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Twas a warm summer's day in Prince Mansion. The birds were a chirping, the field outside a glazing green, and the sun shining warmly on whatever it touched. Though it wasn't the exact words to describe one Severus Snape at the moment. He was moody and severe as ever, walking about or locking himself in his study as long as he could. Why do you ask? It all had do with the boy who spent his time in the kitchens, his room or in the library. The one, the only, Harry Potter, the glorified orphan turned sneaky notorious thief Rat.

"Absolutely not!" shouted Severus. He stood in the Headmaster's office, hands fisted at his side, his black eyes eying the old man fiercely.

"Sev-"

"Don't 'Severus' me Albus! I will not house that animal in my home! Toss him onto the Weaslys or the Longbottoms; they'll be thrilled to have him but not me!"

The headmaster only seemed to give a long displeased sigh which annoyed Severus further. "There is simply no-one else. Besides, Lily would've wanted have you to."

"Don't pull that card on me!" Severus' blood boiled at the mention of Lily. How dare he?!

"Severus…the boy will be no trouble. I'll speak to Mr. Potter."

"Which I doubt he'll listen. He'll be just like his father! Arrogant, mischievous, malicious and all the other unpleasant things James was. He has already demonstrated that by his adventures in Diagon Alley!"

"Severus, please…" Dumbledore sounded more commanding this time, the twinkle in his eyes gone.

Severus gave out a loud groan, giving up. "Fine…But if he slips up one time-"

"He won't." Dumbledore assured him.

Though that morning, Severus had found himself in the kitchens with the Brat Who Lived whom he was trying to avoid so desperately. The Brat Who Lived was talking to Bobbin the House Elf in a ragged old pillowcase with gleaming bright eyes the size of tennis balls that was placing pancakes on his plate with a glass of pumpkin juice and three vials of potions next to the glass. The boy had to wear glasses now but his clothing…was a little old. He wore Severus' hand-me-downs from his childhood.

Severus had made no direct sound to alert the two of his presence but almost as if the boy had a radar for him, his head popped up and turned to the scowling Severus.

"G-good morning sir." The boy nodded respectfully, looking down with flushed cheeks.

"Potter…" he sneered for a moment then turning to the House Elf. "Good morning Bobbin."

"Morning Master Severus." The elf timidly replied. The elf disappeared to get Severus breakfast. That was when he noted the small amount of pancakes on Potter's plate. The boy is as scrawny as it is! He thought. The boy look very, very bony, his ribcage visible, his arm small enough to wrap his index finger around and the hollowness on his cheeks.

"Why are there only small amounts of food on your plate Potter?"

"Huh-oh sorry," the boy was caught off guard. He then looked to the plate in front of him. "It looks big enough to me sir."

"From a rat's point of view." Severus said, making full use of the boy's nickname. The boy only sent the man a flustered look. James Potter would've snapped back at Severus with something along the lines with "Well, I'm not that hungry Snivellus!" or "You're one to talk!" but either way breakfast was the most important meal of the day for James Potter and he would feast like a king.

The boy picked up a knife, giving it a spin in his palm before clutching it in his hands, slicing it delicately through the dough, keeping it in place with a fork which he struggled to hold. That looked something James Potter would do. Bobbin came back with breakfast for Severus – a normal sized breakfast which nutritionally everybody should be eating…unlike Potter who seemed to think he was an exception to everything. Severus ate his breakfast in peace when he caught Potter staring at him.

"Something the matter?" he raised an eyebrow.

"No sir," Potter looked back to his pancakes eating them within three minutes then gulping down his potions. "Are you hungry Bobbin?"

"No Mister Harry," at that Potter gave a long sigh at his real name. "I is not hungry. I is eating after my Master and guests have eaten."

"If you're happy-"

"Bobbin is happy!" the elf shouted.

"Potter don't get in a fight with a House Elf over rights. They're happiest when serving their masters." Severus spoke.

"Master is right!"

"Oh okay." Potter picked up his plate, fork, butter knife and glass carrying them to the sink.

