am ever loyal to you.

Severus Snape

Signing the letter, Severus folded it and charmed it so that only the recipient could open it, before scrawling Albus Dumbledore on the front. He was sure the Headmaster would seek him out before long when he failed to show up for classes on Monday; he'd made sure to mention a potion he wanted to brew, sure that his absence over the weekend would be excused away by his work.

Standing, he left the letter on the table, propped up by an empty glass vial. His finger lingered on the letter and he almost had to wrench it away.

It was madness, his plan. It would likely end in his death. He could bring to mind easily all the reasons why he should abandon the idea now; reasons that he had spent that first night after visiting Knockturn compiling, but at the same time he knew he would still do it. No matter how many times he told himself he had a choice, he knew that he did not.

Death Eaters were active, the Dark Lord was stirring, and the boy was unprepared, hidden among Muggles who could no longer keep him safe. He'd thought of going to Dumbledore, but he feared the old man was too soft for all he was the leader of the Light in this war. He'd see a child, someone to be kept safe and ignorant from the trials and terrors that surrounded him, and Severus knew it would doom them all. It was up to him to make sure Harry Potter knew what he must to survive this next stage in the war, and in turn, do what he must for everyone to survive.

He knew just how important the boy was. He'd been the one to pass on the prophecy to the Dark Lord, the prophecy which had instigated the witch-hunt and led to the deaths of one of the only people Severus had ever held dear, for all that he'd not always shown it. He'd repented after that, turned spy, and had made a promise to look after the son of his hated enemy and childhood friend.

He'd fulfil that promise now.

Severus picked up the small bag by the door, filled with a number of potions, parchments and quills, and throwing it over his shoulder, he set off once more through his dungeons, towards the entrance hall. As he was passing by the open doors to the Great Hall, he could hear the chattering voices of students, enjoying the last day before Halloween. He hesitated briefly, and looked over them, wondering if he had ever been that carefree, that innocent.

No, he mused sadly, he hadn't.

His eyes lifted to the man sitting at the head of the table, great snowy beard tucked into the belt of bright blue and yellow robes, the matching wizard's hat bobbing on his head as he nodded to something Professor Vector was saying beside him. Severus could just imagine the plate before him full of trifle, and had to work to swallow past the lump in his throat.

He turned his back on the hall and stepped closer to the main doors. Beyond he could see the first stars appearing in the bruise-coloured sky. It had always been the story of his life; turning away from the light and warmth, to the dark and cold, where every step was a struggle.

Severus had always been taught to get on with what was necessary, no matter how much pain or suffering it caused. It had helped him, ultimately, during the trials of his life, and he wrapped the knowledge around him now like an invisible shield against anything that could hurt him, even as he stepped out onto the damp ground outside.

He started walking, leisurely, enjoying the lingering comfort that Hogwarts herself seemed to provide for him, as if she knew what he was facing and wished him luck. He smiled, the first true smile in a long time, and reaching the main gate Apparated away into the night. The echoing crack was the only sign that he had been there.

Privet Drive was as normal a place as Severus had ever seen. Semi-detached houses painted white or a variation thereof, neatly trimmed front gardens where weeds feared to grow, and only the different types of cars sitting in front of the houses showed any individuality. Severus found it hard to believe that the sister of Lily Evans chose to live here.

Dismissing the thought, Severus looked around from his position under a tall tree until he spotted the door marked with the number 'four'. He cast a notice-me-not spell over himself, as he didn't need some Muggle seeing him in his wizard's robes if they happened to glance out of the window. He quickened his pace and was soon standing in front of the perfectly normal blue door of Number Four, Privet Drive, sheltered slightly by the overhanging roof above his head.

He concentrated and felt the magic of the wards around the house, and the sickness that they emanated; a result of whatever Lucius and the Death Eaters had done. Severus smiled grimly. The same thing that would let the Death Eaters through the wards tomorrow would be the thing to let him in now. There was also the added fact that despite the Dark Mark on his arm, there was nothing malicious about his purpose for being here.

Severus lessened the charm around him and raised a hand to knock on the door sharply. Looking through the glass he could just make out the fuzzy shape of someone rising and coming towards the door, and he could hear the faint sounds of a television set.

