AN: I'd honestly meant to post more than once a year, but eh. What's time when you're a wizard. If you haven't read Far Beyond a Promise Kept this will NOT make sense to you, so... go read that first. :) This is mentor/guardian.
There was a sharp smell of fish permeating through the air as he passed through the front gate of the market. It was just past six in the morning, and most of the vendors had their stalls set up for the day. Last minute deliveries were rushing by him on carts as he looked for the meeting spot.
"You couldn't have picked a bakery, instead?"
He received a grin in return. Kingsley Shacklebolt, dressed in muted greys and deep maroon, was holding a Daily Prophet and had partially finished the crossword.
"I reckoned we could walk to it."
Snape nodded, and waited for Kingsley to lead the way.
"This could be nothing," Kingsley started, his voice low as the market stall owners around them ignored him completely. "But you were right. The Ministry has always been chaotic with paperwork and they don't keep a single file on any person. The information is scattered through several departments."
They passed a chocolate stand and the conversation paused.
"School records, tax concerns, housing, muggle incidents, adoptions; all kept separately. And someone has been having a look at a few of them."
They side stepped a baker carrying a steaming hot tray of fresh croissants.
"Someone I know?" Snape asked.
"I don't believe so. James Kemper?" Kingsley said. "Was at the graveyard, and then came to Hogwarts with us for the meeting after. A twelve-year auror."
They'd reached the bakery proper and Snape crossed his arms as he surveyed the baked goods that were still sitting in baking trays from the oven.
"The adoption of Harry Potter is still mostly a secret, but was not well received by some," said Snape. "Though I suppose those weren't the only files he was looking at."
Snape pointed at two large muffins, and nodded his head when he was asked about coffee.
"He couldn't get to those," said Kingsley. "The paperwork was done expertly well and the files are locked. I've had alerts on the Crouches, along with the Malfoys, Lestranges, and Tom Riddle for as many files as I could find. So far only yours and Harry's have sounded, for housing and school records."
He smiled at the shop keeper and requested a muffin and coffee for himself.
"If I were an optimist I'd tell you that it could mean nothing."
"It never does," muttered Snape. He took the coffee and muffins, and waited for Kingsley's order to be handed over.
"I'd be curious to know if this is sanctioned by Fudge," Snape said, his voice low as they headed for the exit of the market. "It's been a little over a month since that meeting; the matter should be closed and no further attention should be brought to it."
"Haven't been able to discern as of yet," Kingsley said, his step falling in synch with Snape's. "Kemper's been around the Ministry long enough that he visits offices to talk to people and finds his stuff at the same time, without them noticing."
"A bolder method than my preference," said Snape, turning with Kingsley back to the apparition point.
"Thought you didn't do that anymore?" Kingsley commented, smile wide as he took a sip of coffee.
Snape gave him a pained smile.
"Only for approximately a fortnight in June."
Kingsley shrugged.
"The real danger is gone, for now. I should have copies of those files for you soon, I put a tracer on them."
"Thank you," said Snape. "I would rather be prepared for nothing– "
"Yes, I know," Kingsley said, with a friendly smile. "You haven't changed since school at all."
Snape rolled his eyes at that. He'd spent the majority of his final years at Hogwarts being mostly unnoticed by the other students, but Kingsley had always been an exception.
"One other thing," said Kingsley. "I saw James Kemper having lunch with Tadeas Hackett yesterday."
"Assuming that's what prompted this quick meeting?" Snape said, sipping from the cup of still-too-hot coffee.
"Tadeas Hackett is the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy," Kingsley said. "Wouldn't happen to know anything about a new prophecy would you, Severus?"
He clapped Snape on the shoulder and disapparated before Snape could say anything.
Snape took a few steps away from the shrouded apparation point and toward a bench, where he sat and watched a streetsweeper expertly manoeuvre around the park paths. He absolutely refused to apparate with hot liquids, and wanted to take the time to mentally catalogue the conversation.
He'd expected that there'd be prying, as he had been a Death Eater and he had been accused in court. And he'd just dropped an absolute bomb to the Ministry that Voldemort had not, in fact, been gone since 1981 and had been a very real threat, right up until he, a mere potions master, tricked and murdered him.
