Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.Terms used: Anirage is another name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the ancient language.

**

Chapter 2:

Snape waited for Harry at the agreed place two weeks into the school term. It was just two years since he'd helped prepare the boy for Voldemort. Harry arrived, looking like a typical Muggle teenager. His glasses had inconspicuous frames, he wore a new black T-shirt, with a colourful design, and jeans. His long hair was tied back with a leather thong. Around his neck was a narrow leather plaited cord, with a stylised silver hawk as a pendant. The Binding Bracelets were impossible to miss, and yet looked fitting, part of his outfit.

Snape nodded his approval, and said, "I have your key, though they do have procedures to verify identity without it. They're expecting you."

"They must know I'm alive."

"I've seen your bank statements. How long have you had your Gringotts card?"

"I spent a couple of weeks at the Leaky Cauldron when I was thirteen. I organised it then. There had been a bit of an accident with a relative."

"You blew up your Aunt, in fact."

"Sort of, yeah. Not that she didn't deserve it, but I reckoned Uncle Vernon might kill me if I went back, whatever Dumbledore said."

"Yet you went back the next year?"

"He said that if I didn't, I would not be allowed back at Hogwarts, and then I would lose my wand. When the original prophecy was made public, I nearly left anyway."

"That would have messed up his plans!"

Harry grinned cheerfully, "Wouldn't it though?"

Snape held out an arm, "We're going to apparate. I wrap my arm about you, and we arrive in the App. Zone in Diagon Alley."

Harry looked at him dubiously, "Is it dangerous?"

"If a wizard does not cooperate, it would be dangerous. Prisoners are always stunned before an Auror takes them anywhere."

"If I were still a wizard, would I have to do anything special?"

"Just don't think about destinations or apparating. But don't worry. There is no possibility that you might manage to influence our destination."

Harry stepped toward him, Snape wrapped his arm around him, and they were in Diagon Alley. Harry looked around, and laughed, "It's easy!"

"Infinitely better than Floo travel."

Harry had apparated routinely for some time, but had no intention of telling Snape that.

They were looked at curiously as they walked towards Gringotts, Snape in his usual black, cape swirling, looking every inch the powerful wizard, and the Muggle boy with him. A goodlooking boy, and at least one of the passing wizards assumed that it was a sexual relationship. Snape's shady past was very well known, and the boy was obviously Muggle. An acquaintance greeted him, and Snape had a few words. He didn't refer to the boy, and it was only after they were past, that Vanden stopped in his tracks and turned to stare after them.

Two patrolling Aurors stopped dead, and Sue Vanstone took a step towards them. Tonks pulled her back, "Best get instructions."

Sue said, "He can't hurt anyone."

"You watched him for a while, didn't you?"

"For a couple of weeks. I was very sorry for him, even if he was rude and sulky."

Tonks said tolerantly, "It was understandable."

"You didn't have to put up with him!"

"Report in?"

Vance McKenzie listened to the report, and said, "Leave him alone, but keep an eye on him. A protective eye. He's helpless among wizards now."

"He's still wearing the Bracelets."

"We couldn't take them off, remember? By then, it wouldn't have made a difference. Whether or not it was intended, Dumbledore turned him into a Squib."

There was overstaffing in the Auror Department since their biggest threat had been removed, little to do but gossip, and read through old files. Word quickly spread, and Kingsley Shacklebolt asked Tonks, "How did he look?"

"Healthy. Not frightened, though he should have been, I think."

"I might go and have a look, maybe say hello."

There were others with the same idea, but by that time, Harry and Snape were in an office, being introduced to Gr. Vlasna, who'd managed the Potter wealth for many years. Businesslike, he ran through a list of Harry's assets, chief of which was the Potter Manor, complete with over a thousand acres.

Harry asked Snape, "Can we go there?"

"Shortly."

The Goblin said, "The place is empty, and hidden from wizards. I will take you. Once you claim possession as the rightful heir, Mr. Potter, it will no longer be hidden from you, though Mr. Snape will forget its vicinity unless the spells are modified. All other properties are rented out, including three homes left by your mother's family. I took over management of those properties on behalf of your mother, shortly after her marriage."

"Just how low long have you looked after the Potter money, Gr. Vlasna?"

