Freak

So Severus found himself, after a week of asking around Cokeworth, on Petunia Dursley’s doorstep. It was on a bland street leading into a cul-de-sac. Every house a uniform design and shade. The only difference in number 4 was the lush flowers and hedges surrounding the walk and house. He would be willing to bet the back had full flower gardens as well. This was the first sign that something was wrong. Petunia had never had any skill with keeping plants alive, that had been all Lily and Henry’s work. Henry Evans had been incredibly gifted with gardening, a trait he had passed on to Lily, and under Lily’s care any plant could bloom to its’ full potential. Something that Severus suspected was a passive talent given to her by her magic. These flowers, too, were unusually vivid. He could spot several that should not have still been blooming at this time of year. Some were too early, like the lobelia, not built for the chill spring still held at fifteen degrees, others too late. Shrubs of winter jasmine were lining the corners of the beds and were still blooming even though it was May. Most of the flowers were whites, yellows, and purples, and were far too uniform. Lily and Henry had an eco-friendly garden that took up the entirety of their front and back which was entirely chaotic. A riot of color in the otherwise grey and dull factory town of Cokeworth. Petunia had clearly designed this garden, always she had complained of the insects and mess of the Evans’ garden. She couldn’t have cared for it though. The out-of-season flowers and the uncommon vividity of the purple and yellow flowers were signs that a magical child had been tending garden. Severus decided to brush this aside, however, Lily had loved to garden. There was no sign that the boy had been forced, even if five was likely too young to be responsible for a garden. What did he know? He hated children with a passion, maybe it was just his own perceptions, his own worry, nagging at him.

The second sign that something was wrong was, unfortunately for Severus, far less subtle. As he rang the doorbell he could hear Petunia’s shrill voice shriek at someone to tell whoever was at the door that they were not interested in buying anything.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia” came the meek reply from behind the door.

Severus would later wish he could say the door had creaked ominously as it opened, but of course, Petunia would never allow a door to creak in her house, which would allude to the house being in less-than-perfect condition. The boy who opened the door was frighteningly small. Severus did not know much about children, but the boy was going on six, were six-year-olds typically so small? Not only that but his clothes positively hung off of his frame. The boy was rail-thin, where was the baby fat? Lily complained until she was twelve about her baby fat. She had been a bigger girl, a bigger woman, but still one could see baby fat in her hands and cheeks until she hit puberty. Potter had been round-faced and childlike until the fourth year. Why was this child so thin? Severus would go so far as to say he was gaunt, his cheeks seemed hollow, and dark circles clung around his eyes that no healthy child should have. Even Severus could tell that this child, Lily’s son, the boy she had sacrificed her life trying to save, was malnourished. When he opened his mouth to warn Severus off his childlike voice cracked as if he had not had a sip of water in days, and judging from his size, it was a possibility. As he spoke, Petunia came to the door, likely to spy who was at the door. Severus could see the moment it registered who it was as she peered around the door at him. Her eyes widened, she jerked back slightly and dug her nails into her nephew's shoulder to jerk him away from the door before slamming it in Severus’ face.

“GET AWAY!! LEAVE!,” she screeched from the door as bright green eyes peeked through the mail slot “WE DON’T WANT YOUR KIND HERE! YOU AWFUL BOY, WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE US NORMAL PEOPLE OUT OF YOUR NONSENSE?”

Well, that was a bit extreme. Now, having seen the boy, and seen Petunia, he knew damn well something was not right. He could not, with good conscience, leave without investigating. He did not need to vow to realize his responsibility in this situation. Not only was he responsible for this child being an orphan, but he was also an adult who was in a position to help. He had sworn to himself when he had become the head of Slytherin house that he would not let another child under his purview suffer like he had. He may not legally be responsible for the boy, but morally, he was. He had always been one for the dramatics, but already he worried for the boy, Lily’s son. He did not believe Petunia would resort to violence, but he would not risk it. He could blast the door open with ease after all, it would be incredibly satisfying. No, not just satisfying. Cathartic. But then Pentunia could use Harry as a hostage in panic or shield herself using him, and a stray bit off the door could hit him. That. He would not allow to happen. The insolent woman was already backing through another room at the end of the hallway, from what he could see, perhaps the kitchen. That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was the small boy trying to make himself ever smaller crouched next to a cupboard door. Lily’s eyes looked up at him in barely concealed terror. Severus could not bear to see those eyes look at him in such a way, so he squatted down, resting on his heels, and extended a hand palm up.

“Hello, Harry,” he whispered, injecting more kindness into his voice than he had previously thought possible, “My name is Severus; I was a close friend of your mother's.”

Harry’s voice trembled as he hesitantly questioned the man, “You knew my mum? Why are you here?”

Severus really did not want to get into it, but as he sighed Harry flinched, and it broke whatever remained of the shriveled heart he had left. He found that, for the first time in his life, he did not want to push a child away. He wanted to comfort the boy with haunted eyes. He reminded Severus of himself in that moment, cowering from his miserable drunk of a father expecting to be hit, not of the endlessly arrogant James Potter of his youth. This child thought that he would be hit for asking a completely valid question; if he was not sure that it would terrify the boy he would fly into a rage at Petunia. He flicked his wand, and put up wards around the house to prevent anyone from leaving. Petunia had been ready to abandon the boy, he would not allow it. Then, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Yes, for a time your mother and I were the best of friends. We… we grew apart with time, but I still cared very deeply for her. When I discovered she and your family were to be attacked I decided to work against the man who wanted to attack the three of you for her protection. When she died to save you I made a vow to protect you since she no longer could.”

“But,” Harry asked “what do you mean we were going to be attacked? My mum and dad died in a car crash, they were drunk drivers. My mum wouldn’t have died to save me, my parents didn’t want me.”

What

“Harry, did your aunt Petunia tell you that?” Severus glares through the gap where the door is opened slightly at where Petunia is peeking through, ashen-faced.

“Now listen! That… that freak,” Petunia points at Harry, still partially hidden by the door. “Showed up on our doorstep with a note saying that my freak sister and her freak husband had been murdered and to take the boy in because it would activate some ‘magic’,” she spat the word like a swear, “that would keep us safe from any of your kind that might try to attack us! We were the only ones who would take him, and we will raise him however we like.”

What a terrifying day indeed, Severus thought, that a child would be raised in a way that Petunia liked.

“It is no matter, now, I will take him,” Severus told her coldly What? No! What am I saying? “Harry, grab your things we’ll be leaving” How am I supposed to raise a child? I can’t even take care of myself.

The boy walked towards the cupboard and opened the door.