But Potter was a wild card. The Boy Who Lived, the wizarding world's hero, the only one to ever survive the Killing Curse. The Chosen One, thought that particular bit of information was only suspected by the general wizarding world, and would never be confirmed.
The way Snape saw it there were two streams of inquiry happening. One into the adoption of Harry Potter, which he was certain would cause some strong reactions by the public. There was nothing to it now though, that particular secret was always going to get out as Potter had abandonment insecurity and Snape had never intended for him to keep it hidden for longer than necessary. The second, less obvious but even more concerning, was someone looking into the newest prophecy. Whoever it was would never be able to listen to it, but a very recent prophecy that was dim, with a tag highlighting Harry and the Dark Lord, would possibly be taken as proof that the Dark Lord had still been alive and that there had maybe been a cover up.
He glanced at his left arm, where the Dark Mark had turned into what looked like a very faded shapeless ink stain. Several more people than were in the meeting also knew that the Dark Lord had just very recently come to his final end.
Snape stretched his legs out in front of him, sitting back and leisurely enjoying his coffee. He still wasn't accustomed to the weight being lifted from his shoulders with the Dark Lord's death, and couldn't help but think that something, whether from the remaining Death Eaters or from the Ministry, was coming.
He was getting too old for this.
…
June 25th, three weeks earlier
Ron was on the floor of the room, peering under his bed trying to push aside his trunk at the same time. The trunk had somehow gotten stuck against something under the bed, and Ron was muttering darkly at it as he looked for an errant sock.
"Can't believe we've had a year where no one has tried to murder you," Seamus said, tossing a balled-up piece of parchment at Harry.
"What?" Harry said, catching it with the cauldron in his hands. "Did you forget the whole Moody not being Moody thing?"
"And the tournament," Ron mumbled, from under the bed.
"Well yeah, but it wasn't dangerous like when you fought that giant snake."
Harry, who was shoving the cauldron in the bottom of his trunk, paused as he processed that. He still wasn't able to share any information about his battle with Voldemort, so merely shook his head at the irony of Seamus's statement.
"Here's my question," Dean said, yanking a biscuit out of the packet on his bed. "What was Snape doing there at the final task, down with the champions?"
"Down where?" Harry asked, looking through his bedside cabinet drawer to see if he'd forgotten to pack anything from there.
"With you, you plonker. Down where you were standing when the maze started."
"Yeah Harry," Ron said, popping back up from under the bed and grinning. "Why was Snape down with the parents?"
Harry slowly looked up at Ron, giving him a glare as he turned to face Dean.
"Well, er. You know how the permission form for Hogsmeade said that it had to be signed by a parent or guardian?" Harry said. He held a shirt in his hand and was wringing it a little to fight the nerves that had suddenly appeared.
"Snape's my guardian."
There was dead silence in the room, with Harry waiting for some sort of reaction, and getting absolutely nothing. Finally, Neville coughed.
"You're joking right, Harry?"
"Nope," Harry said, finally tossing the shirt in his trunk. Ron stood back up and stretched, but Neville, Dean, and Seamus still stood motionless.
"It's true," Ron said, clapping Harry on the back and then plopping back down on his bed. He looked smug, like he'd been privy to a secret that no one else had been, and finally got to boast about it.
"Severus Snape," Dean repeated. "Head of Slytherin, all around arsehole of Hogwarts?"
Harry frowned a bit at that, not that it wasn't true, but because he knew it wasn't the only side of Snape.
"He barely even looked at you during the feast last night," Dean said.
"Right, well I'm not a toddler," Harry said, shrugging. "And he's a head of house. He's got a lot of stuff to do at end of term."
"No way," Seamus argued, shaking his head firmly. "You are taking the piss."
Harry sighed a bit and picked up a navy-blue jumper from his trunk, which had been loosely folded. He tossed it toward Seamus, nodding at him.
"What's the name tag say?" Harry asked.
Seamus narrowed his eyes, but held the jumper up and looked at the tag.
"S. Snape," Seamus read. "No fucking way."
Harry threw some more clothes in his trunk, not as bothered with folding them because he knew the trunk would expand to fit whatever he'd shoved in.
