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*~*~*~
His Mother’s Eyes
*~*~*~
“The laws of chess are as beautiful as those governing the universe – and as deadly.”
Katherine Neville
*~*~*~
1
*~*~*~
Tom, the proprietor of The Leaky Cauldron, wove through the heavy pre-Hogwart’s shopping crowd with a skill honed from decades of running the pub. Not spilling a drop, he deposited two bowls of thick beef stew and a loaf of warm, crusty bread before two wizards trying their best to ignore the chaos surrounding their table.
“Get you anything else, Professors? Another pot of Earl Gray…perhaps something stronger?”
Twenty-five year old Potions Master Severus Snape exchanged a hopeful glance at his companion, the diminutive Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick. Filius laughed and shook his head.
“As much as we would wish to chuck this all for a bottle of Ogden’s Finest, we still have another swarm of dunderheads arriving within the hour,” Severus answered morosely.
“Muggleborn First Years, Severus.” Filius corrected, lightheartedly. Hogwarts Heads of House were traditionally on hand to help Muggleborn witches and wizards navigate the unfamiliar magical world and answer any questions their parents might have about a magical education. “Look at the bright side. Minerva and Pomona have to come back again tomorrow to corral the last of the lambs.”
~*~*~
Arabella Figg walked slowly down the street, looking for the hidden entrance to Wizarding London. Jostled by an impatient man, she kept careful hold of her precious burden. She adjusted the blanket covering the small child in her arms, feeling his fevered cheek rest against her thin shoulder.
A door appeared to open from the middle of a blank wall and a family stepped out into Muggle London, hands weighed down with unusual packages and a caged barn owl. At her request, the father held the door open for her; Mrs. Figg stepped into the noisy pub.
The massive crowd caught the elderly Squib by surprise; she had deliberately waited until after lunch when pubs were traditionally quieter. She had not realized she would encounter the late August Hogwart’s rush.
Recognizing Tom from one her very rare forays to Diagon Alley, the old woman approached him.
“I realize that this is a bad time, but I need a few moments of your time…in private.”
If Tom thought the “Muggle” woman’s request was strange, he did not let on. Motioning for one of his assistants to mind the pub, the proprietor led Mrs. Figg to a small dining room.
“How can I be of service, m’dear?”
Mrs. Figg shifted the weight of the child in her arms; he let out a soft whimper.
“I need the services of a discrete healer…the poppet is a wizard and is in need of medical attention.”
“There is a Floo Station in the Dining Room. It can take you directly to St. Mungo’s.”
“No.” Mrs. Figg shook her head. “No one can ever know I brought him to Diagon Alley.”
“Sweet Morgana,” Tom murmured as she pulled back the blanket covering the small child’s head, exposing the jagged curse scar on the sweaty forehead. “It’s little Harry Potter.”
~*~*~
Severus eased open the door of a guest room on the third floor of The Leaky Cauldron, wand drawn. Something had shaken the normally unflappable Tom; even though he had assured the Potions Master the room’s occupants were harmless, the dark wizard took no chances. Filius waited several paces behind the tall man, in case Severus needed back-up.
Mrs. Figg jumped when the young wizard opened the door. The man’s dark eyes and severe expression made him appear dangerous, but Tom had promised to send someone trustworthy to help her.
“Are you the healer?” she asked, holding Harry protectively in her lap.
“Severus Snape,” he introduced himself. “I am a Potions Master, but I also have a strong background in basic healing. Filius, come in and ward the door.”
“Oh, my,” the tiny wizard squeaked. “I’d better floo Albus…”
“No!” Mrs. Figg shouted in alarm, startling them. “He will just tell me Harry can not leave the protection of his aunt’s house. I have told him time and time again that the Dursley’s are abusive, but he insists that Harry remain behind the wards for protection…but what good does it do to protect Harry from the outside world if Vernon Dursley maims him first?”
“What do you want us to do, Madam?” Filius asked gently, trying to get a good look at the child savior burrowed against her chest.
“What I *want* is for Child Protective Services to remove Harry from Number 4 Privet Drive and place him in a loving home…but when Number 6 reported the Dursleys, Albus Dumbledore obliviated everyone and sent Harry right back to them…but right now, what I *need* is a healer. The poppet needs medical attention.”
At Severus’ instruction, the boy was placed on the bed. Harry was obviously in pain and his skin was flushed with fever. The Potions Master noted the worn, oversized clothing with disgust. A flick of his wand banished the child’s outer clothing, leaving the too thin child shivering in a pair of faded cartoon character y-fronts.
Harry’s eyes opened for the first time and Severus found himself staring into a pair of familiar emerald green eyes. His mother’s eyes. Lily’s eyes.
Severus could see the fear in the boy’s eyes as he ran a series of diagnostic scans over the tiny body, but Harry never made a sound. Bruises decorated the emaciated figure in deliberate patterns; no mere fall could have caused that sort of marking. The Potions Master gently squeezed the edge of an infected bite mark on the boy’s left calf, a foul puss oozed. No wonder the child was feverish; infection coursed through his body. Both forearms were swollen, angry black bruises ringed both limbs.
“Why was Potter not taken to a Muggle doctor?”
“A doctor would ask too many questions.”
Severus snorted. A rubbish collector would take one look at the child and ask questions.
“I am assuming this is an animal bite…when was he bitten?”
“Three days ago…Vernon’s sister has a vicious bulldog and she thought it amusing to sic it on Harry. It kept after him and she wouldn’t call it off. Harry was stuck up a tree for over an hour. If it wasn’t for the postman and Number 2’s hosepipe, when poor Harry fell out of the tree, Ripper would have torn out his throat.”
Severus made some notes in a small notebook he always carried. Along with the infected bite, high fever and obvious malnutrition, Harry also had fractures in both forearms and a multitude of bruises and abrasions. The palm of his left hand bore an older scar in the partial shape of the circular heating element found on Muggle electrical stoves.
The green eyes stoically observed him; Severus added a final note in his notebook. Whether from poor diet, genetics, or a combination of both, Harry was in dire need of optical correction.
“Filius, how soon do we have until the next group of Muggleborns arrive to be chaperoned through Diagon Alley?”
Filius cast a Tempus charm. “Twenty minutes…Tom could probably delay them a bit more with butterbeer…Muggleborns have never had it before and they seem to enjoy the novelty of it…How is the lad?”
“He’s not good…and there’s no time to Apparate to Hogwarts and back to get the potions in my storerooms.” Severus thought a moment. “But I should be able to get ready-made from Jigger and Suggs. Not as good as my custom brew, of course, but more than adequate.”
“The students and their parents will all need to stop at Gringott’s Bank to exchange currency. I can handle that by myself…and you could catch up with me as soon as you get him stable.”
“Mrs. Figg?”
Mrs. Figg looked up from the bed. She was sponge bathing Harry with tepid water to keep his fever from climbing.
“How soon will the Dursleys notice Harry is missing?”
“Not until next Thursday.”
“Pardon me?” Filius had expected her to say ‘after tea’ or later that evening.
“Vernon took Petunia and Dudley to somewhere in Portugal on holiday this morning and left Harry in my care…They won’t return until late Thursday.”
“They left him with you in this condition?” The elderly Squib nodded. “Didn’t they think you would take him to Hospital?”
“Vernon threatened me…told me he’d kill all my cats if either Harry or I caused trouble.” She squared her shoulders. “I wanted to owl Dumbledore…but based on previous communications, I knew he wouldn’t listen.”
Severus looked apprehensively at the damaged child and the elderly babysitter. He struggled to retain his mask of indifference. How could Dumbledore continue to ignore the obvious signs of abuse at the Dursley household? Had Albus ever personally checked up on the boy? Harry Potter was the Wizarding World’s beloved Boy-Who-Lived; Severus always assumed the child would be a spoiled, pampered brat, but it was obvious that Harry was anything but pampered.
“Severus,” Filius joined the dark wizard by the doorway. “This doesn’t make sense…”
“Do you think it’s a test of my loyalty?” his voice was uncharacteristically strained.
A test? Flitwick looked up at the dour Potions Master and thought back on the travails in the young professor’s life. Was Albus Dumbledore capable of injuring a small child just to determine where a man’s loyalties lay? Severus would be spending the rest of his life atoning for a deadly lapse of judgement made when he was barely seventeen. It was no secret Albus held the dark wizard on a very short leash and the threat of Azkaban often hung heavily in the air.
The Charms professor looked at the other occupants in the room. Yes, he decided, Albus was capable of setting such a test, or taking advantage of a situation that dropped in his lap. Harry and Mrs. Figg were as much his pawns as was Severus.
Different strategies bounced quickly through the professor’s mind. If this was indeed a trap, Mrs. Figg and Harry were bait, not willing participants. But Filius did not see Albus’ hand in this particular crisis – there would be no way he could predict a child falling out of a tree.
“I don’t think Albus even knows Madam Figg brought Harry to Diagon Alley, but that’s not to say he isn’t aware of the less than ideal living conditions at the Dursley home. Both Minerva and Hagrid spoke strongly against leaving Harry with his Muggle aunt. He brushed their concerns away like biscuit crumbs.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“We escort the Muggleborn First Years and their parents through Diagon Alley as planned. It will take a few hours for the potions you procure for the child to work through his system and begin lowering his fever. He’ll need to stay in bed.
“The Dursleys won’t return for at least a week so we will return Harry and his sitter to Surrey once we finish with the students. If this is a test set by the Headmaster, he will see that you handled the crisis in a discrete manner…that you put aside your animosity for James and healed his son before escorting Mrs. Figg and Harry back to the Muggle world, back to his aunt’s blood protection, back to the life Albus deems he should live.”
“And if we determine that it is not a trap?”
“You will heal the physical injuries…and then you will return to Hogwart’s and brew your potions for Poppy. Only…and only if Albus asks will you tell him…that Harry Potter is arrogant and spoiled…just like his father…that in the future he can just go to St. Mungo’s like any other common wizard.”
Filius smiled, a little plan forming in his mind. Due to his diminutive stature, people often underestimated him. He was a world renowned dueling champion and a battle tactician. While he admired Dumbledore for his many accomplishments, he did not agree with the elderly wizard’s habit of sacrificing living creatures for the “Greater Good.” No one should be an unwilling pawn.
Filius would do his best to remove Severus from this particular chessboard. The former Death Eater and spy did not deserve the constant threat of Azkaban overshadowing his existence. The small wizard cast a Tempus to determine the time and let out a little squeak. He would have to think about this unexpected dilemma later; right now he had a room full of First Years waiting down the stairs.
