Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Two: Broomstick

Professor Snape, when he arrived in Diagon Alley, found the place to be crawling with Hogwarts students. They were literally everywhere he looked, from the store windows to the streets - there were at least three students standing around.

Taking a deep breath, Snape put on his best teacher face. This consisted of a deep scowl at anyone who was not an adult or store employee. He found it got him through the crowds of students quite easily. They didn't want to get in the way of a scowling teacher, after all.

With this freedom, Snape made his way towards one of the places his daughter loved - Quality Quidditch Supplies. In there, he found various things he thought his daughter would enjoy, ranging from the latest in broomstick technology, to the hardest hitting bludgers in the history of Quidditch.

As much as Snape loathed the dangerous sport of Quidditch, he knew his Olive loved it. He was looking at a few charmed helmets (which the sign said were guaranteed to keep the rider safe), when a large hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Professor Snape!" The booming voice of Hagrid assaulted Snape's ears, and he turned sharply to scowl at the large man. "I dinna expect to see you here!"

"Neither did I," Snape replied, putting the helmet he had been examining down on the table. He hoped that the man before him had not seen him do so. Unfortunately, his hope was unwarranted.

"Ah - seems you found what I was looking for," Hagrid said, leaning past Snape and reaching for the helmet he had been looking at. Hagrid turned it over and read the label slowly. "This is just the sort of charm I'll be needin'."

"Really?" Snape said, turning back to the table. "I thought your head was thick enough as it is."

"Hah!" Hagrid laughed, and gave Snape a huge slap on the back. The slap was so hard, that he had to grab onto the table so as not to go toppling over it. "You're always such a kidder, Professor."

"Indeed." Snape said, pulling himself gingerly back up from the table. Why on earth was this man here? And why did he need a helmet? Snape brushed himself off and looked at Hagrid with a single eyebrow raised. "May I ask why you need a Quidditch helmet?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that," Hagrid said glancing around as if someone might be listening in. Snape raised his eyebrow further. "But…" Hagrid leaned in close so he could whisper in Snape's ear. The professor prickled as the man's beard scratched past his face. "Between you an' me, I can tell you that the miracle boy is coming to Hogwarts."

His eyes widening, Snape stared at Hagrid, and didn't even flinch as his beard scratched against his face again. Hagrid smiled at the professor's expression, and patted him, more gently, on his shoulder. Speechless, Snape watched as the man went to pay for his helmet.

It was only several minutes after Hagrid left that the reality began to hit Snape. The miracle boy he'd meant was none other than Harry Potter - it had to be. The boy had survived an attack by Lord Voldemort, thanks to the late Lily Potter, and was, according to Hagrid, a wizard.

"Hey, mister," The voice of a teenaged employee broke Snape out of his trance. Blinking, he turned to look at the speaker. "Are you going to buy something, or stand there and scare off my customers?"

"I was debating which broom to buy," Snape lied, his face becoming a scowling mask. The employee raised his eyebrows and shrugged, content to let Snape stay for a bit longer. Growling curses (as in swear words) under his breath, Snape went to look at the broomsticks. They all looked like death trips to him - but despite what his instincts were telling him - he picked what looked like the most modern one.

With the broom in hand, he went to the check out and paid for the object in question. The employee nodded approvingly at his choice, and Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Good choice. This is the fastest broom on the market," The man, who looked familiar, said. He had short brown hair, and dark brown eyes. His name tag read: Oliver Wood.

"Well, I hope this broom is safe as well as fast," Snape said, handing Oliver a handful of coins. "Otherwise I'll be sueing your store." Oliver laughed as he accepted the coins, assuming that Snape was joking.

"Would you like the broom wrapped?" He asked as he handed Snape the change. The professor considered this, and gave a little nod. "For 1 pound more, I can box it up too."

"Fine." Snape said, and laid some more coins on the counter. He waited impatiently as Oliver wrapped the broom carefully, and then placed it gently in a tissue filled box. He strapped it with twine, and then cast a water proofing spell on it. Then he handed it to Snape.

The professor grabbed it, and started for the door, not bothering to get his receipt.

As Snape poofed back into his house (there was a Floo Powder chimney nearby in Gringotts Banks), the first thing he noticed was the silence. He had assumed his daughter should be awake by this time.

Glancing at his curtained window, he could see the light shining through the cloth. By this time, usually he could at least hear his daughter breathing. Placing the package he held on the oak dinner table, he went to her room. Tentatively he knocked on her door - and when he got no answer he tested her door's lock.

It was unlocked. Pushing the door open, he slowly walked into his daughter's room, praying that she was all right. His breath caught when he saw her standing, as still as a statue, by her window. She wasn't even breathing as she stared out the window.

"Olivia," Snape said, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. Reaching out, he touched his daughter's shoulder, and sighed in relief as she jumped and broke out of her spell. "Olive?"

Her brown eyes, which looked almost haunted, looked up at him. She'd only glanced at him when she looked back out the window. Curious, Snape looked out as well.

There, he saw the back of a bushy, black haired boy being dragged to his car. From this distance, Snape could not be certain, but the boy bore a striking resemblance to James Potter…

"Olive?" He said, looking back down at his daughter. She was now looking up at him, not as distant as before. "Is there something the matter?"

"No. Nothing's the matter," She said, brushing back a strand of her still tangled red hair. "I was just watching the sun rise."

"It is a beautiful sight," Snape agreed, looking out the window. He watched as the car with the black haired boy drove off, and decided to let the matter drop. Whatever had occurred was unlikely to happen again. At least, Severus Snape hoped and prayed that was the case. However, wherever wizards and witches were concerned - one could never be sure.