Chapter Two
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters nor the scenery which you could recognise, the only thing I take credit for is the plot.
Pairings: None for this chapter.
Warnings: DarkHarry, Dumbledore, Hermione and Weasley bashing (excluding Bill, Charlie, Fred and George).
Word Count: 4,701
Date Rewritten: 31/01/2021
"My Lord, before you go-"
Severus' voice wavers as he glances questioningly towards his Lord, a man who had tortured any followers who dared to question him by the end of the first wizarding war, a question clear in his eyes as he tightens his hand on Harry's shoulder a fraction. The only true outward sign of his discomfort. Though at the raised eyebrow of his Lord urging him to follow through with his enquiry, his shoulders relax.
"For you to be able to escape the castle along with the Stone with ease, will you not need to utilise Quirrell's body for a while longer. Until you have reached your manor at the very least? Or rather completed the ritual to gain a body of your own back?"
Voldemort freezes for a moment before he curses under his breath, muttering words much to softly for Harry and Severus to hear. Quickly, thoughts flicker through his mind on how he could fool the old headmaster, plans which he disregards as quickly as they come before he glances up at the golden flames outlining the chamber. His eyes alight with realisation as he turns to grin, a little maniacally, at his potion's master.
"Well, seen as Harry Potter is known to be protected by his Mother's sacrifice in order to save his life on that fateful Halloween night it would be safe to assume that Dumbledore would rest his hopes on his weapon having some power to defeat me. Let us say that as Quirrell attempts to get young Harry here to retrieve the Stone from the mirror for him, he comes into contact with Harry's skin and is burnt. I am sure that the old coot would happily believe that Lord Voldemort is so twisted with hate that he would turn to ash if he came into contact with someone as pure as Harry Potter."
Severus smirks at his Lord, the idea of Dumbledore banking on such an obscure and bizarre piece of ancient magic being crazy enough that his Lord's plan may work. Glancing down at Harry, Voldemort and Severus notice his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he too thinks over the plan before his lips upturn into a mischievous smirk of his own.
"Like the Wicked Witch of the West. She melts when she touches water."
Severus and Voldemort chuckle at the child, remembering the famous story of Dorothy and her adventures through the Land of Oz. Though they are surprised that Harry, a boy who had no access to basic food and care would be able to recall such a film.
"My cousin Dudley used to watch that film all the time and I would sometimes be able to sneak watch it while I was doing my chores in the living room."
Lord Voldemort's eyes flash with rage at the further proof that his heir, his child had been mistreated at the hands of disgusting muggles, that he was forced to slave away as a house elf while their own son grew up to be a lazy layabout. Though he forces a small chuckle, ruffling Harry's hair.
"Exactly like the Wicked Witch of the West. Though, instead of merely leaving a pile of clothes for Severus here to find, I think we should leave a little pile of ash to give weight to our story."
Severus nods along, quickly waving his wand as he mutters a spell Harry can't quite catch under his breath, though he gasps in wonder as a pile of clothes suddenly appear in his professor's hands. Clothes which he quickly hands over to his Lord.
"You are going to want to leave the robes Quirrell is wearing now. I thought a change of clothes would be the best course of actions, though I am afraid that they will not fit as well as your own robes, My Lord."
"Thank you, Severus. As insightful as I remember you being. We must conclude this quickly before someone gets suspicious and comes down here to check up on you two. I would hate for our plans to be discovered so prematurely, especially before I can get Harry to safety."
"Of course, My Lord."
Harry looks up at the Dark Lord still disguised as his defence professor, fists clenching in Severus' robes as he bits his lips unsurely. Voldemort looks down at the small child and smiles softly. Anticipation building in his chest at the thought of regaining his body and claiming this boy as his own, he crouches down in front of the boy and pulls him into one final embrace.
"I promise you Harry that I will come for you as soon as I can. I will take you away from those despicable muggles and make you my child in every possible way. Never doubt that, Snakelet."
"I won't, Father. I will wait for you."
"That's my brave boy. I will see you soon, Snakelet. You too, Severus."
Lord Voldemort steps back a couple of paces and nods to Severus, who smiles grimly before turning to look down at Harry.
"Harry, I need you to lie down for me. When I put you to sleep, I don't want you to fall over and hurt yourself okay?"