Severus followed him down to the main pub, but left for the Apothecary at a brisk clip. Minerva and Pomona would ask questions if they didn’t see him herding the Muggleborn students through the shoppes. Thankfully Mr. Jigger pulled him to the back and waited on him personally so he did not have to stand in the long line of students purchasing their required potions ingredients.
Severus closed his dark eyes. Not only did they need to protect Harry Potter from his abusive relatives and stray Death Eaters, they also needed to protect him from a neglectful Headmaster. And now, they apparently had to protect an elderly Squib and a house full of cats as well. The dark wizard rubbed his eyes; with the headache that was brewing, he may as well pickup a headache powder from Jigger and Sugg’s as well.
~*~*~
Propped up with pillows at his back, Harry snuggled into the soft upholstery of Mrs. Figg’s flowered sofa. He petted a cat that curled up in his lap as he watched “Thomas and Friends” on the television. He didn’t often get to see television at the Dursleys, but he often listened to it while locked in his cupboard. It was nice to finally see what Thomas, Gordon and all the other cheeky little engines looked like.
His high fever had broken late the evening before, but he was still quite drained. Mrs. Figg only let him up to use the loo; as weak as he was, Harry was glad he wasn’t at home with a list of chores to do.
He was so very confused. He had convinced himself that Mrs. Figg taking him to a place where everyone wore long dresses, even the men, had been a fever dream, but one of the men from his dream had just appeared out of thin air into the middle of the kitchen.
Harry observed Mrs. Figg talking to the tall man called “Severus.” Harry was brimming with questions, but he knew he had to stay silent no matter how much he wanted answers. Years with Uncle Vernon taught him that questions always led to being locked in his cupboard with no meals.
Severus observed his patient as he conversed with Mrs. Figg. He tried to ignore the fluffy half kneazle wrapping itself around his ankles and shedding orange fur on his black trousers.
“How is he?”
“His temperature is still higher than normal, but the Fever Reducer is bringing it down. He had a bit of a rough night with the Skele-gro.”
Severus nodded. Pushing the persistent feline away with his foot, he strode toward the boy. Harry squinted up at the Potions Master, wondering if he always looked so frightening.
“Show me your arms.” Harry was wearing striped oversized pajamas, the hems folded over several times. Harry blinked at him and then added a few more folds to the sleeves. He fought a flinch when Severus caught one hand and ran long fingers up his forearms. “Do you still have pain?”
Harry shook his head. Severus pushed the loose pajama bottoms up to his knees and examined the blue-black and yellowish green circular bruises that dotted his calves and shins.
“These were not caused by your fall from the tree,” Severus stated flatly.
“Fell down the stairs,” Harry replied, repeating the story his Aunt Petunia drilled into him.
The Potions Master scowled, peering down his large nose. Harry was a pathetic liar. He arched one thin eyebrow and Harry nibbled on his lower lip.
“How did you get these bruises?” he asked again.
“Harry Hunting,” Harry whispered.
“Harry…Hunting? I have never heard of that game.”
Harry looked away.
“Duddy and his friends chase me. If they catch me, they punch my arms and kick my legs.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very nice game.”
“No,” Harry agreed. A mischievous smile lit his face. “But they have a hard time catching me. I am very fast.”
As Severus rubbed a bruise salve on the marks, he couldn’t help but remember his own torment at the hands of the Marauders. The Muggle Bible said something about the sins of the father resting on the shoulders of the son. His vengeful heart tried to find satisfaction in Harry’s predicament, but the bullied child deep within Severus couldn’t find it in his heart to find pleasure in another’s bullied child’s pain.
~*~*~
Severus and Filius paid a final visit to Mrs. Figg’s small house the day before Vernon Dursley and his family returned to Surrey. They apparated into the kitchen, finding it oddly quiet. The kitchen was clean, no scattered cat dishes on the floor. And no cats either.
Drawing his wand, the younger man walked through the parlor; the room was empty.
“Mrs. Figg?” he called. His voice echoed. “Harry?”
But there was no reply.
~*~*~
2
~*~*~
“One cannot play chess if one becomes aware of the pieces as living souls
and the fact that the Whites and the Blacks have more in common with each other
than with the players. Suddenly one loses all interest in who will be champion.”
- Anatol Rapoport
~*~*~
September First came too soon and Severus found his days busy with a new crop of Slytherin First Years, fourteen classes of varying lengths, homework to correct, detentions to supervise and potions to brew. As the weeks passed, Harry Potter, Arabella Figg and the cats faded to the back of his mind.
The Potions Master stalked into his Fifth Year Slytherin-Gryffindor Double Potions class. Tension in the classroom was running high. He had already broken up one scuffle on his way back from lunch. With the House rivalries growing more vicious as the years progressed, the Heads of House could not understand Dumbledore’s insistence on pairing Slytherins with the Gryffindors. Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff, would have been a much saner pairing.
Severus lectured for the first third of the class. He took the students step by step through the brewing process and then set the students to brew the OWL level potion. The dark wizard strode through the work tables, checking on the students progress, pausing to banish the contents of a cauldron containing an unidentifiable sludge.
He made his way over to the Gryffindor side of the room, idly noting that Charlie Weasley’s potion was the correct color and consistency for that stage of brewing. Severus had just passed the row of tables when he saw something sail from the Slytherin side of the room and land squarely in Charlie’s cauldron.
“Bugger,” Charlie shouted as his simmering potion splashed up, burning his hands and chin.
Just as Severus was about to berate the boy for his language, the potion began to foam over the rim, billowing noxious fumes.
“Everyone out!” The Potions Master ordered and the students scrambled for the door. Severus pushed Charlie just as the sabotaged potion exploded. He felt his lungs burning; the heavy worktable toppled over, crushing one of his legs. He screamed and knew no more.
~*~*~
Severus slowly returned to consciousness. His throat burned and it felt as if a heavy weight was on his chest. His mind felt a little blurred around the edges and he recognized the fuzziness to be an after affect of a pain potion. Even though his eyes were still shut, he could tell that the room was very bright – too bright to be the Hogwart’s Infirmary, especially in November.
He opened his eyes and then closed them immediately. The room was awash in bright sunlight. He opened his eyes again and let them adjust to the light.
Severus tried to move, but found himself immobilized on the bed. His eyes darted around, taking in the few details he could make out. Above him was a cracked plaster ceiling and what little of the wall he could see seemed to be painted a yellow-gold. White gauze bed curtains fluttered from the frame of the four post bed.
He inhaled; the air was perfumed with the fragrance of flowers with the slightest undercurrent of manure. He could hear birds and the flutter of leaves in the wind. Where in Merlin’s name was he, he wondered. It was too sunny and temperate to be Scotland. He heard footsteps approach the bed.
“You are awake. Good. Good.”
Severus could just make out a squat black shape at the edge of his vision. The voice spoke English with a heavy Italian accent. An older woman, wearing the black headscarf and black dress of a widow leaned over him. She placed a glass of clear liquid at his lips.
“Drink,” she said. “It is sterile water.”
Severus felt the cool liquid slide down his throat, the liquid easing the burning of his throat tissues.
“Not just water,” he croaked.
“Fili did warn me you were a Potions Master.” She smiled. “There is a mild numbing agent and a mild Pepper-Up in the water.”
Who the hell was Fili, he wondered. He licked his dry lips. “Wh…”
“My name is Sofia Montefeltro. I am a Healer specializing in Potions-related injuries. You have been in a potions-induced sleep for a week and a half. You were injured very severely. Do you remember what happened?”
“Exploding cauldron…the students?”
“A few minor injuries…nothing the Hogwart’s Matron could not handle.” Severus’ eyes widened when the woman pulled a wand from the sleeve of her dress. She patted his shoulder. “Be at ease, Potions Master. I must check the progress of your healing to see if I may remove the body bind.”
“Why…am I…bound?”
“Your lungs were burnt very badly. Whatever was thrown into that child’s cauldron was not a harmless joke. The fumes were caustic.”
Severus closed his eyes. He heard the healer casting her diagnostic spells. The paralysis faded from the upper half of his body. Asking his permission first, Sofia lifted him slightly and placed pillows beneath his back and head. Severus took a deep breath and began to cough, his lungs trying to clear the congestion that had built up.
“We must be careful pneumonia does not set in.”
Severus looked around the room. He was not in Hospital; he was in a private residence. Propped up by the pillows he could see out the window. Rolling hills were decorated with flowers, fruit trees and rows of vegetables as far as he could see.
The feeling in his lower extremities finally returning, Severus shifted in the bed, pain shooting up his right foot. He looked down and blanched. Where his right foot should be, the bedding was flat. Tearing at the coverlet, he stared at his right leg in horror; heavy bandages covered the stump of his leg.
Sofia’s wizened hand rested on the dark wizard’s arm. Her brown eyes showed sympathy, but not pity and Severus appreciated that.
“When the work table collapsed, it severed your leg just below the knee. At first, they thought they could re-attach it, but the damage to the foot and ankle was just too severe.”
“So,” he said slowly, “I have a peg leg…to look forward to.”
“Silly boy. I forgot how backward English wizards are. Muggles have made great advancements in prosthetics.” Sofia’s face took on a calculating expression. “Or are you a wizard that thinks all Muggles are barbarians?”
Severus snorted. “I am…Half-Blood. And as far…as Muggles go…my father was…fairly barbaric. I may not…hold a high opinion…of Muggles in general…but only…a fool…would underestimate…their technology.”
Severus began to cough again; he was having a hard time catching his breath. Drained, he sank into the pillows.
“Why am I…not in Hospital?”
“Your injuries were too severe for the Hogwart’s Mediwitch and Fili said you had too many enemies to be left defenseless in St. Mungo’s. He said something strange when he asked me if I could take you under my wing. He said he didn’t trust the Chessmaster to defend his pawn.”
And then it clicked. Fili. Filius Flitwick.
“How do you…know Flitwick?”
Sofia smiled, showing teeth too perfect to be her own. “I have known Fili since we were children. I met him on the Junior Dueling circuit and we became training partners. When I was still in my prime, I was often the Woman’s Champion and Filius often bested the men. He is my dearest friend; I would do anything he asked of me.”
Sofia’s smile faded slightly and her eyes took on the sheen of tears. “My youngest son was murdered in the summer of 1981 while in London on business. He had refused to support either side in your war, and your Ministry refused to send an auror to investigate. Fili took care of it and then escorted my baby’s body home. Everyone always underestimates him because he is so small, but within that chest beats the heart of a giant.”
