Chapter 5: Strange Coincidence

The young boy didn't open his eyes again until the sun was well into the winter sky. At first, Harry thought he'd fallen asleep on his aunt's couch which would've been strange seeing as he was never allowed to even sit on it let alone fall asleep on it, but when he felt a cold draft come for the open doorway, he remembered the events of the past few days. After rubbing his eyes free of sleep, Harry put his glasses on and looked around at the old, abandon living room he'd spent the night in. Now that there was sunlight shining into the room, the boy could see more of the room's details such as the broken picture frames that were scattered around the floor and the dusty, old bookshelf in the corner.

Slowly, Harry slipped out from under his blanket and made his way towards the book shelf to look at the titles. He had even touched a single book since school let out for the Christmas holidays. During the many days and nights stuck in the cupboard, books had been his only companion. From the picture books Harry had 'borrowed' from Dudley's second room (not that he ever read them), to the second-hand school books he had had in his worn-out book bag.

Gently, the nine year old pulled one of the thinner books off the bottom shelf. It was worn from being exposed to the elements, but still readable. So the boy opened up the old, fragile pages and read the title. "The Tales of Beadle the Bard" Harry said aloud as he flipped through the book. Soon the boy lost himself in its pages. This old stories were filled to the brim with magic. His aunt and uncle had refused to have any sort of magical fairytale books in their house. Any mention of the word "magic" was forbidden and was punishable by a week spent in the cupboard.

Before Harry knew it, he'd finished reading nearly the whole book. He only stopped because his stomach gave a loud growl. So with a sigh, the boy set down the book and wandered back over to the couch to grab his backpack. After digging instead of it for a minute or two, Harry found that the only food he had left in his little bag was a single, red apple. He thought about saving it for later and just going hungry, but his stomach had other ideas. The poor child couldn't help himself and took a large bite from the apple, juice dripping down his chin and onto his ratty jacket. Harry tried so hard to eat slowly and saver each bite, but he was just so hungry.

After nearly eating the core, the child sighed with sadness. What was he to do now? "Well, teacher always said that people gave food to the poor around Christmas…so maybe someone in the village would be willing to give me some food." But Harry also knew that if he wasn't careful, he would be shipped right back to the Dursleys. So with a small smile on his face, the boy left the run-down cottage with his backpack securely strapped onto his back. Once again, he was able to enjoy the decorations and lovely music that was coming from the stores. The small market was filled with people just like it was the night before. Young couples held each other's hands and browsed around main street while little children played in the snow. A small part of him so wanted to run and join the other children in their game, but Harry knew he didn't belong. He was an orphan, a beggar who was lucky to have a simple meal or a shelter for the night.

It was then that the scent of baked goods filled his nose. The boy turned to his right and saw a small bakery. A woman in her fifties with curly brown hair that was graying and a motherly smile had just put a fresh batch of sweet rolls in the window display. Following his nose, the child wandered into the shop and marveled at all the wonderful treats that filled the whole building with sweet scents. The woman in the window smiled at him as he came inside. "Hello, little one. Have you been playing in the snow?" she asked in a Scottish accent. Harry nodded, knowing it was best to behave like a normal child so she wouldn't become suspicious. "Well, you looked positively chilled to the bone. Would you like to have seat?" she said as she pointed to a table near the fireplace.

"Thank you, ma'am." He said as he sat down in the cushioned chair.

The baker knew the little boy wasn't from around here and with the state of his clothes she was almost sure he was a runaway, but anyone would be a fool if they didn't see that the boy had been mistreated by his former guardians. He was far too skinny to be healthy and his clothes were four sizes too big and to top it all off, she saw a bruise on his pale, little cheek. "Such an adorable child. Why would anyone want to mistreat him? He seems so polite and well-mannered unlike so many children in this village." A part of her wanted to scoop the boy up in her arms and just shower him with all the love she could give. Another part of her knew she needed to contact the authorities and find this child a home, but she just couldn't. For what would happen if they sent such a sweet, innocent child back to his old home. Surely he would be punished for running away and if his bruises were anything to go by he would be lucky to walk away from it in good health. No, she wasn't going to be telling anyone…for the time being. For now, she would just treat the poor boy with kindness and give him as much attention as she could without it being too strange or suspicious.

