The Truth
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and in an attempt to hide his slight flush. He was too old to be having bouts of accidental magic, like some tantrum-throwing child… The potions master took a deep, calming breath before meeting the child’s eyes, only to find him gone.
The boy had been standing awkwardly by the couch as if he was unsure if he was allowed to sit on the furniture, but now he was nowhere in sight. Severus stood, wondering where the child could have gone, only to freeze and the sound of a frightened whimper. He looked down to find the six-year-old on the floor between the couch and the wall, curled up in a defensive ball. Harry was hyperventilating as he looked up at the professor in terror. His small hands covered his vulnerable neck and head as if expecting blows to come raining down on him at any moment.
Despite being a teacher Snape was not known for being good with children, especially ones just out of infancy. However, being the head of Slytherin for the past seven years had taught him much. Many of his charges were raised in homes that were at the epicenter of the recent war, leaving the children traumatized. Unlike the other students, many of the horrors of the war were happening in their own homes, not just on the cover of the newspapers. The aftermath of the Dark Lord’s fall had left many families in ruin. Parents either died from showing defiance to their lord or were carted away to Askabanz. Others were dragged through court to prove their “innocence” and still feeling the scrutiny of the public. All of which left Severus with the task of researching and testing theories to help children cope with severe trauma. It was actually why he was so well respected by his normally cancerous snakes.
Unfortunately, used to the routine by now, Severus held himself very still and made no attempt to move closer to the frightened child. Slowly he lowered himself back into the recliner to make himself appear as less of a threat and rested his wrists on the arms of the chair to keep his hands visible to clearly display his lack of a wand or any other weapon.
Even his slowest of movements caused the boy to flinch back in fear. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Harry began to shakily sob, as he continued to gasp for air. “I d-didn’t even feel it trying to d-do anything this time. I-I don’t know what happened! P-please! I didn’t mean to break it, I promise!”
“Harry!” Snape interrupted firmly, unwilling to let the boy continue to work himself up further. He watched as the boy froze, no longer even daring to breathe. Deciding to switch tactics, Severus lowered himself to the ground to sit in front of the recliner. He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace, but Harry whimpered and hid his face at the sight of raised hands. Tucking the offending appendages in his lap and out of sight, Severus gentled his voice as if speaking to a startled hippogriff. “Harry. There is no need for you to apologize. If anyone is to ask forgiveness it will be me. I should not have let my temper get the better of me, and for that, I give my sincere regrets.”
Harry peeked out from behind his arms, his wide tearful eyes and messy hair giving him an owlish appearance. “You make things happen when you're scared too?”
Severus nodded, “It is common for wixen children to have bouts of accidental magic before their magical core is developed enough to withstand the regular training that is necessary to control their magic.”
“Magic?” asked Harry, “Like the scale the kids found in Dragon Tails?” When Snape just stared at him blankly, the boy continued. “It’s a show Dudley used to watch about a group of kids that find a rainbow scale that transports them to a place where they can play with dragons. But Uncle Vernon got mad about him watching a show about freaks and canceled our subscription from the channel.”
Severus shook his head in disgust, “Muggles! What kind of idiot would let children play with a dragon?” He rolled his eyes, “No, I was referring to the magic flowing through your veins. The magic your mother gifted you.”
Harry shook his head in confusion. “I don’t have anything from my parents,” he said matter of factly as if that weren’t an outrage in and of itself.
Severus had to physically restrain himself from showing any outward signs of anger, lest he frighten the child further. He did however allow himself to think through a plethora of ways he could punish Petunia accordingly. Looking into the vivid green eyes that reminded him so much of Lily, he knew he would have to be the one to tell the boy the truth. Lily’s sacrifice should not be tarnished in her child’s eyes the way her sister had tried to.
“I am sorry you had to grow up without your parents,” Severus said. Merlin knew he would do anything to change the past and the part he had played that led up to that horrid night. “I knew your mother,” he admitted.
He felt like a fraud, as the boy’s face lit up with wonder. “What was she like?” Harry asked with an eagerness that spoke of years without any knowledge of his parents. The child had finally relaxed enough to uncurl from his defensive position. Although he was still tucked behind the couch.
Snape closed his eyes as the memories and the accompanying pain of loss swept through him anew. “Lily had magic just like you. She and I went to a school for magic, called Hogwarts. Lily was brilliant. Top of her year in charms and transfiguration.” His lips twitch in an almost smile, “Only I was able to best her at potions. It irked Lily to no end. She had a competitive streak a mile wide and a temper to match. Many would tell you of her unerring kindness, which was true. But if you hurt someone she cared about, or broke her trust, she would hold a grudge like none other.”
Harry scooted cautiously forward. “Did you know my father too?”
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an undignified snort, “Yes, well, we didn’t have much to do with one another.” Which was a polite way of saying they avoided each other like the plague when they were not outright antagonistic towards each other. Not that he was willing to say as such to the boy. He had already had his parents disparaged enough for one lifetime.
