Snape
Snape stepped smartly down from the moving staircase, mulling over the shocking facts that he had just heard. In the space of three hours he'd learned, once again, that there was very little in the world that was not possible. He'd discovered that Azkaban was not as impenetrable as the average witch and wizard believed, and that school boy rivalries did not fade once said rival was properly locked up for a decade or so. He'd learned that his mentor was far more devious than even Snape, the Master Spy had suspected, and that despite his protests to the contrary he was capable of feeling concern for the brats he taught, even Potter.
Sirius Black, the bane of his school life, and the godfather of the hapless Boy Who Lived had this night accomplished something thought to be impossible and escaped from the Dementors at Azkaban. According to a visibly shaken Minister Fudge, Black had been coherent throughout his imprisonment, and had only recently asked for a copy of Fudge's paper when the Minister had toured the prison in a publicity stunt. With Black on the loose, it was almost a certainty that the convict would be headed for Potter, which meant that the brat was to stay at Hogwarts for the remainder of the term. Snape's supervision of him was to continue while Minerva and Albus went Black hunting. Any argument that he was better suited to helping capture the convict instead of his two much older colleagues would not have been well accepted, especially as Minerva was more than capable of hexing his bollocks off just to make a point. She may come across as all prim and proper, but underneath that school-marmish exterior was a dirty fighter who pulled no punches.
Severus would never have admitted it aloud, but he was becoming interested in Potter and his reactions. The boy was positively meek, something Severus had put down to a lack of his usual audience and support structure. However, his suspicious nature had been worrying away at Potter's initial assertion that he'd rather stay with Snape than his relatives, and he'd experimented very carefully with the boy's reactions in their evening meetings.
For example, Potter took name calling and general derision in his stride. In fact he seemed to expect it, and accept it as his lot, an attitude that was completely at odds with the brash persona of the Boy Who Lived. Another odd reaction was that any mention of his fame would see a flare of resentment, quickly buried beneath the resigned exterior that Potter now exhibited. He reacted especially badly to being called 'Boy', and a sudden increase in volume as well as a sharp hand gesture would garner a small flinch before the boy steadied himself into acceptance.
These were all markers of someone who experienced physical and verbal abuse on a regular basis at home.
Severus had also cast several 'diagnostic' spells over the boy when they met in the evenings, on the excuse that Madam Pomfrey had instructed him to monitor the child's delicate health. Potter always blushed fiercely when called such, and part of Severus still found the reaction highly entertaining. The spells had revealed long term malnutrition, and several old injuries, mainly broken bones, that had been healed by the boys own magic. In addition to this, the child's immune system was weakened, partly by fighting off the Basilisk poison, but also from the constant strain of maintaining Potter's health with precious little food to do so. Potter was continuing to appear pale and frail, which did not bode well for Severus' planned trip to Salazar's Chamber at the end of the week.
There were several potions that could be used to boost the boys system and as he was to continue to be burdened with the child's care, Severus made a mental note to ensure that the brat started taking them. He would bring them along to the evening meeting and ensure that they were taken promptly. The House Elves assured him that Potter was eating three times a day, and that they were sending healthy meals to the boy, with only a small serving of ice-cream for pudding instead of the lavish menus that they had first proposed. Severus had quite the time arguing them down to basic nutrition when he'd enlisted their aid in feeding Potter, certain that his charge would be unable to tolerate the richer foods being proposed. Upon reflection he'd realised that Potter avoided the richer dishes served to the students as well, though he certainly ate larger amounts than his size suggested.
Severus drew himself out of his musings as he reached the small door that Potter used to reach the foyer every evening. The house elves had insisted that the boy was sleeping in the attic, as per 'Master Snape's' orders, though how he could be when the door clearly led to a nearby room was beyond Severus. He had never entered the teen's summer accommodation before, being not particularly eager to see the teenage squalor that Potter had doubtless reduced the rooms to. He had forbidden the elves to pick up after the boy, knowing that with the teen being the only representative of his age group in the castle, the elves would particularly dote on him. The fewer inhabitants the castle had, the more the elves focused on those around them.
