Chapter Two – Plans to Protect
"My Lord, before you go-" Severus's voice tapers off, his gaze questioning as he glances up at Lord Voldemort, a man who had previously tortured any followers who dared question him, especially nearing the end of the wizarding war. He tightens his hand on Harry's shoulder a fraction, the only outward sign of his discomfort. Though he relaxes again when the Dark Lord merely raises an eyebrow, a silent urging for him to continue.
"For you to be able to make your escape along with the stone before another professor discovers you, will you not need to utilise Quirrell's body for a while longer? At least until you have reached your manor or rather, until you have completed the ritual to regain your old body back?"
Voldemort freezes for a moment before spewing out a few choice words under his breath, muttering so softly that Harry and Severus are unable to hear such profanities. Quickly thoughts flicker through his mind, each one being disregarded as fast as they appear. He needs something which will fool the old man long enough for him to collect his son from the muggles and claim him as his own. His eyes dance around the chamber, landing on the green flames surrounding them. His eyes flash with delight, his grin widening to an almost manic degree as he turns to his potion's master.
"Well, seen as Harry Potter is well-known for having protection surrounding him due to his mother's sacrifice in order to save his life that Halloween night, it would be safe to assume that Dumbledore would rest his hopes on his weapon to have some obscure power to defeat me. Let us say that as Quirrell attempts to get young Harry here to retrieve the Stone from the mirror for him, he comes into contact with Harry's skin, and is burnt. I am sure that the old coot would readily believe that Lord Voldemort, is so twisted with hate that he would turn to ash if he came into contact with someone as pure and light as Harry Potter."
Severus smirks in return, withholding a chuckle at the very idea of Dumbledore banking on such an obscure, unknown branch of ancient magic being crazy enough that it may just work. Glancing down at Harry, Voldemort and Severus take note of the scrunched-up eyebrows and deep frown shaping his lips as if trying to understand what they were describing. He grins, eyes widening, gaze lifting to meet their expectant expressions.
"Like the Wicked Witch of the West. She melts when she touches the water."
Severus and Voldemort chuckle at Harry, recalling the famous story of Dorothy and her adventures through the land of Oz from their own childhoods. Though they are surprised that Harry, a boy who had no access to basic food nor care would be able to remember such a film.
"My cousin Dudley used to watch the film all the time when he was younger, and I would sometimes be able to sneak watch it while I was doing some of my chores around the living room."
Lord Voldemort's eyes flash with rage at having further proof that his soon-to-be heir, his child had been mistreated at the hands of those disgusting muggles he called family. That Harry had been forced to slave away as a house elf while their own son grew up to be a lazy, good-for-nothing layabout. He forces a smile, ruffling Harry's hair so as to not upset the child with his anger.
"Exactly like the Wicked Witch of the West. However, instead of merely leaving a pile of clothes for Severus here to find, I believe it would be more believable to leave a small pile of ash as well."
Severus nods along, quickly waving his wand as he mutters a spell much too quiet for Harry to hear. Harry gasps in wonder, however when a pile of clothes flashes into existence in his professor's hands. Clothes which he quickly hands over to the Dark Lord.
"You are going to want to leave the current robes Quirrell is wearing behind. I thought a change of clothes would be the best course of action as we are not going to be able to transfigure your robes, though I am afraid that they will not fit as well as your own robes, My Lord."
"Thank you, Severus. You are as insightful as I remember you being. Alright, we must conclude this quickly before someone gets suspicious and comes down to check on the two of you. I would hate for our plans to be discovered and thwarted so prematurely, especially before I can get Harry to safety."
"Of course, My Lord."
Harry glances up at the Dark Lord still disguised as his Defence professor, fist clenching in the robes around Severus's waist, chewing the skin of his lips. Voldemort glances down at Harry, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Anticipation builds in his chest at the thought of being that much closer to regaining his own physical form and claiming the boy as his own. He crouches down in front of Harry, pulling him into one final embrace.