The healer set a potion vial on the table beside the bed. “But I have tired you out with my chatter. You need to rest a bit while I make you something light to eat. There is a pain potion if you need it.”
The witch walked toward the door, pausing inside the frame. “When you awake, I have a little surprise for you.”
~*~*~
Severus wasn’t certain when he drifted off, but he awoke with a start. Someone was trying to sneak into the room, but was failing miserably. Severus opened his eyes and turned toward the sound. He blinked. A five year old boy was standing beside his bed. A little boy with messy dark hair and bright green eyes - Lily’s eyes.
“Hello,” Harry said softly. “Are you awake?”
“Where did…you come from?” he asked in bemusement.
“Nonna sent me from the kitchen to see if you were awake. I’ll go tell her.” Harry scurried out of the bedroom and clattered down the stairs. “Nonna, he’s awake!”
Severus pushed himself up into a sitting position and paused to catch his breath. It felt as if several of his ribs were broken, but those would have been simple to heal and there was no binding around his chest. How badly damaged were his lungs? If they couldn’t be healed further than this, he would never be able to brew again.
Sofia entered the bedroom alone, carrying a tray with a bowl of broth and two mugs of black tea. She settled the tray across his lap.
“We’ll start out with liquids and then move on to easily digestible food.”
Severus took a sip of the tea. Definitely not Earl Gray, he thought. He set the mug aside and picked up the spoon. Staring straight into Sofia’s eyes, he spoke, “Well, I believe…I met your…little surprise. Why is…Harry Potter here…and why does he…call you Grandmother?”
“Hadrian Michele Montefeltro,” she replied. “My youngest son, Michele, rest his soul, was unmarried when he died. He did, however, share a passionate relationship with a Welsh witch, who shall remain unnamed. Her new fiancé refuses to raise her bastard child and she sent Hadrian to me. I have a Birth Certificate to prove it.”
“Indeed,” Severus slowly smirked. “And now…the truth, please.”
“Fili portkeyed into my garden on the twenty-third of August with a sick and abused little boy. He asked me if I would keep him. I, of course, agreed.”
“Do you…know who he is?”
“He is a friendless little orphan boy in need of love and I am a lonely widow with love in abundance. All this rubbish about an infant annihilating a dark lord…pah…What kind of future could he have with all this Boy-Who-Lived nonsense?” She took a sip of the tea. “Filius said you healed him and didn’t tell that demented Dumblebee. Did you protect him only because he was the designated savior?”
“No…He has…his mother’s eyes…I swore…to protect him…on the day…Lily died.”
~*~*~
It was still dark when the phantom pain from his missing right foot woke him. He could hear the insects buzz and moonlight illuminated the rolling fields.
Severus’ mind mulled the events of the day. He was at a farm, somewhere in Italy, too damaged to get out of bed on his own, wandless, at the mercy of a stranger, and sharing a house with Harry Potter.
Hadrian Montefeltro, he corrected himself. In the months since he had last seen the child, Harry had blossomed. He was still very thin, but his gaunt face was filling out. Severus was certain the boy’s “grandmother” was closely monitoring his diet, supplementing it with necessary nutrients. The tiny boy had even grown a little taller.
When Mrs. Figg, Harry, and assorted felines disappeared from the little house on Magnolia Crescent, Severus assumed the batty cat woman had finally had enough of Albus Dumbledore’s manipulations and indifference, and had taken Harry and run. Flitwick was with him when they discovered that the pair was gone. Never once had the Charms professor given any indication that his small hands were involved at all. The dark wizard did not know where Arabella Figg now resided, but he never would have expected Filius Flitwick to have such a trusted accomplice in Italy.
Everyone did underestimate the diminutive wizard.
~*~*~
3
~*~*~
“Pawns are born free, yet are everywhere in chains”
- Andrew Soltis
~*~*~
The Potions Master’s eyes were closed as he lay in the darkened bedroom. Voices and music drifted through the door from the Yule festivities taking place on another floor of Sofia’s house. Although Severus knew he was not a social creature by nature, he had never been truly alone during the winter holidays before. Unable to leave the bed or even sit up on his own, feelings of abandonment only added to his growing depression.
His eyes opened at the sound of light footsteps coming toward his room. Harry, he thought. The child had sought refuge in his quiet rooms several times in the past few days. Always locked in the cupboard while the Dursleys celebrated their family Christmas, Harry had no memories of ever receiving a gift before, so the broken child was easily overwhelmed by the lively Montefeltro celebration.
“Severus? Are you awake?” It was not Harry’s voice.
“Filius?”
“How are you feeling, my boy?” The diminutive wizard bounced into the room. A quick flick of his wand lit a few lamps, illuminating the room in a soft glow. He pulled miniaturized packages from his festive robes and enlarged them.
“We located your wand in the wreckage. It was scratched up a bit, but Ollivander checked it over and said it had not been damaged. Sofia owled that you were going to be here awhile, so I took the liberty of bringing some of your books and robes.”
“Thank…you.” Severus curled his long fingers around his wand; the comforting pulse of magic soothed him.
“How…did I…get here?” he wheezed.
“Fawkes brought you here. If not for his tears, you would have died before Hagrid finished digging you out of the wreckage.”
“Give him…a cockroach…cluster…for me.” Severus closed his eyes. Even that small bit of conversation had tired him out.
~*~*~
Severus struggled to catch his breath as he slowly made his way to the sunny kitchen. He was very careful not to catch the crutches on the uneven floor. His lungs burned. Always conscious of his image, he eased himself onto one of the chairs, resting the crutches against the arm of the chair beside him.
Sofia looked up from the stove in amusement. The stubborn English wizard refused assistance of any kind, afraid to show any sign of weakness. But having raised four sons and six grandsons, she was used to an overabundance of testosterone. Sofia set her fragrant brew on a simmer and glanced up at the clock.
“Hadrian,” she called.
“Coming, Nonna.”
Harry appeared in the kitchen a moment later, slightly disheveled in his school uniform. His tie was hanging unevenly from a bulky knot. With years of practice, Sofia quickly retied the tie and combed his hair back neatly, the slight sheen revealing the liberal use of a hair potion.
“Good morning, Mr. Snape,” Harry said politely. “I am glad that you are feeling better.”
Severus nodded. He examined the little boy flitting around the kitchen, collecting his school supplies into a satchel with the name La Piccola Scuola di Magia (The Little School of Magic) printed beneath a coat of arms. Harry adjusted a new pair of silver rimmed spectacles on his nose, brushing back a stray curl on his forehead.
His clear forehead. Severus looked at the boy with a start and then looked at the elderly witch.
“What happened…to…his scar?” Severus wheezed.
“It is a curse scar, you know?” Severus nodded. “Therefore, it can not be healed, can not be removed, can not be glamoured…but…it can be moved. Show Severus your scar, Hadrian.”
Harry nibbled on his lower lip shyly, but obeyed his guardian. He pulled up the bottom hem of his grey uniform shorts until it revealed the infamous lightening bolt scar high on his right thigh. Harry smoothed down the fabric.
Severus looked at the witch in admiration. That was an obscure bit of high level magic.
“I need to leave for school now, Nonna.”
Sofia plucked a gold necklace with a heavy coin pendant from a hook on the wall. She hung it around the child’s neck, kissing his cheek. She wrapped his fingers tightly around the coin.
“Conoscenza (knowledge),” she stated clearly, triggering the portkey. Harry disappeared from the kitchen.
“You permit…a five year…old to port…key alone?” Severus was astounded.
“It is a one-way portkey that goes directly to the school. It can only be activated by those specifically keyed into it.” The witch began to bustle about her kitchen, pulling together a light meal for her patient. “La Piccola Scuola has been using this method for over a century and they have never misplaced a child. Can you imagine the mayhem if we sent them out by Floo? Those little souls would be bouncing out of incorrect hearths all over Italy.”
~*~*~
Basin filled with a simmering infusion, Severus inhaled the healing steam deep into his lungs. He could feel some of the tightness loosen as the steam opened the passages in his lungs. He was hopeful the twice daily regimen would quicken the healing of his scarred lung tissue.
He pushed his limp, black hair away from his flushed face when he heard the familiar sound of a Postal Owl. He sighed in irritation when he saw the Hogwart’s crest on the missive.
~*~*~
Harry looked at his homework sheet in frustration. He had looked forward to attending La Piccola Scuola, but he was far behind. Ignored by the Dursleys, he had never attended pre-school so he did not know his letters and numbers very well. And everything being taught in Italian made it all the harder.
He wouldn’t ask Nonna for help. She had already done so much for him. He didn’t want her to know he was too dim-witted to go to school.
Harry heard Severus coughing; he sounded horrible. Tucking his homework under his arm, he peered in the bedroom. The older wizard was sitting up in bed, staring out the window, with a book forgotten in his lap. Hearing Harry’s approach, he looked up.
“Hello. Should I get Nonna?”
“No. I am fine.”
“But your cough,” Harry protested. “It sounds really bad.”
“The cough…is actually..a sign of healing.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “The cough...is loosening…the congestion…in my lungs…making it…easier to breathe.”
“Okay,” Harry answered, not sounding convinced. “Can I get you anything?”
“No,” Severus replied, oddly pleased at the interruption of the monotony of his day. “What do you…have under…your arm?”
“My homework,” he replied sadly. “But I can’t do it.”
“Whyever not?”
Harry scuffed his feet. “I’m too stupid. I don’t know my letters and numbers.”
Severus closed his eyes and bit back an expletive. Here was another blatant sign of neglect. How difficult would it have been for Petunia Dursley to include her nephew in the nursery games she must have played with her own son? In a move that would have stunned the entirety of Hogwarts, Severus patted the mattress beside him. “Perhaps…I may be…of assistance.”
Mindful of the Potions Master’s damaged leg, Harry carefully perched beside the severe wizard. “Nonna says you’re a professor in Scotland. Is a professor a teacher for smart people?”
“I teach…many intelligent children…as well as…an occasional…dunderhead.”
Harry’s wide green eyes bored into him from a too serious face. “Am I a dunderhead?”
A smile played about the man’s thin lips. “That remains…to be seen.”
~*~*~
Severus sipped a glass of red wine and wondered vaguely if he were imbibing in liquid courage. The afternoon sun soothed him as he waited for an unwanted visitor. Sofia sat beside him, her knitting pins flying in her nimble fingers.
