Fixing Past Mistakes
Chapter 10
Retrieving Harry
Severus Apparated to Privet Drive, not having to worry about being seen since, apart from the few streetlamps, the area was cloaked in darkness. If someone had seen his apparation, they would have thought it was merely a trick of the light. Nobody truly believed in magic anymore, so even if the Muggles saw it, they'd try to rationalise it, although that wasn't true for them all. A few of them actually believed in magic, but their beliefs were more geared towards voodoo... as if that would work.
Severus observed the house, already having a fair idea of where, exactly, Harry would be. He halted, his foot raised, as if he'd been frozen in mid-step. What if he couldn't get into the property because of his Dark Mark? Would the wards see him as a threat? They were there, but deeply fragmented and dull, evidently not working to their full capacity. This might be because Harry was already dying; breathing deeply, he walked over, praying to Merlin that it worked. Each step he took was slow and calculated; as he walked, he concentrated on the fact that he didn't mean Harry any harm, that, in fact, he wanted to rescue him. Hopefully the wards would pick up on that.
Severus climbed over the gate from the back yard, not wanting to risk having it make noise and disturb anyone. Then he began walking up the path. He could feel the wards prickling at his skin, but they were letting him through, for which he was eternally grateful. He noticed a ward that stopped dark creatures; evidently Dumbledore hadn't wanted to risk Lupin getting near, although anyone with half a brain would have just waited for the child to come out of the property. Not that that tactic would have worked, since he obviously didn't get out; otherwise someone surely would have noticed the condition he was in.
Grasping the door handle, he was just about to open it, when he felt the wards encompassing him completely. What the hell? Gasping in awe, he was barely able to keep himself upright. The wards had attached to him! Why? How? He wasn't related to them, of that he was certain. What had Dumbledore said? That love would keep the boy safe? Did he love Harry? Maybe loving Lily was enough. He wasn't certain, perhaps his wanting to keep Harry safe was enough incentive for the wards. Magic was a living thing; nothing and nobody could really predict it. Even wands acted oddly at times, and none more so than phoenix-related wands, since the animals themselves were unpredictable and untameable.
Lily's sacrifice would live on in him, and, through him, her son.
Severus non-verbally opened the door; he opened it only far enough for him to slide into the house before closing it again. Taking a deep breath, he lit his wand just a little, inwardly realizing this wand was much more…user-friendly than his last. Looking around and walking carefully, he avoided the table with the telephone on it as he continued inward. It took him no time at all to get to the door of the cupboard. He distastefully noticed the air vent and lock already affixed to its door. Closing his eyes, he struggled to keep a tight rein on his anger. He couldn't change anything. He couldn't kill the Dursleys…at least, not yet. No; there would be a time when he could, once time caught up with itself; there were so many kinds of Muggle poisons to choose from.
Undoing the latch that was currently locking a three-year-old into a disgusting, dust-filled cupboard, he then opened it. Swallowing thickly, he caught sight of the child, and the reality was so much worse than the picture. Steeling himself, he cast a sleeping charm on the child, not wanting him to wake up. As silently as he entered, he gently removed the almost-weightless child from the confines of his prison. Grabbing an empty vial from his cloak, Severus turned it into scissors and snipped a piece of dirty hair from the child. Then he turned the scissors into a needle; whispering a silent apology he delicately pierced Harry's thumb before the vial was turned back to normal via another spell.
"Genus capillatura corpus fabrico animus," Severus softly whispered, and, before his eyes, an exact replica of Harry created itself out of the hair, the blood, and his magic. It had every single one of the bruises Harry had; he turned away, sickened at how thin the duplicate looked. He knew that under those horrible rags the real Harry was wearing, he would look the same. The doppelganger was breathing, and would continue to do so until it died. Even then, it would look exactly the way it was upon drawing its last breath. It was merely a golem; if they had checked "Harry" more carefully, they would have realised that. The only difference was that this being didn't have a soul or feelings. Even he wouldn't wish pain on anything, even something merely created by magic.