The door in front of him opened and a large man with small pig-like eyes, a minimal amount of neck and a large moustache peered out at him. Disly? Durble? What was it Albus had called him? The man took one look at his robes and then his small eyes widened and he made as if to slam the door shut. Severus was faster, though, and his hand bore down against the door. He leaned over until his face was at the same height as the man in front of him.

'I suggest you let me in, for your life depends on what I have to say,' he hissed, black eyes flashing.

'I will not have your kind in my house!' the fat man declared, red sweeping up his neck.

'Then you will die,' Severus stated frostily.

The man before him dithered for a moment longer, mouth opening and closing a few times before finally stepping away from the door, harrumphing loudly and glaring. 'Make sure you wipe your feet.'

Severus sneered and came inside as the man shut the door forcefully behind him.

'Vernon, who was it?' a high-pitched voice asked from inside the living room.

The man - Vernon - shot him a half-nervous half-outraged look and scurried into the living room as fast as he could considering his bulk, with Severus following leisurely behind. The living room was as normal as the rest of the house, with cream walls and matching sofa, armchairs and curtains. When he entered Severus found the family sitting in front of the TV; a tall, horse-faced woman and a blonde boy who would soon resemble Vernon in size if he carried on the way he was.

Severus hoped that the boy wasn't Harry Potter, because the child before him looked very much spoilt, and a bully too if he wasn't mistaken. A quick glance to the boy's forehead revealed no lightning bolt-shaped scar, and Severus inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Then he frowned, as there was no other person in the room.

As soon as the woman caught sight of him, she let out a muffled shriek and stood up, pushing the blonde boy behind her - a useless feat, as he was nearly twice as wide as her.

By now, Vernon had recovered some of his bravado and stood in front of Severus with a firm expression on his face, his moustache twitching in anger.

'Well? Who are you?! What are you doing here?!' he asked loudly, chest puffing outwards in an attempt at intimidation.

A raised eyebrow from Severus and a condescending glance had him back down slightly, and Severus turned to address his remarks to the woman. She looked nothing like Lily, but Severus could still see the slight family resemblance between the two. She'd never wanted anything to do with Severus and Lily when they'd be children, but she might remember his name.

'You are Petunia, I presume?'

The woman nodded warily, her hands tightening their grip on her arms, until he could see her fingers turn white.

'My name is Severus Snape.' He saw a spark of recognition in her eyes, but they remained narrow and fearful. He continued: 'I have come to warn you about an attack that will occur tomorrow night, on this house.'

Petunia paled dramatically, while the man - Dursley, ha! He remembered now - seemed to go an even darker shade of red and purple.

'Now, see here -!' he began, but Severus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the man before he could get further.

'Silence, Dursley, before I turn you into a cockroach. Nothing compels me to tell you this.'

Dursley stopped speaking abruptly.

Severus turned back to Petunia and returned his wand to his pocket. 'You know something of the events in our World in the last ten years or so, I hope?'

She grimaced but nodded, although she refused to say more. Severus bit back on his annoyance.

'The Dark Lord is not dead. He is merely waiting, and biding his time until he can return. The attack tomorrow night will be carried out by his followers in order to capture Harry Potter and use him to restore the Dark Lord to life. The boy must not fall into His hands or it will mean the death of us all. Do you understand me?'

Petunia Dursley nodded shakily, her mouth firming in determination. Severus' almost non-existent respect for the woman rose a notch; perhaps she was not so different to Lily after all.

'What should we do? We have no protection against your kind; we cannot keep him safe.'

'You must leave.' Severus turned to Dursley. 'Take your wife and son and leave. You cannot be here tomorrow night. Go wherever you can, just not near here.'

'And the boy?' Dursley asked nervously.

'He will come with me. I can protect him far better than you,' Severus said decisively, ready to override any protest by the boy's family. He was surprised therefore, when no protest came. 'Where is the boy?' he asked, and both Petunia and her husband shot a glance behind Severus, to the hallway. Petunia pointed towards a small cupboard door.

Frowning, Severus turned on his heel and stalked towards the door, wrenching it open to find a small boy sitting on a mattress, staring up at Severus with wide bright green eyes behind large round glasses. He sat with his arms around his knees, only flinching slightly at the suddenly large man dressed in black looming at him and scowling before he stuck his chin in the air. There was light in his green eyes, and he seemed more curious than frightened. Severus could see that the clothes he wore were too large for him, and worn from over-wearing; the glasses on his nose were broken and held together with tape. He seemed too small, thin, pathetically so.

