Chapter 4: He Knows

Known World

Known Snape

When Snape arrived at the infirmary, he found Dumbledore and the boy sitting on one of the beds, deep in conversation. He didn't know how it was possible, but he loathed this boy even more than the one he had replaced. This smug little copy of James Potter, who chattered about Lily.

Snape craved every word even as it sliced through him, each cut deeper than the last. He wanted to shake the whelp. What did she tell you? Every stupid blush, every revealing comment that tumbled out of his mouth? The time they held hands running across the grounds, that afternoon when he...when he said...

I never meant to call you Mudblood. He heard the whine in his voice. Hated it. Couldn't stop it.

Lily in her nightgown, back against the portrait at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Arms crossed, shoulders tight. I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine.

He lurched, like a stupid drunk who couldn't find his feet. His face slack, out of his control.

And behind her retreating back was James Potter. Leaning casually against the wall, listening to everything. The twist to his mouth, the glint in his eyes all saying poor little Snivellus and his poor little sniveling heart. Like being yanked upside down again, stripped again.

And this little whelp, who wouldn't stop staring at him. Because he knew. He knew.

I can't pretend anymore.

He wanted to lash out, transform those glinting eyes to dust. But then the boy turned, and it wasn't James Potter's eyes that stared back at him. Snape stood silently, fighting a rising sickness.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I was just talking with Harry about his world. There are some striking contrasts. Voldemort's powers appear to have developed along another path." He leaned toward Harry, eyebrows raised. "You mentioned that he focused on the powers of the mind. Does this perhaps have something to do with the night your parents were attacked?"

The boy bobbed his head, staring at his hands, but said nothing further.

That night. It never felt distant. One reminder, and the darkness descended, ash in his mouth. "Is this information necessary?" His voice was too loud in the quiet room. He cleared his throat. "I thought you asked me here to work towards a solution to our—" he flicked his eyes at the boy, "—little problem."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's important we understand our new charge." He studied Snape, and sighed. "But I suppose it can wait." Giving Harry a pat on the arm, he rose. "Let us see what we can discover."

Harry sat on the bed he'd used the previous night and attempted to recreate his actions. Many incantations later, they had established that the boy was, indeed, not from this world. But his place of origin was a mystery. Whatever remained of the pathway was mere magical residue now. And in that residue was the echo of other worlds—millions of them.

"Well," Dumbledore said. "It appears I was right in my assessment that this will take time."

Snape felt a tug on his robes. Harry was hanging off the bed, fishing in one of Snape's outer pockets. He slapped the hand away and glared at the boy. "What do you think you're doing?"

Harry leaned back, shrugging. "I wanted some bubblefruit."

"Bubblefruit," Dumbledore said. "Used in some potions, yes? Mild calming effect, if I recall correctly."

Snape nodded. "And cooling properties." He remembered sitting in his garden as a child, not crying so much as gasping. His face tingling, a white haze clouding his vision. And then the snap of the shell between his teeth, the icy sweetness sending a pleasant chill down his throat. And his breaths slowing, the tightness in his chest easing.

"I eat loads of it," said Harry. "Dad gave it to me when I was teething and I took to it."

"Of course!" Dumbledore clapped his hands in delight. "Do you know that Harry has turned down every offer of sweets I've given him? I was beginning to think I'd lost my touch."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I just like the bubblefruit." He eyed Snape's pocket. "You're sure you don't have—"

"No," Snape said. "If that's all—" he moved to leave, but Dumbledore wrapped an arm around his shoulders and didn't seem inclined to remove it.

"Oh, but surely you have some," the headmaster said. "After all, it's a potions ingredient. You're so diligent about being well-stocked."

"I may have some in my chambers," Snape admitted. "In storage."

"Wonderful!" said Dumbledore. "I'll let Harry lead the way."

Harry grinned and jumped off the bed. Dumbledore propelled Snape along from behind.

"I'm not a fruit vendor. Those are ingredients from my private stock."

"Now Severus, surely you can part with a few. From the sound of it, you don't use much. In any case," Dumbledore lowered his voice, "it will give us an opportunity to talk."

Snape took the hint and dropped back a few paces from Harry. "You've discovered something?"

"What I discovered is that this Harry is not one to share details of his life. At least not with me. I'd finally gotten him to open up about what happened to his parents when you interrupted—"

"You asked me to come!"

"And your assistance was invaluable. But we must get to know this new Harry. I need to know how he will respond in certain situations, to prepare for all eventualities."

"All eventualities." Snape had heard such words before, in their strategy sessions. "You think he may have to face the Dark Lord? Surely we can return the boy before he arises?"

"It's far graver than that." The lines around Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "There is the possibility that we may not find a way to return him at all."

They walked in silence, Harry strolling in front of them.

"Then this boy," Snape said, "may be the one who will have to destroy the Dark Lord."

"And he may have been prepared for a completely different kind of battle. It is important that we understand what will motivate him. From what I can determine, he has no strong sentiment for James, and his mother was spared. Defeating Voldemort will require great passion and sacrifice, and I wonder how to find that within him."

Snape snorted. "You talk as though the other was a bastion of power and resourcefulness."

"Some resourcefulness, and yes, he had a certain power, fueled by love and loss. Not very different from yourself."

Snape jerked his shoulder away from Dumbledore's arm. "Do not compare me to that insolent child."

