Chapter 9
Harry dashed down the darkened streets, his small feet hitting the pavement in hurried strides, feeling the thrill of escape course through him. He could barely see where he was going, but he didn’t care. The path to the beach was as familiar to him now as his own hands, and he knew every step, every turn, by heart. Marvolo’s voice echoed in his head, as annoyed as ever.
“You’re wasting time, boy. What’s so special about him anyway?” Marvolo complained, his tone dripping with impatience.
Harry grinned, undeterred by Marvolo’s grumbling. His bond with the strange, silent man had become his secret treasure, a bright spot in his otherwise lonely life. He could feel his heart racing with excitement as he reached the familiar sand, damp beneath his shoes, and sprinted toward the spot where he knew he’d find the man waiting.
As he approached, he slowed, his breath coming in soft pants. The man was there, sitting as still as a statue on his usual log, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Harry felt a flutter of joy at the sight of him. The man rarely spoke, but somehow his presence was more comforting than words. Harry could feel the invisible thread of connection between them, and he knew that even though the man said little, he understood.
“Hey! Hey, I’m back!” Harry called, bounding over with a grin. He carefully unfolded his worn blanket, making sure it covered the man’s shoulders, patting it down to tuck him in properly.
The man looked at him, a faint glimmer of acknowledgment in his haunted gaze. He gave a small nod, his lips pressing into a thin, unreadable line, and Harry beamed in response.
“You wouldn’t believe what Aunt Petunia made me do today!” Harry began, settling himself on the log beside the man. His little arms waved animatedly as he talked, his voice carrying through the cool evening air. “She had me cleaning out the cupboard under the sink. It was so dirty, and I think there were spiders in there! But she didn’t care. She just kept yelling at me to get it done faster. And Dudley? Dudley just sat there, stuffing his face and watching me like I was a TV show!”
Marvolo’s voice sneered in his head. “Disgusting. That boy doesn’t know what real work is.”
Harry nodded absentmindedly, feeling oddly validated by Marvolo’s disdain. But he focused his attention on the man, who was listening with an intensity that made Harry feel like the most important person in the world.
“And then,” he continued, his voice growing more animated, “she yelled at me for being too slow. Can you believe it? But… ” he paused, leaning closer to the man as if sharing a precious secret. “But I didn’t cry. Not one tear!”
The man’s gaze softened, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction under the weight of the blanket. He didn’t speak, but there was a kind of silent approval in his eyes that made Harry’s heart swell.
“I don’t care what Aunt Petunia says,” Harry went on, his tone fierce, “I know I’m not useless.” He puffed up his chest proudly. “And someday, I’m gonna get out of there and do something important. I know it.”
The man’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. It was small, barely there, but Harry noticed it, and it gave him the courage to keep going.
“Oh, oh! And guess what else happened!” Harry exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on the log. “Today, I made a little boat out of some leaves and sticks, and I sailed it on the pond by the park. It almost sank, but I saved it just in time!” He giggled, gesturing wildly as he recreated the dramatic rescue with his hands. “I even named it ‘The Great Adventurer.’ You should’ve seen it, it was like a real ship!”
He watched the man’s face closely, hoping to see a reaction. The man’s eyes softened further, and Harry could tell he was listening, truly listening. Harry’s heart soared; he’d never had anyone pay attention to him like this.
Marvolo’s voice interrupted his thoughts, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. “Playing with sticks and leaves… Foolishness. You could be doing so much more if you’d only listen to me.”
Harry ignored him, focusing on the man beside him, who hadn’t moved or spoken, yet whose presence radiated a comforting warmth. He thought about all the things he wished he could say, things he didn’t even fully understand himself. There was a strange ache inside him whenever he thought about leaving the man behind, an ache that felt like a mixture of longing and sorrow.
“What about you?” Harry asked softly, his voice gentle as he tilted his head up to look at the man. “Do you ever think about going somewhere else? Like… do you ever want to just get away?”
