Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Accidental Discoveries

Severus held his breath and balanced a precious phial of unicorn tears over the bubbling surface of his latest foray into potions research. This project, if it worked, would make his name in the medical potions community: an antidote to dark poisons—or most of them anyway—few of which had usable treatments, let alone true antidotes. Each test cost two months of his salary and ten days work, but with the addition of the unicorn tears he had painstakingly gathered from the one beast kind enough to accept him despite his dark past, he would know if last seasons' meticulous revision and research would pay off. Six drops, precise, measured drops added at just the right moment.

'Four, clockwise stir, five, anticlockwise stir, six, clock—'

A phoenix burst to life behind his cauldron, and Severus jumped. In horror, he tracked a silvery drop from the phial neck down, down, down….

Plop.

The potion gave a warbling gurgle and turned dark violet. Ruined. Three months' work, ruined.

"Damn it to hell, Albus! Couldn't you have waited two bloody seconds?" 

With a snarl that ended on a strangled cry of rage, Severus hurried to neutralise what would no doubt be a spectacular explosion before the entire lab went down in flames. A careful anticlockwise stir with shield magic active to contain the force inside the cauldron, a dash of moondew to counter the effects of one unicorn tear too many….

Fawkes cocked his head, stared at the roiling violet mess, and dropped a single tear into the cauldron.

"Fawkes! I am trying to—" 

The potion settled and turned a brilliant hue of cerulean.

Severus choked on his tirade and stared, disbelieving, at the potion. "Oh, it—this is—Merlin!" He hadn't tripped over his tongue so much since the day he asked Lily Evans to the Spring Ball. She had shot him down then, of course, but this, at least, looked promising.

Tentatively, he gave the potion one more clockwise stir and tapped the side of the cauldron to release any air pockets.

The potion turned refractive blue and set prisms dancing all about the office. 

It was perfect.

Severus flopped into his chair, stunned. He'd done it. Bloody hell, he had just made healing potions history.

Well, with a little help. Talk about a happy accident. 

"Phoenix tears. Of course it needed phoenix tears. Then shielding magic must have coalesced its healing powers. And seven drops instead of six—the most powerful magical number. I should have thought of that." He gave the bird a wry look. "Hm. Perhaps I could utilise your services as a research assistant more often."

Fawkes puffed out his chest and cooed.

"Yes, yes, well done. I'll be sure to credit you in the patent. Now, why in Merlin’s name did the headmaster attempt to immolate me in the ashes of my life's work this time?"

Fawkes gave a reproachful sort of warble and held out a note clasped in his talons. Severus ignored the look entirely and took the rolled scrap of parchment. The tingle of powerful warding magic on the missive set his senses on alert. Albus only warded letters concerning three subjects: Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, or Harry-Bloody-Potter. As Severus would prefer to live out his lifespan without ever hearing of either, he knew, without a doubt, this accursed interruption was sure to ruin his day.

Severus,

There seems to be a disturbance in the wards over our Lighthouse. I am afraid I am in a meeting with the Minister and cannot escape, but the readings suggest the boy may be in some distress. I'm quite sure it's nothing serious, but we can never be too cautious. I should not like to find another potentially lethal oversight in the quality of his protection too late. I believe you understand that discretion is of the utmost importance? Do let me know what you find.

Albus

Severus scowled and sent the note up in flames. "Bloody arrogant bastard. You might have asked me to lay aside the rest of my day in search of a spoiled brat with a scraped knee! Damn."

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He would do it. He had to do it. Albus would make his life singularly unpleasant if he failed to respond to his other master's demands.

But it could wait until he decanted his potion. Like hell would he waste three months of work and a good five thousand galleons just to run after the pampered Potter prince. 

It couldn't be that serious. Albus would have gone himself if anything life-threatening had happened, Minister or no.

He summoned a crate of empty phials, a stack of blank labels, and his writing utensils, and began the tedious task of decanting his brew. The phoenix gave another low trill of reproach, but Severus had long since grown inured to the disapproval of the whole of wizarding society—and their pets. Potter would just have to wait.