Harry looked down at his hands in his lap with a furrowed brow, deep in thought. “If they both had magic, why would they need to drive home drunk? Couldn't they have just teleported home?”
Snape sighed, hating that he had to be the one to have this conversation with the boy, but he deserved the truth. Something he appeared to have had little of in his six years of life. “Harry, your parents did not die in a car crash,” he said gently.
Harry’s head snapped up, “But that’s what Aunt Petunia always said…”
“She lied,” he said firmly. His disdain for the horrid woman, clear in his voice. “Lily and your father died at the end of a wizarding war, five years ago. During that time a powerful man was fighting for all forms of magic (Light, Grey, and Dark) to all be treated equally and for magical creatures to have equal rights-”
“Did my parents help him?” Harry interrupted excitedly.
Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably, “No. As with all wars, no side was perfect. While your parents undoubtedly agreed that creatures should have equal rights, they could not abide the man’s cruel tactics in the war, or his views on Muggles and Muggle Borns.”
“What’s a Muggle?”
“That is what wixen call non-magic people like your aunt and uncle.” Severus had to hold himself back from snapping at the interruption. This conversation was difficult enough without all the side commentary. “Anyway, your parents sided against this man.”
“During the war, the wixen world was heavily divided. Many believed that this powerful man was justified in his actions because they feared the recent advancements the Muggles had made would lead to another witch burning. Others with family in the muggle world believed the man’s cruel actions outweighed the good he might do. They thought him mad, and by the end of the war, I believe he was.”
“The man eventually targeted your family because of their defiance. He killed your parents and tried to kill you as well, but something stopped him…”
Harry tilted his head in confusion, “But I was just a baby.”
Severus nodded, “I believe it was something your mother did before she died. She also had a talent for runes. That mark on your forehead…” He tapped his own hairline to indicate what he meant. “It appeared that night. It looks suspiciously like the rune, Sowilō, meaning sun. In Norse mythology, this rune was placed on the god Baldor by his mother to protect him from death’s touch. During the story, she essentially makes her son immortal by gaining the promise from everything in the world that they would not harm her child. Only she forgot to ask the mistletoe plant because she thought it was too insignificant to cause harm and the god Loki ended up killing him in the end.”
“What does some old story have to do with my mother?”
“I think your mother may have stumbled upon an ancient runic ritual that protected you and destroyed the Dark Lord,” Severus explained, tapping his chin in thought. Something like that would have to be some very dark blood magic, to work against the killing curse. Something he never would have expected from Lily, but knowing her she would have done anything to protect her child.
Harry touched the mark in question. “Why wouldn't she use it to protect herself?” he whispered. “If she had protected herself, we could have been happy… I never would have had to come here.”
He sighed. He wondered the same thing. “I suspect the spell required self-sacrifice,” he admitted. “She wanted you to live, Harry. She wanted you to be happy, even if she wouldn’t be able to watch you grow up. Your parents did everything right. They set up a chain of caretakers to look after you in the event of their deaths, and outright denied your Aunt custody of you under any circumstances.”
“Then why was I sent here!” the boy demanded. His eyes filled with tears again.
“That is something I would like to know as well,” Severus growled. “But for right now we will have to settle for taking you out of here tonight.”
Harry perked up at the mention of leaving, even going so far as to scoot forward. Trusting this stranger enough to come closer. “You really mean it, sir? I don’t have to live with the Dursleys anymore?”
“You will never have to set foot in this house again,” Severus promised. He watched as the boy sagged in relief, thinking of all the poisons he knew. It would have to be something muggle in origin. The magic in potions is too traceable.
Harry jumped up as if ready to run out the door, “Can we leave now?”
Looking at the eagerness of the child to run away with a stranger he had only met an hour ago, Severus was struck by how dangerous this situation could have been. What if another strange man with more nefarious intentions had come and offered the boy an escape? He barely knows me and yet he is willingly putting his life in my hands, just for a chance to get away from this house.
He would have to talk with the boy later, but for now, there were other priorities, like getting him somewhere safe. “First, you need to be aware that if we leave immediately you will have to stay with me until we find you a more suitable home.” The wolf should have been next in line after Black for the child’s custody. It may take him a few days to track him down.
“C-can’t I stay with you?” Harry asked, tentatively. “I-I won’t be any trouble, sir. I promise to stay out of your way. I don’t eat all that much,” he begged.
He shook his head. “That is not the problem. Unfortunately, one of my prior commitments would make my home an unrealistic option. It would be especially unwise for you in particular to reside with me.” He could not remain a spy, while housing the-boy-who-lived under his own roof. “However, a few weeks should be fine.”
Harry looked down at his shoes but nodded. To think, James Potter’s son is disappointed at not being able to live with Severus Snape… What has the world come to?
Severus shook himself out of the uncomfortable thought, “Now, if you want to leave tonight we had best start packing.”
Harry shook his head as he bounced on his toes. Apparently too excited at the prospect of imminent departure to stay upset. “That’s ok. I don’t have anything to pack, so we can just leave now.”
Snape raised a skeptical brow, “Surely we should at least pack your toiletries?”