Making a mental note to ensure that there were protective wards installed on the outer door, Severus pushed it open and ascended the five shallow steps that led to Potter's room. Upon opening the second door he realised at once from the view that Potter was indeed sleeping in the attic as he'd insisted on that first afternoon. The castle had seen fit to ensure that the brat was not overly taxed by stretching her inner dimensions considerably; a talent that he was well aware of. She had done so on more than one occasion when he himself had needed the aide of the Hospital Wing, or the privacy of his quarters so badly that propriety had come close to breaking.
Potter was sleeping on the most comfortable couch in the castle, which had formerly resided in the staff room. The distinctive shape was immediately recognisable, and Severus smirked as he recalled Lockhart's impromptu display of his defence skills when the staff had realised that his inks were charmed to be permanent and resistant to all cleaning spells and potions. They'd had to draw up a timetable in the staffroom for time spent on that couch, and Severus had bitterly resented its loss. Potter appeared to appreciate it now, if the nest of old damaged bedding and discarded cushions was anything to go by. The boy seemed impossibly young in his slumber and Severus hesitated to wake him. As the brats temporary care taker, it was his responsibility to ensure that Potter fully comprehended the danger that his godfather represented, or so Albus insisted.
Severus allowed the brat to sleep a little longer as his curiosity overcame his disinterest. Potter had repaired several items of broken furniture by making use of the damaged and ruined books stored in this attic, and clearly had taken to using the abandoned trunks to make up any shortfalls in furniture as well. The boys own trunk was open at the foot of his bed, and Severus could see several uniforms in there, as well as some extremely large Muggle clothes.
A closer examination of them showed them to be many sizes too large for Potter, and with no residual magic on them Severus had to assume these rags were their original size and shape. They were definitely not suitable for a boy Potter's size and shape; the child's uniforms were still in almost pristine condition despite being worn for a year or more, therefore it had not been Potter that got the oversized rags into such a deplorable condition.
"P'Fessor?" the boy in his nest mumbled, stirring a little. Snape turned his head and looked at the teen, deducing from the sleepy motions and barely coherent expression that Potter was still more asleep than awake. Snape knew that in this state the boy would be very vulnerable to carefully couched questions, and modulated his tone accordingly, sending out a mild Legilimancy probe to ensure that the sleepy mind before him didn't wake too quickly. He had a strong feeling that Potter would strenuously resist any attempt at extracting this information when he was fully awake, and the situation with the Boy Who Lived's relatives was beginning to gnaw at Severus' overdeveloped sense of curiosity.
"Whose clothes are these?" Severus murmured, and Potter blinked, rubbing his cheek against the velvet cushion serving as a pillow. Vague shame and resignation wisped through the drowsy mind that Snape was touching oh so lightly.
"Mine, sir," the childlike tone was clearer, a response to the almost hypnotic murmur that Severus was using.
"Whose clothes were they first?" the wording was carefully chosen to avoid sounding accusatory. That would wake the brat at once as his own defences kicked in.
"Dudley's sir."
"Could they afford to buy you new clothes?" a gently curious tone that almost hurt to use, but better than the surprise that wanted to be expressed.
"Yes sir," the last uttered around a yawn, which warned him that the boy was about to fall back to sleep, despite the conversation. Sleep was much more preferable to the boy in front of him, a place to flee from the ever increasing shame and hurt the questions were now invoking.
"Why didn't they?" the green eyes were already drooping closed, so Severus wasn't really expecting a response. It wasn't even likely that Potter would remember this conversation when he woke, which was how Severus preferred it. If they couldn't remember telling you, you could pass the information on without concern.
"'M a freak."
The words hung in the air, even as Potter sighed and slipped back into slumber, cuddling into his cushion with a blissful expression, the link that Snape had formed sliding into nothingness.
Any other teen of his status would have bitterly protested being made to sleep in an attic full of damaged things on a stained couch. Draco Malfoy would never have entered the attic in the first place, demanding a more fitting suite of rooms. Potter seemed positively delighted to be camping in the schools attic. Then again, if his relatives regularly used that word in connection to the boy, perhaps this was not something that Potter would feel unusual.