Half an hour later, Severus had put away his potion in preparation for the final phase of testing, dressed in black trousers and a white button-down, and donned a pair of reading spectacles with bespelled lenses. The latter would allow him to see through the walls of Privet Drive and get a reading on the brat's state without making himself too obvious. He spelled his protective tonic against potions damage from his hair, brushed it until it looked presentable, and apparated to the Order's safe travel point, Arabella Figg's garden shed.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Severus. Are you—"

"Here on business, Arabella. Urgent business."

She waved as he passed, and he resisted the urge to scowl. The woman had shown him kindness as a boy, batty as she had always been. He inclined his head in greeting and walked towards Privet Drive at a brisk pace.

Row after row of identical homes sprawled all over the neighbourhood. Every lawn pristine, every shrub trimmed just so, every bland flower placed in the same pattern—ugh. Revolting. If not for the numbers above the doors and the slight differences in lawn ornament and floral choices, he might have thought he had stepped straight into an episode of The Twilight Zone.

By the time he reached number 4, his lip had already curled in a sneer and his shoulders had rolled up defensively. He forced his distaste for the area down with the bracing thought that he wouldn't be in this suburban version of hell for long and scanned the wards. 

Nothing sparked any reason for concern, which meant the problem Albus had detected originated in the boy himself. Severus tapped the sides of his spectacles to activate their powers. "Oculus Maxima!" He searched the house briefly but saw no sign of the child.

Damn. He would have to investigate in person. 

Was it worth the trouble? Surely Potter's brat couldn't be too injured….

And yet, Severus recalled Albus' lack of concern for his own well-being and health, both as a student and adult, and knew he couldn't trust the old bastard to protect anyone. 

A trickle of guilt chilled his gut. Should he have fought harder to keep the boy? To protect him? 

No. The brat was probably just sulking. 

Still, just in case, perhaps he would be wise to check despite Albus' tacit warning against direct interference. If the child was safe, Severus had enough skill to keep his identity and presence quiet. If the child wasn't safe….

Severus didn't want to consider that possibility.

Even so, he couldn't walk away without at least verifying the boy's health. So, with a sigh, he deactivated his spectacles and made his way to the door. A sharp knock brought a childish call to his ears.

"Coming!"

Heavy footsteps sounded from inside. More like a stampede. Alarmed, Severus moved off the stoop and out of the way of whatever massive mutt Potter owned. 

The door opened, and Severus braced himself to be tackled, but no dog made an appearance. Instead, a piggish boy of about seven years—one who looked to have giant blood in him—yanked the door open and blinked at the empty stoop. 

This was Potter? Severus recoiled. No, not in a million years. The Potter boy had black hair. And….

"He has his mother's eyes, Severus. Quite astonishing, truly."

Severus remembered. It had hurt when he first saw them, it hurt when Albus continually twisted the knife, and it still hurt to think of it now.

No, this boy must have been the Potter brat's cousin. Dubbly, Dudlin, Dumdum, something like that. Albus did so love to blather on about how well the boys got on, but Severus couldn't be bothered to care.

He stepped into view. "Good afternoon. I am—"

The boy craned his neck and scowled. "Aw, you're not Gordon."

Severus suppressed a scowl. Well. If this was the spawn of Petunia's blessed union, he had no doubt her brat and his cousin did get on. Very well indeed. 'Birds of a feather….'

He forced his tone neutral and his features into a slight smile. "Ah, no. My name is Steven Sands." He wasn't fool enough to use his true name, blood wards or no. Godric's Hollow had proved the folly of putting too much faith in one's wards. 'Or one's friends.'

"I'm here to speak to your father concerning an issue at the workplace. Would you retrieve him for me?"

The boy huffed. "DAD!"

Severus repressed a flinch at the volume. Barely.

"DAD!" The door slammed an inch from Severus' nose, and more shouting and stampeding sounded inside. 

Surely a small curse on these rude fools wouldn't hurt. Much.

While he waited for his 'colleague,' Severus tapped his spectacles again and activated the charm. A haloed image of the house's interior appeared, in greater detail this time. The bullish-boy was in the kitchen speaking with Petunia and Minotaur Senior, but Potter still wasn't in sight. A trickle of unease dripped down his spine. 