Once the spell was complete, he removed the rags from Harry, placing them on the golem, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He'd done and seen many things as a Death Eater, but this…was a whole other ball game. The Dark Lord hadn't gone around torturing and killing babies or children; Longbottom and Harry had been an exception, because he'd feared they would indeed kill him. He would regret revealing the contents of that prophecy for the rest of his life. Thanks to him and Lucius, two boys were growing up without their parents; the cynical part of him acknowledged reluctantly that if it wasn't for Harry, a lot more children would be growing up without family... or not growing up at all, for they likely would not have survived the encounter―the Dark Lord wasn't that merciful.
Severus quickly removed his cloak, wrapping the three-year-old up comfortably, adding a heating charm as well as removing the overly soiled diaper. It was cold, standing outside the cupboard; never mind what it was like inside it, with any heat source cut off. He froze when he heard a loud thump; cursing inwardly, he slipped the golem into the cupboard, wishing all the dark curses he knew upon the Dursleys. Then he turned the light from his wand off so he wouldn't be seen. It turned his stomach that he had to leave here without punishing them, but he didn't want to create further rips in time. Lifting the sleeping child up, he froze again when creaking was heard, and then thumping steps as someone came down the stairs. Feeling about in the darkness, he slipped into the living room, holding his breath and feeling relieved when the man went past him. He had to stop himself from cursing him when he banged loudly upon the cupboard door, chuckling evilly. Severus dug his fingers into his palm, breathing through his nose, trying to stop his magic from exploding out at the man. Breathing deeply, he watched the Muggle, vowing one day he would get his revenge on him and his wife, no matter the cost.
He watched from the shadows as Vernon Dursley got himself some cola from the fridge and... was that an entire cake that could have done four people? …before heading back up the stairs. The obese man made a point of thumping particularly loudly at the top of the steps, right over where the golem was. Growling low in his throat, Severus tightened his hold on Harry, waiting for the house to fall silent again. It finally did, once Vernon's fat arse wasn't causing the floorboards to creak in protest at his size.
Slowly, not daring to light his wand again, he made his way out of the house. Opening the door, he slipped out into the darkness of the night. Closing it again, he slipped down the path, leaving Privet Drive behind, taking with him not only Harry but also the wards protecting the house. That explained where they had gone. Not only that, but they were shining more brightly already; the magic knew he would protect Harry with his last breath. He wondered, as he Apparated away to his new home, if it had anything to do with the vow he'd sworn.
The house was lit up, as if it was welcoming him. Grateful for the light, he stalked swiftly up the long pavement of the driveway. He didn't bother taking in any of the sights; there would be plenty of time to do that later. Right now he had to make sure Harry was okay— if he could be called even remotely okay. The door was opened by Clay the house elf; thankfully, he remained quiet. Not that he could have woken Harry from his enchanted slumber, but he wasn't to know that. The house was currently being cleaned by the house elves, and it looked very welcoming already. The fire was lit in the hearth, spreading a warm glow around the living room as he entered. Then the magic of the wards he'd taken from Privet Drive exploded from him, embedding itself in every crevice of the house and becoming warmer and warmer.
"Is there any food available?" Severus asked, sitting down and laying the sleeping toddler on the couch.
"There is food at Potter Manor sir: many animals to choose from," said Heather, the most elderly of the house elves.
"Something soft, like tomato or chicken soup; something a child could drink. If you can, some milk for him, and perhaps coffee for me if you can. I will send you shopping tomorrow for everything we will need," Severus told her. "Bring what you can; I'm sure it will be used." It would be odd not cooking, he thought, since when he was away from Hogwarts he always cooked for himself. The house elves wouldn't allow it, though; a wizard wasn't supposed to cook. After all, that was their job.
"Yes, sir," said Heather, taking charge and disappearing from their new home.
"Can Clay help?" asked the house elf, his wide green eyes staring at their little Master solemnly. They could feel the bond; there was little doubt that this was Harry Potter. They had been called the day he was born, to bond with him before being sent back to Potter Manor. Mistress Lily didn't like the way house elves were treated, generally, so she didn't want them in the house. No amount of explaining on James' part had worn down Lily's resolve on not having them stay. James had refused to free them, not just because they had been in the Potter family for generations, but because freeing them would be the most evil thing he could have done to them.