"Not so insolent. Or have you not noticed that this child is remarkably conciliatory towards you?"

He hadn't. Snape studied the boy, who skipped down the dungeon steps. His off-key whistling echoed off the damp walls. This was not the behavior of any student passing his Potions classroom. It was disturbing.

"Harry has become a mystery," Dumbledore said. "And it will be difficult to plan for his future. I would ask that you try to get to know him. Understand him."

A far better solution was to pack him off to his Muggle relatives. He could get more work done without the distraction of the boy and talk of Dad and Mum. Without the constant ghostly images that broke against his thoughts. She was alive, she was married, she was somewhere he might never find, could never reach. The possibilities rose and crashed in a cacophony. "Headmaster—"

"What he may tell you will be difficult to hear, Severus. I know." Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder. "But you must do your best."

His best would be to resist using Silencio whenever the boy opened his mouth. All the more reason to find an opening to this other world and chuck him back into it.

Dumbledore patted him on the back. "Good! I'll be off, then."

Snape's backbone went rigid. "You're leaving me alone with him?"

"Oh, I rather think I would be an unwelcome intrusion." And with a wink, he took to the stairs.

Harry stood at the entrance to his chambers, his wand tapping the door experimentally.

As if Snape would allow anyone to cross his threshold with a simple Alohomora. "It's warded with several passwords. Stay here. I'll bring out the—"

"That's okay, I think I've got it." Harry spoke an incantation and the door popped open slightly.

Snape stared at that impossible gap. "How?"

"Every fourth ingredient in Veritaserum, right? This is the season when you brew it, and you like to use the number four in your passwords." He shrugged at Snape's look. "It did take me a while, if that helps." He pressed his hand against the door.

"Wait," Snape said. "There's an additional password for intruders who get this far."

"Lily," Harry said confidently, and the door swung completely open. Harry beamed and hopped inside.

Snape remained in the hallway, waiting for the pounding in his temples to subside.

The boy was already in the storage room, poking through the shelves that lined the walls. He ran his finger across the bottled specimens, traced stick figures in the dust. "This is supposed to be my room."

"Don't touch that. Or that. And why would you have a room? You're housed in Gryffindor Tower."

The boy shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned. "But I still have a room. Because it's my room. Anyway, sometimes I'd stay overnight or on the weekend. When Dad needed my help."

Was he deliberately trying to provoke him? "Your help? I'm sure you fancy yourself some sort of—"

"Oh, there it is!" The boy rushed to a bookcase, peering up at the jar of bubblefruit at the top. He wiggled the shelves appraisingly, then jumped, his foot landing on the third shelf. He clambered to the top, the jars ching-chinging with each foothold. He grabbed the jar and hung there, grinning. The shelves creaked ominously.

Snape stared at him, until he realized his mouth was hanging open. "Get down. You'll break something." He wasn't sure if he was more concerned about the boy's bones or several jars of expensive ingredients shuddering towards the edge.

The boy hugged the jar with one arm and climbed down. When his feet hit the ground, he already had a handful of bubblefruit.

Snape snatched the jar. "A simple 'Accio' would have done the trick." He levitated it back to its proper place.

"I don't know Accio."

"That is no excuse."

Harry shrugged as he poured the fruit into his pocket. "S'more fun this way." He popped a fruit in his mouth and offered another in an outstretched hand.

He wanted the boy gone. He wanted Dumbledore to find someone else for this loathsome task. But he took the fruit.

The boy smiled and dropped a few more into Snape's pocket. "For later. I know how much you like it."

Snape bit down hard and silently cursed Dumbledore.

"You live alone?" Harry asked. "There's no one else?"

No one. "Don't ask impertinent questions, Potter."

"Snape," Harry said, frowning.

Insolence. Just as he thought. He was on more familiar ground now. "Professor. You will address me as Professor or Sir."

Harry shook his head, and Snape warmed for an argument. But Harry simply said, "I meant my name. Snape. Not Potter."

"Ah," was all Snape could reply. He watched the dust motes circling the room. "Why?" He finally asked.

"Why what?"

"Why Snape? It wasn't necessary for him to adopt you if you still have…" Careful, now. Voice firm, face blank. "…a surviving parent." Perfect. The boy might know, but he would not get another reaction. Would not goad him into revealing anything more.

"Dad said it's because we're family."

"Oh, very touching. Does he also write greeting cards?"

Harry gave a start, and stepped back. "Well, he...he doesn't like to say it much. But he told me that he realized how much he—"

"Practicalities, Potter!" Not Potter. He pressed his hand to his temple. "Adopting you—having anything to do with you—is a risk. Did he have pragmatic reasons, or was it all a lot of wooly-headed nonsense?"

The boy's jaw twitched. "He wanted to protect me, all right? He wanted to make sure I stay with him. In case she—" He stopped, clenching and unclenching his fists. "In case she wasn't there anymore."

An ominous buzzing started inside Snape's head. The boy said something last night about taking care of her. "You said..." his breathing hitched, giving too much away. But he had to know. "You said she survived the attack."

Harry raised his chin. "Yes." But his voice wavered.

The buzzing transformed into a loud klaxon, obliterating everything except the image of the Dark Lord. How he enjoyed playing with those he did not yet wish to kill. "He did not leave her untouched."

Silence filled the room. Harry had bitten his lip. "There's something I need to tell you." Blood welled, spilling as he let out a ragged breath. "About my mum."