Albus Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey arrived via a blind portkey. Banishing her knitting back into the house, the elderly healer surveyed her guests, idly wondering which would prove to be more difficult.
After exchanging polite greetings, Sofia excused herself for a moment. Poppy swooped down on her colleague, her wand in motion. Severus heard the soft tisks as she read her scans. Albus folded his hands behind his back and peered down his crooked nose at his absent Potions Master.
“How are you feeling, my boy?” The Headmaster’s voice was pleasant, but the blue eyes were cold. They did not twinkle.
“He’s lucky to be alive.” Poppy tisked again, wand making a third pass over his chest. “Filius was right to send him here. Madam Montefeltro has certainly worked wonders.”
“Good.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Then it’s time for Severus to return home.”
“Heavens no, Albus!” Poppy tucked her wand into her pocket. “I said she worked wonders, not performed miracles. His lungs are badly scarred; it will take months to remove the scar tissue. And even then, his lungs may be irreparably damaged.”
“You can treat…”
“No, Sig. Dumbledore.” Sofia returned, holding a tea tray. “Severus will remain in my care until he is as cured as I can make him. He needs to sit in the sun and breathe the warm air. If he returns to Scotland with you now, he will be dead of pneumonia within the week.”
“Did you…” Severus began to cough. After a moment, the spasms abated. His chest ached. “Did you…discover...what caused…the explosion?”
“Anthony Rosier has been suspended for the remainder of the school year. He wanted to remove Gryffindor’s seeker before the next quidditch match.”
“Charles…Weasley.” Severus paused to catch his breath. “Landed…in his cauldron. Was he…were…any of the…children…injured?”
“You saved his life, Severus,” Poppy replied gently. “He said you pushed him to safety just before the explosion. Mr. Weasley suffered burns on his face and hands, nothing more.”
“Quidditch…this was…about quidditch?” Severus sank back into the chaise. His life and livelihood were destroyed because of a schoolboy rivalry over a game.
Trying to pull Severus out of his funk, Poppy began to talk, updating him on all the Hogwart’s gossip. Severus smiled respectfully and let her prattle on. Dumbledore was quietly sulking, his attempt at recapturing his pawn momentarily blocked by two formidable witches.
Severus jerked out of his stupor. He heard the sound of apparition in the kitchen and realized Harry was returning from school. His dark eyes darted to Sofia, but she just smiled serenely.
“Sono a casa, Nonna,” Harry’s sweet voice called from the kitchen. His small shoes clattered across the floor as he ran excitedly into the garden. “Ho dei voti perfetti, Sig. Snape.”
Seeing the unexpected visitors, the boy skidded to a halt. He clutched a piece of paper in his hand as he shyly smiled. “Ciao.”
Sofia beckoned the child toward her and gave him a hug. She unrolled the crumpled page, smiled, and handed it to Severus. Harry had scored a perfect mark on his maths quiz.
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, examining the little boy. Upon noticing distinctive green eyes, he automatically flicked his eyes to the child’s forehead. Seeing the unmarked expanse, he shook himself mentally; this slight Italian boy was of no consequence. Little Harry Potter was still safely secured behind the wards in Surrey.
~*~*~
Dumbledore and Poppy left shortly after Harry returned from school. It was only after they left that Severus realized Harry had never once spoken in English, nor had he indicated that he understood a word the Headmaster or the Mediwitch said.
Sofia banished the tea set, replacing it with the wine they were previously drinking. She did not understand the English fascination with tea.
“He is a persistent old goat,” Sofia finally said. “He has an unhealthy obsession with you. But I do hope you realize that if you truly wish to leave, I would not stop you. How dare he act as if you were a possession he could move about at will?”
Severus looked around. Harry was still in the house changing out of his school clothes.
“Filius calls him…the Chessmaster…we are merely…his pawns.” Severus set his wineglass aside. “If Dumbledore continues…to be persistent…you must promise me…that you…will not oppose him. My previous actions…have already damned…my future…Dumbledore can hang… the threat of…Azkaban…over my head…but Harry must…be kept off…the board…at all costs.”
“What have you done to deserve Azkaban?”
“At seventeen…I allowed myself to be seduced…by the power of…the Dark Lord. I willingly… joined…and later…in an attempt to find favor…relayed part of a prophesy…I overheard… never realizing…that it would…target my dearest…childhood friend…Lily. I threw myself…on Dumbledore’s mercy…hoping that he…could protect her…but it was too late…My actions…led directly to the death…of Harry’s parents.
“Suspected of being…a Death Eater…I spent months…as a prisoner…in Azkaban…awaiting my trial. Paralyzed by guilt…I offered no defense…Albus Dumbledore convinced…the Wizengamont…that I was a spy…for the Light…and should be exonerated…And so…I found myself…on a very short leash…condemned to teach…Potions to dunderheads…who would… rather be playing…quidditch.”
“So that is why Fili said you had too many enemies. Neither the Dark or the Light trust you not to reveal their secrets.”
“I don’t want…to endanger you…I will leave…as soon as I can…make arrangements.”
“English politics mean little in Italy. We have never subscribed to the clearly defined divisions of Light and Dark magic. As a rule, most European wizards are Grey. We have a very good sense of self preservation.”
Severus decided to change the topic. “Why did Harry speak…only Italian…when Dumbledore…was here?”
“Because Nonna told me to speak English only when alone with you or Uncle Filius,” Harry answered softly. They had not heard him approach. “Was that the wizard that made me stay with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, even after Mrs. Figg asked for help?”
“Yes.”
“Then I am glad Nonna moved my scar.”
______________
Nonna – Grandmother (Italian)
Sono a casa, Nonna - I am home, Grandmother
Ho dei voti perfetti, Sig. Snape - I have perfect marks, Mr. Snape
~*~*~
4
~*~*~
“The pawns are the soul of chess.”
- Philidor
~*~*~
Severus bore weight on his prosthetic right leg, his knuckles wrapping around the head of the sturdy cane he carried to help with his balance. With time, he might be able to discard the cane altogether. He still tired easily, but the breathing treatments had lessened some of the scarring.
In the nearly six months it had taken his damaged body to heal, his mind had not been idle. Trapped in bed by the healer, he had used his time to learn Italian, for research and for writing. “Potion’s Monthly” paid him thirty galleons and a free subscription for an article he submitted on Murlap, and “The Herbologist’s Almanak” contracted a 3-part series of articles dealing with the alarming trend of flavoring potions to make them more palatable.
Severus limped to the window, watching Harry in the garden below. The boy was astride an ancient Cleansweep broom, floating low to the ground. Harry would spend hours on the broom, delighted when he could cajole a visiting older cousin to take him up on an actual flight. James Potter had been a natural on a broom; Severus wondered if Harry would inherit the man’s skill at quidditch.
A flash of red and gold took his attention from the window. Fawkes was perched on the back of a chair, a roll of parchment in one claw.
“Hello, Fawkes.”
Fawkes ducked his head, an almost apologetic expression on his face. Severus petted the phoenix and removed the missive. Fawkes trilled.
“It is always a pleasure to see you, too. I don’t blame you for the Headmaster’s actions.”
During his slow recovery from the sabotaged potion, Dumbledore’s demand that Severus honor his teaching contract escalated. To get respite from thrice weekly owls and to avoid a lawsuit, Severus reluctantly agreed to return to Hogwarts in time for the new school year. To speed their final negotiations, an inpatient Dumbledore began to send his phoenix; the Postal Owls were taking too long to make a round trip.
Severus was not looking forward to his return to Scotland. He liked the temperate Italian weather and the delicious food and wine. He had never been a fan of the stodgy meals served at Hogwarts; he knew he would miss the azure skies. And he really was not looking forward to the return of his restricted life beneath Dumbledore’s thumb.
But most of all, he would miss Lily’s son.
Whether Dumbledore was willing to accept reality or not, drastic modifications had to be made prior to the Potions Master’s return to the castle. He could no longer live or work in the dungeons. The bone chilling dampness would swiftly compromise his weakened lungs; the stone floors and moving staircases would prove another type of challenge for his right leg. Severus wasn’t even certain he had the stamina to brew potions for the Infirmary in addition to a full teaching schedule. And he really hoped that Professor Sinistra was willing to retain her position as temporary Head of Slytherin House.
But for now, he would cast those worries aside.
~*~*~
Severus’ hand rested on top of Harry’s much smaller one as he corrected the child’s grasp of a knife. The remains of several different herbs and flowers were scattered across the worktable as Harry learned different methods of preparing vegetation for both cooking and brewing.
At first Harry was terrified of his lessons in the kitchen, which perplexed Severus until he remembered the burn scar on the boy’s palm. After reassurance that he would not be punished if he made a mistake, Harry began to enjoy the lessons. Severus was often surprised by the questions the boy would ask. Obviously the boy took after Lily; Harry assimilated knowledge like a sponge.
~*~*~
On the morning of Harry’s sixth birthday, Gianni Montefeltro arrived. The twenty-six year old Montefeltro heir was a Cursebreaker, specializing in Greco-Roman antiquities. In a month, he was going to be assisting on the excavation of an ancient ruin near the ghost city of Pompeii, but for now, he planned to relax with his family.
Gianni shared a late breakfast with his grandmother as he observed the other two members of her household. Harry was floating above the herb garden on the Cleansweep, making wide circles around Severus, who was collecting specimens. The Potions Master occasionally pointed to a plant and, if Harry did not know what it was called and two uses for the ingredient, he would introduce the child to the taste, smell and texture of the plant.
“So, is that the infamous Potions Master Severus Snape?” Gianni asked, playfully. “Aunt Caterina thinks it is scandalous you have been unchaperoned with this man for nearly half a year. She is convinced he is planning to seduce you for the contents of your Gringott’s vault.”
“Meddlesome cow,” The eighty-nine year old witch chuckled. “I don’t think he is interested in witches quite that way. If your sister, Giuliana, didn’t turn his head, I seriously doubt my wrinkled bag of bones would. Besides, Hadrian is my chaperone.”
“Ah yes, my cousin.” Gianni watched Harry hover on the decrepit broom. “He needs a better broom.”
“Why? It was good enough for you. It was good enough for your cousins.”
“And it was a battered old broom even then. I am amazed that ancient pile of sticks still flies.”
~*~*
Harry’s eyes sparkled as he held his brand new training wand. He giggled when a shower of sparks erupted from the tip. The tingle in his fingertips was an unexpected sensation. He gave it a wild wave, but Severus caught his wrist in mid arc.
“A wand, even a training wand, is not a toy. You will need to learn how to control your magic.”