Severus dropped the rags back into the open trunk and slipped from the room, fuming quietly. He headed straight back for the Headmaster's office, determined to find out once and for all what his employer knew about the family of the Boy Who Lived and their interactions with him.
0o0o0o0
"Dizzy!" Severus snapped impatiently as he descended the Headmaster's stairs for the second time that evening. If it was possible to know less than you had at the beginning of a day, then today Severus had achieved that goal. He was sure that Albus knew something more than he was letting on, and that knowledge probably pointed directly to some form of abuse of the Potter boy, but as to what the exact knowledge was, or even what form the abuse took, Severus was still in the dark. He may prefer to stand in the shadows and observe, but he did not appreciate being kept in the dark by anyone.
The elf that most often attended to Severus' rooms and office popped into being beside him, already at a full run to keep pace with his long strides. The diminutive being was one of the few members of its species that Severus could tolerate, mainly because it had learned the fine art of being quiet and paying careful attention to details.
"Yes Master Snape?" it piped, its bare feet slapping against the stone floor.
"In the morning you are to go to Diagon Alley and purchase five sets of summer weight robes, and five of winter, suitable for a boy of thirteen to wear casually and still be presentable. No bright colours or garish trim, no decorative stitching. The robes will be plain, understood?" Severus slowed his pace slightly, wanting the elf to pay attention to his words, not to its own labouring breaths.
"Plain summer and winter robes for a thirteen year old master," Dizzy parroted back obediently, and Severus nodded curtly, pleased at the accurate summation.
"You're to have them charged to Potter's vault," he added, "Here is the key."
He'd taken that from the boy's trunk; mildly shocked at the complete lack of security the boy showed when it came to safeguarding his finances. A small voice reminded Severus that most Muggle raised students didn't understand the power of a vault key, but he dismissed that out of hand, making a mental note to ensure that Potter's lax ways were corrected at once. As he was currently acting as the boy's supervisor, the elf at his side would accept the key with equanimity, seeing him as having a right to organise the brat's finances and wardrobe.
"Before you go to Diagon Alley, you are to take Potter his breakfast and inform him personally that he is not to leave his rooms at all today, under pain of punishment. Tell him that I will come to see him when I have finished my own errands, and that he is to remain confined to his room until I personally tell him otherwise."
"I understand, Master Snape," Dizzy nodded and when he waved a hand in dismissal the elf popped away, doubtless thankful it would be allowed to catch its breath. As for him he continued the depth of the castle, crossing the foyer in long strides and stepping out into the rosy dawn, crossing the front lawn in the direction of the school gates. With the school empty for the summer the wards had been placed on a higher footing, which meant that he had an hours walk to reach the apparation point, the rising sun his only companion.
All Heads of House had access to the student records, which meant that he had Potter's address at hand. If he was unable to get the answers he required from the Headmaster, then he would collect them first hand with the Muggles. As he had no doubt that Potter's appalling manners were a direct result of the Muggles training, he spent some of the walk deciding on the quickest way to get the Muggles to co-operate with him short of using the Imperio spell.
As Head of House, he had access to all the student's summer addresses, and he had made a point to locate Potter's home on the argument that the boy was a trouble maker and most likely to need a teacher to assist him during the summer break. The Wards on Privet Drive prevented anyone from apparating directly to Potter's residence, but he had identified a suitable arrival point on his initial visit and appeared there now as the watch in his pocket chimed the hour. It was a moment's work to establish glamour to disguise his attire, making him appear more of a Muggle in their ridiculous and revealing clothes. How anyone could get through the day only half dressed was beyond him: didn't they have any standards at all?
The Muggle houses were all the same, as were the gardens, the uniformity a stifling presence as he stalked down the ugly artificial grey-stone pathway. How Potter had managed to cultivate any kind of magical ability at all was beyond Snape; the one constant of his world was the need for an individual to express themselves in one way or another; unfortunately many of his peers chose to do so through appearance instead of endeavour. He did so through Potions, Minerva did so through her transfiguration, and her animagus ability. How you could express your inner self among all of this bland, mindless conformity was beyond him, but Potter had somehow managed to cultivate some form of uniqueness.
