Chapter Text
Severus paced slowly down Diagon Alley, contemplating his most recent potions purchases and whether he ought to pop over to see Master Aziz. He was in no hurry to return to Hogwarts; it was winter break and the student would not return for another two weeks. Severus had a head start on his potions and very much wanted to avoid another game of wizard's chess with Minerva. She had offered to accompany him like she usually did, but he wanted to prove he could handle it on his own. Just because he had a panic attack last time he left Hogwarts by himself didn't mean he needed a bloody chaperone.
Besides, the snow falling in the alley was quite pretty, and Severus embraced the calm brought by the cold and a lack of post-Christmas shoppers. Snow reminded him of his mental landscape when occluding--when he did not use water, he used snow to bury thoughts and feelings from the Dark Lord. Not that he had in the last 4 years. Nowadays his Occluding came in handy when dealing with Albus and the dunderheaded Gryffindors he was forced to teach.
Severus paused outside Flourish and Blotts and turned to view the whole of Diagon Alley --- and caught sight of a small figure darting behind a pillar. Too small for a Death Eater. One of his students, perhaps? They did tend to avoid him outside of class. He didn't see anyone, though, and after a minute continued on.
At the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, he looked back one more time to see the snow lit up under the lanterns and drifting into the corners, and again caught sight of a small person – too small to be a student, even a first year – slipping behind a large pot.
His eyes narrowed. Slipping his wand half way out of the holster, he stepped toward the wall and slowly sidled along, watching the pot. A tiny shoe – a Muggle sneaker, surprisingly – stuck out. He waited just a moment longer, letting a straggling wizard walk past and into the Leaky Cauldron before making his move.
"What are you doing?" He made his voice loud and firm, but not loud enough to call attention to himself. The child – for it was a child, he had half been expecting a house-elf – gaped up at him, caught flat-footed.
The child did not seem inclined to speak right away, which Severus supposed could be attributed to healthy fear of strangers. He could not help but notice his eyes, though – bright, wide green eyes peeking out from under a grey knitted hat that covered his whole head except his face.
Blink, blink, went the eyes, then the child spoke: "I was following you, sir," and he beamed. At Severus.
"Where are your parents?"
"Dunno, sir," the child answered, lowering his head and drawing his coat more tightly around him. No, not a coat. A jacket. In the middle of wizarding London in a snowstorm. Severus saw baggy jeans pooling over the dirty Muggle sneakers. The bottom hems were soaked and ragged.
Snowflakes fell around them, and Diagon Alley was quiet with it. Severus saw no other wizards, much less any who seemed desperate about a lost child. Still, they could be inside. "Are you lost?"
"No, sir!" the smile returned, showing a missing tooth and a dimple on one cheek. "I was looking for you and I found you, sir!"
…what. "My name is not sir, it is Professor Severus Snape. And yours is?"
"I think it's boy, sir. That's what people call me, anyway."
Severus became aware of the snow gathering on his head and shoulders and the dark falling over the alley. So this was likely a homeless child, then. But there simply weren't homeless children in the wizarding world– either they were taken into a home or orphanage, or they lived in Muggle London, unaware or unable to use their magic.
"How did you get here?"
The child blinked as snowflakes clustered in his eyelashes. "I was with my aunt and my cousin while they were shopping, and I ... stopped to look at a picture in a window, and then they were gone! So I wished really hard to find them, and – " he stopped and bit his lip.
"Go on," Severus urged.
"And, well, I came here." The boy shrugged, apparently finished with his story.
So he was a magical child then, and had apparated with accidental magic. Severus suspected the aunt had been negligent, although he could make no accusations without proof. And yet, that did not explain why a child, who couldn't be more than four, who had suddenly appeared in a street lined with all sorts of magical wonders to catch a child's eye, would follow him.
"Who are your parents, child? I will contact them for you and return you home. No, first, come," and he turned and walked toward the Leaky Cauldron. Snow crunching behind him told him the child was following. What was he thinking, chatting out in a snowstorm? The child was freezing to death before his eyes.