“Sorry, Mr. Snape.” Harry nibbled on his lower lip.
“You will learn proper wand movements with time, Hadrian. Soon, it will be second nature. Now, before we are invaded by your family, we have just enough time to practice one spell. Do you want to try?”
“Yes, please.”
“Hold your wand like so.” Severus adjusted Harry’s small fingers, relaxing the tight digits. “Good. Now, do you feel anything?”
“It tingles.” Harry replied, awestruck.
“That’s your magic. Now, swish…” He guided Harry’s hands into the proper position. “…and flick… repeat after me…Lumos.”
“Lumos.” There was a feeble glow at the tip of the wand.
“Good. Now, let’s combine the wand movements with the incantation.”
“Lumos.”
The light flickered and died.
~*~*~
The Montefeltro clan began to arrive, bringing small gifts, baskets of food, boxes of sweets and wine. Uncomfortable with being the center of attention, an overwhelmed Harry tried to find refuge with his grandmother in the kitchen, but various well-meaning aunts and cousins kept shooing him into the garden.
With the youngest of his cousins being eight years older than him, Harry was content to stay on the sidelines, out of harm’s way. The teenagers were playing a brutal game of three on two quidditch. Harry didn’t know everything there was to know about quidditch by any means, but the game his cousins were playing did not at all resemble the professional team games his Uncle Alessandro took him to.
~*~*~
Severus felt like an intruder at the family gathering, but Sofia demanded his presence at the fete. While the majority of the Montefeltros treated him with casual politeness, a few regarded him suspiciously. They felt that the Englishman was taking advantage of Sofia’s good nature.
He settled in a chair, away from the tables. He adjusted his stump; he had not worn the prosthetic that afternoon because, in the heat, his stump needed a break from the tight fittings. His trouser leg was pinned up to keep it out of the way of the crutches.
Severus sipped on a glass of wine punch. It was much too fruity for his palate. He leaned his head back and looked up, watching the impromptu game of quidditch above. He closed his eyes, the late afternoon sun warm against his skin. The sounds of the celebration faded from his consciousness.
“Do you mind if I join you?” a male voice asked.
Severus controlled the urge to draw his wand. He knew he was in no danger. Opening his eyes, he saw Gianni blocking the sun. Severus gestured to the empty chair beside him.
Gianni reached over, picked up Severus’ half full wine glass and gave the contents a sniff. Wordlessly, he flung the contents of the glass into a shrub beside them. He summoned a bottle of wine from one of the tables and poured a dark red wine into Severus’ glass and his own. Severus took a tentative sip, and nodded.
“It’s a nice full bodied Sardinian wine.” Gianni gave a mischievous smile. “Unlike that fruity swill you were drinking, this is a wine for grown ups.”
“Indeed,” Severus replied. A shout from the quidditch players drew his attention skyward. “They play very well. Are they on their school teams?”
“No. We are sent to school to excel in our studies, not to waste time on a foolish game. Besides, we are Montefeltro. If we participate in any sport, it is Dueling.” The wizard shrugged. “And on occasion, Chess.”
“Yes. Your grandmother was Women’s Dueling Champion for many years.”
“Not just Nonna. My father and his brothers, too. I was International Men’s Champion for three years before I retired due to conflicts with my work schedule.” Gianni pointed to one of the flyers. “Luca is current Junior Men’s Champion.”
Angry shouts filled the sky and two of the boys abruptly landed. The teens exchanged heated words. One pushed the other and wands were drawn. Once the first hex was cast, the argument dissolved into a duel. The boys were evenly matched and the curses grew nastier.
“Isn’t anyone going to stop them?”
“No, the idiots are far enough away from everyone that no one will get hit with a stray hex. My brother Donato and my cousin Luca are always at one another’s throats.”
But Gianni was wrong. A terrified Harry was huddled against a fieldstone wall behind one of the duelers. The wall was too high for the small boy to jump over and there were no trees nearby for protection.
“Sweet Circe!” Gianni cursed and stood up, intending to rescue the six year old.
Lost in his anger, Luca cast a Bonebreaker Curse at his cousin. The other boy jumped out of the way, but the curse continued in a straight line, directly toward the unmoving Harry.
Gianni felt a spell shoot past his ear as he raised his wand.
“Protego!” Severus shouted and the shield enveloped Harry just as the Bonebreaker Curse hit. The curse bounced, and then slammed into the stone wall, sending stone shards in all directions.
“Expelliarmus!” Gianni cast, blasting back both of the boys. One wand he caught, the second clattered to his feet. He accioed it and tucked both wands in his waist.
The curse breaker swung Harry up in his arms and carried him over to Severus, where it was bound to be quieter. Behind him, angry mothers, fathers, aunts and uncles descended upon the scene.
“I think he’s more scared than hurt, but give him a quick onceover. I need to deal with those idiots.”
Gianni deposited Harry into Severus’ lap, watching the child immediately curl up into his chest. He took a few steps and then paused for a moment.
“That was an impressive shield. Do you duel?”
Severus’ eyes automatically fell to his amputated leg and then he looked up. “Not any more.”
~*~*~
Sofia ignored the crowd, making a beeline toward her grandson. She plucked him from Severus’ awkward embrace and pulled him into her own. The witch bent down and gave Severus a peck on the cheek.
“Thank you, Severus.” She settled into the chair Gianni vacated, Harry securely on her ample lap. “You cast that Protego accurately from quite a distance.”
Severus’ lip twisted into a smirk. “I am a teacher…Plenty of practice protecting hormonal dunderheads from melting cauldrons.”
“Among other things, I am sure.” Sofia replied, knowing he had used that shield for more than potion mishaps.
“Hadrian, why did you get so close to the duelers?”
“I didn’t, Nonna. I was away from everyone practicing my Lumos spell when they came right at me. There was no where to go.”
She petted him, convincing herself he was unharmed. The voices of her family members were rising and, after catching words she did not approve of, wanted to distract the boy. She was not so worried about Severus’ reactions; with his rudimentary knowledge of Italian, he would have difficulty following the rapid conversation.
“Will you show me your spell?”
“It’s not very good, but it’s getting better.” Harry held the training wand for a moment, his face a study in concentration. With a careful swish and flick, he cast his spell. “Lumos.”
The wand tip glowed momentarily and faded. He tried again, his voice a little stronger. “Lumos.”
The glow flickered.
“I don’t understand it,” Harry’s voice was frustrated. He relaxed the hand holding his wand onto his knee and spoke, waving his left hand for emphasis. “I swish and I flick, but when I say Lumos, it doesn’t…”
Harry stopped in mid-rant. A ball of light rested in the palm of his left hand. It did not fade away.
Severus and Sofia exchanged a look.
“I think,” Severus spoke slowly. “He needs something more than a toy wand.”
~*~*~
5
~*~*~
“You can not play at chess if you are kind hearted.”
- French Proverb
~*~*~
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that stunt you both pulled really was?” Gianni hissed, arms crossed, staring down at the two boys. Donato, ears already ringing from the lecture he received from both of his parents, looked sheepishly down at his trainers. Fourteen-year-old Luca stared defiantly at his oldest cousin.
“You owe an apology to everyone here. You owe an apology to Nonna for disrupting her home and damaging her property. And you especially owe an apology to Hadrian. If the Englishman hadn’t cast that shield, you would have killed him.”
Donato nodded his head, but Luca exploded.
“I will apologize to family and I will apologize to Nonna, but I will never apologize to Uncle Michele’s bastard. He’s brought disgrace upon the Montefeltro name.” The boy sneered. “Now…give me my wand back.”
The curse breaker’s warm brown eyes hardened. He had little patience for this petulant child. “Exactly who do you think you are speaking to?”
“I don’t have to listen to you, old man. Give me back my wand.”
Gianni grinned wolfishly. “Actually, Baby Boy, you do.”
Luca scowled. He did have to listen to Gianni and every family member within hearing distance knew it. As the Montefeltro heir apparent, Gianni’s position in the family was that of a disciplinarian as well as a mediator in interfamily conflicts.
“You don’t have to like Hadrian. You don’t have to associate with him ever again, but, he is your uncle’s natural son and he is Montefeltro. You will apologize to him. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he replied sulkily.
“But that is not your only indiscretion.” Gianni twirled Luca’s wand casually in his long fingers. “You cast a potentially fatal curse at a family member in anger.”
“But we were dueling…”
“No. You were arguing with wands. Donato is not a dueler. He was defending himself with charms and jinxes…hardly the same caliber as the Junior Champion, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, but…”
“You show a serious lack of judgment. Makes me wonder if you even deserve to defend your title.”
“Gianni, you can’t…” Luca spluttered.
“Can’t I? Tell you what, Baby Boy…” Gianni held on to the tip of Luca’s wand, extending the handle toward the teen. “Right here, right now. You show me everything you’ve got - clean battle, International Rules - and we’ll see if you have what it takes to continue on the circuit.”
~*~*~
The wizard skillfully led Luca; always a step ahead of the Junior Champion, leaving the teen aware that no matter how good he was Gianni was that much better. After nearly twenty minutes, the curse breaker ended the duel with an Expelliarmus. Luca reluctantly accepted defeat, knowing Gianni had permitted him to lose with honor intact, instead of totally annihilating him.
~*~*~
With the excitement of the duel over, the family members began to disperse, clearing the tables and chairs as they went. Soon only the four current residents remained, watching the sun set behind the fruit trees. Sofia left, stating she needed to set her kitchen back to rights.
“So, Haddy. What do you think about dueling?” Gianni settled into a chair.
“I think it’s wicked.” Harry fought back a yawn.
“Would you like to learn how to duel?”
“Yes, please.”
“Why do you want to learn? Do you want to travel the circuit? To be champion one day?”
“No!” Harry yawned again. “I want to learn so I can protect Nonna and me from bad people.”
The adult wizards shared a look.
“What bad people? Is someone bothering you or Nonna?”
“I’m six, Gianni, not a baby. There are always bad people.” Harry was losing his battle against sleep. “Mr. Snape knows all about the bad people…”
Gianni looked up when the boy drifted off to sleep mid sentence.
“Hadrian?” he called softly, but there was no answer. “I’d best put him to bed. Are you coming in?”
“No. I’m going to stay out a bit longer.”
~*~*~
Severus stared up at the summer constellations noting the subtle differences between the Italian and the Scottish sky. In a way, he mused, he had spent the past half year of his life noticing differences and the greatest difference, he decided, was in himself.