"I promise you, Harry, that I will come for you as soon as I am able. I will take you away from those despicable muggles and make you my child in every way possible. Never doubt that, Snakelet."
"I won't Father. I will wait for you."
"That's my brave boy. I will see you soon Snakelet. You too Severus."
Lord Voldemort takes a couple of steps back, nodding to Severus whose smile falls into a grim line, his attention shifting to the child by his side.
"Harry, I am going to need you to lie down for me. When I put you to sleep, I don't want you to fall over and injure yourself, okay?"
Harry nods, slowly shifting so he is lying on the dust-covered floor, his muscles protesting his every move as the events of the evening begin to finally catch up with him. Taking a deep breath to relax himself as much as possible, Harry locks eyes with Voldemort when Severus begins to mumble strings of Latin, his wand waving over him in complicated patterns. Harry first notices his vision beginning to swim, eyelids drooping as he loses the energy to keep them open but just before he can fall into oblivion, he sends one final smile toward the Dark Lord. At last, however, he finally gives himself over to the artificial sleep trying to claim him.
"See you soon, my son."
When Harry finally manages to pull himself away from the comforting embrace of darkness blanketing him, he is immediately met with a stabbing pain pulsating at the back of his skull. He can feel his muscles straining in protest when he shifts in the small, yet comfortable bed he is resting in, his face collapses into a grimace.
Harry feels consciousness forcing his eyes open, his fingers twitching. He squeezes his eyes shut against the burning white light assaulting his tired frame. Taking a deep stuttering breath, Harry tries to pry his eyes open when he senses a presence sitting by his bedside, their gaze burning into him as if he were an item on display. He can't help but sigh internally, closed eyes rolling towards the ceiling when a large concentration of magical energy brushes over his skin and he knows that the headmaster is finally done waiting for his answers. He knows an interrogation is about to begin and he doesn't know if he is ready to deal with the old codger just yet. Harry could admit though, that he wasn't particularly worried about Dumbledore finding out about his bargain with the Dark Lord because Voldemort had assured him of the block now surrounding those memories. Despite how well versed the old man was at Legilimancy.
His muscles continue to protest as Harry cracks his eyes open, gaze skirting around the white room. He can feel resignation settling in at ending up in the hospital wing again, for what he hoped will be the last time. Eyes roaming the room, Harry tries to spot anyone else but scowls when he notices that not a single other person is in the infirmary. Not student, nor Pomfrey. He has been left alone with the mad who had orchestrated the Philosopher's Stone incident.
Groaning at the pain shooting through his limbs, Harry shifts to settle in a more comfortable position, the slight movement catching Dumbledore's attention. The old man leans forward, blue eyes twinkling in a show of concern, but Harry doesn't buy it. He has to stop himself from flinching when Dumbledore settles himself down on the mattress by his side instead of remaining in the visitors' chair.
"Harry? How are you feeling, my boy?"
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Harry struggles to push himself up, leaning back against his pillows, he turns his full attention towards the headmaster. Dropping his hands to his lap, Harry lets a sheepish smile shape his features, rubbing the back of his neck avoiding eye contact when he can see Dumbledore moving to meet his gaze.
"Like I have been stampeded by a herd of hippogriffs, Sir."
The old man chuckles, patting Harry's intertwined fingers in one of his typical grandfatherly gestures. Harry internally cringes at the contact, locking his arm muscles (despite the pain) so he doesn't pull his hands away from the touch.
"Ah yes, I can only imagine."
Harry doesn't respond, there wasn't much else he needed to say. Instead, he chooses to watch the older wizard. Eyebrows furrowing, Harry pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing his skin while he considers what to reveal to Dumbledore and how he can make it correspond with Severus's. He attempts to portray the image of an unsure, confused child praying to Merlin the headmaster will buy into his act and ask fewer questions.
"Headmaster? Do you know what happened to me? I can't remember."
Dumbledore's lips downturn, looking down at Harry the usual twinkle dimming from his eyes; his expression twists to displeasure at the implication that his only eyewitness to the chamber incident had little recollection of the events.
