Year Three. {Severus}

Something was wrong—terribly, unforgivably wrong—and it took Severus far too long to realize it. Three years. For a man who prided himself on his keen observation skills, it was inconceivable. How had he been so utterly blinded? How could someone of his caliber and skill within the Dark Arts be so completely spellbound and manipulated unawares?

The boy was skin and bones, draped in oversized, worn-out clothes that hid all. He hardly ate, but also stealthily horded small provisions when others weren’t looking. He spoke clearly, but softly and with as few words as possible, revealing nothing whilst making you think you got the answer you wanted. And the worst of all, the boy clearly shied away from any and all physical contact, subtly tensing at loud noises or any sign of aggression, and his eyes were always observing his surroundings. Always.

Had it been anyone else, Slytherin or not, Severus would have immediately intervened. Severus Snape would not stand for abuse of any kind and especially not child abuse. Yet, he had only seen pride and arrogance and brash superiority when he looked at that child. He saw a bully, not a boy far too small for his age. He saw defiance in those too bright eyes, not a plead for help. He saw the spawn of James Potter, not a battered and bruised orphan, muggle-raised and utterly alone.

He should have realized something was wrong the moment he couldn’t see Lily in her son. He only saw James—the arrogant, self-righteous, manipulative, light-supremacist, two-faced, arsehole. For three years that was all he saw.

Severus isn’t entirely sure how the spell over him had been weakened that faithful night. Perhaps, it was getting hit by multiple spells at once; though, he doubted it. The spell on him had to have been strong and it wasn’t the first time he had been hit by a stupefy or worse. Later, many years later, he would wonder if it had been Harry’s spell in particular, that had loosened the other’s hold on him just enough for him to realise something was wrong.

When Severus awoke, it was to the full moon high in the cloud covered sky and a gentle breeze against his face. He could hear Weasley, Granger, and Lupin murmuring off to the side, but what really caught his attention were the voices of Black and Potter. Black’s voice was hesitant, hopeful even, as he informed the boy as his status as Potter’s Godfather and mentioned perhaps living together in the future. It was Potter’s reply that struck a chord in Severus’s mind.

“What? Come live with you?” Potter said, his voice still low, soft, but there was a distinct edge to it that Severus hadn’t heard before.

“W-Well, I know-”

“You know nothing,” Potter cut in lowly, “but if we manage to free you, then yes, I will live with you, Black, but know this: I’m not playing family with you, godfather or not. You only escaped Azkaban for revenge, it had nothing to do with me. I’m merely accepting your offer because anything is better than the Dursleys’.”

“B-but back in the Shrieking Shack, you kept me from killing-”

“I saw an opportunity to better my situation with you alive, and I took it, nothing more.”

“Not very Gryffindor of you,” Black grumbled.

Potter never got the chance to reply to that because the cloud cover shifted, revealing the beauty of the full moon and the stupidity of Remus Lupin. The rest of that night was a blur, but that conversation stuck in Severus’s mind.

As the summer holidays began, he determined to look into Potter’s life and the Dursleys’ seeing as how the boy’s plan had not succeeded and Black was still a wanted criminal. However, every time he made an attempt, he found himself doing something else. He even found himself unable to brew any potions that would test for spells or compulsions on his person. Severus found himself uncertain of what to do. He knew something was wrong, but he appeared unable to help himself.

It was not until mid-summer that an opportunity presented itself. Most of his potions ingredients he acquired through harvesting in the Forbidden Forest and countryside around Hogwarts or in one of the greenhouses Sprout oversaw with her N.E.W.T students. However, on occasion, he did purchase specific—and often rarer—ingredients from various apothecaries and shops. It so happened that as he was exiting one such shop in Diagon Alley his eyes landed on Gringotts.

Goblins were underestimated within the Wizen world. They also weren’t particularly keen on their clients—especially their more wealthy clients—making decisions under the influence of any spells. Determining that his coin purse was a little light, and thinking only of that, Severus made his way into the bank. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he had been here.

Since it was relatively early and a weekday, the lobby wasn’t particularly busy, and Severus found himself in front of a teller within a few minutes. However, when he was asked what his business was, Severus couldn’t answer. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but words never left. It was like he forgot every time he tried.

The goblin teller narrowed his eyes and said, “I see. Wand for identification of magical signature?”

Severus managed to release his wand from its holster, but nothing more. It clattered noisily onto the marble floor.

With a flick of his long fingers, the goblin wordlessly accio’d the wand and looked at it. After a moment, he spoke, “I’m no Olivander or healer, Master Snape, but it appears both you and your wand are bound. Have you come to us for assistance in this? It’ll cost you.”

“P-Prince t-trust v-vault,” Severus managed to choke out. For reasons he could not think of at the moment, he had never tested to see if he could inherit the lordship, but after his mother past he was made aware of a trust vault that his grandparents had made in his name. He never touched it; again, he wasn’t sure why.

The goblin grinned, showing a line of pointed teeth. “Very well, Master Snape, follow me.”

What had meant to be a short trip to Diagon, ended up being a three day stay at Gringotts, deep within the underbelly of the earth. Much had been revealed, uncovered from the rubble of one man’s destructive greed and manipulation. He had entered Potions Master Severus Snape and left the Duke of Princeshire, a district of Wizen Britian that took nearly the whole of Wales. Gone was his blindness and confusion, replaced with cold fury and a sharp desire to protect the one thing he had in this world: Harry.

Lily’s son.

His son.

But first, he needed a plan.