"Actually you can. I need some clean, warm clothes for a two-year-old; a baby grow if you can find one, as it will keep him warmer. And a nappy, if one can be found; perhaps some blankets also," said Severus. There was no doubt he'd need them; it wasn't as if those Muggles would take the time to potty-train him while they abused him. Once the child was better, that was a task that would fall to him, and he had no idea what the hell to do. He needed help already; he had no experience with children under the age of eleven! And what experience he had, was only to teach them potions. As always when Severus was stuck, he looked to books to help him, and so he vowed to get a few tomorrow.
"These things are in the vaults, Master Severus; shall I go get them?" asked Clay; everything in Godric's Hollow had been salvaged and placed in one of the vaults. The elves had done the salvaging, after the Muggles had stopped nosing around the property.
"Yes," said Severus. "Before you go, did you retrieve the potions I requested?" he demanded quickly before the elf disappeared on him.
"I took two of everything, sir," said Clay. Moving to the side, he grabbed a large satchel and handed it over.
The large bag of potions took Severus by surprise. Well, his other self was going to be in one hell of a bad mood when Poppy began asking for more, especially since it was winter; more students got sick then than usual.
Clay stared at the wizard, hoping he had done the right thing; it was his own fault if it wasn't, since he'd only been told to get three potions.
"Thank you," Severus finally said; it would at least let him get settled in before he had to begin brewing. Removing the potions, he laid them on the table, not even needing to read the labels to know what they were. He transfigured the bag into a potions kit, before sliding the potions in pairs into compartments, evenly spaced out. It wouldn't be as safe as a dragonhide potions kit, but it would do until he got a new one. He would have to write down everything he needed as he thought of it; he wasn't showing his face in the magical world every five minutes.
Patter and Adair were currently scrubbing away at the kitchen. They were definitely the youngest ones, and they weren't fully grown yet, Severus observed. Plus they had their curiosity written across their faces; older elves usually hid their emotions. Unless, of course, they were desperate or worried... He shook off his thoughts; when had he learned so much about house elves?
Severus stared down at the little child; he was so very thin, not even the slightest bit of chubbiness around his face. The dust and dirt were caked on his face; he smelt of urine and feces... He didn't even want to think about how long he'd been like that. Considering how wet the clothes had been when he'd removed them, it had been a long time. What to do first? Feed him? Bathe him? Heal him? No; he had to bathe him before he healed him; the wounds needed to be clean.
"I have everything you'll need, sir," said Clay, appearing in the living room again. He dropped the box and began removing everything that Severus would need right away, including bubble bath for children's sensitive skin, and sponges... Oh, he was so relieved he'd taken on the elves.
"Bring the bath supplies to the bathroom," Severus instructed, removing the pendant the goblin had given him and putting it on the fireplace mantel for safekeeping. Lifting the child, he reluctantly removed the charm keeping Harry asleep. He couldn't even give him a potion yet, not until the child had something in his stomach, or it would make him sick. The only potion you could give to someone that wouldn't cause sickness on an empty stomach was a stomach soother. Harry remained asleep despite the fact that he'd removed the spell, but Severus knew he wouldn't remain so for very long. He began walking up the stairs, trying not to jostle Harry too much, wanting him to sleep as long as possible.
He didn't have to guess which one was the bathroom, since Clay had already opened the door for him; the steam billowing out of the room let him know the bath was already being run. He entered the room just as the house elf was placing a mat at the bottom of the bath, to stop anyone from slipping and getting hurt. Keeling down, Severus tested the water, and found it just lukewarm. Nodding in satisfaction, he parted the cloak and winced; this wasn't going to work. Harry's back and front were full of blisters and red sores. "Get me a tub or pail, as well as a salve from the potion supply," he ordered immediately. He didn't have to worry about the elf's not being able to read, since Clay had had no trouble understanding the words he'd written on the parchment he'd given him earlier. Severus grabbed the sponge and cut it in half; he wasn't about to use the same part again after having to clean up the mess on Harry. Once the elf was back, Severus scooped out some of the bath water. Placing the pail on the floor, he dunked the half-sponge into it and meticulously began to clean Harry's private area.
