I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Language, AU, Character AU, Human! Dumbledore, Logical, Abused, Young! Harry, Godfather! Remus, Abusive! Dursleys, and umm... I'll probably add/change more later.

Pairings: None as of yet.

Author's Notes:Well, two years…three years? What can I say?

Summary: "Hey, Moony?" Prongs whispered, his lips curved in a small, contented smile. "Would you be godfather?"

A Two Arrowed Sign

Look both ways before crossing the street. You never know when you may fall and weep. There is no right or wrong, but what is human and what should remain unsung.

Chapter 4

June 18, 1989

Number 4, Privet Drive

The doorknob on the Dursley's front door was not the grand handle that you might find attached to the entry of a mansion or a castle, but it was obviously expensive and regularly polished of fingerprints and dust by the glint that shone off its skin. Hogwarts had pure brass doorknobs and this one appeared to be some type of silver – or a cheaper substance meant to appear like silver. Severus Snape's lips curled in disgust as he eyed the offending object. It wasn't just the innocent doorknob that deserved his hatred, it was the whole neighbourhood. The lookalike houses that were planted up and down the sides of the large, immaculately paved street and the clean, almost bleached looking sidewalks – not to mention the fact that all the bushes in front of each house seemed to be trimmed to the exact same measurement – were all factors as well. It wasn't bitterness of the people who had such money to buy and live in this neighbourhood that caused it. Severus had lived long ago accepted the fact that he couldn't retain his Prince Family vault due to the blood status of his father and he was doomed to live on the mediocre salary that he weaselled out of Dumbledore each year. Plus, he had been around the Malfoy Manor long enough to curb his bitterness into a locked box inside his mind – one of the perks of being a master of occlumency. No, it was the utter lack of imagination and individuality that gritted against Severus, making his lips curl and his teeth clinch.

It was also the fact that he had been forced to rush to James Potter's son's aid because Albus had called him and Minerva claiming in a slightly frazzled voice "There is a wizard doing Harry Potter harm on Privet Drive! We must hurry!" Severus needn't ask how Albus had known this, but still hoped otherwise and that the old man was just having some sort of fit, finally acting his age. Of course, Albus was rarely wrong and Severus couldn't really help the dread the rose up in his chest as said man knocked on the door.

They had arrived only moments ago, protected by heavy anti-water charms to keep from being completely soaked by the rain. Minerva's hat had already threatened to escape its placement and she had just raised her wand to apply a sticking charm. The wind was making Severus's robes billow without his normal charms meant to frighten students and his dark, greasy locks were swishing eagerly towards to open air. The house looked perfectly normal. There was no mad looking wizard rushing around, laughing hysterically, clutching a sobbing Harry Potter, setting the neighbourhood alight. It was just...normal. But Severus could feel it. Something was wrong.

Albus frowned when the door was not immediately answered; when neither of them could hear any footsteps on the stairs – if they could through the raging storm around their heads.

"The wards seem to be fine." Albus said a trill of confusion in his tone. "Weaker than I believe they were when I conjured them, but that is probably due to his growth. They will grow weaker as he ages and finally break when he reached maturity..." The old man trailed off, squinting at the empty air around them where, Severus knew, he could see the glow of the wards.

Wards were a tricky thing. Normally only the casters could see their wards; a good thing too, for while intruders can sometimes sense that wards are there, they cannot see them to understand what exact spells they were or how strong they were. Of course, there were spells created to see wards, or at least a mirror image of them in your mind. Runes could temporarily disable wards like anti-theft, anti-apparition or anti-portkey and most of the simpler protections. It mattered how much strength someone had put into the wards or how much strength someone had put into the runes. Curse Breaking had always been a fascination for Severus, his aspiration at one time in his young years. But he had always had a way with Potions and it was particularly hard to find fully qualified Potion Masters these days. If only he could have actually been a Potion Master and not teaching ignorant brats who were a waste of expensive cauldrons.

"Albus?" Minerva asked, "We should check everything out just to make sure, yes?" Her tone was relieved, but Severus couldn't find himself to feel that yet. He knew what Death Eaters were like, especially ones out for revenge. Just because the whole street wasn't in ruins doesn't mean someone hadn't quietly taken the boy and was waiting to act upon his revenge with sadistic torture and gruff handling. Severus wouldn't put it past some of the more...unique Death Eaters to have a fetish for little boys. He shuttered.

"Yes, yes, of course." murmured Albus, waving his wand at the doorknob and stepping through the threshold when the hinges swung on their own accord.

Number 4, Privet Drive was completely silent. It seemed that no one was home. Severus' eyes tightened as he glanced around. The house was immaculate – the living room seemed almost as if it had never been inhabited if it weren't for the noticeable sagging in the large, leather recliner in front of the telly. The kitchen barely showed signs that anyone had ever been in there. Funny, for Severus remembered that Petunia hated housework. Perhaps her husband or son was a clean freak.

"They seem to be out to dinner or other activities. Perhaps it was just another wizard that happened upon this place and did not notice the wards..." Minerva said, straightening her shoulders from where she had been eyeing the refrigerator with wide eyes.