Looking around, Severus could see a pile of clothes folded neatly inside a cardboard box; small broken toys lined the wooden shelf over the boy's head and scuffed shoes had been placed neatly under the bed. Severus held back his surprise.

He had come tonight expecting to see the miniature version of James Potter, down to the arrogant expression and sneering eyes. He had expected a spoilt brat, living in comfort and luxury, wanting for nothing. Instead he'd found a child underfed and malnourished if his skinny body was anything to go by, and living in a cupboard. The address he'd copied down from the Book of Records seemed to make more sense now.

Severus looked over his shoulder at the Dursleys, his gaze fierce. 'A cupboard? You've been keeping Lily's son in a cupboard?' he hissed, and felt dark satisfaction as Petunia flinched, turning her face away. It was just as well she attempted no excuses otherwise Severus might have cursed her, wards be damned.

He looked back at the boy, trying to soften his glare. 'You're coming with me. Take anything you might need or want. You will not be returning,' Severus ordered, standing up again.

After a brief hesitation and a slightly contemplative look, the green-eyed boy nodded once and reached down to pick up his shoes and slip them on. He looked around himself, and began piling his meagre belongings into the cardboard box with his clothes. There was an old toothbrush, some coloured pencils, papers covered with scribbled drawings. When he had everything, he turned questioning eyes to Severus, and the older man reached out to pick up the box, shrinking it with his wand and slipping it into his pocket. He turned around, not seeing how the boy's eyes widened.

Severus strode back to the family waiting in the living room. They had barely moved from their previous positions. His expression was not pleasant.

'I suggest you leave tonight; if you're still here tomorrow, on your own heads be it; you've been warned,' he said darkly. 'I'll take the boy now - rest assured, I won't be bringing him back.'

That prompted some movement.

'Good,' Vernon Dursley barked, 'we never wanted him here anyway. Brought us nothing but trouble.'

Petunia said nothing.

Severus' glare deepened and his fingers itched for his wand. He wanted to curse them, obliviate them too, but they'd need the memories of tonight if they were to escape the attack tomorrow night. Added to that, when Dumbledore eventually hunted them down, as he surely would, Severus was relying on the information they gave to the Headmaster to explain his own actions and to enforce his safety; if Dumbledore knew he'd taken Potter, he'd have no reason to search for them. With Severus' own note too, he would be able to put the pieces of the story together. He would be the only one.

'Be grateful for your relation to Lily - no other reason would make me even think of saving your miserable hides,' he said, the menace no less great for the quietness of his tone.

With that Severus swept out of the room before he did or said anything more to those worthless Muggles, to the hallway where Potter was waiting for him next to the door.

'Come, we're leaving,' he barked a bit more harshly than he'd intended, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and marching him out of the house, down the street to the tree he'd first appeared under earlier that evening. Once they were safely hidden in the shadows, he pulled out his wand and grabbed the boy more firmly by the shoulder, Apparating away with a crack, away from the normality of Privet Drive, knowing that he could not turn back from his chosen path now.

They landed with a small thud in a grassy field, somewhere in rural Devon. There was little to see for miles around except fields, criss-crossed with low stone brick walls and dusty footpaths, the odd copse of trees here and there, and in the distance a small, ramshackle one-storey farmhouse which Severus had purchased just the day before. It was rundown and antiquated, but had electricity and running water, and it would suit their needs. It sat on the top of a sloping hill, providing a good view of the surrounding area. The nearest town was half-an-hour away, and was completely Muggle. They would be able to buy necessary food supplies from there for the time they stayed here.

Severus had already put up the wards around the house and surrounding grounds, the strongest he knew, even ones that touched on Dark Magic, and as an extra precaution had placed the house under the Fidelis Charm, with himself as the Secret Keeper. He would have to show the boy the address for him to see the house, and he reached into his pocket for the piece of paper with 'Birkbrook Farm' scrawled on it, turning to the boy at his side, and opening his mouth to explain to him the rules about the charm and the farm.

When he looked down, however, it was to see the boy's face bleached of colour, eyes wide with fear, and it was then he noticed what he thought was a boy's normal activeness and refusal to stay still was actually the boy's trembling. Severus scowled, not relishing dealing with whatever childish hysterics had suddenly come over the boy while they stood here exposed, outside of the wards.