A soft whining caused him to look up; his eyes widened upon seeing those beautiful green eyes for the first time. Dumbledore had been right about at least one thing: he did have Lily's eyes, and right there and then Severus knew he'd never hurt Harry or allow him to be hurt ever again. They were different from Lily's, though; they weren't full of life. Rather, they were full of pain.
"It's all right, little one; I'll make the pain go away soon," Severus said softly before continuing with his task. He was trying to get it over with as quickly as possible without hurting Harry further, but it was an impossibility. Apart from the whine, Harry didn't say anything. His small body was tense with pain, and he tried to close his legs just to make him stop. Once the area was as clean as Severus could get it, he spread the salve on, as quickly as humanly possible. Within a few minutes the blisters began to reduce and disappear altogether, as if they'd been healing for weeks, not just seconds. The redness began to recede until milky-pale flesh was left behind. Now he should be able to bathe Harry without further trouble. Dunking the sponge in one last time, he used the other side to clean away the salve. Nodding in satisfaction, he threw the sponge into the bin, having no intention of using it again. Even with magic, nothing could be truly disinfected properly. Otherwise wizards and witches wouldn't get sick, obviously, but they did.
It concerned Severus greatly, how quiet Harry was being. Children in pain cried; they fought tooth and nail to end it. So why hadn't Harry done any of that? Unless he was already badly scarred by what the Dursleys had done to him. He prayed to Merlin that this wasn't the case; it was going to be difficult enough raising a child without having to raise one so emotionally damaged. Lifting him up, he saw the distress written across his face; his heart bled for the boy. With one hand on his back and head and the other at his legs, he lowered Harry into the shallow bath bit by bit.
The green eyes flashed in surprise; then delight spread across his face. It was warm here, and it smelt nicer than his usual stuffy place. He didn't know this person, but he was being nice to him; the man's touch was so soft and gentle, not hard and hurting like the other people who came into his stuffy place. It was so light and warm, not dark; he didn't like the dark. This person sounded nicer, too. He didn't screech at him like the other people did, or glare at him in disgust. He wasn't dropping him, either. He liked it here a lot, and he hoped he didn't have to go back to his stuffy bed.
Severus made sure to keep his touch soft as he ran the sponge over the child's small form. He worked diligently, trying to reach every crevice so he got all of him clean. Hopefully, by the time he got Harry out of the bath, some soup would be ready. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much pain the child was in; the bruises were still there, making him feel even more infuriated. He didn't show any of it, though, not wanting to scare Harry any more than he already was. It was a good thing he was an emotionless man; otherwise, Harry would be overwhelmed by his rapid shifts in emotion. He cleaned the bathwater with his wand before wetting Harry's head. With difficulty he managed to get some mild shampoo onto his hair. Letting the bottle drop into the water, he began to scrub his hair and scalp, cleaning it thoroughly. He repeating the shampooing twice before using some conditioner; Harry's hair certainly looked like it needed it.
Lifting the child out of the once again dirty bath, Snape could hear his small whimper of protest. With no wasted movements or time, he soon had the boy wrapped up snugly in a warm towel that could have wrapped around him four times. He got himself to his knees with difficulty. He couldn't wait to take that de-aging potion; at least he knew he'd be able to keep up with an active three-year-old then, when he was feeling more himself. He was pretty sure that day would come; with love and care, Harry would flourish. He was sure of it, because he'd be damn certain to make it happen.
Walking back down the stairs, he went back into the living room with the child, finding the clothes and everything he needed waiting for him there. Sitting down, he placed Harry back in the same spot as before; the clothes would need to be enlarged to fit him... not by much, of course. Removing another salve from the potions kit, he began to put it on the bruises. Once Harry's front was done, he began on his back, which was worse. It looked as if the Dursleys had purposely dropped Harry a dozen times, or slapped him on the back; either way, Severus was not happy. At least the boy's head didn't seem to have sustained any injuries, thank Merlin for small mercies.