Inside, Tom waved them to a table and nodded when Severus indicated to give them some time. Bless him. Severus pointed to a chair and sat in the other so he could see out into the room. The table was near the corner, and there were only a few other patrons lingering over their mugs, so they were mostly alone.
The child --- he could not call him boy, how did a child not know his own name? --- swung his legs and looked around curiously.
Severus cleared his throat and the green eyes snapped to him. "Your parents," he began. "Do you know their names? I will contact them and get you returned as soon as possible."
"I dunno their names, sir," the child said quietly. "My aunt said they died when I was little, and they were bad people. She said they were –" eyebrows wrinkled and lips pursed in thought "-- no-good lay-out drunks who never did a good thing in their lifes."
"Ah," Severus shifted. "That is…unfortunate. Your aunt then? Or your uncle? What are their names?"
"My aunt is Put-Petunia, and my uncle's name is Vernon, but he likes for me to call him sir, all the time."
Severus couldn't breathe. He was sitting at a table with a tiny child and he could not breathe, because this could not be him, he could not be this tiny child with Lily's eyes, not Potter's spawn, not the boy who changed history who ought to have been pampered and praised and spoiled for it.
Severus dragged in a breath, then another, but before he could muster up the courage for spoken words, Tom bustled up, looking like he wanted to frown at the child (homeless, he had thought he was homeless, how could this be –) but holding back for Severus' sake. Hogwarts staff were generally very respected. "What can I get you two? A spot of tea? Butterbeer?"
The child – could it be? -- stared at Tom, then swiveled his head to stare at Severus. As if on cue, a growling could be heard by all three. "Hmph!" said Tom. "Somp'n more substantial, then, beef and kidney pie, eh, Professor?"
"Yes," Severus said faintly. "One for the boy, black coffee for me. And…a bread pudding, if you have it."
"That we do, Professor, that we do! The wife always makes more than we can eat for Christmas, always says better safe than sorry. Wouldn't be Christmas without the bread pudding, says she, not that we don't have it the rest o' the year, now do we?"
"Thank you, Tom," Severus interrupted, knowing he could go on like that if he didn't. Tom nodded and bustled off, throwing over his shoulder, "I'll have it right up for ye, just you wait" and again they were left alone. Severus stared. Green eyes stared back.
"Um, sir? Er, Professor Snape, sir?"
"Yes," Severus answered automatically.
"You won't call my aunt, will you? I think she's probably really mad. And, maybe," the child took a comically deep breath, lifting his chest up and then whooshing it out all at once. "Maybe I could stay with you, Mr. Professor Snape sir? That's why I was looking for you, sir."
"And why were you looking for me?" Severus asked, because he could not say what else he wanted to say.
"My mum told me to!" The child responded brightly. Severus' heart skipped a beat, then started again, faster, like it had tripped and stumbled into a run. "She said I should run away when Aunt Petunia was distracted, and I should concentrate reeeeally hard and try to find you and you would help me!" Green eyes lowered to the table. "I asked her why I couldn't go right away but she said I would find you when it was the right time." Green eyes looked up. "Please, sir, could I stay with you? I don't wanna hafta find you again."
Severus thought about Petunia, hating Lily and everything about the magical world, hating him, trying to crush Lily's spirit with every interaction. He thought about Potter, bouncing his green-eyed, black-haired boy in Order meetings, making sure he was fed and warm and safe and happy, and Lily watching him with all the love in her eyes. Severus looked, looked at the dirty grey hat with snow melting on top and the worn jacket with holes in the too-long sleeves and the raggedy jeans and filthy sneakers. He looked, and then he reached, slowly, across the table, and slipped the hat off the little head. Black locks sprang free, tumbling over the lightning shaped scar that announced him the hero of the wizarding world.
The child watched as Severus placed the hat on the table and folded his hands to hide their trembling. "Your name," Severus began. His voice was steady. "Is Harry Potter."