The man didn’t answer, of course. He stared out over the water, his gaze distant, as though he could see something far beyond the waves. Harry watched him, wondering what secrets lay hidden behind those sad eyes. He wished he could ask, but he didn’t want to intrude. There was something fragile in the man’s silence, something that made Harry instinctively protective.
So instead, Harry filled the silence with his own stories, his voice light and filled with hope. He talked about all the places he’d dreamt of visiting, of far-off lands and adventures he wanted to have someday. His little hands gestured wildly, painting pictures of vast deserts and towering mountains, enchanted forests, and magical creatures.
“And maybe,” Harry added with a shy smile, “one day… you could come with me?”
The man’s eyes flickered, a shadow of emotion crossing his face. For a moment, Harry thought he saw something, something deep, like the weight of years pressing down on him. It was gone in an instant, but it left Harry with a sense of wonder, as if he’d just glimpsed a piece of the man’s heart.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted movement, a figure approaching them from the edge of the beach. He squinted, curiosity flaring up as he tried to make out the person’s features. The figure was tall and cloaked in shadows, moving with a quiet purpose toward them.
As the figure drew closer, Harry's heart began to race. The man was tall, with long, dark hair that fell around his shoulders like a waterfall of ink. His clothes were all black, blending into the shadows, and he wore a long, flowing cloak that seemed to ripple with each step, almost as if it had a life of its own. Marvolo’s voice slid into Harry’s mind, sharp and knowing. “That’s Severus Snape. He’s not just any stranger, Harry. He’s someone important, a professor, but don’t let him fool you. He’s dangerous.”
Harry could see a serious expression on the man’s face, and even though he seemed to be trying to smile, it didn’t quite work. It was more like he was forcing a smile, and his brow furrowed as if he was unsure how to be friendly. His sharp, hooked nose and deep-set eyes made him look like he belonged in a different world, one filled with magic and mystery. “Trust your instincts, Harry,” Marvolo warned, his tone dripping with caution. “Don’t let him charm you.”
As the new man stepped closer, he addressed Harry, his voice smooth yet firm. “Hey there,” he aimed to break the silence. “I saw you out here yesterday,” he continued, “and I wanted to see if you were alright.”
Harry hesitated, uncertainty etching deeper lines on his young face. “I-I’m fine,” he stammered, glancing back at the stranger—the man he felt a connection with. He was torn between the two figures before him, feeling a flutter of anxiety rise within him. “You should be careful, Harry. This man has secrets—dark ones.”
“Are you sure?” the new man pressed gently, his eyes searching Harry’s face. “You look like you could use some company. Or maybe even some food?”
Harry’s eyes widened at the mention of food. His stomach rumbled in response, and he instinctively felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to seem needy, especially in front of the silent man who had always been so strong and stoic. The new man continued, “I brought some apples and bread,” his voice softening further, like a warm blanket on a chilly day. “You don’t have to be alone out here, you know.”
Harry hesitated, glancing back at his friend as if seeking permission, but the man offered no response. His expression remained distant, as if he were lost in thoughts too deep to surface. Marvolo’s voice chimed in again, a smirk in his tone. “Go on, Harry. Take the food. You’ll need your strength if you plan to survive out here.” The man extended a leather bag, hoping to coax Harry into taking a step forward. “I promise I don’t bite. Just a friendly face trying to help.”
“Thank you,” Harry whispered, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty swirl inside him.
The man turned, offering Harry's dazed friend the food, holding out the bag filled with bread and apples. “Here, it’s not much, but I thought you might like something to eat,” he said, trying to draw the man back into the present moment. Harry watched intently as the man blinked slowly, as if awakening from a deep slumber, his gaze unfocused as he processed the man’s offer.
For a moment, there was silence. Harry, still clutching the bag, looked between Severus and the man with wide, anxious eyes, sensing the tension hanging in the air. Finally, the man’s expression shifted. He reached out, hesitantly accepting a piece of bread from the bag, his fingers brushing against Severus's. The touch was electric, and Harry watched as Severus shuddered.