Once the salve had been administered and had remained on for a few minutes, he removed it with a wipe. Then he turned Harry over and proceeded to remove the salve from his front injuries.
He needed to give Harry a lot of calcium; no doubt he already had rickets due to the neglect. He would need lots of sunlight, and plenty of Vitamin D, which is found in eggs and oily fish. And Harry had to have it before the early lack of it permanently affected his bones. It wasn't even as simple as giving him a potion; there was no immediate cure for rickets. While he could give Harry a potion supplement of Vitamin D, he would get that in the nutrient potion he would be giving him. Harry was still staring at him as he mused, his green eyes wide open, but he made no move to speak. If Severus were honest with himself, he wasn't sure what to say to the child.
"Here you are, sir," Heather said, bringing through a large tray of food for both of them.
"Thank you," said Severus; he ignored the food for the moment, although Harry didn't―the child had his eyes firmly attached to it. His small stomach grumbled loudly, but Harry didn't seem to realize or care about that. No doubt such noise and action was normality for him.
Grabbing the clothes from the top of the couch, he placed Harry in the body suit with great difficulty, leaving the bottom undone so he could place the nappy on him. Once the nappy was on (and finding the tabs to fasten it left him feeling as if he'd been searching for them for weeks), he finished putting the thick blue baby grow on him, and began to do the bottom half up, without needing to undo all the snaps and start again. Proud of his achievement, he looked down at the child almost wanting to grin. It was a bit tight, but it would keep his body warmth in, so that was an added bonus.
"There, all clean and warm," said Severus, shifting Harry over to the arm of the couch so he was sitting up. His head was propped up comfortably on the pillow so he wasn't straining to keep it up. Grabbing two potions, he took a dropper and filled it up. "Open up, little one... that's it, well done," he crooned, although he knew the child wasn't going to be happy in the slightest in a few seconds. Sliding the dropper in as far as he dared, he squirted the potion down Harry's throat so he couldn't sick it back up. The other potions would have to wait until after he'd eaten something. Harry grimaced in disgust, his eyes coating with tears that never fell.
"Drink," Severus said as he placed the glass at Harry's mouth, letting him taste the milk so he knew it was all right and not something horrible. Between the two of them, they made sure not a drop was wasted, Severus pouring in a little drop and letting Harry drink it. He didn't give Harry too much, wanting him to eat at least some of the soup.
Lifting the soup up ―tomato soup, he saw― and the small spoon, he began to feed the child the warm food. As he did so, he noticed that all of Harry's teeth were through. He wasn't sure when that was supposed to happen. They were a little yellow, but other than that they seemed perfectly intact. That was something else he'd have to add to the list: toothpaste and a toothbrush for a three-year-old. That list was getting longer as the night wore on; thank Merlin the goblins had helped him, or he truly would have been screwed. It was very unlike them to show favour to wizards, or to help them—unless it had been out of fear of their secret's being uncovered; perhaps both? Either way, he was grateful.
Harry continued to guzzle the food, not letting even a single drop miss his mouth. He seemed to stare at the empty bowl as if wishing it would fill itself back up. Severus was unable to deny him; the stomach soother would prevent him from being sick, so why not? He began to feed him from his own bowl. He wasn't able to eat much of it, but he gave it a fair try.
"Don't worry little one," said Severus, "I promise you will have something to eat again tomorrow." Lifting the child up, he began to rock him back and forth, as he remembered his own mother doing to him when he was a child. It might have been a true memory, or it might have been one of the few photos from his childhood he was remembering; it didn't really matter which. He wrapped Harry up in a blanket, making sure he was kept warm. It didn't take long for the child to fall asleep, warm, comfortable, pain-free, and full for the first time in over a year.