The lights in the house extinguished one by one until only a few remained on the bottom floor. Severus realized it was growing late; it was time to prepare for bed.
He was almost to the kitchen door when Gianni’s silhouette blocked the doorway.
“I thought you might have fallen asleep out there.”
“No. I was enjoying the solitude.”
“Yes, it was a bit of a carnival today.” Gianni secured the windows and doors. “Sit with me for a few moments.”
Gianni indicated an overstuffed sofa in the study. As Severus settled into the soft upholstery, the other wizard extinguished all the lights on the ground floor with the exception of several lamps in the study.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Thank you, no.”
Gianni joined the Potions Master on the sofa. “When do you need to return to England?”
“The school year begins September First. I have to be in residence at least two weeks prior to that date. Fillius is coming to visit your grandmother in a few days and we will travel back to London together. So, I’ll probably be here for a fortnight.”
“Would you be willing to spend a few hours over the next week helping me teach Hadrian the basics of dueling?”
“Don’t you think six is a little too young?”
“No. I began when I was five. We’ll start with stance and wand movements. He can use the training wand for that. I can’t start actual spell casting until we find a compatible wand. Don’t want to wait too long for that. It’s imperative he begins to harness his magic.”
“A six year old can purchase a wand in Italy?”
“Under certain circumstances…I’ll need to send a few owls, call in a favor or two. I saw that wandless Lumos he cast. We must find a proper focus for Fili’s little changeling.”
“Changeling?” Severus hoped his voice did not reveal the alarm he felt.
“The only thing Hadrian shares with my Uncle Michele is dark hair and a cock.” Gianni gave a feral smile. “He bears little resemblance to Owain, either.”
“Owain?”
“Michele never married because he was in a long-term relationship with a Welsh wizard. The Death Eaters were not trying to recruit Michele; they were trying to recruit Owain. Michele died in a duel while trying to protect him.”
“And his lover?”
“Less than a vegetable in the Spell Damage Ward in St. Mungo’s,” he sighed. “Once his mother dies, his brother will permit the healers to perform merciful euthanasia.”
The wizards fell into an uncomfortable silence, before Gianni broke it. “Only Nonna and I know the truth. I just wish Hadrian looked a little more like a Montefeltro.”
“Surrogacy.” Severus said, suddenly.
“Surrogacy?”
“If two homosexual British wizards in a long term relationship wish to sire a child, they would hire a surrogate…hence the unnamed Welsh witch on the Birth Certificate. Surrogates, by Ministry Law, are always anonymous.”
“You are brilliant!” Severus found himself suddenly drawn into an exuberant hug. He froze at the unexpected show of affection. Gianni released him and pulled away, immediately noticing Severus’ discomfort.
“The English…they do not hug their friends?”
~*~*~
Severus perched on the low fieldstone wall, watching Gianni patiently explain to Harry the International Rules of Dueling. Clutched in the small boy’s hand was a wand of indeterminable age that Sofia unearthed from a storage trunk. Made of holly with an unknown core, it was not a perfect match, but it performed much better than the training wand.
Behind the stone wall, Severus could see both Donato and Luca weeding their grandmother’s vegetable gardens by hand as part of their penance. Gianni’s brother greeted them pleasantly and was dutifully performing his task, trying to stay as far away from his cousin as possible.
Severus’ mind drifted as he observed the curse breaker demonstrating proper footwork and wand movements. The wizard’s movements had a graceful, dance-like quality to them; Gianni cut an attractive figure in his slim fitting trousers. Severus abruptly looked away, trying to dislodge those dangerous, but so tempting, thoughts.
It had been a friendly hug for Circe’s sake, he chastised himself; there had been nothing sexual about it. He was twenty-six, not a hormone driven adolescent with a schoolboy crush. His dark eyes drifted to his prosthetic right foot and all thoughts of any kind of romantic entanglements dissipated. He was a homely cripple and didn’t even have a sparkling personality to fall back on.
Severus turned his attention back to the training. Harry was very attentive, cautiously parroting Gianni’s movements. He heard a sound behind him to the left. Luca was leaning on the wall, scowling at the lesson in front of him.
“Jealousy is a negative emotion,” Severus spoke, staring straight ahead. “It will destroy you if you let it.”
Luca shifted, but did not acknowledge the dark wizard. Severus turned to the teen, who immediately looked away.
“He is no threat to you.”
Luca wanted to ignore the English intruder, but his curiosity was piqued. “Haddy’s only six. Why is he using a real wand?”
“Your grandmother watched him perform a wandless Lumos last night. A training wand is useless to him.”
“Damn…”
“He’s not your enemy, Luca, unless you make him one.” Severus slid off the wall; his arse was numb. “You have a field to weed. You’d best get to it.”
“Severus,” Gianni called. “Come join us.”
~*~*~
Severus’ heart raced as he dodged another curse. Adrenaline running high, he forgot all about the limitations of his prosthetic leg. He cast a Stinging Hex; Gianni yelped as it connected with his fingers; it was all he could do to keep control of his wand.
Initially their duel had begun as a training exercise to show Harry the progression of a battle. The simple hexes and jinxes escalated to charms and curses as both wizards became caught up in the competition.
Donato and Luca abandoned their gardening. They joined Harry, who was perched on the wall, a safe distance from the skirmish.
“For someone who was nearly dead seven months ago, he’s doing really well.”
“He’s not up to International Standards.”
“No, but he’s very good at fighting dirty. In a real duel, you’d be a fool to fight according to International Standards.”
“Why are they fighting anyway? I thought they were going to demonstrate to this one.” Luca indicated Harry with a flick of his thumb.
“Mr. Snape is leaving soon. He has to go back where the bad people hurt him.” Harry’s eyes never strayed from the duel. Even though Gianni cast a protective perimeter, Harry wanted to make sure to duck in case an errant curse came their way.
“He was a little rough to start, but he does have good reflexes.”
“Says it comes from the dunderheads he teaches.” Harry answered innocently and the older boys laughed.
“Duel’s over,” Luca remarked as Severus was thrown off his feet.
~*~*~
Severus lay on his back, looking up at the cloudless sky. The battle over, he could now focus on his own body. He felt a burn in his lungs, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been even a month ago. He inhaled as deeply as he could, embracing the burn and realizing that for the first time in a long time he felt alive.
After sending the boys off to help Sofia prepare the midday meal, Gianni flopped down in the grass, stretching out alongside Severus. Propped up on one elbow, the wizard examined his companion.
“Good duel,” he said. “I can see a little of Uncle Fili’s training in your style. You would have done well on the circuit.”
“Between my apprenticeship, my Mastery and the war, there was no time for frivolous pursuits.”
“You have good balance on that leg. A bit more training and therapy…”
“It will always be a weakness. You didn’t make it a target, but others will not be so polite. Any duel I fight once I leave this farm will not be under International Rules and you know it.” Severus took a calming breath. “Hadrian does not have the luxury of training just to travel the circuit, Gianni. He must learn every dirty trick that you know so he can survive.”
“We’ll need input from Nonna and Uncle Fili…they must know some fairly obscure spells.” Gianni smiled. “And I’m sure you’ve kept a few under your robe as well.”
For once, the Italian wizard saw not a smirk, but a genuine smile cross the Englishman’s face. He reached over and brushed Severus’ disheveled hair off his forehead.
“What?...” Severus began but was silenced when warm lips descended on his own. Shocked, he relaxed into the gentle, yet demanding, domination. Slowly his mind slipped back into sharp focus and he abruptly turned away.
“Severus?”
“Don’t…please, just don’t.”
Gianni caressed Severus’ flushed cheek. “I saw the way you were watching me and I know you like what you see. Why are you rejecting me?”
“Please,” Severus snapped sarcastically. “Like you’re not thinking…he’s an ugly cripple. He’ll be an easy fuck.”
Gianni’s eyes softened. He leaned forward, nuzzling Severus’ nose with his own. “Who ever said you are ugly lies.”
Severus growled. Gianni planted a kiss to the bridge of Severus’ large nose. “I like your nose. It’s a man’s nose. It gives your face character.”
Severus wasn’t sure if the man was teasing him or ridiculing him.
“I’m not looking for a one-off, Severus. If all I wanted was a quick fuck, I could visit any Muggle nightclub and have my pick of the stable. I’m not going to say I’m looking for forever, but I do like you, stiff and cranky bastard that you are.” He laughed at Severus’ expression. “You never struck me as an insecure man. Why are you so hesitant?”
Gianni’s hand ran down the smooth length of Severus’ thigh, past his bony kneecap and curled over the area where leg met prosthetic. “This is not all that you are, my darling.”
The curse breaker shifted, straddling Severus’ thighs. His forefinger gently poked the other man’s forehead and then poked the skin above his heart. “Intelligence and heart…this is what you are. May I kiss you again?”
*~*~*~
Rivulets of rain ran steadily down the kitchen windows, the dull rumble of thunder in the distance. Still clad in his summer weight pajamas, Harry gazed morosely out the window. He listlessly picked at his breakfast of fresh fruit and yogurt.
“Where’s Nonna?”
“She was called away early this morning to help a baby come into this world. She should be back soon.”
“And Gianni?”
“Florence. He has a meeting with the Department of Antiquities…finalizing the Pompeii excavation, I imagine.”
Severus set aside the daily wizarding newspaper. Examining his small companion, he was pleased to note the boy no longer resembled the starved little sparrow he once was.
“Finish your breakfast, Hadrian. Your grandmother wants you to take a bath this morning.”
“I’m not that hungry,” Harry replied. “My tummy hurts.”
Severus limped toward the boy and placed a cool hand on his forehead. “You don’t seem to be feverish. Do you have a headache?”
“No. It’s not a sick hurt; it’s a sad hurt.”
“Does the rain make you sad?”
“No. We needed the rain.”
“I thought you would be excited today. Flitwick is coming for a visit this afternoon.”
Harry did not reply. He ate his last spoonful of yogurt.
“I thought you liked when Filius visited. Don’t you like him?”
Harry’s bright green eyes looked up.
“I love Uncle Filli’s visits. He always sneaks me chocolate frogs when Nonna isn’t looking. It’s just that…”
“Just what?”
“When he leaves this time, you’ll be going with him.” Harry’s voice wavered. “I don’t want you to go.”
Unexpected warmth bubbled in Severus’ chest at Harry’s declaration.
“I can’t stay in your grandmother’s guest room forever, Haddy. She has other patients and needs the space. I’m not sick anymore.”
“You could share my room. I don’t take up much space.” Harry looked up at him, hopefully. “I have a trundle bed.”