'Potter, what is it?' he demanded.

The boy shook his head jerkily, and his trembling increased a notch. His eyes kept darting from Severus, to the trees and fields around them, then back to the man, though he made sure to never meet his eyes.

'Potter!'

'I...I...' He stuttered. 'I...You...'

With a sinking feeling, Severus regarded the boy in front of him. 'You do know about magic? You have been told about the Wizarding World, and wizards and witches and Hogwarts, haven't you?'

Potter stayed silent, head hanging low.

'Potter, yes or no: do you know about magic?' Severus said sharply. The boy quickly replied with a shake of his head.

Severus bit back his groan of frustration, cursing Dumbledore under his breath. Of all the idiotic, senseless things to do - letting the boy who was meant to defeat Voldemort grow up ignorant of magic.

Severus hid a sigh as another thing came to him. No wonder the boy was scared, when as far as he knew he had just been taken from the only home he knew and somehow magically transported into the middle of nowhere by a complete stranger who was both bigger and physically stronger than him.

There was a reason why Minerva or Pomona Sprout were sent to inform Muggle-born students about magic and Hogwarts, rather than him. He had no patience with trying to answer all their questions and reassure them about their understandable fears. But now he was the only one who could explain to Potter about his magical heritage, and he would have to do his best, and perhaps it would even be a blessing.

'Potter, I am not going to harm you - I'm here to help. I give you my word I will explain everything to you, but right now we have to get into the house where it's safe.' He tried to keep his voice level.

The boy looked up at him, still wary, but his anxiety had receded slightly at least and he'd stopped trembling. 'House?'

'It's hidden at the moment.' Severus reached for the paper again and held it out for the boy to take. 'You need to read this, and concentrate hard on it.'

The boy did as he was told and when he looked up, Severus pointed to the house in the distance, just visible in the darkening gloom. He heard the boy gasp loudly, and the paper fluttered from his hands. Severus picked it up and stuffed it back in his pocket.

'Come. I'll show you around tomorrow. For now, there's food, and I think we could both do with an early night.'

Potter opened his mouth as if to say something, but apparently thought better of it, as instead he snapped his mouth shut and bit his lower lip.

'I will explain after we eat,' Severus said, guessing what the boy was going to say.

Potter nodded, and they started walking up the hill towards the farmhouse. Severus kept his eye on their surroundings, just in case. The farmhouse had a porch at the front, and they had to climb the few wooden steps in order to reach the front door. Here, Severus released Potter, and after a quick glance his way, reached into another pocket and pulled out a small knife most commonly used for cutting potions ingredients.

'I need a few drops of your blood to key you into the wards of the house.'

The boy looked at him apprehensively, but nodded nonetheless. Severus took his right hand, and made a shallow cut across the palm. The boy sucked in a breath at the sudden sting, but otherwise made no noise. Severus pushed the bleeding hand against a flat stone next to the front door, pulling out his wand and muttering a spell. He waited until the wards acknowledged and accepted the new addition before he pulled the boy's hand away, using his wand to heal the cut. The boy ran a finger across his palm, and looked at Severus' wand with barely hidden interest.

'Later,' Severus murmured, and ushered the boy into the house. The door opened onto the hallway, a staircase on the left leading up to the upper floor. On the right was a door leading to the sitting room, where some furniture had been left from the previous owners. There were several trunks lined up along the hallway, books, mostly and some of his personal possessions both from Hogwarts and Spinner's End, too. His most valuable items he'd stored in his Gringotts vault.

Leaving the tour for later, Severus led the boy straight through to the kitchen, used his wand to turn on the lights. He motioned for Potter to sit in one of the chairs, and the boy did so, resting his hands in his lap, watching as Severus opened the paper bag sitting on the table and took out a flagon of pumpkin juice, and some sandwiches he'd pilfered from the kitchens. It wasn't the most spectacular of feasts, but it would have to do for now until he had a chance to visit the village for food and sort out a routine.

Merlin, he'd be living here now, for who knew how long, and it was only beginning to sink in now.

Pushing aside those thoughts, he pulled out two plates and two glasses, and shared out the simple meal and the drink. He handed one of the plates to the boy and took a seat opposite him. They ate in silence, and when they were done, Severus dumped the plates in the sink, to wash tomorrow. He then sat down at the table once more, leaning his elbows on the table, and placing his head in his hands while he tried to collect his thoughts. He could feel the boy's intense gaze resting on his hair, quiet but expectant. At least he hadn't started whining, which Severus had half-expected. With a sigh, he straightened again.