"Happy Christmas, Harry," whispered Severus, brushing the fringe from Harry's face. He'd done it: he was back in time; he'd saved Harry, and it actually felt like some morbid dream his unconsciousness had concocted to help the guilt. This did ease it somewhat; yet it was also intensified, as all the things he'd thought of Harry over the years came back to haunt him. He'd been such a bastard; Merlin, he'd been calling a dead child spoiled, wishing to give him detention! A small part of Severus would have preferred that to his dying. No, Severus thought forcefully, neither had to happen; he was here, he'd changed the future, or past... whatever it was now. He would raise Harry properly; he wouldn't be spoiled, but he'd be a sight better than anyone else. He didn't know how yet, but he'd do it.
Severus then began to eat his own dinner with one hand, not wanting to let go of Harry just yet. Mostly he used the freshly baked bread to dip into the soup. This succeeded in filling him up, at least as much as he could be when he was used to the bigger meals at Hogwarts. His mind turned towards Black and the comments he'd made before Snape had gone back in time, how he'd suffer through Azkaban just for his godson to be alive. He would never like Black, of that he was certain, but knowing he was innocent and suffering with the Dementors made him feel guilty. Then there was Figg; Squib or not, she didn't deserve to be killed trying to save a child who was no longer there or in need of rescuing. He was but one man; how could he change it without affecting the timeline or possibly causing a rift in time?
Sighing softly, he placed Harry back down on the sofa, despite his mew of protest― how did he know he'd been put down? He should have been deeply asleep by this time. Digging into his cloak pocket, Severus found the de-aging potion, as well as the letter from Lily. Clutching the letter tightly, he closed his eyes; if his younger self had gotten this now…he would have been able to move on and forgive himself.
Uncorking the potion, he sniffed at it, identifying it; it was exactly what he'd asked for: a de-aging potion. He was a Potions Master, he would be stupid not to make sure it was right before drinking it. Inspecting the vial, he allowed a few millilitres to drop out. He didn't want to end up underage, after all; finally satisfied, he drank the potion in a single gulp. As if he'd drunk Polyjuice Potion, he began to shrink and get slightly shorter; his face and hands became softer, less wrinkled and calloused before the changes stopped altogether. Conjuring a mirror, he looked at himself in satisfaction; he looked around nineteen years old, but he knew he was around seventeen in actuality, if he remembered rightly.
Nodding in approval, he banished the mirror; exhaustion was beginning to creep up on him. Just four hours earlier he'd been at a will-reading! Before that, he'd been burying the child beside him, and before that he'd been watching the child's coffin being removed from the Muggle cemetery the dead child been stuck in. It had been one hell of a day, and he was surprised it had taken up to now for him to feel the need for sleep.
Standing up, without the usual aches and pains, he lifted the sleeping child up and walked up the stairs, looking in each of the rooms before deciding which one he wanted. He decided upon the back room; not only was it the biggest, but it also had the least amount of moonlight filtering in. He liked the darkness; living in dungeons for so long, it was hardly surprising. Once he got to the bed, which smelt fresh and airy, he placed Harry on the far side. Flicking his wand, he created a safety ward―this would prevent Harry from falling off the bed. Inwardly he thanked Pomfrey for that; he'd been there when she'd used the spell on one of her sick patients― one of his Slytherins who had come down with dragon pox, if he remembered correctly.
He began unbuttoning his robes, which was a painstaking process, since he had thirty buttons to undo. Removing his tight-fitting teaching robes, he suddenly realised he wouldn't have to wear them again. He had no reputation to uphold; he could wear whatever he wanted. Discarding the robes on the floor without a thought. Only then did Severus notice something awe-inspiring and shocking: the Dark Mark he'd carried for over fourteen years was gone… He reluctantly acknowledged to himself that it would probably re-appear when he aged once more, most likely at the age he had been when he first received it. Only time would tell, but Severus really did hope it remained gone. Sliding under the sheets, now in just his t-shirt and boxers, he eased Harry under the covers as well, making sure not to cover his face with the bedding. He would get Harry a proper toddler bed tomorrow; it was going to be one of the busiest days he'd ever had.
I wish to thank Jordre and Jake for editing this story - thank you!