"Mister Harry should not trouble himself with that! Bobbin can do it!" the elf wailed. The boy gave the elf a rueful look. He then placed the dishes in the sink.

"If you ever need help, just tell me. 'Kay Bobbin?" the boy asked. Was Potter showing sympathy for an elf of all people? Potters never cared for anyone but themselves.

"Yes Mister Harry but Bobbin rarely needs help."

"Still…I'm going to the library." The boy turned to Severus. "Thanks sir for letting me stay here." He gave an appreciative nod.

"Just don't mention it Potter. Ever." Severus said, cutting through a piece of his pancake. The brat only seemed to give him a soft smile, losing it when a tawny owl swooped in with the Daily Prophet attached to its leg. He took the letter, reading it. His eyes soon changed into one of pure and utter disdain.

"What the fuck?" The boy murmured softly.

Bobbin let out a very shocked gasp. "Mister Potter is not to use that language. That language is not for little children!"

Worse than my Seventh Years, Severus shook his head. "May I ask what sparked that language?"

The boy looked up, giving him the newspaper, the headline reading: BOY-WHO-LIVED CRIMINAL MASTERMIND! "I was a simple thief not a bloody criminal mastermind."

"Language Potter." Severus read the article.

BOY WHO LIVED CRIMINAL MASTERMIND

R. Skeeter

10 years ago, the darkest wizard of our time, He Who Must Not Be Named, was vanquished from the Wizarding World by the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, who was an infant at the time, after both his parents, James and Lily Potter, were killed by He Who Must Not Be Named at the Potters' cottage at Godric's Hollow.

Sources have been revealed that Harry Potter has been failed to be properly looked after and has resorted to surviving on his own at Diagon Alley as Rat the Diagon Alley Outlaw. Rat, as we all know, is thief who has stolen countless galleons, eluded the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement by his extensive knowledge of Diagon Alley's streets and alleys and depicted as "a shadow in the sunlight" from witnesses who have caught a mere spilt-second glimpse of the thief.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he were dealing with Dark Magic." Said one Miss Finnigan at Diagon Alley who claims she lost a total of 67 Galleons to the thief. Wouldn't we all? Rat – or Harry Potter as we should call him – is notorious in Knockturn Alley, disturbing the cold eerie silence that the Dark Magic market holds. Rumors say that Harry Potter was found by Death Eaters, learnt a handful of Dark Magic from them and then killed them leaving the Ministry to discover their bodies in the morning.

Albus Dumbledore, an old man who is becoming senile and unreliable with children, was in charge of Harry Potter's welfare as a child claims "He had no knowledge that Mr. Potter had resorted to stealing to survive." This man is the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He has shown, in Mr. Potter's case, a large number of offences going from the Boy Who Lived's custody as a toddler from to how the boy was brought up. Should we really be trusting him with our children?

Currently, Harry Potter is in the custody of Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, who was on trial for being a suspected Death Eater.

"Well, it seems your reputation is now ruined." Severus set the paper on the table.

"I did what I had to do to survive," the boy coldly remarked. "But it doesn't mean I want the whole bloody world to know."

The two stood in silence, Bobbin shifting anxiously under the atmosphere, before the boy let out an indifferent sigh to the newspaper, leaving the kitchen.

"Are children always like this?" Severus spoke out loud.

"I is not knowing. I have not spending a lot of time with children." Bobbin answered.

"Helpful. Tell me if Lucius and Draco Floo here. I'm sure he wants to meet the Wizarding World's savior-turned-thief." Severus stood from his seat.

"Yes Maser Severus. Perhaps Master Severus can go to the library to spend time Mister Potter." Bobbin suggested.

"Why would I want to spend time with him?"

"Bobbin cannot explain it. When Mister Potter asks for glass of water, Bobbin puts in more effort to make it more refreshing just like with Master Severus. Bobbin puts in more effort for Mister Potter just like with Master Severus."

"Are you saying Potter is related to the house of Prince?"

"Bobbin is not knowing. But Bobbin is oddly compelled to obey Mister Potter's every wish." The elf fumbled with his hands, his bright eyes glowing faintly.