'There are two worlds on this earth: the Muggle world, in which you have grown up and then the Magical, or Wizarding World, which is your rightful home. The Wizarding world is hidden from the Muggle world and is for the most part isolated from country to country. The Wizarding World holds many different people and races - all those things you've only heard of likely exist: there are mermaids, goblins, unicorns, dragons, elves… of the humans, those people who use wands to utilise magic, males are called Wizards, and females are Witches. I'm a Wizard, and so are you.'

Severus carried on. 'Witches and Wizards are capable of many things using magick - spells and charms, flying, changing into an animal; all sorts of things. Here in Britain, to learn all of these things, at the age of eleven if a child has magical potential, they will usually receive a letter to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where up until today I was a Professor. Do you understand so far?'

'Yes, sir,' Potter replied quietly. His eyes were wide, and Severus was sure he was feeling overwhelmed at all this new information that had suddenly been sprung on him. There was not much to do about it; he'd have to learn all this some time.

'Do you have any questions?'

Potter licked his lips. 'Could you tell me what we're doing here? I mean - why we had to come here.'

Severus looked at him for a moment, then sighed again. He didn't want to have this conversation with the boy.

'Very well. I will tell you something about what has been happening, and what has forced me - and you - to do this. Later on perhaps, I will find you a more reliable source of information, but for now, I will have to do.'

Potter stared at him expectantly.

'Like any world, our world is not perfect. We may have magic and we may be able to do wondrous things, but there are always problems. The current problem lies in blood. People can be classed by their blood: Pure-bloods, who can trace their wizard ancestry back for generations; half-bloods, like you and like me, who have one pureblood parent and one Muggle or Muggleborn, or those they call Mudbloods, magical children born to Muggles. Each type has its own strengths and weaknesses, and it is difficult to tell who is right in their thinking. Pure-blood families are dying out, and so many are now the result of inbreeding. However, they are the ones who pass on the ancient traditions and produce the stronger wizards. Muggle-borns usually have no prior knowledge of the Wizarding world, and are therefore less prepared for what they will have to learn. Their magic is predominantly weaker than others, too. Half-blood characteristics vary from wizard to wizard.

'Approximately forty or so years ago, there was a wizard who decided that he was better than those around him. He wanted to preserve the purity of blood, despite being a half-blood himself, and decided the best way to do this was to form a - group, I suppose, of like-minded individuals, whom he named Death Eaters. They were his followers, marked on the inside of their left arm with the Dark Mark; an image of a skull and a snake.' Severus hesitated. 'I suppose it is only fair to inform you that I, also, was a Death Eater, but have long turned away from that path.'

The boy nodded, and Severus was glad that he seemed to accept both his explanation and revelation of loyalties. He could only imagine if some other person had explained the Dark Lord and the role of the Death Eaters to Potter; Harry Potter might have grown up believing firmly in the old adage: 'Light wizards are Good, Dark wizards are Evil'. At least Severus could raise him with an open-minded view to life, and show him that the world was not Light and Dark, Good and Evil, but a murky shade of grey. He knew that only those who walked both sides of the line would survive in the end.

Severus carried on. 'The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters spread terror and destruction across the whole of the British Wizarding world, though there was no doubt that if he ever conquered Britain, Europe would be next. There were those who fought against him: wizards such as Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts; but for many, the Dark Lord meant death. He killed any who opposed him, and any who did not join him.'

By now, Severus' eyes were no longer looking at the boy opposite him, instead they had returned to the past. He could almost hear the screams of the victims that fell under his wand; smell the smoke as homes were burnt to the ground, feel the darkness slide its velvet threads in and around him with each Unforgivable he cast. A shudder brushed down his spine.

'Then, one night, eight years ago, almost exactly to the day, the Dark Lord set forth to kill a family; a witch, a wizard, and their fifteen month old baby. He had learnt from one of his Death Eaters of a prophecy that foretold the birth of a child with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. He went to the house where the family were hiding. No one is entirely sure of what happened that night, and those that know, aren't sure why, but after the Dark Lord had killed the mother and the father, he turned his wand on the baby, but could not kill him - even using a curse that always brings death to the victim. The Dark Lord was defeated, supposedly died, and the baby was given the title Boy-Who-Lived. All that was left from that night was a scar on his forehead, from where the Dark Lord cursed him. He is the only one to ever survive the Killing Curse.'

