Chapter 7

Severus found Potter sitting at the desk at seven in the morning, hunched over his homework. He climbed down the stairs, not wanting to disturb the child. This was definitely not what he would have expected from a Potter. Perhaps he was used to seeing James Potter in the child a little too much.

--

"This is… good," he said, going over the boy's Potions essay at the table after breakfast.

"You sound surprised," the boy said with a glint in his eye that looked mischievous and Severus wondered if he should be worried about what it meant.

"Although, you could elaborate on why Zygmunt Budge's stirring techniques are widely debated and also elucidate the discontinued use of cowbane." He would award an E if this was turned in, but Severus was not one to be satisfied with anything less than an O when it came to Potions.

"You mean, explain why we shouldn't add more poison to a potion that's volatile and poisonous if not brewed to a tee?" Potter asked cheekily, but also looked interested in the answer as Severus started talking.

"Yes, but not so literally. Essence of cowbane when used sparingly does not cause severe repercussions. The original formulation calls for a splash, which depending on arbitrary environmental influence can be anywhere between 2 to 8 drops, implying that it might not be a very wise instruction in a classroom full of thirteen-year-olds who do not pay enough attention. Cowbane, when exceeded by even a single drop, causes abdominal pain, nausea and emesis within the hour of ingesting, seizures in extreme cases."

"What does this mean then, will it make the potion less potent or more? I mean, not adding the cowbane?" Potter asked, furrowing his brows.

"Any and all variations of the Shrinking Potion used today are less potent compared to Budge's original version. The potion you will be brewing in class would not be strong enough to work on anything bigger than a rabbit."

"So you're saying, we'll be brewing something that's not really all that poisonous, even if it goes wrong?" He put that together fast.

"Essentially."

"But you wouldn't say that outright in class, would you?" he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

"Not in so many words, no. Practising caution while brewing is an important skill to master."

"What will happen if it's brewed wrong?"

"That depends on what goes wrong."

Potter sat thinking about that. "You… are sneaky, Professor," he decided after a minute.

"Why thank you, Mr. Potter," Severus replied.

Potter hummed, seemingly satisfied with himself.

"I assumed you detested Potions," Severus stated, when the boy brought a quill, inkpot, a stack of parchment and a textbook to make changes to his essay.

"I have nothing against Potions, Professor Snape!" Potter exclaimed, looking exasperated.

"You do realise I've had you in my class for two years."

"Yes!" he affirmed, "I like Potions, I think it's interesting," Severus raised an eyebrow at that, "no offence sir, but um, it's your class I don't like," he mumbled the last bit looking anywhere else.

Severus chuckled, he knew not everyone liked his class and frankly he didn't care what teenagers thought about his teaching methods, as long as they were meticulous in their work. Those with real interest in the subject worked well enough without Severus having to interfere every minute.

"That said, you haven't submitted work of this quality in the past two years," he raised an eyebrow questioningly at the boy who let out a long breath that seemed to be saying 'crisis averted'.

"Well, there's only so much you can manage to write hiding under your blankets at one in the morning," Potter shrugged. "Or when trying to guess which teacher is making evil plans takes away your time."

"Ah, the incident with the Philosopher's stone," Severus still hadn't forgotten spending the whole year on edge around Quirrell.

"Oh! You don't know the half of it," Potter laughed. Severus raised an eyebrow at that.

"There's more?"

"Yeah," he giggled, "we thought… never mind," he continued laughing.

Severus did not want to know what they thought, if the laughter was any indication. "I'm pretty sure there weren't evil professors last year," he prompted instead.

"Nope, just a bloodthirsty maniac," Potter muttered, exhaling loudly.

"Tolerating classmates who think you're the evil Heir of Slytherin who wants to kill all the muggle borns, while also convincing yourself that you're not going batshit crazy for hearing voices that say 'Blood' and 'Kill' without knowing why." Potter shrugged. "Doesn't really spare a lot of time to write Outstanding essays," he went quiet as he finished his sentence, all mirth gone from his voice.

Potter continued working on the assignment while Severus sat thinking about everything he had heard. Dumbledore seemed to make everything sound like rainbows and sparkles. It bothered Severus now, after listening to it from the child's perspective for the first time.

And what was it with those dunderheads thinking the most Gryffindor student in school was the Heir of Slytherin? Wouldn't it make a lot more sense for the Heir of Slytherin to be a… Slytherin ?