The innocence of the statement made him smile. The Potions Master gently petted the boy’s hair. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist. Severus sighed; he would miss this unexpected affection.
“I wish I could stay,” he thought, but it was time for him to go home. Albus Dumbledore had seen to that.
~*~*~
Severus packed his few possessions into his trunk. He looked around the gold bedroom that felt more of a home to him in a few short months than Spinner’s End had ever felt. Even his once beloved dungeons could not compare to this small, freshly scrubbed room.
“You missed this one.” Gianni set the slim volume into the open trunk. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“So do I. I hate teaching.”
“You seemed to enjoy tutoring Hadrian.”
“He wants to learn. I have seven years of students. In each year, there are less than ten that show any sort of proficiency with potion brewing and out of that ten, there is perhaps one or two that possess a real love of it. Those students are the ones I love to teach. The others…bah.”
“What would you want to do if you didn’t teach?”
“Research perhaps…or run an Apothecary in some small out of the way magical enclave.” Severus smiled sadly as he shrunk his trunk and tucked it into his robes. He had such small dreams, but he knew they would never come to fruition.
He found himself pulled into a strong hug. Their relationship had not progressed past a few kisses. By mutual agreement, sexual temptations were not explored. He wondered if their mutual attraction could have evolved into something deeper, but it was best it ended before it began. He expected that they would correspond with one another for awhile, but the geographic distance between them would deter any lasting commitment.
They spoke of generalities as they stood in the garden waiting for Harry, Filius and Sofia to make their goodbyes.
“I’ll keep up with Hadrian’s training as much as I am able. It won’t be a problem while I’m at the Pompeii site. Uncle Filius has plans to visit at Yule and you’ll return next summer to teach him your tricks.”
“No,” Severus replied. This was going to be harder than he thought, but he owed it to Gianni to be honest. “Albus Dumbledore, as your grandmother is so fond of saying, has an unhealthy obsession with me. He tells everyone he trusts me - that I have been forgiven for my actions in the war - but it is a lie. Once he realizes the boy is not where he left him, all hell will break loose. If I am quietly under his thumb, attention will go elsewhere. I can not and will not leave a path leading back here. This has to be good bye.”
~*~*~
6
~*~*~
“When the chess game is over, the pawn and the king go back to the same box.”
- Etienne Goldstein
~*~*~
Severus closed his eyes, savoring a cup of perfectly brewed Earl Gray. A properly brewed cup of English tea was the one thing he missed the most during his long convalescence in Italy.
Around him the room was slowly filling with various members of the Hogwart’s staff. Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall arrived with her arms filed with scrolls, each addressed with the name of a specific professor or support staff member.
He nodded politely as he accepted the scroll with his name. Minerva took notice of the crutches tucked behind his chair and the pinned right trouser leg.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “Is the magic of Hogwarts interfering with your Muggle-made leg?”
“Not precisely.” He would have rather ignored her, but her curiosity was mirrored in the faces of the others. “Poppy, Filius and I are endeavoring to make it prank-proof.”
A look of horror filtered over the elderly witch’s face. “It would be most unfortunate if a student accioed it while you were descending a staircase.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you need assistance locating spellbooks?” the Librarian asked from across the room.
Poppy settled in the chair beside the Potions Master, a thick sheaf of papers in her hands. “That would be most appreciated, Irma. Perhaps after the meeting Filius could discuss the specifics with you.”
Severus opened his scroll, finding that it was actually comprised of many individual sheets. He glanced at the Master Class Schedule and noticed that at least for Potions, Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, his Slytherins had been paired with Ravenclaw. He looked up and saw Minerva’s amused smile; he toasted her with his tea cup.
He looked closer at the Class Schedule, noting the roster of names listed beneath each year, passing over the blank space beneath First Year. He knew the parchment would self-update once the children were Sorted. His eyes froze on a name near the bottom of the Slytherin Sixth Years – Anthony Rosier.”
“No,” he said, glaring at the twinkling headmaster. “I will not accept Anthony Rosier in my class.”
“But Severus,” Dumbledore answered in a placating voice that only seemed to anger the dark wizard. “Mr. Rosier scored Exceeds Expectations on his Potions OWL.”
“I don’t care if he’s a bloody potions mage! I will not teach the criminal who maimed me!”
“Oh dear, we do have a little problem,” Dumbledore sucked on a lemon drop.
“No, Albus,” responded Pomona Sprout, the always genial Head of Hufflepuff. “You have a little problem. You accepted Mr. Rosier back as a student despite our strongly worded objections. I am terrified of what that psychopath will do to his fellow students.”
“Don’t you think you are being a little harsh?”
“Harsh, Headmaster?” The Flying Instructor demanded. “He tried to kill another boy because he didn’t want Slytherin to lose a quidditch game? He’s crippled Severus for life…and you expect us to accept this little miscreant back with open arms?”
~*~*~
Albus Dumbledore rubbed his temples. The first staff meeting of the year was not going smoothly. His normally complacent underlings were being most uncooperative. Finally, he just waved their concerns about Rosier away, stating he would leave the final decision to the Hogwart’s Board of Govenors.
The meeting progressed smoothly during deliberations on new Library purchases, Hagrid’s discussion of the grounds and Forbidden Forest and Filch’s overview of castle repairs.
After a light lunch, the subject shifted to the House Quidditch Schedule, team tryouts and a request to replace some of the ancient school training brooms. The Hogsmeade Weekend Schedule opened the door to another problem.
“Severus is on Medical Restrictions,” Poppy announced, ruffling the stack of parchment in her lap. “He is not to be placed on the list of chaperones for Hogsmeade Weekends. I told you that three weeks ago, Albus.”
The discussion of rearranging the chaperone schedule was ended abruptly.
“I’ll take the Perfesser’s spot on the chart, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir. It weren’t be no problem to keep my eye on the tykes.”
“Thank you, Hagrid.” Dumbledore scratched Severus’ name from the roster adding Rubeus Hagrid beside it. At least one member of his staff was being cooperative.
“To avert any more potential issues,” Minerva spoke above the babel of voices. “What exactly does Medical Restriction mean for Severus and the rest of the staff?”
Severus poured himself another cup of tea, deferring to the Mediwitch. He was not pleased with the restrictions she placed upon him, but was intelligent enough to realize his health faced certain limitations. He had returned to Dumbledore’s chessboard, but he would do so in a deliberately diminished capacity.
“Severus will teach his classes, observe scheduled office hours and supervise the occasional detention.” Poppy looked sternly at Severus to the amusement of many. “He will still brew Potions for the Infirmary if his health permits, but he will be selecting NEWT Level volunteers from all houses to assist with the actual brewing.
“He is not permitted to venture off the school grounds and under no circumstances will he go tramping into the Forbidden Forest for any reason.”
“But my potion ingredients…” Severus protested, knowing that everyone expected him to be difficult. If he appeared to be too compliant, Dumbledore would grow even more suspicious.
“Can be harvested by Pomona, Hagrid and any number of Seventh Year Potion and Herbology students."
Severus sighed. Poppy was going to suffocate him.
~*~*~
Under the headmaster’s watchful eye, Severus exchanged sporadic correspondence with Sofia, Gianni and Hadrian. Suspecting the owls were being closely monitored, they exchanged only casual information and the occasional gift.
Actual personal correspondence came to Severus through a secret postal owl account he arranged through Gringotts’ Wizarding bank. For a small fee, his mail came by secure owl disguised as financial correspondence.
Severus pushed his half-eaten breakfast and a goblet of water toward a large postal owl that settled in front of him. He untied a rectangular box from the bird’s legs. As the owl nibbled at a sausage, the dark wizard opened the box. Nestled in a nest of newspapers was a single bottle of Sardinian wine. Searching for a note, Severus began to notice the newsprint; each sheaf had an article or an advertisement circled. He bit back a laugh when he realized that they were all employment opportunities. The positions were located in Spain, Portugal, and Greece as well as Italy. There was nothing in the box to indicate the sender, but Severus knew.
~*~*~
One week before classes began, Severus was finalizing his lesson plans and updating class notes. A partially filled out Owl Order Form for Jigger and Sugg’s Apothecary was cast aside. A sharp rap on his office door broke his concentration.
“Enter.” Severus secured his wand to the inside of his wrist.
Lucius Malfoy entered the room. The aristocrat looked critically over the contents of the small office, arching an eyebrow at the unexpected row of windows along one wall.
“Good morning, Lucius,” Severus greeted him neutrally.
“Severus,” he replied. “I am representing the Hogwart’s Board of Governors in regards to your complaint.”
“Anthony Rosier.” Severus flicked his wand, closing the door behind Lucius. He then cast a privacy ward. “Have a seat. Would you like some tea?’
Declining the beverage, Lucius sat, his serpent headed cane in full view. “Dumbledore wished to give Anthony Rosier a second chance.”
“The old man overstepped his bounds,” Severus snapped. “He has no support from the staff. Sprout is terrified of what he may do to her Puffs, and she isn’t the only one.”
“His father asked me to speak in his defense,” Lucius admitted, setting a thick envelope on the desk.
“Have him talk to Karkaroff. See if he can get the boy into Durmstrang.” Severus settled back in his chair. “Tell his father I’ll not accept his bribe. It is only because of our previous association that I did not have Anthony arrested.”
“Is it wise to bring up a former association? You’re a blood traitor in many eyes.”
“Yours as well? I am no blood traitor.”
“I beg to differ with you, Snape. You admitted to being a spy in front of the entire Wizengamont.”
“Says a man who claimed to be under the influence of an Imperious.” Snape sneered. “Look at the official pensive records before you condemn me. Karkaroff outted me as a Death Eater in a bid for his own freedom. I never confessed to being a spy. Dumbledore, the Chief Mugwump, stood in front of the entire Wizengamont and claimed I was *his* spy. I spent months in Azkaban while you sat in your manor. Don’t you dare label me a blood traitor.”
“Is that why you’re still here under Dumbledore’s thumb?’
“Thanks to Karkaroff and that old fool, I have a target painted on my back. I’m condemned to this so-called sanctuary.”
“I’ll take a look at the pensive, Severus. If what you said is true, I’ll talk with a few of the old crowd.”
“Talk to their spawn as well. I don’t need another one trying to kill me.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
“Try to find a loophole in my contract.”
“It’s an honor to teach at Hogwarts. It’s one of the top wizarding schools.”