Number Four was as bland as all of its neighbours, and Severus was certain that he felt eyes watching him as he mounted the path. With that in mind he made a show of knocking, though not loudly enough to be heard inside, and unlocked and opened the door with a silent spell. He stepped inside and shut the door softly, then cast a spell that would prevent any noise from leaving the house. With the neighbours watching who visited whom, he wanted to conceal the notion that the Dursley's were in need of outside assistance.
"More toast, dear?" a woman asked in the room ahead and Severus trod down the narrow confines of the hallway with distaste. The interior was bland and inappropriately floral, but as he passed the stairs he noticed a small door and received an unexpected memory jolt. One of Potter's memories, garnered with the last remark the boy had graced him with before going back to sleep, washed over him. He knew exactly how to fall into that cupboard so as to avoid the low ceiling, the shelves and the narrow bed that sagged within, and expected to do so to the words 'get in there you little Freak'.
He had thought that he was unmoved by his charge's plight, but confronted with that memory in this place stirred an odd mixture of uncomfortable emotions. Severus' lip curled with resentment and he strode crankily to the glass door separating him from the adults in the house. A small part of him was pleased that the glass door cracked with the force of being thrown open, and then he was in the room, staring at the couple in front of him. They were complete opposites, fascinating in the same way that watching rancid slime ooze from a crack was. The woman was so thin it was unhealthy, her face drawn into a disapproving frown, while the man was morbidly obese. It was hard to believe that the woman in front of him was closely related to Lily Potter, Lily who had been so warm and alive and was the antithesis of her sister.
"What is the meaning of this?" the fat man roared, and Severus let his wand rise coolly to point between his eyes. Vernon Dursley was some sort of respected business man, according to the information that Severus had, and used to being in control.
"I am here about the boy," Severus intoned, "And if you know what is good for you Dursley, that will be the last time you raise your voice to me."
"See here!" Dursley blustered in a quieter tone, showing that the man at least recognised a threat when it pointed its wand at him, "You can't come bursting into our house! We're decent folk, and don't have to put up with the likes of you!"
"My presence here seems to indicate otherwise," Severus informed him dryly, only to be interrupted again. Honestly, he was beginning to think that Potter was a paragon of good manners now that he'd met the adults who had trained him through his formative years.
"The boy isn't here! Some teacher is looking after him!" Petunia's voice was shrill, "That freak school of his finally decided to give us a break from his unnaturalness."
"Unnatural?" Severus wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Magic was purely elemental, the type of spell being cast governed directly by the elements themselves. Witches and wizards were intimately connected to the world around them, and to hear such slander in the home of the Boy Who Lived was almost unthinkable.
"He's always making freakish things happen and putting our Dudley at risk!" Petunia aired an oft heard complaint, more of Potter's memories stirring in him at the words, "We've been saddled with him for years, and not a jot of help did we get from your lot to control him! The ungrateful brat even had the nerve to keep making things happen after we sent him to school! Kept claiming it was an accident!"
It probably was. Potter's accidental magic was quite strong, even after two years of training. It was the sign of a powerful wizard, one who was still growing into his powers. Merlin knew where the boy would fetch up, but Severus had the suspicion that it would be up to him to deal with the mess.
"And so you felt that it was incumbent upon you to train the boy in menial labour?" Severus asked dryly and had to swallow a smirk as the Muggles took a few moments to parse the question into language they understood. Here was the cause of Potter's common speech as well, and Severus made a mental note to see the boy got some schooling in the proper manners of their world.
"It was the least he could do! We took him in, clothed and fed him, and all without the slightest word of thanks!" Dursley blustered, saying the exactly wrong words, which triggered Severus' anger once more.
"You fed him the bare minimum that he could survive on," he corrected in a cold crisp voice, "If he wasn't a magical being he'd have starved to death in the first three years. You clothed him in the cast offs of your own son, who must be as morbidly obese as his father. You abused him for years and complained when he wasn't grateful enough for the few things he did receive. As a result of all this, he is very ill, undersized for his age, and struggling to overcome years of bad habits and self doubt inculcated by you!"