Harry nods before carefully lying down on the floor, taking a deep breath he keeps eye contact with the red eyes of his Father, forcing his muscles to relax when he hears Severus' voice muttering long streams of Latin words while his wand moves in complicated patterns above his prone form. His vision begins to swim as he feels his eyelids becoming heavy. Just before he falls into complete oblivion, he sends one final smile towards his saviour before giving himself completely over to the artificial sleep which is trying to claim him.
"See you soon, my Son."
When Harry finally manages to pull himself away from the comforting arms of darkness surrounding him, he is immediately met with a stabbing pain pulsing in the back of his skull. He can feel his muscles straining in protest as he shifts in the small, yet comfortable bed in which he assumes he is lying in.
He manages to twitch his fingers and squeezes his eyes shut tighter as a burning white light assaults his tired eyes, as consciousness fully embraces him. Taking a deep stuttering breath, the young boy tries to pry his eyes open when he senses a presence sitting in the visitors' chair beside his bed. Harry sighs inwardly, figuring, by the immense magical energy he can feel, that the Headmaster had been waiting for him to wake up. Most likely in order to interrogate him about what had happened down in the chambers beneath the school. Though Harry wasn't particularly worried about the old man because Voldemort had promised to put a secure block around those memories ensuring that Dumbledore would not be able to access them through Legilimancy, which he was apparently known to use on his students.
Despite his aching muscles, Harry could feel the need to wake up and slowly cracked his eyes open. Glancing quickly around the white room in resignation at having ended up in the hospital wing yet again, for what he hoped was the final time. He tries to spy anyone else within the hospital wing and scowls when he realises that he has been left alone with the Headmaster. The man who had set him up to save the Philosopher's Stone.
Groaning out loud at the pain, Harry shifts into a more comfortable position which draws Dumbledore's attention. The old man leans forward, his bright blue eyes twinkling in what Harry assumes is supposed to be concern. The young boy feels his bed dip as Dumbledore shifts to sit on the mattress, his gaze sweeping his prone form.
"Harry? How are you feeling, my dear boy?"
Resisting the strong urge to roll his eyes, Harry struggles to push himself up slowly, resting back against his pillows as he turns his attention towards the Headmaster in confusion. Placing his hands down upon his lap, Harry allows a small sheepish grin to shape his features as he rubs at the back of his neck trying to look as bashful as possible when Dumbledore attempts to lock eyes with him.
"Like I have been stampeded by a herd of Hippogriffs, Sir."
The old man chuckles lightly, patting Harry's intertwined fingers in what Harry assumes to be an attempt at a soothing, Grandfatherly gestures. Though it merely succeeds in making the young wizard inwardly cringe away from the Headmaster, locking his muscles so he doesn't abruptly pull his hands away from the other's touch. Taking a deep breath, Harry forces himself to stay where he is, hoping his true emotions are hidden.
"Ah yes, I can only imagine."
Harry continues to watch the older wizard inconspicuously, his eyebrows furrowing as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on the delicate skin lightly as he quickly considers exactly what he is going to reveal to Dumbledore. Portraying the image of an unsure and confused boy as much as he is able, praying to Merlin that the Headmaster will buy into his act.
"Headmaster? Are you able to tell me how I managed to end up back into the hospital wing?"
Dumbledore frowns down at the young boy, the usual twinkle in his eyes dimming at the implication behind Harry's words; seemingly displeased with the fact that his only eye witness to the events which had transpired down in the chamber appeared to have none, if any, recollection of the altercation.
"I was hoping that you would be able to tell me that, my dear boy."
Harry quickly looks down at his hands, still chewing unsurely on his lip, his teeth gnawing through the skin leaving a slight metallic taste in his mouth. Furrowing his eyebrows in deep contemplation, the first year closes his eyes for a brief moment before turning his gaze towards the ceiling as if trying to recall and bring forward any memories just out of reach. Remembering what his soon-to-be-Father had told him about the Headmaster's habit of illegally using Legilimancy on his students, and if there is anything, he could tell the man about recent events.
"I am sorry Headmaster, but I can't really remember much. All I know is that I went down to the chamber with Hermione and Ron because Professor McGonagall wouldn't believe us when we told her someone was trying to steal the Stone and you weren't in the castle. By the time I got to the chamber with the Mirror of Erised they were both gone, and I was on my own."
His green eyes lock with those of the Headmaster and feeling a slight nudge of pressure against his mind Harry allows his eyes to grow wide, his jaw becoming slack as he sits up straighter in order to subtle break eye contact while trying to seem as if he had just recalled something.