As the man took a bite, Harry’s eyes lit up with a flicker of hope, his demeanour shifting ever so slightly. It was as if the act of sharing food, so simple yet profound, had bridged the gap between their worlds. “Do you feel better?” Severus asked gently, his gaze fixed on the man, watching for any signs of engagement. The man nodded, albeit slowly, as if he were still awakening from a dream. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but laced with gratitude. “What’s your name?” he asked, his tone brightening as he regarded Severus with innocent enthusiasm.
“Severus,” he replied, offering a small smile. “And what about you two? I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I’m Harry,” the boy said eagerly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “And this is… um, well, I don’t know his name. But he’s nice.”
Severus took in a sharp breath and looked at the man. “Nice,” the friend echoed, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced at Harry, the edges of his lips lifting in a faint, hesitant smile.
“Harry,” Severus said, his voice steady. “Do you come to the beach often?”
“Sometimes,” the boy replied, glancing back at the man beside him. “I bring him food when I can.”
The way Harry spoke of the man, his quiet affection, his unwavering loyalty, stirred something deep within Severus. He understood the boy’s need to nurture, to offer comfort where none existed. It was a reflection of his own desires, the yearning for connection in a world where kindness often felt scarce. “Maybe I can help you,” Severus suggested, allowing his gaze to drift back to the man. “I can bring more food, and we can make sure he gets what he needs.”
Harry’s eyes brightened, a spark of joy illuminating his features. “Really? That would be great!” he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The innocence of his excitement was infectious, and Severus couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at the corners of his lips. Marvolo’s voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, low and filled with a mocking glee. “Look at him, Harry. He’s like a moth drawn to the flame. But remember, flames burn.”
The man, still lost in thought, regarded them both with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. Severus could sense the turmoil beneath the surface, the internal struggle that kept the man tethered to his own shadows. “You don’t have to,” the man finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I want to,” Severus replied, his conviction unwavering. “You don’t have to do this alone. None of you do.”
The man met Severus’s gaze, his eyes reflecting a flicker of vulnerability that stirred something deep within Severus’s chest. Marvolo sneered, his tone filled with contempt. “Foolish sentimentality. You’ll regret extending your hand, Severus.”
“Thank you,” the man said again, more firmly this time, the words laced with a hint of hope. As Harry took a step closer to him, a small smile breaking free on his lips, Severus felt a strange warmth radiating from the scene before him. It was a moment fraught with possibilities, yet he could not shake the feeling that shadows lingered just beyond their grasp, waiting to ensnare them when they least expected it.
The man shook visibly, the weight of his emotions palpable in the air. After a moment, he found his voice. “My name is Maglor. Makalaurë,” he said softly, his tone imbued with a bittersweet nostalgia.
“Maglor,” Harry repeated, savouring the name as if it were a melody. “That’s a nice name. I’ve been coming here to check on you for a while. You saved me when I fell into the water. I thought I was going to drown.” His eyes sparkled with admiration, his youthful innocence shining through as he stepped closer.
Severus watched the exchange, intrigued by the connection forming between the two. “What were you doing in the water, Harry?” he asked, his voice firm but gentle.
Harry’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, and he looked down, tracing patterns in the sand with his toes. “I was just playing. I thought I could swim… but then I got caught in the waves. It was scary.” He shuddered at the memory, glancing up at Maglor as if drawing strength from the man’s presence. “But you came and pulled me out. I’m really grateful for that.”
Marvolo’s voice echoed in Harry’s mind, dark and amused. “How sweet. Such a naive boy, thinking gratitude will shield him from danger. Maglor’s past is steeped in shadows, Harry. You must remember that.”