"I was hoping that you would be able to tell me that, my dear boy."
Harry drops his gaze to his hands, his lip becoming tender as he continues to chew it. Furrowing his eyebrows in contemplation, Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment attempting to stave off the impending headache he can feel pulsing at the back of his mind. Harry raises his eyes to the ceiling as if trying to recall some obscure memory. He remembers what Lord Voldemort had told him about the headmaster's illegal habit of using Legilimancy on his students; he didn't want that happening to him.
"I am sorry, Headmaster, but I can't really remember much. All I know is that I went down into the antechamber with Hermione and Ron because Professor McGonagall wouldn't believe us when we went to tell her that someone was trying to steal the Stone and you weren't in the castle. By the time I got to the chamber where the Mirror of Erised was my friends were gone and I was on my own."
Harry drops his gaze again, green eyes accidentally locking with the headmaster's and in an instant, he feels a nudge of pressure against his mind. Widening his eyes, Harry lets his jaw drops open a fraction, pulling himself to sit up straighter to subtly break eye contact. He smirks inwardly.
"Professor Quirrell! It was Professor Quirrell who was trying to steal the stone Professor. He didn't get it though, did he?" Panic laces Harry's voice.
Dumbledore shakes his head, breaking himself from his thoughts as he places a hand on the young boy's shoulder, trying to comfort Harry without outwardly showing his annoyance at his inability to remember anything of importance or anything he hadn't already been aware of. He had spoken to Severus after the man had bought Harry out of the chamber.
"It is alright, my boy. Professor Snape checked and the stone is still safe within the Mirror. It is still within the castle wards, and it seems as if you have saved us all once again. You prevented Professor Quirrell from achieving what he was here to do. Well done, harry."
Harry breathes a sigh of relief, feeling his tension melting away now that he is sure the headmaster really couldn't access his memories. Laughter bubbles in his chest, which he holds back, at the thought of the all-knowing headmaster not catching on to the fact that the stone within the castle was a fake and that his father had managed to escape Dumbledore's detection in time. He is glad that the Dark Lord is safe, far away from the meddling old coot for now.
"I didn't really do anything, Headmaster. I don't actually understand what happened, Sir. Professor Quirrell wanted me to get the Stone for him, but when I refused, he tried to grab me… his hand, sir… it… it turned to ash…" Harry felt comfortable with allowing this detail to be known, only because he knew Severus was going to tell Dumbledore the same thing and it would lay weight to Severus's story.
He feels dumbledore once again brushing against the edge of his mind, another attempt at Legilimancy and he can only assume it is to make sure he hadn't been subjected to any mind tricks or memory charms by Professor Quirrell while he had been down in the chamber. Harry actively keeps his thoughts away from the events and decided to bring forth something he knew the headmaster would believe; his worry for his friends as they had been injured greatly before he had continued on.
He has to fight back a smirk when disappointment and shock registers across Dumbledore's face at the lack of evidence. His glee builds, aware that the headmaster has found nothing to indicate the return of the Dark Lord, nor evidence that suggests Professor Quirrell had been possessed by Voldemort but acting of his own free will instead. Sighing to himself, Dumbledore resigns himself to the fact that his old enemy was not returning anytime soon and that the stone truly did reside within the mirror still.
"It was because of the protection your mother gave you the night she died, Harry. Professor Quirrell has been corrupted by so much darkness and hatred lately that he could not touch you without sustaining injuries. You truly are the boy-who-lived, Harry."
Moving to sit back on the visitors' chair, Dumbledore steals himself to continue his interrogations of Harry in hopes of gaining some insight into the more pressing events surrounding the past year at Hogwarts. However, before he can begin to formulate his first round of questions, the doors to the hospital wing are thrown open, ricocheting off the walls with a resounding bang. Black robes billow out around the tall, dark figure as he strolls purposefully through the empty room towards Harry and the headmaster, his shoes arithmetically clicking against the floor.