"Professor Quirrell! It was Professor Quirrell who had been after the Stone, sir. He didn't get it though, did he?"
The sudden panic in the small boy's voice must have broken the Headmaster out of his thoughts because he suddenly places a wrinkled hand on the first year's shoulder, trying to comfort Harry without outwardly showing his annoyance at the young wizard's inability to remember anything of importance, or anything that he hadn't already been aware of.
"It is alright, my boy. Professor Snape checked and the Stone is perfectly safe, it is still within the castle wards and it seems that you have once again managed to save us all by preventing Professor Quirrell from achieving what he was here to do. Well done, Harry."
Harry breathes a sigh of relief, feeling himself relax now that his is sure that the Headmaster had not caught on to the fact that the Stone still within the school is, in fact, a fake and that his father managed to safely escape the Headmaster's detection. That he is safe, far away from the meddling old coot.
The boy feels Dumbledore brushing gently against the edge of his mind, in what he assumes to be another attempt to use Legilimancy in order to establish whether he had been exposed to any sort of mind tricks or obliviations by Professor Quirrell while he had been down in the chamber. Harry actively keeps his thoughts away from the events, despite Voldemort's assurance that no matter what, Dumbledore would be unable to access his memories. He has to fight back a smirk when he notices the disappointment and shock flicker through the old man's eyes. Gleefully aware that Dumbledore has found nothing to indicate that the Dark Lord had returned; nothing to back up his theory that Professor Quirrell had been possessed or had been controlled by Lord Voldemort. Sighing to himself, Dumbledore resigns himself to the fact that his old enemy was not returning any time soon and that the Stone was truly still residing within the mirror.
Shifting to sit back on the chair beside the boy's hospital bed, Dumbledore steals himself to continue his interrogations of the young wizard in hopes of gaining some insight into the events surrounding the past year at Hogwarts. However, before he could even begin to voice his first question the doors to the hospital wing are thrown open with a resounding bang. Black robes billow around the tall, dark figure as he strolls purposefully through the near-empty room towards Harry and the Headmaster, his shoes making a rhythmic sound against the polished tiles.
"Ah. Professor Snape. What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here, my dear boy?"
Harry quickly brings a hand up to stifle his giggles which threaten to break free at the sneer his potions professor directs towards the Headmaster, presumably for his 'dear boy' comment.
"I was asked by Poppy to brew and deliver these potions for one, Mister Potter. Not that it is any business of yours Headmaster."
Severus scowls at Dumbledore who simply smiles back at the dour man, twinkle back in his eyes full force as he had grown used to the other's sour attitude in his time teaching at the school. Harry, on the other hand, nods his head in thanks at the Slytherin, instantly regretting the action as the pain in his head flares as if reminding the young boy. Wincing, Harry lies back against the headboard.
"Professor, do you know how I ended up in the hospital wing?"
Harry enquires softly as Professor Snape sends a small glare towards the Headmaster, knowing that he had been too busy trying to question the young boy to even think of answering Harry's enquiries. Too busy trying to gauge the damage control he would have to do to set the child's worries at rest. Sighing softly, he turns to face the small child tucked tightly into the bed, offering a small, barely noticeable smile.
"Yes, Mister Potter. I found you unconscious down in the chamber where the Philosopher's Stone was being kept three days ago and bought you up into the hospital wing, where Poppy took control over your recovery. Am I right in assuming you have just woken up?"
The young boy nods his head slowly, wary of the pain in the back of his head flaring up once more making him wince openly. Lifting his hand up from his lap, Harry holds the appendage out towards his professor.
"Did Madam Pomfrey need me to take the potions now, Sir?"
Severus eyes the child for a moment, his eyes roaming over his small frame checking for any other signs of discomfort, unhealed injuries or anomalies without having to outwardly voice his worries in front of his employer. Not wishing to raise the old man's suspicions. Inclining his head, Severus hands over a mild pain-relieving potion as well as a strong nutrition's potion to the eleven-year-old, noting how Harry happily takes the small vials in his small hands.
"These will help with any pain, discomfort and other ailments you may be suffering with, though I warn you that they could exhaust you. I recommend getting some rest as soon as possible to heal fully."