"He was an old friend of my mum's," Harry said, trying to sound casual. "He was a bit worried that Death Eaters would still try to come after me when I came back to the wizarding world. Remember the whole thing in first year with Quirrell?"
"Yeah," Dean said, holding a biscuit in hand. "I'd almost forgotten about that."
"Didn't you ever think it was weird that we kept finding trouble and things were happening and it was just sort of... left as is?" Harry continued.
"Thought you were just unlucky, Harry," Neville said. "Dumbledore was always here to make sure it didn't get too bad."
"The cursed broomstick my first quidditch game, the Philosopher stone thing, the basilisk, Chamber of Secrets, the dementors, my name being in the Goblet of Fire…" Harry ticked off.
"Escaped Azkaban suspected Death Eater tried to kidnap you," Ron helpfully added.
"Right, all that. No one else here has had that happen. Snape figured there was leftover Voldemort supporters or Death Eaters and that I should be better trained for them. Which he did. Then we found out I had no legal guardian, so..."
"Sure, but what about the Dursley's, mate?" Dean asked. "Don't you live with them?"
Harry shrugged.
"Yeah, when I was little. They were rather glad to see me go. Pretty sure they hated me."
"So does Snape," Seamus said, speaking slowly as if he didn't think anyone else in the room was fully understanding his incredulity. "He hates anyone who isn't Slytherin."
Harry grinned. "He hates some Slytherins too."
"Who wouldn't?" Ron scoffed, relaxing back in his bed.
"Yeah," Harry said, smiling. He held his wand up and summoned his jumper back from Seamus.
"I wasn't allowed to tell anyone until we knew what was going on with Moody and the tournament, so you're the only ones that really know," Harry continued. He debated asking if they were okay with it, but left the awkward silence where it was.
"I still think you're full of it," Seamus finally said. "But I can't figure out why you'd say it if you weren't telling the truth."
"Do you want to go ask him?" Harry asked, with a dry tone. "I dunno what he's doing right now but I'm sure he'd love a bunch of us going down to the dungeons to ask."
Ron grinned widely, looking like he thought that was a grand idea.
"I'm in. Points no longer matter for this year," Ron said, at the same time that Neville spoke.
"Have you been to his quarters here?" Neville asked.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, kicking Ron's bed. "He's got a hidden flat down in the dungeons."
"Surprised he let you in," Seamus said, dumping his pile of textbooks in his trunk.
"Seamus, I live with him. In the summers, we have a house away from Hogwarts. I have my own room and everything. It's a perfectly normal house and Snape's pretty... normal," Harry said, shrugging.
"Right, except he lets you do magic at home and none of us are allowed to," said Ron, tossing a Chudley Cannons ball up and down.
"That's... yeah. He doesn't seem to like the Ministry much," Harry said, shrugging. "Or their rules."
"No," Seamus said, shaking his head and flicking the trunk closed. "Nope. This is the worst joke ever, Potter."
Twenty minutes later, Harry knocked on the door to Snape's office, feeling ridiculous at having Dean, Neville, and Seamus behind him. Ron was off to the side, and had come along mostly for the laugh. The other three were stubbornly standing straight as if they expected a monster to answer, and had stepped slightly back from Harry.
Snape opened the door slowly, and then crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.
"My my, what a merry little group we have here," Snape dryly said.
"They know," Harry said, glancing over his shoulder. "And don't believe me at all."
Snape didn't move, but instead regarded them with a steady gaze.
"Their approval means very little to me," Snape said.
"Harry told us you're his guardian," Seamus butted in, looking between Snape and the group. "And it's just well, we don't believe him like."
Snape raised his eyebrow, but otherwise remained impassive.
"All of you, or just yourself, Mr Finnegan?"
"Uh, well," Dean coughed. "It just… you've never liked Gryffindors so, doesn't seem like it'd be true."
"Correct," Snape said. After a second's pause he added, "to both."
"See?" Harry said, turning around. "I told you."
Seamus narrowed his eyes and looked firmly up at Snape.
"Always seemed like you hated him," Seamus continued, ignoring Harry and getting nods from Dean and Neville.
Snape stopped leaning, standing tall in the doorframe. He looked bloody imposing, but Harry still saw him mostly just as his dad now.