"Ah. Professor Snape. What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here, my dear boy?"
Severus scowls at the headmaster, eyebrows scrunching up in disdain at being referred to as the man's dear anything, the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes strengthens already becoming used to the man's sour attitude. Severus's expression draws a soft giggle from Harry who is quick to cover his mouth with his hand to stifle the noise.
"I was asked by Poppy to brew and deliver these potions for one, Mister Potter. Not that it is any business of your Headmaster."
Harry feels a small smile shaping his lips, the look in his professor's eyes telling him that Madam Pomfrey didn't actually request any potions for him to take. Especially seen as she would have asked for a complete replenishment of her stocks if she had run out. Harry turns his head to glance at the potion's professor, the pain in his head flaring at the movement causing him to wince and collapse back against the headboard. Eyes screwing shut to ward off the headache.
"Professor Snape, do you know how I ended up in the Hospital Wing?" Harry enquires, voice soft. He grins inwardly when Severus shoots a glare towards Dumbledore, clearly, he had understood the slight emphases in his wording and concluded that the headmaster had preferred to interrogate the child instead of answering his question. Sighing at his employer's attitude, Severus turns his attention to Harry offering a barely noticeable smile.
"Yes, Mister Potter, I do. I found you unconscious down in the antechamber under the third-floor corridor where the Philosopher's Stone was being kept three days ago. I levitated you to the Hospital Wing where Poppy took control of your recovery. Am I right in assuming that you have just woken up?"
Harry nods his head once again, mindful of the throbbing in his head, he winces again when the pain intensifies for a second before mellowing down. Lifting his hand, Harry holds it out to his professor.
"Did Madam Pomfrey need me to take the potions now, Sir?"
Severus eyes the child for a moment, eyes sweeping the small, frail frame checking for any signs of discomfort, unhealed injuries, or anomalies without the need to outwardly voice his worry in front of Dumbledore. They didn't need a curious headmaster on their backs. Inclining his head, Severus hands over a mild pain-relieving potion and a small blood-replenishing potion. He notes the lack of hesitation that most children have at taking any form of potion.
"This will help with any pain, discomfort, and other ailments you may be suffering with, though I warn you that they may exhaust you. I recommend getting some rest as soon as possible to heal completely, Mister Potter."
Severus instructs as he watches Harry quickly swallows both potions without so much as a grimace. He could remember the last time he had tried to get his godson to take a pain-relief potion. He had screamed for the better part of an hour before he was too exhausted to fight back anymore. Harry places the empty vials on the bedside table for his professor to take back to clean later. Finally feeling his headache fading, Harry leans over to slip his glasses over his ears, blinking rapidly when the room finally comes into full focus. He turns towards his professor and smiles.
"Thank you, Sir." Slowly, as if to reassure him that the potion is working as it should, Harry feels his muscles relaxing, the tension fading as he sinks back into his pillows. He covers his mouth with the edge of the blanket to conceal his grin as the headmaster finally takes this as his cue to leave. Without uttering a word to Harry, Dumbledore pats his leg once more before turning to leave only pausing in the doorway long enough to offer some last words for Harry.
"If you happen to remember anything Harry, my office shall always be open to you."
Harry waits a moment to ensure that the headmaster is truly gone before rolling his eyes skyward, sighing heavily in relief. He hadn't felt that stressed out for a long while and wasn't in any hurry to encounter something like that again. The two remaining occupants stay in comfortable silence, taking the opportunity to study the other. Finally, Professor Snape clears his throat, looking down at the white bedding as he walks around the bed, taking a seat in the chair the headmaster had just vacated.
"Harry," he begins, coughing to rid his throat of the lump forming attempting to block his words. "I would once again like to apologise for my treatment of you throughout this past year, I had been informed by Dumbledore that you had been raised by a loving, Light supporting family who had spoilt you and treated you as their own son. I had it in mind that you would be a copy of your father, and when you first arrived, you looked remarkably like James did during our school years. I now see how wrong I was."