Watching closely as Harry quickly swallows both potions down without so much as a grimace, placing the now empty vials on the bedside table for the professor to take later. The boy picks up his glasses finally before sitting up, blinking rapidly as the room comes into focus. Turning to face Severus, Harry lets a small, grateful smile slip before mumbling a soft but no less heartfelt,
"Thank you, Sir."
Harry feels his muscles relaxing as the pain in his head begins to fade almost immediately, his straining muscles releasing their remaining tension as he sinks back into his pillows. Watching with a small grin as the Headmaster finally takes that as his queue, standing up from his seat before taking his leave. Reaching the threshold, Dumbledore turns around to once more face the young boy.
"If you happen to remember anything Harry, my office is always open to you."
And without another word, Dumbledore walks out of the hospital wing, the doors closing behind him with a soft thump. As soon as he is sure the doors are shut and that the Headmaster will not be returning, Harry rolls his eyes, sighing loudly in relief much to Severus' amusement. The two remaining occupants stay quiet for a moment, taking the opportunity to study each other. Finally, Professor Snape clears his throat, looking sheepishly down at the white bedding as he slips into the seat the Headmaster had just vacated.
"Harry."
He begins, coughing to clear the lump forming in the back of his throat.
"I would once again like to apologise for my treatment of you throughout the past year, I had been informed by Dumbledore that you had been raised by a loving, Light supporting family who had spoilt you and treated you as their own son. I had it in mind that you would be a copy of your father, and when you first turned up, you did look just like James did during our school years. I now see how wrong I was."
Severus drags a hand through his hair tiredly, looking as exhausted as Harry feels as he slumps down in his seat at Harry's bedside. Thick black bags cling to the underneath of his eyes, face paler than Harry had ever seen. His robes are wrinkled and seem to hang off his thin frame more than usual.
"It is okay Professor, when Madam Pomfrey lets me out of here would you be willing to tell me about my parents? The good and the bad? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never really told me anything about them other than they were lazy, unemployed drunks who died in a car crash… it's apparently how I got my scar they told me."
Harry slowly rolls his head to the right gazing up at his professor with weary emerald eyes filled with both fear and hope.
"I would be happy to Harry, though I am afraid that my knowledge of your Father is severely lacking as I only ever witnessed his attitude during our time within these halls and I was not one of his favourite people. I only knew him through his pranks."
Severus smiles sadly, sitting forward in his chair, leaning slowly towards the small child buried under the covers, running his thin potion stained fingers through the soft raven-haired locks, his smile widening at the innocence shining within green eyes.
"Professor?"
Severus hums in response to the boy's enquiry, perfectly content to sit next to the young boy he had come to care for over the past few days, having spent enough time going over and coming to terms with the overload of information his Lord had given him.
"Do you think it would be possible for me to request a visitor?"
At Snape's inquisitive glance Harry can feel heat rising in his cheeks, his head rolling back so that his gaze is fixated upon the white ceiling, so he doesn't have to stare into those intense onyx eyes.
"I mean… I always get really bored when I am stuck in the infirmary by myself and it always leads to me getting into trouble with Madam Pomfrey because she is always catching me trying to sneak out."
Severus regards the rambling child in front of him, noting how Harry is lying completely still, his hands fisting into the blankets, his entire form screaming his fear of rejection and punishment for asking a question.
"I am sure that if you are alert enough and if you promise to go straight to sleep after the visit, I can inquire to Madam Pomfrey to you. Now, if you do not mind my asking, who would you like to request?"
The potions master continues to watch as the small boy begins to fidget nervously under the covers, though he is pleased to note that despite his embarrassment Harry is still leaning into his touch as his fingers continue to care through the thick locks. He puzzles on the child's actions as thin lips form words much to quiet for him to hear.
"Harry, please stop mumbling. I cannot hear you. Who would you like to visit you?"
His eyes flit across Harry's small form, eyes narrowing as his eyebrows furrow as his young charge continues to squirm in discomfort where he is lying, his tiny hands wringing, fingers tying themselves in knots above the covers on his stomach. The answer, when finally supplied loud enough for him to hear, surprises Severus greatly.
"Draco Malfoy."
Harry risks glancing at his professor when he fails to respond straight away. Watching as black eyebrows shoot up into the older wizard's hairline, the only outward indication of the shock the other is feeling at his odd request. Nervous and feeling his anxieties rising in his chest, Harry begins to ramble trying to explain his reasoning.