"Perhaps I am a hateful person in general," Snape said, daring them with a look to agree with that statement. "Or perhaps there is more to the story that is none of your business."
Seamus snapped his mouth shut at that.
"He is telling the truth. Now, this will become more common knowledge next year, but I trust that none of you will give your fellow housemate a hard time because of his connection to myself," Snape said, in a misleading lighter tone that was absolutely a threat.
"Which I assure you," Snape continued, as an afterthought, "will not gain you or any other of your house special favours in class."
Neville nodded quickly.
"Now," said Snape. "I believe the carriages for Hogsmeade Station leave in an hour."
"Yes sir," Dean finally said, shoving his hands in his pocket and turning away. Seamus and Neville and Ron also turned away, seemingly disappointed to find that Harry wasn't joking. They kept glancing back at the office door, as if they were expecting Snape to turn into an apparition or for it to be a prank.
"Potter, if you're not taking your trunk on the train, leave it in my office shortly," said Snape.
"Okay," Harry said, nodding. Snape shut the door and Harry turned to join his friends.
"Seems weird he still calls you Potter," Neville finally said.
"Only in school, really," Harry commented, with a small smile. "During the summer he's a bit more relaxed."
"That I'd pay to see," Ron muttered.
….
Paper fluttered by the window every thirty seconds or so, as the old metallic desk fan oscillated from one end of the tiny room to the other. The single bed was not far from the desk, and the perpendicular wall contained a built-in book case that was full of papers and books; a glass of water, a watch, and a wand on one shelf that acted as a bedside cabinet next to the bed. The walls were a greyish blue colour, and had a still muggle poster of Oasis, an animated poster of Puddlemere United, and a Gryffindor pennant pinned to them.
The wide wooden floorboards had a few nicks in them and more than one balled up sock, plus a pair of slippers near the bed that had clearly been tripped over at some point during the middle of the night.
It was a scorching morning already, and while the river outside the mill house was moving, the fourteen-year-old boy sprawled out on the bed was not. His hand twitched, slightly, as the front door opened and closed, but other than that did not move any further.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, from the front door passing through, accompanied by two strong knocks on the door.
"Wake up."
It wasn't quite an order, but neither was it a suggestion, and slowly, a messy haired head lifted from the pillow.
…
Harry smiled to himself as he walked into the kitchen. It was early summer still, and though it had been more than a month since they'd defeated Voldemort, he still woke up and took a second to remember, before feeling elated all over again.
"Morning," Harry said, turning to the counter where the coffee was. Snape held his mug out for a refill as Harry walked by the table. He worked by muscle memory mostly, filling the cups and splashing in cream before sitting down at his spot – this Harry was secretly pleased with, he had his own spot at the table – and staring at the plate of muffins on the table.
"Where did you go this morning?" Harry asked.
Snape was reading the Daily Prophet, with a bowl of raspberries beside him that he was randomly plucking from.
"What makes you think I went anywhere?" said Snape.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"There's no dishes in the sink, and the house doesn't smell like baking. So, where'd the muffins come from?"
"Very good," said Snape, lowering the paper for a second. He was wearing a muggle shirt and had his hair tied up, a look that Harry still was getting used to, but that had been sported daily due to the heat wave.
"A market in the south," Snape said, not giving any further detail.
Harry noticed that he'd circled an article about Fudge in the newspaper, entitled 'DAFT OR DULL: THE MINISTRY UNDER FUDGE'.
"Something suspicious going on?" Harry asked, grabbing one of the muffins from the plate.
"There is always something suspicious happening in our world," Snape commented, but he didn't sound that annoyed or concerned about it. "Fetch your notebook after breakfast, we will be discussing money this morning."
"Money?" Harry asked. "Wait, we're still doing lessons even though Voldemort's gone?"
The paper lowered again.
"I'll not have my son bumble about in the wizarding world, unprepared for adult life. Yes, you will continue to learn."
Harry's cheeks felt slightly warm as he smiled. "Okay."