Severus' voice had risen to a shout in reaction to the magic swirling around him. The house wards were becoming active, strong powerful magic that whispered with the thin edge of his mentor eddied around the room, concentrating mainly on Petunia.
"If you're so worried about him, then you can have the care of him!" she retorted, uneasy with the invisible forces pressing themselves on her, "We never wanted him, and I've always regretted taking him in! Since you're so concerned for the freak, you might as well take charge of him!"
There was a loud crack, and the house wards collapsed around them, the protections garnered by Potter staying with his mother's blood collapsing under the hate filled words. Severus was the focal point, the protection transferring to him as the ward holder, ignorant Muggle that she was, transferred her responsibility to Severus. He was already acting as the boy's unofficial guardian, at the request of the man who had cast the wards. This was recognised and used to cement his place in the eyes of Magic herself as the proper and rightful guardian for one Harry James Potter, Boy Who Lived to Become a Burden to His Potions Master.
With the protections gone, Potter would be unable to return to the house, especially with Sirius Black on the loose. As the new holder of Potter's protections, Severus would be expected to assume the burden of raising the brat. There was a Department in the Ministry that recorded magical contracts and bonds the moment they were formed, an automatic process that formalised them legally in the eyes of the Wizengamot. He was well and truly hoist on a petard of Albus' making.
The Muggles were gaping at him in an imbecilic manner, clearly aware that something of great import had happened, though doubtless completely clueless as to what that was. Severus straightened his spine into his most imposing posture and glared at them down the considerable length of his nose.
"Very well," Severus murmured in his most silky voice, "You have made your position perfectly clear. By mandate of the Blood Wards and Magic herself, Potter is now my responsibility. As his guardian I require recompense from you for the years of abuse and neglect. I have no doubt that attempting to make you see the error of your ways would be fruitless, and your money is worthless to me. You will instead provide me with any possessions Potter may have left in your… hovel, as well as the trunk shipped to you, containing his rightful Inheritance from his parents."
Everyone in their world knew that the wreckage of Godric's Hollow had been carefully sifted through, and that anything salvageable had been boxed up and sent to the Baby Who Lived. Severus only hoped that whoever had sent it had also put sufficient protection charms on it to prevent the Muggles raiding or destroying it.
"There's a big… box thing in the attic," Petunia quavered, "He… doesn't have anything else."
A moment of unguarded legilimency showed that she was aware that some line had been crossed, and there was a deeply buried flicker of shame in her mind. The same probe turned upon Dursley revealed a mind awash in so much hate and directed anger that Severus felt no remorse at all in promptly stunning the man as viciously as he could. Potter may have been a burden thrust upon him, but that didn't mean he would allow Muggles to think such things of the child.
He followed the terrified woman up the stairs to collect the trunk, outwardly taking a small amount of satisfaction in her fear. Inwardly, he was compiling a list of chores he would need to complete before returning to Hogwarts and informing his employer and his newly acquired ward of the situation.
0o0o0o0
Dizzy was of some use, informing him that his message had been passed on to the brat, and that the elf had yet to commence shopping for 'Master Snape's ward'. The last phrase being particularly telling: if the elf already regarded Potter as his ward then the Ministry probably did too. The elf handed the brats key over to Severus, who handed over his own in reply. As guardian of the little pest it was incumbent upon Severus to supply adequate clothing, shelter, education and nourishment, which meant that he would be able to devise a very comprehensive potion and study regime for Potter to follow. His 'ward' would be a credit to him in appearance and knowledge if it was the last thing either of them did.
With the elf dispatched to complete the much longer list of errands, Severus returned to the school. Once again he noted that the door leading to Potter's temporary rooms needed to be properly warded. As he ascended the narrow stairs he could hear the teen moving around the room behind the door. Judging that he bore news that some would consider 'distasteful' Severus made a show of the proprieties by knocking before he entered.