None of the students in his house would let out a peep anymore about the Chamber of Secrets after the thorough reprimand they had received from him after one of the students got petrified. It didn't seem all that funny anymore.

Severus had never suspected a student to be behind it at the time, but he hadn't assumed it to be The Dark Lord either. He'd been wrong on both accounts.

They sat in silence, just the sound of a quill scratching on the parchment punctuating Severus' thoughts.

"'Blood' and 'Kill'?" he asked, when he was handed the finished essay to check. Did Minerva or Albus not know of this?

"The basilisk," said Potter, fidgeting with his hands.

"You heard the basilisk?" Severus was disturbed at the thought.

"It was using the plumbing to get around the school. I didn't know it was the basilisk, Hermione figured that I could hear it because of the parseltongue."

Right, parseltongue.

"Does it trouble you?" he finally asked the child.

"Yes. It didn't used to, I just don't like being associated with him. How well do you think that works out?"

"The Dark Lord?"

Potter nodded, "Voldemort was a parselmouth too, Dumbledore said," and went back to shuffling through the parchments in his hands.

Severus shuddered involuntarily hearing the name, but didn't say anything more. The child talked about hearing basilisks like he was talking about bad exam scores. He looked at the boy who was resolutely staring at a piece of parchment with furrowed brows. His fidgeting hands told Severus that he was more bothered by the situation than he was letting on. Severus wondered again about how much more this child would be put through.

"That explains the biting book," he heard the boy chuckle, bringing his attention away from his thoughts.

"Biting book?"

"Yeah, Hagrid sent a 'Monster book of Monsters', and said I'd find it useful for next year."

"A biting book?" he distractedly asked again.

"It's in the assigned book list for third year," the child said, going through the rest of the list.

It then came to him that Hagrid was the new Care of Magical Creatures professor. Nobody but Hagrid would set something like that. "How would one study from it?" he wondered aloud.

"Don't ask me," the boy shrugged putting the parchment away. "I had to manhandle it just to get it closed."

"What other electives are you taking?"

"Oh. Um, Divination."

"Divination? Why would you choose something so… for lack of a better word, pointless?" he questioned handing over the essay. Now, that was better.

The boy shrugged taking the essay back, "It seems easier."

That opened up a whole conversation about how picking electives based on how easy they seem was not a smart decision to make which ended up in a heated argument that went on for most of the day.

--

The next morning, the boy was in the kitchen - still in his pyjamas, asleep on the dining table using one hand as a pillow while the other clutched half a mug of cold tea.

"Potter?" Severus called as he slowly extracted the mug from his hand. Potter woke up on the third call.

"Hey," he said sleepily, trying and failing to hold back a yawn, he blinked at Severus, "what time is it?"

"Around seven," Severus answered as he made coffee.

"Seven?" he asked, eyes comically wide. Does he have something against sleep?

"It's okay to sleep in sometimes, besides it's the summer holidays. Perhaps not on the table?" he joked. The boy gave a slight smile. "What time did you wake up?"

"Three, I think," he said, running his hands through his hair, which just messed it up more.

"Three?" Has been up at three in the morning the past few days… doing homework ?

"Couldn't sleep," he said as he pushed off the chair and got up, "I'll go freshen up."

"Nightmares?" Severus asked as the boy sat down for breakfast. The look in the child's eye earlier had unsettled something in Severus.

"I haven't had one since summer started," he nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Severus didn't know what made him say that. Potter looked thoughtful at that, but didn't say anything for a while, just picked at the scrambled eggs.

"It was Quirrell this time," he said quietly and pushed his plate away after eating. "Can I go to the park?"

Severus thought that over again. The wards around the neighbourhood had been put up during the first war. They'd held for years and were strong enough. He reluctantly nodded at the child. It wouldn't be healthy for him to stay trapped inside. Nothing untoward had happened the last time Potter went outside, he reasoned with himself, but agreed only after Potter promised not to stray and come back in time for lunch.

Severus sat down with The Daily Prophet. The child had been out for a while. He'd been back sooner the last time. Where was he? Should Severus go looking for him? The boy was responsible enough to not stray outside the wards and Severus would know if he did. Had he lost his way?

When he finally heard a knock on the front door, he put the paper away, breathing a sigh of relief. It wasn't like he was reading anything anyway. He walked into the kitchen a lot more calmer once Potter was inside.