Snape went back to the paper and Harry skimmed through the local newspaper as he ate his breakfast. The Tarrows, as they were known by the villagers, put out a little newsletter with the goings on of the two villages, and Harry was deep into the drama of who had been stealing Mrs Tolliver's plants, and who kept moving Mr Arnault's bins.
Snape got up after he'd finished his coffee and grabbed a large bundle of papers from his desk in the corner of the kitchen.
"Your notebook," Snape said, sitting back down.
"Yes sir," Harry said, holding up his wand and summoning the notebook.
"Don't be lazy," Snape chided. He tapped his papers together on the table.
"I'm not," Harry said. "Didn't know where it was."
Snape rolled his eyes and conjured a blackboard, which he added writing to by tapping the board with his wand.
Harry knew better than to mention laziness.
"As a half blood, you have a more complicated relationship with the British government, most especially when it comes to taxes."
"Really?"
"Yes. I assume, knowing what I do of James Potter, that you are not without some money."
He looked expectedly at Harry and Harry shifted in his seat.
"I have some. In my vault," Harry guardedly said.
"Yes, as I suspected," Snape nodded.
"Can you access that? Being my guardian?"
"I have no desire to," Snape said. "The only interest I have in your money is ensuring you learn to manage it properly. You will not be money-foolish."
Harry felt an odd mixture of annoyed and proud.
"I'm not money-foolish. I've had access to the vault since I was eleven and most is still there," he argued.
Snape waved his hand in slight irritation.
"Merely because you are not able to regularly access it, or shop."
"Well yeah but... wait, you'll let me go to Diagon Alley whenever I want?"
"Perhaps," said Snape. "Now, pay attention. The muggle government collects taxes on income, and should you wish to remain in their system, you will need to pay it. There is a wizarding office who deals with this."
"Like Mr Weasley's office, but for official paperwork?"
"I believe it is the same office."
"Oh," Harry said, slightly surprised. He didn't really know what else Mr Weasley's office did, but it made sense that there would be some sort of liaison with the muggle world. "Oh, can I go visit Ron tomorrow?"
"Yes," Snape said, waving his hand as if it wasn't the slightest concern. "You can Floo there."
"What? No but I can apparate!" Harry said, sitting up straight. Snape looked a bit cross that his lesson was interrupted again.
"And I can fly. Neither of which the general public should know that we can do. You are too young to legally apparate."
"Fine," Harry grumbled, slouching again. Snape cleared his throat and glared.
"It is important to note that there are just as many scammers in our world as there are in the muggle world. You must always be mindful if anyone requests money."
"Okay," Harry said.
"Part of your allowance will continue to be deposited in the account I set up for you, and I want you to use it."
"You do?"
"Yes. If you are using galleons, sickles, and knuts as your daily currency, you will forget the value of pounds and pence when figuring out pricing. You should not have to mentally convert pounds to galleons when purchasing groceries - you will immediately stand out. You should know it as if it were your main currency."
He paused for another sip of coffee.
"Tourists do this and end up overspending because something that costs 5 pounds here but only four dollars at home still seems reasonable. In nearly every case it is not."
Harry set to writing, mostly paying attention, but also slightly daydreaming of the possibility of spending time on his own or with Ron and Hermione in London.
….
A summer thunderstorm set in early in the evening, crackling across the mill and shaking the floorboards. Snape had left the back kitchen door open as they ate, and sat with a pint of beer as he watched the flashes of lightning light up their little garden.
"Is something going on at the Ministry?" Harry asked, plopping down in his seat and putting his plate down.
Snape raised his eye brow and took another sip.
"Why would you suspect that?"
Harry grinned, and picked up his burger.
"You've been reading the paper back to front and scowling at it, every morning and evening."
Snape gave the barest hint of a smile.
"Perhaps I am merely tired of reading of the antics of the Boy Who Lived," said Snape.
"What?" Harry asked, hamburger mid-air as he paused. "I'm not in the paper, am I? Why would I be?"
Snape said nothing, taking another sip of beer instead and letting his lazy smile grow a little. Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"I'm not in there," he confidently said. "But something is. What are you looking for?"
"Nothing in particular," Snape finally said. "However, the events of our most recent Ministry meeting are…sensitive."
"And you don't trust that they'll keep it secret," said Harry.