Instead of answering, Albus whispered a spell under his breath and immediately a faint light speed from his wand straight the glass, sliding door towards the backyard. "No, Minerva, I believe someone is here."

The back door opened easily, for it was unlocked – another sign that Albus could be right and someone was really home. Severus' jaw clinched as he hurried over to the prone form of the horse-like woman who he remembered clearly as a little girl. She was lying sprawled out by the right side of the fence, her clothing and hair completely soaked. Minerva gasped, rain water dripping down her cheeks and into her collar as the spells started to wane.

"What has happened to her?"

Severus had already acted, waving his wand to perform a diagnosis charm on the woman – fighting down the small glee at seeing Petunia Evans in such a state. The girl who had made fun of him his whole childhood – called him a freak and shoved his nose in the dirt. Now here she was, lying at his feet, makeup smeared on her cheek, hair sticking to her thin cheekbones and completely vulnerable. If it had been any other time...

"It seems that she has only been hit with an Expelliarmus." said Severus, unable to mask the confusion at his findings. No death eater would just hit a Muggle with such a simple second-year spell. There were other, more deathly curses that would be just as simple and silent as the disarming spell – more so even. "But why would a nomad Death Eater use such a child's spell?"

"I believe, Severus, there is more to be found here." Albus said, eyes locked on an object a few feet away. They moved quickly over to it; Minerva gasped and Severus immediately crouched, dipping the tip of his wand in the watered down blood, then waved it once more.

"It is Potter's." He confirmed, a chill reaching his spine.

Albus kneeled, eyes taking in every detail of the cooking pan lying in front of him. It was smeared with slowly disappearing red; blood as Severus just confirmed. Harry Potter's blood to be exact. Albus glanced back at the form of Harry's Aunt and sighed.

"It seems," He began. "Mrs. Dursley was trying to fight off the attacker," He gestured to the pan; "But he disarmed her and proceeded to beat little Harry with her choice of weapon."

"Do you – do you think he's d-dead, Albus?" Minerva asked shakily.

Albus exchanged a glance with Severus. "I do not believe he is dead – injured, but not dead."

Minerva's back straightened, eye lighting and mouth setting firmly. "Then we must find him." She marched over to the soaked woman on the ground, "Enervate!"

Petunia blinked, her back arching to sit up, but froze when she made out the figures staring down at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Severus!" The woman on Petunia's right hissed, making Petunia's eyes widen even farther. Severus Snape? The stupid little boy that has been Lily's childhood friend?

The woman – who was dressed horribly funning with a pointed hat and emerald robes that seemed only slightly damp despite the pouring rain – pointed her wand at Petunia and muttered something.

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!" Petunia screamed, flinching back and flapping her arms wildly in front of her face.

"Mrs. Dursley, please calm yourself. I assure you, we are not here to harm you." The old man spoke, his long white beard tucked neatly into his belt buckle and his kind old blue eyes staring at Petunia intently. She immediately flinched. What were the freaks doing here? Had they found out? Had they been watching her? Did they know...?

Petunia glanced around frantically, expecting to find her barely breathing nephew somewhere in her immediate vision, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Where is that stupid boy?" She whispered to herself, throwing a frightened look at the freaks.

"That," The third figure drawled, "Is what we are here to investigate."

"YOU!" She spat, before she could help it, drawing herself on shaky legs and pointing her finger at him.

"Yes, me, how are you this lovely evening, 'Tunty?" The figure asked sarcastically, lips curled in a vindictive smirk.

"Now, now, Severus." The old man said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Mrs. Dursley, we are here to ask you some questions – perhaps we should head back into the house?"

"I have no obligation to you. The boy is gone, look around all you want. You will not find him through me." Petunia said shakely, her voice like knife in the air. Her blue dress was soaked from the rain, but she ran her hands over it anyway, trying to press away the creases. Her hair could not be helped. What if the neighbour's saw?

"Surely, you can identify the boy's attacker!" The women in the emerald robes stated, aghast.

"We have confirmed that the blood is Potter's." Severus' voice was a sneer.

Petunia gave a harsh laugh and marched around the group, anxious to get back inside. Anxious to lock the freaks out of her home. Anxious for them to go. Anxious with the idea of them finding out that the bloodstains on the grass were caused with her own hands.

"Mrs. Dursley, I must insist that you tell us the events that have transpired. It is imperative that Mr. Potter be returned to his home. There are many people in the world out there intent on doing him harm. I am sure you do not wish to see your nephew injured." The old man's tone made Petunia want to vomit. All of these freaks thought they were such smooth talkers. Well, she knew better. She knew how awful they were.

"You wish to know what happened, Dumbledore?" She sneered the name – the name of the man who had forced her to give up her perfect like to house a freak. "I took in my freak of a nephew because you gave me no choice. I have fed and clothed him and covered for his freakish ways for eight years. I gave up my nice life, simple life, without any of this witchy nonsense, to raise my sister's son, because she went and got herself blown up! I could care less if he went and got himself kidnapped! I could care less if he was injured!" She was panting now, tears streaming down her face. She marched into the house, slammed the glass door into place, tightening the locks, and shoved the curtains closed, leaving the three professors standing dumbfounded in her back garden.

The rain poured.