"You don't eat much," Severus observed. The boy was sitting at the table while he was at the stove. He had grown to like these interactions they had while he cooked.

The child sat in silence for a few minutes. "Uncle Vernon, he uh, liked to use food as a weapon sometimes."

Severus whipped his head around to face the boy, but had no words to offer. To admit something like that required a level of trust. The fragile truce - which when he had offered, had seemed like the right thing to do - they seemed to have formed would never have warranted him to say that. What did this mean now?

Honestly! What was the headmaster even thinking? Leaving a toddler in Petunia's care!

"You'll burn that if you keep looking at me," the child snickered. As Severus turned back to the stove, "You don't have to say anything," he heard the child say in a quiet voice. Not that Severus knew what to say.

--

"What plans have you made for after school?" Severus asked when he found Potter perusing the bookshelves with interest after lunch.

"Not really sure what I want. Haven't thought about it much." The boy answered not taking his eyes off the books.

"You should, you have a lot of options now that your horizons are wider. And being you, certain privileges." Severus' eyes were glittering with mirth.

" Privileges?" He finally turned. "What's so amusing?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Severus.

"You could regale people with stories of your childhood adventures. Fighting trolls and flying cars. Publish books like a certain someone you might know." Severus chuckled.

"Stop laughing. It's not funny!" he said, laughing himself.

"You could consider it," he said raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to write a book! And I don't want to 'regale people' with stories of my childhood adventures," Potter shuddered, sounding appalled by the idea. "Anyway, it's not much of an adventure or enough of a childhood when you melt off your teacher's face."

That drained all the excitement away from the conversation. This child had the ability to have him stumped.

"I know he's the bad guy and all, but -" he stopped, there was something in his voice when he said that that made Severus' heart clench as the boy looked away.

"Harry," he waited until the boy turned back to him, "You are not responsible for that. Quirrell was a dead man the minute The Dark Lord possessed him."

"But I -," he started stubbornly. Severus raised his hand to stop him.

"Whatever you're reasoning is, Harry, you just acted out of self defence. If you hadn't done something to apprehend him when you did, you might not be here to mope around with misplaced guilt."

"I suppose that's true."

"It is true," Severus insisted. The child didn't say anything more, just nodded and turned back to the books.

Slowly but surely, the child was opening up to him, and Severus found himself enjoying their newfound amity.

"You know, half the books here belong to the Restricted Section at Hogwarts," the boy announced after a while. "You don't think I'll misuse the access you've given me?" he cocked his head curiously.

"Would you, now?"

"Hypothetically speaking, maybe?"

"I'm yet to see you pick one off the shelf."

"True, you haven't seen me pick one," he grinned, making Severus narrow his eyes. He was more than intrigued by how this child's mind worked.

--

"Do you want to talk?" Severus softly asked. It was four in the morning, when he found Potter at the small dining table, staring out the window.

The boy took the mug of tea Severus offered in silence. Severus just waited as he finished the tea and let out a breath, leaning back on the chair.

"It didn't used to be that bad," he started, clutching the empty mug tight as though drawing strength from it. "Uncle Vernon, he used to favour Dudley a lot, but it didn't get worse than that. Aunt Petunia was kinda okay I think. I know she's not the kindest, but I remember some things. I wasn't her favourite by any means, but she- uh, sometimes she-" he stopped, shook his head and took a deep breath. "She wasn't like this all the time. She used to care, at least a little bit.

"Things started changing only after my accidental magic kicked in. I was four or five… not really sure, the first time it happened. She looked at me like I was a ghost and Uncle Vernon started punishing me every time it happened again, he used to think I'd grow out of it if he did that enough - not that I knew I was doing magic. Nobody stopped Dudley and his friends anymore when they used to bother me. It got worse when I started at Hogwarts.

"It isn't exactly good when Aunt Marge comes over, still it's relatively peaceful. They don't do anything drastic around her, just order me around and stuff, but that's because she doesn't like to let me out of her sight."

Severus listened to all of this in silence. The child didn't say anything more, he took the mug to the sink, rinsed it, bade goodbye to Severus and left to go upstairs.

Severus had seen a few things that made him suspect some kind of abuse. Potter had been extremely careful while phrasing his sentences, but Severus knew how to read between the lines. What he didn't know was how to help the child.

After dealing with teenagers for so many years, why then, when it came to Harry Potter, was he clueless?