Chapter Text
On this ‘fine Sunday’ in number 4 privet drive, one would find the usual residents going about their usual schedule. AKA ignoring, bullying, and ordering one Harry James Potter around.
On this particular Sunday, Harry's task was up in the attic to sort out some of Dudley’s old comics and store them away going by their release date (When was Dudley ever going to read these again?). It was busywork and something the young boy knew was just an excuse to get him out of sight for a few hours.
Well what should have been a few hours, if it wasn’t for said cousin locking him in earlier that day.
He had just woken from his much-needed nap, grabbing the trash bin glasses off the ground and squinted at the floor. With a sigh he got on his thin hands and knees and crawled over to the hatch, rattling the handle to the door a bit.
“Still locked then.” Huffing he flopped back down on his bum and looked across the room, continuing to talk to himself so his voice filled the silence. “Aunt Petunia will have to get me once dinner needs to be prepped” It was basic Dursley logical and guessing from the amount of light filtering in from the attic vent, it was probably going to be in an hour or so.
It only took ten minutes for the young boy to become bored. (He could have lasted longer, he was trained by now to wait in one spot for almost half a day. One hour was nothing) But why bother when he could do whatever he wanted up here, like his cupboard. With this in mind, he crawled over to the large pile of old chairs, bins, and picture frames. The mound of furniture had kept drawing his attention the whole time he was sorting but was afraid of being caught if he tried to look.
“I’ll hear Aunt Petunia pull the ladder down and unlock the hatch.” He reasoned with himself. Crawling on top of a decent sized crate, he reached for a small box that was under a moth-eaten jacket, the ivy painted on the side catching his eye. Now in his hands and turned so the latch was facing him he tilted his head to the side and traced the gold lettering that was painted on the top.
“Who’s Lily?” he asked himself. Why would Petunia keep someone else’s old stuff? There was no lock on the thing, so with a brief glance to the door he opened it and reached for the first thing his eye’s landed on.
A photo.
His Aunt was standing center frame clutching a book to her chest smiling brightly while bracketed on either side by two other children who seemed to be of the same age.
“Odd” He turned the photo around and there in the left corner in legible script read: Petunia with her ‘Magic for Muggles’ book and Sev.
Harry felt his jaw drop in shock. ”Aunt Petunia knows how to read a book!?” Completely ignoring the fact that the book was on the forbidden subject, but he never seen his aunt even pick up a newspaper before! Just her silly magazines with home décor pictures. Excited that he was learning something he pulled out the next thing. Unfolding the parchment, he crossed his legs and settled down on the crate to read the letter.
Lily,
I can’t believe that you thought Monkshood and Wolfsbane where two different things! We went over that last time. Unbelievable. Honestly, I think Gryffindor has somehow sucked all intelligence from your brain understanding of potions and filled it with silly thoughts of ‘what if Petunia has magic, and is hiding it?’.
You and I both know that is not true. Your sister is remarkably cruel to you and deserves to fall into the Bog of Eternal Stench and never be found. Don’t sigh at me, I know you agree.
Lucius is acting weird recently…I trust you enough to say this, but I think he met with HIM. I received a letter from Lord Lestrange yesterday asking if I could come to a small gathering at their manor. Stating that “liked minded individuals should stay connected" and "it’s important to put on a unified front”. I made my excuses but lily, I’m running out of ideas.
Miraculously father has decided to travel to Italy this last week, so mother and I have been-
Harry skipped the next part seeing no mention of Lily’s name and his bespectacled eye’s settled on the strangers signature on the bottom of the page.
Yours truly,
Severus Snape
Flipping the letter over he didn’t find any other information. What was Monkshood and Wolfsbane? Who was Gryffindor? Magic? And most importantly, who was Severus Snape?
From the letter, it was obvious he knew this Lily and Aunt Petunia. And if Lily was Aunt Petunia’s sister did that mean she was Harry’s mother? This seemed to confirm it, and a surge of warmth brushed through him at that realization, and he clutched the letter closer to himself and stared at the photo he had grabbed first. This was something of his mothers.
“Mum” looking at the red-head in the image he noted that they shared not only their eye color, but quite a bit of his face shape seemed to match as well. His cheekbones were higher and eyebrows a bit thicker so those were probably his dad’s traits, along with his awful vision. Looking at his mother more, his attention was drawn to the man, who had black hair and high cheek bones next to her. Was this his father?
Looking down at the small box he reached for the next piece of paper on top of the pile, hoping to learn more.
“Freak!” The loud shout from next to him caused Harry to jump and tumble down from the crate he was sitting on. He hadn’t heard the lock. Scrambling up from his position, he looked at his Aunt who was staring at the box that sat open on the crate he had previously occupied. She looked down and a cruel sneer stretched across her face.
“Get to the living room.” She pointed at the object and hissed out “and bring that thing” Her head disappeared as she stepped down the ladder. “You have the count of five. Five.” Scrambling, he jumped up and grabbed the small box hesitating for a second to shove the photo and letter into his pants. That second cost him. As he precariously started to step down the ladder holding the box in one arm, Petunia reached zero and yanked him down, letting him fall the five feet to the floor.
That was going to bruise.
“Get up you freak!” bony hands grabbed his upper arm and pulled him up, snatching the box from his grip. She frowned at the thing and her muddy green eye’s went back to her burdensome nephew.
“I want you to go down stairs and start up the fireplace, then go to the kitchen and start prepping the vegetables”
“But Aunt Petunia, it’s the middle of summer-“
“Now!” she screeched, raising a hand as if to hit him. She never did (That was Vernon’s job), but it was enough motivation to get him to scramble down the stairs and start those tasks.