So she smiled brightly at the child, showing him that she meant him no harm and asked "May I offer you a cup of hot chocolate, dearie? It'll warm you up far quicker."

Harry subtly looked around, wondering if someone was going to jump out any minute and grab him to take him back to the Dursleys the minute he opened his mouth, but when he saw no one, he looked back up to the nice baker and replied, "But I have no money, ma'am."

"Oh, that's not a problem child. I was just about to have a cup myself and you look like you could use a good warm cup of hot chocolate." She responded, waving off his concerns about money. This child needed all the warmth he could get and the baker knew that she couldn't just overwhelm him with attention. That would just scare him away just like a skittish puppy.

"Thank you, ma'am." Harry said softly as the baker headed towards the kitchen. The kind woman just responded with a gentle smile and walked through the doorway. Another loud growl erupted from his stomach and since he was the only one in the room, it sounded so loud Harry almost thought his stomach had turned into a monster. "The pain will go away eventually. At least the hot chocolate will help."

But what Harry didn't know was that the baker was loading up a plate with some fresh scones. She just couldn't let that poor child go hungry. Yes, she had to be very gentle with him so that he wouldn't be scared off, but the idea of letting a sweet well-mannered boy like that go hungry was unbearable. It looked as if he had been through enough already. Maybe if he kept coming back to her shop, she could get to know him some more and hopefully find someone to take care of him. If she found a willing person herself, there was a good chance she could cut down on the authorities' involvement in this child's life. She was certain that if she just contacted them now they would send the poor child right back to his family. "Well, that will most certainly not happen on my watch." She thought as she headed back into the main area of the bakery.

Harry's eyes widened when he saw the plate of scones the baker was carrying on a tray along with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. "Here we are, love, a nice cup of hot chocolate to chase away the cold along with a soft scone." She said as she placed the tray on the table.

"But ma'am, I don't have any…" Harry tried to say, but the baker quickly interrupted him.

"Enough of that lad. I haven't had my own breakfast and it is just rude to eat in front of a guest without offering them something to eat as well. So please, child, have something to eat. They're fresh out of the oven and my own special recipe."

Harry hesitantly reached for a scone, but kept a close eye on her the whole time. The baker just smiled reassuringly the whole time. "Thank you, ma'am." He softly said before taking a small bite.

"Oh darling, call me Flossy." She said as she reached for a fresh scone. Harry had never heard of such a name before, but he didn't necessarily think it was weird. He'd just never come across anyone with such a different name.

After he finished his mug of hot chocolate and two scones (at Flossy's insistence), Harry decided that now would be a good time to explore the village some more. So he thanked Miss Flossy (as he insisted on calling her) and headed out the door of the bakery. Now that he was warmed up and full of sweets the day seemed so much brighter. Harry wondered if there were other people in the village who were just as nice as Miss Flossy. A part of him still worried that she would tell somebody that he was here and he would get sent back, but another part of him didn't think she was going to do that. If she had been planning to contact the authorities to come and take him away, she would've let him leave the bakery. "At least she doesn't know where I sleep." Harry thought as he continued to walk down the street. He saw yet another group of kids playing in the snow. He quickly ducked down in the last minute when a snowball was flying his way.

"Hey you!" a boy about his age yelled at him, "You want to come join us? We need one more person on our team!"

Harry smiled brightly as he ran towards the group of boys and eagerly joined the snowball fight. He was so happy that for once he could join in the game without being beaten up by his cousin for talking to other children. Right at that moment the little boy truly believed that running away from the Dursleys had been the best decision he had ever made.

"Can't believe I let that old coot talk me into this." Severus Snape grumbled as he wondered the cold streets of Godric's hollow. There was a foot and a half of snow on the ground and the wind was blowing a cold breeze as the Potions Master continued his journey down the street.