Severus only gave the elf a dissatisfied groan, moving away from the kitchen to the way of the library. Severus, like Bobbin, was also oddly compelled to the Brat Who Just Loved to Give Him Hell.

Rat was reading Alysson's Guide to Advanced Potions and the Best Way to Make Them by Elysiana Alysson, a Potioneer who had won the Order of Merlin Third Class some time ago on the floor with a stack of books on either side of him, all on potions. This was one of those times when the 'Like father, like son' sayings came into effect. Potions was really interesting, seeing how the different ingredients to make things like a Calming Draught and Sleeping Potion. Not that Rat would ever need a Sleeping Potion or a Calming Potion. He was good in keeping control of himself and he didn't really sleep.

His father was probably in his office avoiding the former thief (what? He wasn't born yesterday) he guessed and Bobbin off cleaning the enormous mansion. This place was big was an understatement. He heard Drake talking about his mansion sometimes and how big it was. This place was also big. Really big. He got lost seven times before he started making a mental map of it, discovering a few hidden rooms and passageways along the way.

The sound of the door opening drew him from his reading, looking to see the lord of the manor himself to be walking through the doors, giving a quick glance to Rat and another to the thirty books on each side of him.

"Reading on the floor? What is a table for if you don't use it?"Snape chided him. Rat took off his glasses, his vision going a bit blurry but not that bad.

"Sorry sir. Maybe it didn't occur to me?" Rat replied, putting the glasses in the pockets of the hand-me-down's, picking up one stack to the wooden table in the library then picking up the other. He felt a little queasy under Snape's stare.

Rat's true paternity had never bother him as much as Dumbledore thought it would. Rat would still grow up without any parents. In Diagon Alley, he had learnt to survive all on his own. Depending on nobody, only himself. He hadn't had much friends. The first ever friend he had…Rat did not want to think about it, pulling up the sleeve on his left wrist to see the blue roses blooming brightly. He brought his sleeve down, hiding the roses. His second friend was Killian James, the tattoo artist who gave Rat his tattoos for free before moving back to Ireland for family business. His third, Drake, was a child his own age and taught him mostly how to read.

"Potter?" the professor brought Rat out of his thoughts. Rat brought his head up, turning it to face his father.

"Yes sir?"

"Is everything alright? You seemed to be deep in thought a few moments ago."

"M'fine sir. Just thinking."

"What about?"

Rat improvised. "The hard work of a servant."

His father rose an eyebrow. "Are you referring to Bobbin?"

"It's …close." Rat opened a new book called Cessiti Potions and Their History. The very same potion that was used to find Rat's true paternity. He read on for an hour in silence. Cessiti Potions were created by Latin American wizard Matias Rodeguez in 1876. It was made using bicorn horns, fairy wings and a range of other ingredients. It also needed the hair and blood of the intended recipient. It took seven hours to be ready to use. After that you poured it on a parchment where the liquid would take the form of the wizard's family tree. Rat thought that the grounded unicorn horn could replace the bicorn horn to speed it up a bit but that was yet to be proved.

He looked up to see his father reading through a black leather bound book called The Alchemyst's Diary of Potion Making. His eyes were fully trained on the words presented in front of him. Then he caught Rat's stare.

"Is there something the matter Potter?"

"No sir." Rat shook his head. A few silence moments later, Snape broke the silence. "How did your relatives treat you Potter?"

"My relatives?"

"Yes. Your relatives," Snape drawled. "Your aunt Petunia and her tyrannical Muggle of a husband."

"Fine, I guess." Rat answered, sounding more nervous, rubbing the chain-like scar around his neck which he kept hidden with a scarf.

"How did you get that scar on your neck?" his father asked, striding towards him. Snape now stood close to Rat, just an arm width away from him. Rat's scar began to hurt even more, the pain feeling like an iron being pressed on him. He gritted his teeth, trying not to gasp.

He took in a deep breath. "I-I got in an accident. My aunt's cutlery fell onto me." He lied.

"I despise lying Potter," he snarled at the boy. "The scar goes all around your neck like a collar," Rat shuddered at how close his father was. "I'll ask again. How did you get that scar?"