Potter straightened from tidying his desk, surprise on his face. He quickly schooled himself into a more neutral expression and placed the pot of ink he was holding back into its place.
"Good morning Professor," there was a nervous quality in the teens voice, and Severus looked around the room. He noticed that the bed was perfectly made, the surfaces were all free of dust, and the few possessions that had been on display were placed strictly aligned according to some pre-existing notion of tidiness. The room had not been untidy when Severus had visited it last night, which had been a surprise he would never admit to, but now it was unnaturally neat. Not even Severus personal quarters were this tidy and he was a man known for his penchant for neatness. In their world chaos and disorganisation were the more common states of existence, as magic was by its very nature a chaotic force. Potter's posture and expression were… frightened.
In a flash, Severus understood. Potter had been told to wait in his room for an indefinite period for an unknown reason with an unexplained punishment hanging over his head if he disobeyed. He was attempting to allay that punishment by ensuring his room was perfectly neat, that his schoolwork was prepared for inspection and that his appearance was up to standard. Severus doubted that his relatives would have forgone punishing the teen for achieving this level of perceived perfection in the face of their displeasure, just as he was sure that if the teen hadn't made an effort the punishment was worsened. Part of him understood that Potter was only responding to a pattern that had been beaten, possibly literally, into him at childhood, but the rest of him resented being treated like he was one of the useless Muggles.
"Good morning Potter," Severus said calmly enough, though he was aware that there was an edge to his voice, "Sit down."
Potter sat on the cushion and trunk that served as a desk chair, leaving the armchair for his professor.
"Good morning sir," he said quietly, "Did… do you want to see my work?"
The teen was obviously searching for the reason that he was being confined to his room, and Severus shook his head as he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs and arranged his robes just so, marshalling his thoughts.
"There are two matters that we must discuss," Severus watched the teen bite his lip, eyes fixed on the man opposite him. The Potions Master could see that he was apprehensive, but could see no way to change that given the topics he was about to cover.
"I see no reason to prevaricate. The first matter pertains to events from your past. When you were born, your parents appointed for you a godparent, in the tradition of our culture. The man that they chose is known as Sirius Black, a fellow year mate and long time friend to your father. Some time later, when your parents realised that they had been targeted by the Dark Lord they took you into hiding with them, and they asked Sirius Black to be their Secret Keeper in a spell that would hide them from the world," Severus spoke slowly and calmly, letting nothing of his feelings for his former foes bleed through into his words. Initially, Potter looked confused but as Severus continued his face had shown his interest in the topic.
"If they were hiding… how did He find them?" Potter's voice was faint, and he looked as if he wished he hadn't asked, probably expecting Severus to use the question as an excuse not to continue. Severus knew himself well enough to know that in other circumstances he probably would have seized that excuse. With the knowledge he had today, his tongue was effectively curbed.
"Sirius Black betrayed them to the Dark Lord," Severus motioned for quiet, and the tense teen settled reluctantly, anger burning in his eyes. The Potions Master appreciated the self control and acknowledged it with a regal nod of the head.
"He was captured eventually and incarcerated for his crimes at the same time that you were sent to your Aunt and Uncles dubious protection. Only last night he escaped from his cell in the Wizarding prison, known as Azkaban. Indications are that he will try to finish the Dark Lord's work and murder you. As I had errands today off the grounds, I left instructions for you to remain in your room."
This was as close as he would ever get to reassuring the boy in front of him that he wasn't about to be punished for some spuriously manufactured infraction of the rules. Of course any true infraction of the rules would be dealt with promptly. Guardian or no, Severus was not about to allow the boy to rampage unchecked through the castle.
"You will no longer be able to wander the school grounds without an adult escorting you, though if I am in residence you may walk through the school proper. I will also require your assistance to ward your front door," he continued, "If I leave the school grounds for any reason you are to remain in your room behind the wards until I return. If I find you have left the wards safety while I am away you will be punished, is that clear?"
"Yes Professor, I understand," Potter said quietly, and Snape nodded. Now they would come to the truly distasteful portion of the morning, as he informed the boy of the transfer of guardianship from the Muggles to himself.
0o0o0o0