“I have half a leg and diminished lung capacity. The last place I need to be is a drafty old castle with moving staircases. Since Dumbledore refuses to dissolve my contract, he may as well sign my death certificate. As it stands, if I leave, I have a one way ticket to Azkaban.”
~*~*~
Severus held out a slice of bacon; the postal owl hooted in thanks before launching herself off the table. He opened the flat package to discover a thin book. It took him a moment to translate the title – Operating Your Own Owl Order Business – The Complete Guide. A sliver of parchment was tucked between the pages
“S – Something to consider. – G”
~*~*~
Severus stood at his office window. He could see the Quidditch pitch. Slytherin was playing Griffindor, but he declined to attend; since his injury, he lost all interest in the sport. A shout echoed from the pitch; he could just make out Charlie Weasley flying a victory lap.
~*~*~
Severus’ body wracked with coughs; he had a hard time catching his breath. Winter had come to Hogwarts and with it came colds and bronchitis. Healing vapors swirled around his bedroom, making it slightly easier to breathe.
As the weeks passed and his strength waned, Severus ceased brewing potions, ceased supervising detentions and ceased eating in the Great Hall. His life narrowed to only his classroom and his personal quarters. He rarely entered his office because the windows made the room too drafty. He spent the entire winter holiday in bed.
Poppy worried about the young professor. His bronchitis morphed into pneumonia and the Italian healer’s words kept echoing in her head. ‘If he returns to Scotland with you, he will be dead of pneumonia within a week.’
But Severus was too stubborn to die and as winter turned into spring, he slowly regained his health.
~*~*~
Five years passed in a blur of teaching, brewing, and illness. Each winter took a steeper toll on the Potions Master’s health, but Dumbledore refused to release Severus from his contract.
He continued his correspondence with the Montefeltro family. Gianni disappeared for months at a time on archeological digs throughout the ancient Greek and Roman Empires, but he always managed to send Severus a package once a month. Often it was a bottle of Gianni’s Sardinian wine or a book, but occasionally it was an obscure trinket or a potions ingredient. It amazed Severus that the curse breaker remained unattached, never settling for someone accessible.
Dumbledore continued his iron grip on the dark wizard. Severus never left the school grounds, even to visit Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley.
~*~*~
Lucius Malfoy was torn. His only child turned eleven that year and was attending Hogwarts in the fall. He was no fan of Albus Dumbledore and would have sent his son to Durmstrang had the traitor Karkaroff not been the Headmaster there.
Dumbledore’s near-imprisonment of Severus had not gone unnoticed. Still a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, Lucius eyed many of Dumbledore’s actions with concern.
Through his continued rise in Wizarding politics, Lucius continued to consolidate his influence and develop powerful allies. He needed to neutralize Dumbledore long enough to release Severus from his control.
~*~*~
Sofia’s postal owl circled the Great Hall once before floating down to settle on Severus’ shoulder. He scratched her under her chin and she gave a pleased hoot. He released the envelope from her talons. It was a long, gossipy letter from the witch, letting him know how much they missed him and confirming Hadrian’s acceptance to L’Accademia di Magia.
Enclosed in the letter was a photograph of Harry in his school robes, standing beside his grandmother. Harry was still slightly shorter than Sofia, fine boned and slender. His chin length hair was parted on the side, his long fringe obscuring one of his green eyes. He no longer wore eyeglasses; Severus was pleased to note he resembled Lily more than James.
~*~*~
It was an amusing several weeks after the Hogwarts letters went out to children with summer birthdays. The postal owl with a letter addressed to Harry Potter returned with the letter undelivered. Twice more owls were sent with the same result. Severus schooled his expression into one of disinterest.
When a visit to Privet Drive revealed no Harry and no Dursleys, panic began to set in. The savior of the Wizarding world was missing and Dumbledore had no idea how to find him.
For weeks The Daily Prophet and Witch’s Weekly were filled with articles on Harry Potter’s arrival to Hogwarts.
In Severus’ rooms, he and Filius shared a glass of wine. They speculated on different scenarios, wondering how Albus Dumbledore would conceal his misplacement of the Boy-Who-Lived.
~*~*~
“Severus, a word if I may,” Dumbledore caught Severus on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The dark wizard paused, waiting for the older man to join him.
“Headmaster.”
“I am most concerned with the disappearance of Harry Potter.” Severus looked impassively at the wizard, making certain his Occulmancy shields were in place. “I need you to contact your former associates to see if they know anything about his disappearance.”
“My former associates?” Severus’ voice was brittle. “Thanks to you, they all think I am a blood traitor. They are more inclined to curse me than converse with me.”
“Perhaps you could approach one of the more moderate…”
“And how am I to do that, Albus? I have been confined to Hogwarts grounds for five years.”
“I am certain you will think of something.”
Dumbledore began to walk away. Severus seethed; it was so like the man to casually sacrifice his pawns.
“Headmaster,” he called, modulating his ire. “Have you informed the Board of Governors?”
“Yes I have, my boy. Why do you ask?”
“Then I am certain Malfoy has not been idle.” Severus let the statement stand; Dumbledore could surmise whatever he wished from it.
~*~*~
“Dumbledore has ordered you to ask suspected Death Eaters if they have absconded with the Boy-Who-Lived?” Lucius gave an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. “He’s senile.”
“No, but he’d like you to think he is.”
“That crazy coot is going to get you killed.”
Severus sighed. “Come November, I’d welcome an AK in the back. It’d be a damn sight better than drowning in my own phlegm again.”
~*~*~
Alastor Moody declined a cup of tea; he watched the headmaster pace in his office. So far they had managed to keep the boy’s disappearance a secret, but school would be in session in two day’s time and the Wizarding world was all worked up, expecting to catch a glimpse of the Boy-Who-Lived as he boarded the Hogwarts Express September First.
“You said you had news, Alastor. Tell me you’ve located the boy.”
“No, but we have unearthed a strong lead.”
“We?”
“Unimportant. I sent a Muggleborn Auror to do some undercover investigation on and around Privet Drive. The Dursleys moved less than three months ago. A neighbor thought they were transferred to Australia or New Zealand. We are still trying to get a forwarding address from Vernon Dursley’s employer.”
“I should contact the…”
“Don’t bother. Potter was not with them. In fact, no one has seen the boy for at least four years. Apparently Dursley was abusive toward the boy, so much so the neighbors lodged a complaint with Children’s Services.”
“He’s in Muggle foster care?”
“There are no records of a Harry Potter with Children’s Services; however, one of the neighbors had another suggestion. Little Harry was often in the company of a mad Cat Woman who lived close by. The woman and her cats disappeared around the same time as the boy. Neighbors are of the opinion that she got tired of Dursley abusing the boy and took off with him. They either don’t or won’t remember her name. James’ boy could be anywhere by now.
~*~*~
Dumbledore located Arabella Figg in Brighton. She was working in an animal shelter and had no memory of a little boy named Harry or the Wizarding world.
~*~*~
The Sorting was a quiet affair. The children all wanted to meet Harry Potter and when he did not appear, they were confused and disappointed.
Severus wondered if Dumbledore would make a statement about the missing savior, tell the children fanciful lies, but the old man was mute. The unexpected loss of his primary pawn weighed heavily; the twinkle was gone.
~*~*~
Putrid smoke billowed out from the First Year Hufflepuff cauldron as it melted into the surface of the worktable. Dismissing the class, the Potions Master cast several charms to contain the damage. The fumes tickled at his throat and he began to cough. Merlin save him from inept students, he thought as he opened the bank of windows, letting cold, fresh air flow into the room.
Considering it to be a minor annoyance, Severus tried to ignore the slight cough that plagued him the remainder of the lessons.
He awoke in the middle of the night, unable to catch his breath. The first month of school had not even passed and he was flat on his back in the Infirmary. The repeated bouts of pneumonia over the years had left him susceptible to any and all irritants.
Poppy was past her level of tolerance. Dumbledore, as usual, brushed aside the severity of Severus’ failing health. She went over his head and petitioned the Hogwarts Board of Governors to release Severus from his contract, but the majority of the Governors were reluctant to oppose the Great Albus Dumbledore, and her appeal was rejected.
Irate, Lucius left the meeting and went directly to the Infirmary. The Potions Master was surrounded by cauldrons, casting a thick cloud of healing vapor. His normally sallow skin was gray. Fawkes nested in the blankets, his head resting on Severus’ chest, trilling sadly.
Poppy was silent as Lucius leafed through Severus’ extensive medical history. His expression grew colder the more he read. Robes billowing behind him, he stalked out of the Infirmary.
~*~*~
Severus’ nose itched; when he reached up to scratch it, he felt a soft mask over his nose and mouth. He breathed in a cool vapor and realized his chest no longer ached.
“Are you awake?” he heard a voice ask. It carried a distinctly Italian accent.
Severus opened one bleary eye; anxious green eyes hovered above him.
“H-Hadrian?”
“Nonna, he’s awake!” Harry called. “Do you need anything?”
“Cup…of tea.”
“Okay.” Harry stepped toward the door.
“Wait!...How did…I…get here?”
“Hadrian, go bring up some soup.”
“Yes, Nonna.” Harry’s feet clattered across the floor.
“A Sig. Malfoy and Poppy brought you three days ago.” Sofia adjusted his bedding. “They pulled some very long strings to get you released from your contract.”
“Hogwarts Governors?”
“No. They refused to vote against Dumbledore. Your white haired friend sent a few owls and unleashed a firestorm. The ten ruling members of the Potions Guild arrived and were quite disturbed by Dumbledore’s illegal enslavement of you and his blatant disregard for your health.”
“Forced…his hand?”
“Did more than force his hand,” Sofia laughed. “They threatened to withdraw Potions Accreditation for Hogwarts if he did not release you from your contract. Without accreditation, Hogwarts students would be banned from taking their Potion OWLs and NEWTs. As it is, the school has been placed under a warning.”
“And Azkaban?”
“You were exonerated by the entire Wizengamont in 1982 by Dumbledore’s own actions. You are guilty of nothing according to International Wizarding Law. You are free to pursue any future you desire.”
~*~*~
Propped up against a nest of pillows, Severus set aside Operating Your Own Owl Order Business – The Complete Guide. He was still weak but breathing on his own. He hoped Sofia would soon let him out of bed; she had confiscated both his prosthetic leg and his crutches to assure cooperation.
Footsteps echoed on the wooden floors. Severus looked up to see Gianni standing at the doorway, holding a tea tray. Severus’ recognized the scent of Earl Gray. The curse breaker smiled.
“Ciao, Severus. You have finally come home.”
~*~*~
FIN