He looked down to his feet, giving out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I-I-I was stealing from the pantry …"

Harry heard as his cousin scream out for his aunt and uncle. He dropped the things he held in his hand onto the floor with a loud thud. Harry stood there, frozen, panicking, his breath sounding louder than it ever was. He recalled last week event within a blink of an eye. Harry had accidentally spilled orange over Dudley. His father had taken revenge on Harry by beating him senseless. Harry was sure he had broken most of ribs and lost some of his teeth that day.

His relatives stomped down to the kitchen. His aunt was in a fluffy pink dressing robe with her hair in matching rolling pin. His uncle, sour as ever, in respectable pajamas. Dudley pointed to Harry who was standing on a chair in front of an unlocked pantry.

"Boy …" his uncle angrily growled. He stormed towards Harry, his face purple and frightening. He pulled Harry off the chair by his hair, throwing him to the nearest wall. "Petunia, get the chains." He told Harry's aunt who grinned, nodding in response. Dudley had taken the liberty of kicking at Harry while his aunt was fetching the chains.

Harry was scared. Fear running through his veins. Petunia had returned with the chains, giving them to Vernon. His uncle wrapped the chains around his neck. Harry could feel air leaving his throat, the tightening feel of the chains scrapping against his neck, chocking him. His uncle had dragged Harry to the living room tying the chains on a hook above the fireplace.

"How dare you…" his uncle pointed a meaty finger at him. "How dare you boy steal from us? We took you in from the kindness in hearts. We took clothes off of our Dudley's backs and food from his mouth to care for you, you ungrateful freak! YOU ARE A FILTHY DISGUSTING FREAK THAT NO-ONE EVER WANTS! NOT EVEN YOUR PARENTS WANTED IN YOU!"

Something inside of Harry snapped. A darkness that he kept locked inside.

"Now you'll see what happens to thieves. They burn!" His uncle roared at Harry. Harry whimpers, crouching in pain. He watched as his uncle started the fireplace, what was only a small flame in the wood turning into an even larger inferno. Vernon took Harry by his arms, dragging to the fireplace.

"No no! I'm sorry!" Harry tried to pull himself back.

"Too little, too late." His uncle menacingly said, smirking seeing the terror in Harry's eyes. Harry could the giggles coming from Dudley and the cries of encouragement coming from his aunt. Harry was scared. More than he ever been his life. The darkness began to pour out of him, twisting him.

Harry could only say the next few words strained. "B-burn."

"What was that boy?" his uncle snarled.

"I said," Harry shouted. "BURN. IN. HELL!"

Nothing could be heard next beside from the fire roaring out of the fireplace and the screams of his uncle dying.

"He chained me up, dragged me to the living room. He tried to burn me when he lit the fireplace. I don't know what happened next." Rat sounded weak, low, he could barely be heard. He didn't even notice he was shivering violently until his father place a hand on his shoulder. He looked to his father looking sympathetic, his scowl gone to a look of complete understanding.

"Sorry sir. Won't happen again." Rat sighed, regaining control of himself.

"There is nothing to be sorry of. Your relatives should be the one who should be sorry." He told him.

"But they're dead." Rat whispered.

"How?"

Rat saw fire flash through his eyes. I killed them, he thought.

Crack! Bobbin had popped into the library. Rat gave out a sigh of relief. Thank god. His neck ceased throbbing. Rat had become calmer, losing his panicked features to one of well-trained blank calmness.

"Master told if Mister Lucius and Mister Draco had come. I told youse is in the library." The elf said.

"Thank you Bobbin." His father took a step away from Rat.

Though Bobbin did not have the time to reply, when a pale boy rushed into the room shouting "Rat!"

AN: Yeah, the Dursleys are dead. Rat is still a mystery. And Draco has come! Sorry it took so long to update. If anything of you are wondering about the House Elf/Harry scene in this chapter is similar to The Trouble With Polyjuice, I've noticed. I actually wrote this chapter a few months ago before it was released so IT IS NOT COPIED! Feel free to point out grammatical errors.

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