The door opened, and Severus quickly shifted the spell to only one lens, leaving his left eye clear to focus on Mr. Minotaur while he left the image of the house up on his right side. 

"Uh, yes? Do I know you?"

Severus offered his hand, though he swore it would take a month to wash off the slimy residue of the bullish man's sweaty palms. "Not in person. I'm Steven Sands."

"Vernon Dursley. How can I help you?"

"The…." A quick glance inside told him Dursley was white-collar (or perhaps more like grey, with the way he sweated), upper-middle class. Pompous, self-important, luxury auto to over-compensate and intimidate the neighbours. Well, he knew that type well enough.

"The CEO sent me to discuss a problem in your most recent order."

Bull-man blanched. "The order to Parsons? Damn. I knew that old fox was too sly."

"Ah, yes. That one indeed." It would do anyway.

"Well, come in then. We just finished dinner, but Petunia will clear up and serve some tea for us, if you'd like."

Severus would definitely not like, but needs must. 

"Thank you."

"Right this way, sir." Dursley motioned him in, and right away, Severus noticed a problem. 

The door led to a narrow hallway and staircase. Photos of all sorts lined the walls up and down, frame upon frame of Bullman Senior, his horse-faced wife, and piggish blue eyes, blond hair, and double chins poking out everywhere, but not a one bore an image of a black-haired, green-eyed imp. If Severus didn't feel the powerful imprint of the boy’s magic all over the dwelling, if he hadn't felt the wards as he passed their barriers, he might have suspected he had the wrong house. 

Severus' hackles raised. Something was definitely wrong about this.

Dursley led him to the kitchen, where the piggish boy sat at the table with the biggest bowl of ice cream Severus had ever seen anyone attempt to eat alone. Three plates with remnants of spaghetti marinara sat before the empty chairs.

Three? Perhaps the fourth was already in—but no. The sink was empty.

He kept his expression neutral despite a growing sense of alarm. Three people in photos. Three plates. Three humans present in a house that should hold four. 

"Er, just let me clear up a bit," Dursley gave him a sheepish shrug and picked up the closest dirty dish. "Usually, the… help does this, but he's rather indisposed at the moment." 

"Ah. I see. In that case, might I borrow your bathroom for a moment? I've had a rather long drive."

Dursley motioned to the back of the house. "Last door on the left."

"Thank you."

Severus slipped out of the kitchen as Petunia went in. She gave him a narrow-eyed look, but he faked a nervous smile, and she frowned and left him alone. Damn. Too close. Tuney knew too many of his secrets.

As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Severus dashed on the balls of his feet into the bathroom, which happened to be the perfect place to scour the rest of the house in secret. 

Potter wasn't in the house at all.

Merlin, now what? Had the fool boy gone and run away?

He set his wand in the palm of his hand. "Point me Harry James Potter."

The wand spun twice, then jerked around to the south, towards the back of the house. Actually—hm. Severus peered out the window.

"Hah. There you are." 

Severus left the bathroom and strolled to the kitchen, wand out. Petunia opened her mouth to shriek at the sight of him, bloody shrew, but she never made it to the first syllable.

"Obliviate Triplex!" The spell hit all three Dursleys at once. "You don't know me. You never saw me. I was never here."

He didn't wait to see it take effect. He had used memory charms enough to cast them in his sleep. Honestly, he could have cast it with neither spell nor wand, but, when mucking about in human brains, particularly Muggle brains, it was always best to employ a healthy dose of caution.

Confident in his skill, he left the Dursleys to sort out their new memories and crept out the back door. The heavy padlock on the shed door confused him—how had Potter placed that from the inside?—but he just vanished it. No Muggle lock would hold a wizard for long.

As he stood upon the threshold and steeled himself for what awaited him on the other side, the hair on his arms stood on end. Fate. This was fate. Whatever he found inside this dirty shed in the middle of Helltown, Surburbia, would change his life. 

And, perhaps, the life of a small boy who lived as a ghost in his own home.

Severus opened the door, squared his shoulders, and stepped inside.