Severus drags a hand through his hair, eyelids drooping minutely making him look as exhausted as Harry feels. He slumps down in the chair, thick bags clinging to the underneath of his eyes, face paler than Harry had ever seen. His robes are wrinkled, seemingly hanging off his thin frame more than usual. It was as if he had spent the past three days going over everything he knew about Harry Potter.
"It is okay, Professor. When Madam Pomfrey lets me out of here would you be willing to tell me about my parents? The good and the bad? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never really told me anything about them other than they were lazy, unemployed drunks who died in a car crash… it's apparently how I got my scar they told me." Harry rolls his head to the right, gazing up at his professor with weary emerald eyes filled with both fear and hope.
"I would be happy to Harry, though I am afraid that my knowledge of your father is severely lacking as I only ever witnessed his attitude during our time within these halls and I was not one of his favourite people. I only knew his through his prank." Severus smiles, eyes sad. He sits forward in his chair close enough to run his fingers through Harry's hair who snuggles deeper into his blankets at the gentle touch.
"Professor?"
Severus hums in response to the enquiry, perfectly content to sit next to the young boy who he had come to care a great deal about the past few days. He had finally managed to sort through the overload of information his Lord had told him about Harry's home life.
"Do you think it would be possible for me to have a visitor?" At Snape's inquisitive glance, Harry feels his face heating up, his ears turning red. He rolls his head back, eyes fixating on the ceiling, so he doesn't have to look into intense onyx eyes.
"I mean… it is just that I get so bored when I am stuck in the infirmary by myself, and it always gets me into trouble with Madam Pomfrey when she catches me trying to sneak out. There is someone I want to apologise to and, if possible, become friends with. I think I did something wrong to them, but I don't know what it was, and I want to fix it."
Severus regards Harry as he rambles on, his ear gaining colour rapidly. He notes how his hands are fisting the blankets, eyes roaming the ceiling. His entire form screaming in fear whether from rejection or the possibility of receiving punishment for asking, Severus isn't too sure.
"I am sure that if you are alert enough and if you promise me that you are going to go straight to sleep afterward, then I will inquire to Madam Pomfrey for you. Now, if you do not mind, who would you like to invite?"
Severus continues to watch Harry, watching as he fidgets under the covers. Though Severus is pleased to note that despite his embarrassment at asking such a request, Harry is still leaning into his touch, fingers still carding through Harry's hair. He puzzles on Harry's actions as thin lips form words much too quiet for him to hear.
"Harry, please stop mumbling. I cannot hear you."
His eyes continue to move restlessly around the room as Severus watches him. The potion's professor's eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing when Harry squirms in his bed, tiny hands wringing the bedcovers, fingers tying themselves in knots. The answer, when finally supplied loud enough for him to hear surprises Severus greatly.
"Draco Malfoy." Harry risks peeking at Severus when he fails to respond right away. Watching as his eyebrows shoot up close to his hairline, the only outward indication of his shock and Harry feels himself relaxing a little. His professor didn't answer because he didn't believe him, more so that he was surprised by his request, which Harry can understand. From an outsider's perspective, it would have seemed as if Harry hated the blond Heir and would never even consider befriending him, let alone apologising for something which happened at the beginning of the year.
"It's just… It was wrong of me to reject Malfoy's hand the way I did at the start of the year, and I also regret not accepting his offer of friendship, even if it would have made Dumbledore watch me that much closer. I realise now that my actions may have gone against the pureblood traditions and by Malfoy's reaction, I must have offended him in some huge way. I would like a chance to rectify that and see if his offer still remains, I would like to extend my own hand this time. I want to become his friend as he seems quite nice, I was also hoping he would agree to help me in becoming more accustomed to all the traditions and customs I missed out on learning growing up… Do you think I can, Sir?"
Harry's voice on the last question is barely audible showing his reluctance and fear of asking any form of question, something which angers Severus more than words can explain. He continues to run his hands through Harry's hair, gently massaging his scalp to help reassure him. Severus had never liked Petunia when they were children and it seemed that she had only gotten worse with age.