"I was appointed by Gerion Potter."

"Gerion Potter?"

"Your grandfather, Mr. Potter."

"Oh." He looked down at the list of properties and addresses, and remarked, "This one's in France."

"Two in France, three in the United States, one even in Australia."

"There's so much!"

Snape said, "The Potters were a large family once. You are the sole heir. Maybe it's because they were like you, with a tendency to run headlong into danger."

Harry said wryly, "Or be tossed into danger whether I agreed or not!"

"That too."

Another hour with Vlasna. Harry listened attentively, accepted when Snape suggested that paperwork continue going to him, but declined when he was asked whether he wished to authorise Snape to act for him. There was a communication line arranged. Harry would no longer need to set foot in Diagon Alley in order to communicate with his Goblin Manager.

Word had spread that Harry Potter was in Diagon Alley, and when they emerged from the bank, there was a small group waiting for him, including Rita Skeeter, reporter. But Snape wrapped an arm around him, and they apparated away, even before any questions could be thrown at them. A photographer managed to take a picture.

Vlasna didn't stay long after ensuring that Snape and Harry were able to enter the Potter home, and then Snape watched Harry as he wandered around, touching things now and then. Two resident house-elves anxiously showed themselves, and he thanked them for keeping the home so clean, and added, "I think I remember it a little."

Snape said, "Impossible! You were less than a year old when your parents went into hiding."

"They should have stayed here. It seems very safe."

"They left after your grandparents were killed."

"Were they killed here?"

"Killed very publicly in Diagon Alley, not by the Dark Lord, for something else. They very much displeased one of the oldest Pure-blood families."

Harry turned to him, "Who?"

"A Bulstrode. I forget his first name, father or grandfather of Victor. He died in Azkaban, convicted of the murders, and convicted of the crime of keeping Muggle slaves."

"I didn't know any of this."

"Did no-one tell you anything of your history?"

"Hardly anything. I sometimes wondered if it was deliberate, that maybe Dumbledore wanted me to think little of myself, in order to have me a more willing soldier for him."

Snape nodded. Dumbledore had even said something of the sort to him once. Not just that the child had been left with Muggle relatives who loathed him, but how he himself had been encouraged to think of Potter as just like his bullying father. The headmaster had never made a murmur of objection, even when he was quite unfair to the boy. He said casually, "I'll write out as many facts as I can think of for you."

Harry smiled, "That would be great, but even if you don't find the time, I'll probably find some information here. A pity none of the portraits are still talking."

"It needs a highly charged magical atmosphere to keep portraits moving for more than a few years."

"I never liked the ones at Hogwarts much. I always reckoned they were spies for Dumbledore."

They went outside. The house-elves watched, smiling broadly. It might not be straightaway, but one day, their Family would live here again.

The pair inspected a neglected orchard. Snape looked at his watch, and Harry said quickly, "I'm sorry. I'm taking up too much of your time."

Snape gave his thin smile, "I'm enjoying watching you discover what you should have grown up with."

"You are?" He looked at him distrustfully, "Dumbledore used to say that he loved me like a grandson."

Snape actually laughed, "Rest assured, I do not love you. I merely like to see justice."

Harry had his head cocked to the side, studying him. Snape said, "Yes?"

Harry replied frankly, "I can't work you out."

"Do you need to? As long as I'm on your side?"

"I guess I don't need to." He glanced around, "Back to the house?"

Snape was settled with a cup of coffee and a cake while Harry absented himself. He came back after a while, holding a toy horse. "He was called Tiggy. I remember Tiggy. We left him behind."

"I suppose it's not impossible that you remember something."

Harry smiled at him, "Take me home now?"

"Kreighley is home?"

"The best home I've ever had."

"Do you ever think of Weasley and Granger?"

Harry said flatly, "No."

"Neville Longbottom? Charlie Greaves?"

"Neville did his best. Did Charlie go into Auror Training?"

"They're overstaffed. There's been no intake of trainees since your little temper tantrum."

Harry gave an incredulous laugh, "A temper tantrum!"

Snape smiled at him, "A very effective temper tantrum."

Harry grinned, "It was, wasn't it?"

"I ask again, how much did you intend?"