"Of course not," replied Snape. "The trick is to not be caught unawares when it is found out."
"I still haven't said anything," said Harry, looking over his shoulder to the door as a particularly loud grumble of thunder rolled on. "And neither have Ron or Hermione."
"Mm," Snape agreed, picking up his own burger. "As expected. You have been sworn to secrecy, after all."
Harry nodded.
"Imagine if they did find out though. Probably take up the whole front page. Voldemort Returned."
"Never his name," Snape said, pointing his pint at Harry before taking a drink.
"Right," Harry said, correcting himself. "He who must not be named. Which is the dumbest name ever. It's too long and is still technically a name."
Snape rolled his eyes and continued eating. The room lit up with lightning again and Harry listened at the rain crashing down hard now, bouncing at the back door but not coming into the kitchen because Snape had cast a spell to keep it out.
"There is an article regarding a werewolf law," Snape said, nodding at the paper on the table.
"I'm guessing it's not a positive one," said Harry.
"Indeed not. It severely limits the employment opportunities and living opportunities for them."
"That's rubbish," Harry said, indignant. "They're human most of the time, and it's not really their fault!"
"There are absolutely some that will attack others at first opportunity, even as humans," Snape said, pointing his finger at Harry. "Do not forget that."
"I won't," Harry sullenly said. "What does this mean for Professor Lupin? Didn't he get appointed because of Voldemort? They can't make him leave Hogwarts, can they?"
"It's not a particular concern of mine," Snape said.
"Dad," Harry said. "If he's still there though, that means you'll be passed up on the Defence position again, won't it? That's not really fair."
"Life isn't fair, Mr Potter," said Snape, standing up to get more chips from the baking sheet on the cooktop.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Why do you still call me that?"
"Would you prefer Mr Snape?" he dryly asked.
"Well," Harry said. He traced his finger through a gouge in the wood table. "My name didn't change, but I… I don't know." He thought for another minute, of what he'd considered about his name after people started finding out, and what it meant to him. He was proud to be a Potter, always would be, but there was something to be said for a feeling of belonging. Something he'd never had before as the Dursleys had always ensured to make it very clear that he was not one of them.
"I like John, because it was useful last year when I had to pretend and hide and, it's sort of… it's a private family thing," Harry trailed off. "But I've always been Harry and I don't know what others would think. Especially now that people are going to find out."
"I see," said Snape studying Harry with an intense gaze that Harry looked away from. Snape didn't push him though, and Harry resolved to think through it more and figure out how to say what he meant.
"Could you change the magic though, that changes my hair when I go outside? I'd like to just look like myself here now," Harry asked.
"That can be adjusted," answered Snape. He didn't sound bothered by that request, and Harry thought that interesting because changing it back meant that Harry's hair would be the same colour as Snape's and they'd look a tiny bit more related.
"Oh," Harry said, tapping the table, "Sirius wants to invite us over for my birthday. He wants to throw a party."
"Us?" Snape repeated, his look adequately expressing how ridiculous he thought that was.
"Well, me," Harry admitted. "But you should come too. He wants it on my actual birthday but I didn't know if there were any other plans."
"I am not hosting several of your friends, if that's what you're asking," said Snape.
"No!" Harry said, grinning. "But dinner, or… I don't know."
His voice trailed off at the end, as if he was embarrassed for thinking something else would be on.
"My parents had planned to stop by," Snape idly said, watching Harry carefully.
"Really?" Harry asked, unable to keep his voice from sounding excited.
"They have also asked what you would like for your birthday," Snape added.
Harry blinked, putting his hamburger down. He'd never really been asked before what he wanted. He'd only met Snape's parents twice, but already they were planning on getting him something? Harry shook his head. He couldn't ask for specific things; he had no idea what their budget would be or what would even be appropriate to ask for.
"Cat got your tongue?" Snape asked, finishing the last of his chips.
"No," Harry said. "I just... I don't know what I'd like. That's all."
Snape shrugged. "They will mostly ignore your list and buy whatever they deem useful anyway."
"Hah," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "What's the point of asking then?"
"I believe it is a ritual of grandparents to do what they please," Snape responded, stealing a chip from Harry's plate. "In any event, it is certainly a Snape family habit."