Of all the requests Headmaster Dumbledore could've had, it just had to be this one. He just had to ask (more like manipulate) him into joining the search for the little savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter and when he tried to say no, he brought up the one thing he couldn't refuse. "He's Lily's son, Severus. You swore to protect him for her."

Severus sneered as he remembered that conversation. The old fool knew just how to manipulate him into looking for the son of the man who had made his life miserable all seven years he had been in school. "Arrogant little twerp probably ran away because he didn't get enough sweets." He growled as he continued to stomp through the snow.

Just before he turned the corner, he heard someone call out to him. "Young man!" a voice said. Since he was obviously the only other person on the street, Severus turned around and saw an old woman hobbling towards him. She was leaning heavily on a cane and the white hair she had left rested atop of her head in a loose bun. Her tired eyes held years of wisdom and her withered hands showed signs that they'd been put through years of hard work. Even though she was advanced in age, there was something eerily intimidating about her. Not that she could frighten him of course. He'd been one of the top duelers at Hogwarts and had to deal with many an enemy during Voldemort's reign so even if this woman possessed magic she could never do too much damage to him.

"Young man" she said as she finally caught up with him, "Are you the one Dumbledore sent?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, "And if I am?" he asked suspiciously.

The old woman just chuckled, "I already know you are. He described you and I remember seeing you that Halloween night." She replied.

Severus froze at her last few words. He'd prayed no one had seen him that night. That was his weakest moment. If word got around about where he had been that night, his former 'colleagues' would be sure to finish him and it certainly wouldn't be a pleasant end either.

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." She said, "I'm Bathilda Bagshot, an old friend of the Headmaster."

Severus of course knew exactly who she was now that she'd mentioned her name. Bathilda Bagshot was the author of A History of Magic and a well-known historian. Apparently she was also Dumbledore's eyes and ears of the Wizarding village of Godric's Hallow. "So since you tracked me down, I assume Dumbledore has informed you about my reasons for being here." He said.

"Indeed he has." She replied, "And you sent you just in time."

Severus raised an eyebrow at these words, "Did he now?"

"Yes" she said as she started walking further down the street. Severus followed her at a slow pace. Bathilda didn't say a word until they nearly reached the end of the street. "He was here." She said as she motioned to an abandoned, shack that had once been just as comfortable as the other cottages surrounding it.

Severus stood completely still in place as he looked upon the house where his once best friend had given up her life to save her only son. Of all the places the boy could've gone it just had to be the Potter's old cottage, the place where the little boy spent the first year of his life. "There is no possible way the boy could've remembered this place. It has to be just a coincidence." He thought as he stood there unmoving as he looked at the barely intact roof that was now covered with snow. It was a wonder that it didn't collapse years ago.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course only a Potter would be stupid enough to go into a house that was about one more snow storm from collapsing." He thought. "When was the boy here?"

"I saw him just this morning. He came out of the house at about 8:00 am. I wouldn't be surprised if he spent the whole night in there. Poor child had nowhere else to go." Bathilda replied.

"Oh he has a place to go; back to his relatives where he belongs." Severus sneered.

Bathilda sighed as she shook her head, "You may not be saying that when you actually see him." She said just before turning around to head back to her house. "I suggest you wait in my house next door till he comes back."

"How can you be sure he'll return here?" Severus asked.

"So long as no one in the village has scared him off, he'll be back. A part of him will always want to come back here whether he knows it or not." She replied as she opened the gate to her house and beckoned the young Potions Master to come inside. Severus sighed in frustration, but something told him that the old historian was right. Either way, sitting in a warm house was much better than wandering around in the snow, looking for that troublesome little brat.

Author's notes: Well, I believe this is coming along rather nicely. The plot is thickening and will hopefully continue to flow with the original chapters. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, story alerts, and favorites.

FYI, the name Flossy came from my great grandmother who once owned a bakery with my great grandfather.