"It's hard to say. I wasn't thinking. Certainly though, I did kill Voldemort, and then those others were a threat so I guess I killed them as well."

"Those were the ones you could see."

"I only thought about the ones I could see. I don't think I was directly responsible for those further away."

"But you might have been. The Dementors as well, maybe."

"What about the Dementors?"

"Only that there have been none seen since. It's not known for sure, and why they would have vanished, no-one knows. They were not Voldemort's creations."

"We were taught that they evolved alongside Anirage, as parasites."

"It is the most prevalent theory."

Harry shook his head, "I never had the power to do away with Dementors."

"No, but even killing the wizards in the room with you…"

Snape spoke thoughtfully, and Harry said defensively, "Well, it's not like I can kill anyone now. Or not unless I get myself a gun or something."

Snape felt himself reassured. It was a terrifying thought that anyone could have that sort of power.

Harry was rebuking himself. He should not have admitted anything. Only that he'd wanted to give Snape something in return for giving him so much help. Without Snape's cover, he could not have kept up the pretence that he was an insignificant Muggle.

Snape asked, in a matter-of-fact voice, "Do you want me to modify the spells so that I can bring you back when you want?"

"What would I need to do?"

"A drop of blood of mine and yours."

Harry grimaced, "Maybe another time."

"May I buy lunch for you then?"

"I would like that."

Snape continued to probe, but Harry was cautious, and he didn't discover anything else. Snape reflected that Harry Potter would probably never trust a wizard again, and was probably right not to do so. He might have pretended to be squeamish about the drop of blood required, but Snape didn't believe it for a moment. He'd been far worse injured, and it's not that he'd be worried about the uses to which blood could be put. Blood Magic wasn't taught at Hogwarts. In any case, his education had effectively ceased a few weeks into fifth year.

Vance McKenzie, Chief Auror, reported to Minister Fudge. He would have preferred that the Ministry not know that Harry was alive, but as he'd been seen in Diagon Alley, it would not be possible to keep it a secret. Fudge was, at first, frankly alarmed, convinced that Potter would be seeking revenge.

McKenzie pointed out, "He has no magic. He needs a wizard to access a wizard area. Even if his magic was not totally destroyed, it would still be Bound. The Binding Bracelets were never removed."

"He still wears the Binding Bracelets?"

"That is correct. He was dressed as a Muggle, accompanied by his Demter Guardian, Severus Snape."

Fudge complained fretfully, "Why does he have to bother us?"

"He only went to the bank. He's seventeen now, and his parents left him their estate. He's still entitled to that, Muggle or not."

"I suppose."

Fudge was looking down, scribbling something on his pad. McKenzie stood, "He is no threat, and in my opinion, there is no need for any action."

"I disagree. Ascertain where he is living, and mount a 24hour surveillance. Discreetly. He should not know he is being observed."

"Yes, Minister. For how long?"

"A detailed report in a week. If there is a hint that he's using magic, tell me straightaway."

"Yes, Minister."

****

Chris was a little cool to Harry when he returned that afternoon, and asked, "Is it selling drugs for someone, or simple thievery?"

Harry handed him a box, "I have a friend I see sometimes, but my money's my own."

"What's this then?"

"Computer games. Want to try one?"

Chris grinned, "Yeah!"

It was only after two hours of trying to destroy 'Aliens' that Chris said enviously, "I wish I had some bloody money. Lionel always has money!"

"Clark still likes him?"

"Apparently. I was thinking I should do it too. Mr. Clark has a friend, Lionel says."

"I can't stop you. Just remember you can be hurt, maybe not only your body."

"How long did it take you to heal then, Ricky?"

"Who says I'm healed?"

It had been a careless throwaway line, but Harry thought about it more seriously that night. He was long healed from the rape. He didn't feel shamed, and decided that killing the rapist was an excellent remedy for that particular hurt. The rest of it, though…. Dumbledore, who'd been his Demter Guardian. A Demter Guardian was supposed to act in the best interests of the child, not hand him over to his worst enemy. The others were worse. Sirius Black, his godfather, who'd said he loved him. Mrs. Weasley. How often had she said that she was like another son to her? Fred and George, to whom he'd given his Triwizard prize money. A very substantial sum, and not only did they make not the slightest attempt to help him, they never even came near.