Worry builds in Harry; he hadn't spent a great deal of time with Severus, so he wasn't sure what his boundaries were when it came to asking questions. It continues to rise as the silence stretches, his thoughts spiraling back to ones that invaded his mind when he had been locked in his cupboard. Harry wishes that his professor would not speak to him with scorn in his tone as he had done before, nor outright deny his request.
He is, therefore, surprised when Severus stands from his seat, perching himself on the edge of Harry's mattress. His hand continues to tease his hair while his other slowly guides Harry to sit up before drawing him into his side for an embrace.
"I think that is a wonderful idea, Harry. I am so proud of you. You really are brave for wanting to take this first step in reconciling with Draco. Your father would be very proud of you as well. I am sure that Draco would be all too happy to befriend you and inform you about all you have missed out on if you explain a few things to him."
Harry beams up at the man, a warmth spreading through his chest, silently preening at Severus's kind words of praise. He finally knew what it was like to have someone who would and could feel proud of him just for being himself. Sighing, Harry cuddles closer to Severus, wrapping his arm around the man's waist as a smile stretches across his lips.
"Alright then, Harry. How about I go and ask Madam Pomfrey if you may be discharged from the hospital wing early? If agreeable, you can stay with me in my private quarters until the end of the school year so that I may keep an eye on your recovery, but also so dumbledore and your friends cannot harass you while you are still recuperating. I could send for Mister Malfoy once we arrive and get you settled. How does that sound?"
Harry's head shoots up, pulling away from the man just enough to allow him to catch the open expression on his professor's face, a glint of awe shining in his emerald eyes. Grin widening, Harry throws his other arm around Severus's waist, hugging the man as close as possible, his hand fisting his robes. Harry sighs when a hand cards through his hair again, the other tightening around his shoulders.
"Thank you, Professor. Are you sure that I won't be a bother? I don't want to cause you any trouble."
Severus has to stop himself from tensing at the number of emotions layering Harry's voice, disgust at his muggle relatives increasing. He quickly pushes it aside so Harry wouldn't see his silence as a rejection. Snape smiles down at Harry, happy that his suggestion had seemed to raise the boy's spirits, despite his fear of rejection. Squeezing the small hand fisting his robes, Severus's voice cracks when he glances down at Harry wanting nothing more than to take him in his arms and shield him from all those who plan to use and hurt him for their own gain.
"You will be no trouble, Harry trust me on this. I offered to take you in to keep you safe and ensure you are left alone to recover. Besides, I promised the Dark Lord that I would look after you for the next few days. Also, as hard as people may find this to believe, I have become quite fond of you. I care for you Harry and plan to make your life from here on as pleasant, enjoyable, and safe as possible."
Harry nods his head; he already knew most of that. Smile widening, Harry leans further into Severus's embrace, eyes stinging with tiredness and the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and love welling inside his chest at his professor's words.
"Thank you, Sir."
"We will be having none of that either." Harry tilts his head to the side, glancing up at Severus who ruffles Harry's hair with a soft smile.
"When we are alone, or if Draco is with you then you may call me Severus. I have a feeling that we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other this upcoming holiday." Harry giggles breathlessly at the playful lilt in his professor's tone. Curling back against the man's side, Harry sighs.
"Okay, thank you, Severus."
"You are most welcome, Harry. Now I would like for you to sit tight while I go and… persuade Madam Pomfrey to discharge you into my care. I will be back momentarily."
With one final hand carding through the boy's hair, Severus slowly detangles himself from Harry and pushes himself to his feet. Smoothing the covers back over Harry's legs while he settles back against the headboard, Severus turns on his heels and makes his way towards the medi-witch's office. Harry watches his go, sinking back into his pillows, retracting his arms beneath the quilt, fists clenching the top of the blanket as he pulls it to cover his chin. He tries to wait patiently for Severus to return.