Severus Snape was curious. He had been in the apothecary to refill the stocks for his potions cupboard at Hogwarts before the start of term, when out of nowhere, a young boy had come into the store. The apothecary was not a popular shop, and at nearly 9 PM on a Saturday there should have been no inhabitants other than himself and Mr. Nelson, the store owner. This boy proceeded to walk, or more accurately limp, around and seemed to be looking for a specific potion. From his position at the corner of the room, he could clearly see the boy. Severus saw that he was quite young, probably around ten or eleven, and he was dressed in muggle attire. He peered out the window and saw no one waiting on the child. He didn't appear to be travelling with anyone, which was odd for someone so young. The boy continued perusing the shelves, and he reached out to grab a glass vial. Judging from the size, color, and shape of the container, Severus guessed that it was a strong pain reliever. Looking closer at his appearance the potions master saw that he had fresh bruises peeking their way out of the top of his sweatshirt. The boy was thin and barely more than a skeleton; when he reached to grab a second container off the shelf, his sleeve fell back to his elbows, exposing his tiny wrists. Severus even found himself sneering at the boy's unkempt and uneven hair. Did the child cut it himself? He saw the pronounced limp when he walked and the way he shied away from using his right arm. He was obviously injured. Being a spy had given him a good eye for detecting when something was amiss. Something was off about this boy, and Severus was determined to find out what he was hiding.

*

It took him awhile, but Harry had finally found what he was looking for. After searching through vials of foul concoctions for nearly ten minutes, he had acquired some pain relief potions, a bruise salve, a serum to mend bones and muscles, and a dreamless sleep potion. With all the different containers scooped haphazardly into his arms, Harry set off unsteadily to find the owner. Carrying so many items proved to be a challenge, as the pile slightly impeded his vision. He tottered toward the back of the store and would have made it to the counter to pay for his items, if he hadn't caught his foot on a stray box of pepper up potions. As soon as his swollen ankle collided with the object, he sucked in a breath and found himself falling to the floor. He heard a crash as the glass vials shattered around him. He tried to get back on his feet, but when he used his hands to lift himself up, tiny shards wedged their way deep into his palms.

Suddenly, Harry wasn't in the shabby potion shop, he was back at the Dursleys. He could hear Uncle Vernon's blaring voice and Aunt Petunia's screeching. "FREAK!" they would roar at him. He could see his overweight uncle moving toward him with a chilling smirk on his face. He could hear the sound of a belt cracking down on his flesh. He could smell the coppery blood that poured out of his wounds and dribbled onto the dirty floor. He was back in his cupboard, lying face down in the pitch dark, with spiders tickling the skin on his injured back. Finally, he saw the cold dead eyes of Marge Dursley, as if she was staring into his soul. His eyes snapped open and darted around wildly. He had to get out of here. He could hear footsteps behind him, and thought he saw the shadow of a man creeping closer. His breathing hitched.

The potions that were stored in plastic jugs were still intact and he scooped them up quickly, throwing them into the bag. He needed to get out of here before anyone could catch him. He turned around and collided with a dark-robed figure who let out an aggravated "Hmmph" as the breath was knocked out of him. Harry looked up at the man. His dark brown eyes widened with shock when he found himself staring straight into the obsidian orbs of Severus Snape. Without a second glance, Harry sidestepped the man and shot out of the store. He was running faster than he thought possible on his injured ankle, but he ignored the sharp pains that it was causing him. He could hear heavy footfalls behind him, and supposed that his professor was following him. In the pitch darkness, it was hard to see where he was headed, but he noticed an unfamiliar street to the left and fled down it.

*

Severus had been silently observing the boy for about twenty minutes, when he stopped perusing the shelves and attempted to carry an armload of potions to the back room of the shop. He was about to step in and scold the insolent child, before he made a mess, when the boy tripped over a box and fell to the floor. Mr. Nelson had never kept the shop particularly clean, but Severus knew that the elderly man would not take kindly to the sticky mixture of potions and glass that now covered his floor. Severus was unsure of whether to clean the mess with a flick of his wand, or let the boy face the wrath of the shop owner. He was debating, when the child started having some sort of fit.

The boy was still on the ground, but his shoulders were hunched and he was letting out short bursts of breath, like he was hyperventilating. Severus watched silently, and then deciding he better assist, took a step toward him. The boy apparently heard him, because he started frantically shoving bottles into the ratty gray sack on his shoulder. Then he got to his feet and plowed right into Severus.

Severus looked down at the youth's face, anger flaring up inside him. He took in the sharp features, the high cheekbones, the almond shaped eyes. There was something familiar about that face. The boy's dark brown eyes seemed to widen with recognition, as if he knew the greasy dungeon bat. Then he darted away like a cornered animal about to be captured. Severus didn't like the look on the boy's face. It was as if he had known him, though Severus had no recollection of meeting the child before. Without stopping to think, the potions master charged into the night after the mysterious boy, with the edges of his ebony robe flaring out behind him. He followed him down the cobblestone streets, and then paused for a moment when the boy started running directly into Knockturn Alley.

*

Harry was out of breath, but he couldn't stop. He had to keep running. He had to stay away from Snape. If Snape found out who he really was and what had happened, it would all be over. He inspected his surroundings. He couldn't see any familiar shops, and realized that he was now completely lost. He made a quick turn behind a dark, decrepit building that looked like it could topple over at any minute. Behind the building was a mound of loose bricks, old furniture, and trash. He saw a broken bookcase propped up at an angle against the building and crouched down behind it. Then he pulled out his invisibility cloak and draped it over himself. He saw Snape peer behind the building a minute later. The man used the tip of his lit wand to scan the area, then he cursed under his breath and rushed back in the other direction.

He was finally safe. He rummaged in his bag and took out the potions that he had managed to salvage from the shop. The pain medicine and the potion to mend his ankle had broken when he'd dropped them earlier, but he still had the bruise salve and the dreamless sleep. He picked up the cream and gently rubbed it over the dark handprints around his neck. Then he unscrewed the cap on the dreamless sleep potion and swallowed a bit. He rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes…

The next thing Harry knew, he was being roughly jostled awake. He opened his eyes.

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