He started to think of his best friends, but when his eyes started to run with tears, he wiped them fiercely away, and went prowling in the night. He couldn't bear to think how he'd pleaded with them for help, and then Ron had held him, and Hermione made him take the potion. He'd been weakened from three days of illness, of 'preparation,' he knew now, not even thinking clearly, but he'd known he was in very big trouble.

He sat on a seat near an area of flattened dirt, and stared away towards where the waves pounded the beach. He couldn't see far in the dark, scarcely heard the familiar sound, his mind still far away. He knew perfectly well that Snape had helped. He knew that the Aurors had made no move to stop it, presumably agreed to it. Everyone had done as Dumbledore wanted. Yet, that Ron had done that to him! Ron, with whom he'd made friends that very first day. Ron, who'd told him about chocolate frogs, and said that his scar was 'wicked.' And clever Hermione. Surely she'd known what she was helping do. Hermione was not easily fooled.

Ross Davies saw him on the seat and recognised him instantly, even from behind. No-one else had hair that long, though he seldom saw it loose, as it was now. It was well after curfew. He must have made a noise, because Ricky was suddenly up, facing him, fists up, ready to fight. Ross said slowly, "It's only me, Ricky. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Sleeping badly?"

"I was just thinking."

"You'd best go back to bed."

"Yes, Sir."

Ross watched him as he started to walk away, and then stopped and turned, "Mr. Davies?"

"Yes, Ricky."

The boy hesitated, and then spoke decisively, "If I vanish suddenly, don't think I just left without thanking you. It'd be no good trying to find me, just that I wanted you to know."

Ross blinked, "You think you could be taken again?"

"I don't think so. Just in case. There's no point calling the police. No point doing anything, just know that you gave me a good home, and I appreciate it very much."

Ross smiled, "Thank you, Ricky. I do hope you stay safe."

Harry grinned slightly, "So do I, Sir."

He started to walk off, and then turned back for the second time, "You'll probably get a call from the school tomorrow. I wagged today."

"That's a first. Do you intend to do it again?"

"Probably not."

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing?"

"No, Sir."

Ross shook his head, "Go to bed, Ricky."

He left Ross very troubled. He still couldn't think of anything to account for Ricky's mysterious past other than that he was used for sex, obviously by some very powerful men. The original investigations had been suspiciously short-lived and ineffectual. And Ricky himself. In his room were quite a lot of books, many of them bought new. The boys had a small allowance, but not enough to afford that. There were the donations as well. Kreighley boys went on school excursions now, and their library had a budget far larger than previously, mostly because of the 'Tom Foundation.' Maybe there was someone still interested in the boy, someone from his old life.

Ross sighed. He was a good-looking boy. If only he was careful, as long as it was just one man, maybe it was not so terrible. It was just that Ricky was better than that. The 'aptitude test' he'd done, really an IQ test, had indicated a very high intelligence. He was sensible and polite. He spoke well, better than any other of the boys. He helped when new boys arrived. He was a good influence. He should not sell himself for money.

He mentioned his concerns to his wife, and she suggested sleepily that he ask the school to conduct sex education lessons with emphasis on STDs. Ross protested, "He shouldn't be doing it!"

"Are you sure he is?"

Ross admitted grudgingly, "I guess I'm not sure. I am sure that at least one other is."

****

There was nothing in the Daily Prophet about Harry Potter being alive after all. Rita Skeeter was disappointed, but the editor said firmly that it was best if the whole unfortunate affair was forgotten.

The photograph was passed around, but when one wizard mentioned that he really was quite tempting, and as he was a Muggle now… The other said, "A Muggle under the protection of Severus Snape, remember. I wouldn't cross Snape if I were you."

"Do you think Snape?"

The other shrugged, "There's never been any hints about boys, but he must get his pleasures somewhere."

"Maybe when Snape loses interest. After all, if the Dark Lord considered him worthy, who am I to disagree?"

It was only idle talk. They didn't know how to find him.

Snape was surprised that no-one at all commented to him about being seen with Harry Potter. He'd fully expected to be questioned, but it appeared that the world of wizardry preferred to forget there had ever been an innocent fifteen-year-old boy handed over to Lord Voldemort.

***chapter end***