"It's just… it was wrong of me to reject Malfoy's hand the way I did at the start of the year and I regret not accepting his offer of friendship, from his reaction to my actions I am sure that there was a wizarding tradition I impeded on and I would like the chance to rectify that. I want to see if his offer remains and to extend my own hand as well. I want to become friends with him as he seems nice and I was hoping that he would agree to assisting me in becoming accustomed to all traditions and customs I missed out on learning whilst growing up… Do you think I can, Sir?"
The last question, his voice so quiet once again indicating of Harry's reluctance and fear of asking questions, of speaking out of turn; scared that he is going to be chastised for even daring as he so often was at the Dursley's home. He hadn't spent much time with the older man to know just how much he was allowed to ask of him. His uncertainty rises as the silence draws out, his thoughts spiralling into those which he harbours while he is locked in his cupboard. Wishing that his professor, the professor he had come to care for and hold in high regard over the past few days, despite his bout of unconsciousness, would not talk to him with scorn in his voice as he had done before.
He is surprised when Severus stands up from his seat only to perch on the edge of Harry's bed, running a calming hand through the boy's hair. Wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulder, Severus draws the small frame into his side for a comforting embrace.
"I think that is a wonderful idea, Harry. I am so proud of you. You are so brave in taking this first step at reconciliation with Draco, your father would be very proud of you. I am positive that Draco would be all too happy to inform you about all you have missed out on if you explain a few things to him."
Harry beams up at the man, a warmth spreading through his chest, silently preening at the man's kind words of praise, a gleeful feeling spreading through his veins at finally having someone who would and could feel proud of him. He feels a familiar heat rising in his cheeks again as he shyly cuddles closer to the man's side, relishing the feeling of security.
"Alright, Harry. How about I go and ask Madame Pomfrey if you may be discharged from the hospital wing early? If agreeable, you could stay in my quarters with me until the end of the year so that I can keep an eye on your recovery. I could send for young Mister Malfoy once we arrive and get you settled, how does that sound?"
Harry's head shoots up quickly, pulling away from the man enough to allow him to stare up at his professor in surprise, a tiny glint of awe shining within his emerald eyes. Hesitantly, Harry reaches out one of his hands, the appendage shaking slightly as it fists into the black material of his robes, cuddling closer once more as he sighs when the hand wrapped around his shoulder cards through his hair again.
"Thank you, Professor. Are you sure I won't be a burden though? I don't want to cause you any unnecessary trouble."
Severus inwardly shivers at the amount of emotions lacing the small child's statement, disgust at his muggle relatives rising before he forcefully pushes it back at the young wizard's choked voice, though still soft, almost resigned to being rejected. Snape smile fondly down at Harry, the boy he had come to see almost as the son he never had. Happy that he had manged to please Harry despite his fears. Squeezing the small hand fisted in his robes, offering reassurance, his own voice cracks as he looks down at the timid child wanting nothing more than to take him in his arms and shield him from all those who are planning to hurt and use such a sweet child.
"You will be no trouble at all, Harry, trust me on this. I offered to take you in to keep you safe and besides I promised the Dark Lord that I would look after you these last few days. Also, as hard as people may find this to believe, I have become quite fond of you, I care for you and plan to help make your life from here on as pleasant, enjoyable and safe as possible."
Harry nods his head, smiling happily up at his professor from where he is leaning against the man's side, his eyes stinging slightly with tiredness and the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and love welling up inside his chest.
"Thank you, Sir."
"We will have none of that either."
At Harry's look of confusion, Severus ruffles the child's already untameable hair, a soft smile forming at the boy's squeak of protest.
"When we are alone, or if Draco is with you, then you may call me Severus. I have a feeling that we will be seeing a lot more of each other this upcoming holiday."
Harry releases a quiet giggle, his green eyes sparkling with happiness at the playful note in his professor's voice. Curling into the man's side, Harry sighs wistfully.
"Okay, thank you, Severus."
"You are most welcome, Harry. Now I would like for you to sit tight while I go and… persuade Madame Pomfrey to discharge you into my care. I will be back momentarily."
With one final hand carding through the boy's hair, Severus slowly stands up from the bed, smoothing the covers back out as Harry settles back down against the headboard before he makes his way towards the medi-witch's office. Harry watches his go as his head sinks into the pillows, retracting his arms beneath the quilt as his fists clench the top of the blanket, pulling it tightly below his chin as he gazes at the ceiling waiting (not so) patiently for the potion master's return.