Severus shifted slightly, the weight of his own past pressing down on him as he listened to the boy’s words. “It takes strength to face the sea, Harry. And it takes even greater strength to admit when you need help,” he said, directing his gaze at Maglor. “You showed him that strength when you saved him.”
Maglor nodded, his gaze softening at the praise. “I didn’t do it alone. Harry was brave… even in that moment of fear.” He turned to Harry, a spark of warmth igniting in his eyes. “It was my instinct to jump in. Sometimes, you can’t control what happens. You just act.”
Marvolo scoffed internally. “Such idealism, how quaint. Don’t be fooled, Harry. Even heroes can be vessels of destruction.”
“Can you swim now?” Harry asked Maglor, his innocent curiosity cutting through the heaviness of the conversation.
Maglor chuckled softly, a sound that reminded Severus of distant waves lapping at a shore. “I… I can. It’s the waves I fear. They remind me of things I wish to forget.” His gaze turned distant, as if he were peering through layers of time to a place only he could see.
Severus sensed the man’s turmoil, recognizing a kindred spirit lost in shadows. “We all have our fears, Maglor. But perhaps you don’t have to face them alone anymore,” he said quietly. “There’s strength in numbers. You have Harry now, and perhaps… even me.”
Harry’s eyes lit up, a beacon of hope. “You can be our friend too, Severus! Right?” His excitement bubbled over, infectious in its sincerity.
Severus raised an eyebrow at the boy's enthusiasm, but he felt a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose I could be. But friendship comes with its own burdens, Harry.” He glanced at Maglor, who was regarding them both with an expression of wonder mixed with uncertainty.
Marvolo’s voice sliced through the moment like a knife. “Be careful, Harry. Trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered.”
“Trust is earned,” Severus said aloud, almost as if responding to the voice in Harry’s head. “It’s built over time, through shared experiences, not simply given. We must be wary of whom we let into our hearts.”
Harry nodded, processing Severus’s words with the seriousness only a child could muster. “I think I can trust both of you. You both care about me. I can feel it.”
Maglor looked at Harry, touched by the boy’s unwavering faith. “You’re right, Harry. I do care… I want to protect you.”
“Then let us protect one another,” Severus said, a conviction hardening in his voice. “But we must tread carefully. There are dangers lurking, even in the quiet moments.”
“Like the sea?” Harry asked innocently, glancing toward the waves crashing in the distance.
“Indeed,” Severus replied, his gaze following Harry’s. “But we can learn to navigate those dangers together.”
For a moment, there was silence, the three of them united by an unspoken bond. Harry still clutched the fluffy blanket tightly, as if it were a shield against the world.
“What’s this blanket for?” Maglor asked, tilting his head curiously. “It looks… comforting.”
Harry beamed, his cheeks glowing with pride. “I sal... salvaged it from my cousin’s room! I gave it to you because I wanted you to be warm. It’s soft, like a hug!”
Marvolo’s voice twisted with disdain, though Harry remained oblivious. “Sentimental drivel, Harry. But the boy is right. Comfort can be both a blessing and a curse.”
Maglor wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and a genuine smile broke through the shadows of his past. “It is very warm. Thank you, Harry. You’ve given me something to hold onto.”
“Good!” Harry chirped; his spirits lifted. “Then we’ll be friends! We’ll take care of each other!”
Severus couldn’t help but admire the bond forming between the two. There was a flicker of hope igniting in the depths of his heart, a hope that perhaps they could heal together.
“Let’s promise,” Harry suggested, his voice earnest. “Promise to always look out for each other.”
Maglor exchanged glances with Severus, his brow slightly furrowed. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
“I’ll keep my promise, Harry,” Severus replied, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “I will protect you both, as long as you need me.”
“Then it’s settled!” Harry grinned; his happiness palpable.
In that moment, a fragile alliance was forged against the darkness, a beacon of light in a world filled with uncertainty. As they stood together, united in purpose, the shadows surrounding them momentarily receded, leaving only the warmth of friendship in their wake.