Severus fell silent, and all that was heard in the kitchen was the soft ticking of the clock, until the silence was broken by the boy's soft voice.

'The baby, it was me, wasn't it?'

Severus nodded, eyeing his glass of juice and wishing it was something stronger.

'They told me my parents died in a car crash.'

The laugh that poured from Severus' lips was just this side of hysterical, and he smothered it quickly.

'No, Potter. They were murdered. Like so many others; and you are just another victim of war.'

'What happened afterwards?'

'The world celebrated. Those that died were lauded, and those that happened to be on the wrong side found themselves outcasts in society unless they had enough money or influence to free themselves from prison.'

'And now?'

'Now, the Dark Lord's followers are attempting to bring him back, and no doubt they will succeed eventually, and you have the honour', he sneered the last word, 'of once again having to rid the world of Him.'

'Because of a prophecy?'

'Yes.'

'And you're planning on helping me.' It was more of a statement than a question.

'Yes. I am planning to help you.'

The two fell into silence once more, both lost in their own thoughts. Severus was too drained to notice much. All he wanted now was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week - hide from anyone and everyone, but he knew he wouldn't have that luxury.

'What was his name?'

'Lord Voldemort,' he answered without hesitation. He knew well Albus' insistence that fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself; he was perfectly aware that he did not fear the name – but the man. 'Though he was born Tom Riddle. You'll find that for the most part, very few people will call him by his name; they use 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' instead. If you would, refer to him as the Dark Lord in my presence. I prefer it.'

'Yes, sir.'

Another minute passed in silence.

'Sir?'

'Yes?'

'Did you know my parents? The Dursleys never told me anything about them.'

Severus had to close his eyes again, a twitch in his jaw. With conscious effort he relaxed. 'Yes, Potter, I knew your parents. Your father and I did not get along, but I knew your mother for many years.' He forced himself to continue. 'I will tell you about them some other time.'

'Okay.' The boy's eyes were luminescent.

Severus felt weary to the bone, and closed his eyes for a long moment as he breathed deeply. 'I am sure you have more questions, and I will endeavour to answer them as best I can, but for now, I think it's time for bed.'

Severus slowly rose to his feet and with a flick of his hand, motioned for Potter to follow him. The boy scrambled to his feet, and followed him up the narrow and worn stairs. He showed the boy each room upstairs, one for Severus, one for Potter, and a small bathroom to share. He resized the box of belongings and waited outside the door while the boy used the bathroom, changing and brushing his teeth.

He stood in the doorway as Potter clambered into bed, and covered himself with the thick dark blue blankets. His expression was largely lost, faintly stunned, and Severus felt the unfamiliar urge to comfort him.

'Potter…this is not what I would have wanted for you, but I believe it is the best option we have. We will be spending much time together, here, and I do not know how long it will be before it is all over. It would be best if we get along. I am not a… nice man, but I will do all in my power to keep you safe and well and make sure you are prepared for what you must inevitably face; all you must do is listen and learn what I have to teach you.'

'Yes, sir.' There was a tremor to his voice, but Severus could think of nothing more to say to allay his fears.

He used his wand to turn the light off, and was about to leave, when Potter's voice sounded from the dark room.

'Sir? What do I call you? I don't know your name.'

Pausing, Severus turned to look back, and by the light of the hallway, he could see the small boy sitting in the middle of a large bed, swamped by too-big pyjamas and covers. He had the same tousled messy look that James Potter had had, the same glasses and build, but his eyes were Lily's and oh how they looked at him now, all emotions visible, hope and terror and pleading, seeking out a lifeline in this strange new situation he'd been thrown into.

'Severus. You can call me Severus,' he said quietly.

'Will…will you call me Harry?'

Harry.

Severus' lips curled into a wry smile.

'Goodnight, Harry.'

He closed the door softly, turning to go down the stairs once more and make a check of the house before finding his own bed. His mind however, returned to the boy upstairs, who now had the fate of the Wizarding world resting on his small shoulders.

No longer James in his mind, not Potter, and not even Lily's son but Harry.

_End Part I_