It was well past five and the roast was in the oven when she called him into the living room. If he wasn’t already sweating from washing all the dishes he sure would be now. The fire was roaring with the new wood that she tossed in and was increasing the temperature in the hot house to levels well over comfortable.
“Grab that.”
Looking at the side table she was pointing at, his stomach dropped spotting the ivy painted box sitting there. Was she going to-?
“Stop making me wait!” walking up to the table he picked up the box, and went to hand it off to his aunt. However, the object was never grabbed. Instead she pointed to the flames. She’s going to make me destroy the only thing of my mothers.
He had no idea what else could have been in there. Were there more photo’s? What if his mum talked about his dad? What if she wrote something for him?
Stumbling his way through blurry eye’s he scolded himself not to cry in front of his Aunt. He never much thought of his drunkard parents since his Aunt and Vernon never discussed them (Unless it was to insult Harry), but that photo gave him something he didn’t know he wanted.
He reached a comfortable distance away from the fire and just stared at it. His Mum's hair was red. I never knew she had red hair.
“Now.” Arms moving on auto pilot he watched as the box fell into flames and was quickly engulfed. The Paint bubbled and the gold lettering burned black as the wood caught fire. He stayed looking for as long as he could hoping that if the wood burned fast enough he might catch a glimpse of what remained inside the thing before it too was devoured by flame.
His Aunt had other ideas.
Not long after the wood caught, she was marching him into his 'room'. Yanking on the small door the chain clattered against the wood, she tossed him in not caring that his wrist wacked painfully against the door frame. Landing on the bed, he remained there as the door slammed shut and the lock slid into place.
“Not a sound. It's Duddyums 10th Birthday soon, and I have wrapping to complete before the boys get back.”
Harry curled himself into a ball and waited till ‘the boys’ got back, waited for dinner to be eaten with leftovers thrown away, waited until the loud creaks of Vernon going up the stairs that night and for his snores to match his son’s. (I told you he was good at waiting) It was only then that he let out the first of the many sobs that night. He cried knowing that that box and its contents was the only thing of his mother’s he had ever seen, and now it was gone.
He held the old soft parchment that he stuffed down his pants away from himself but clenched it softly, not wanting his tears to destroy the only sign of warmth in the darkness of his room.
He was woken to the quiet sound of his aunt's footsteps descending down the stairs. Panic seized him as he realized he still had the letter in his hands and quickly shoved the thing underneath the lump of his pillow before the sound of the lock sliding off the door occurred.
“Out.” Harry stumbled out of his cupboard blinking rapidly as the morning light hit his eye’s. The door slammed behind him and aunt Petunia’s long face sneered down at him. “A full breakfast today, and don’t burn the bacon this time” she lurched toward the kitchen and Harry was sure to follow straight behind her. If he was good they might let him stay outside versus being locked away again, and he needed to be left out if he wanted to do what he planned last night.
He eyed her discreetly while pulling the eggs and sausages out of the fridge. It was Petunia’s job to make the morning coffee that she always brought to Vernon. Harry’s was to make the breakfast and the tea that would be served with it, unless it was a Thursday, which meant Vernon drank coffee at the table as well.
As soon as she was halfway up the stairs with the bean water Harry pulled a raw piece of bacon out of the packaging and ate it while shoving a slice of bread he was ‘prepping for toasting’ under the facet until it was wet and swallowed that down as well. He only got sick once from eating raw bacon, but you couldn’t smell it on his breath and he always got caught trying to take a cooked piece. Said bacon sizzled merrily on the stove and the first round of toast popped out of the toaster covering the sound of the facet as he drank as much water as he could before he heard the now heeled footsteps heading back down the hall upstairs.
By the time Petunia strutted back into the kitchen the second round of toast was started and Harry was turning the bacon, bowl of eggs ready on the side and a plate prepped for the bacon. “Where are the beans freak?”
Bugger, I forgot about the beans!
“Didn’t want to burn the bacon Aunt Petunia. I’ll get it as soon as this is done.” He kept his head down and held in a relieved sigh when she only scoffed and pulled the tableware off the top shelf.
Just as he finished the last round of toast and placed the plate on the table Vernon waddled in. He froze when Vernon cast his beady eye’s on him, it was Petunia’s clawed hand on his small shoulder that broke him out of his fear as she steered him past the island and into the kitchen again.
“Dishes. Then get out till supper time.”
Success!
Harry had been sitting on the library steps for the past thirty minutes when Mrs. Sample with her jangling keys turned the corner. He scrambled up when she started up the steps.
“You’re here extra early Harry. Excited to pick up your book?” Mrs. Sample believed that Harry was homeschooled, and Harry wasn’t about to correct that assumption since it helped him explain why he could occasionally be in the library on school days.
He smiled up at her as she unlocked the main doors. “No Mrs. Sample. I'm actually here for homework!” she chuckled at him when he walked inside and helped unlock the other side doors. “I’m going to be pen pals with someone and part of my homework was learning how to find someone’s address.”
“Oh that is a marvelous idea!” She cheered, heading over to the main desk and dropping he large purse on top. Harry rolled his eyes behind her back, Everything was a marvelous idea. He perked up when she gestured over to him “Come here Harry and I'll show you the easiest way.” He trotted over and climbed up the high stool so he could see the counter where a huge book sat.
“Now give me your new friends name and town and we can find their address.” Harry winced.
“I was only told his name.” Mrs. Sample turned to him and for a few seconds just looked at his face, blue eyes piercing. Darn, was she catching on?
“Let’s hope their aren’t a lot of people with his name then! If not you’re going to have a long list to take home.” He smiled again relieved and nodded.
“His name is Severus Snape. He’s one of my mum’s friends so knows I'm going to be writing.”
“Oh my, that’s marvelous! It is a unique name. Now to look up his address since we don’t know the hometown, we need to turn to the back of the book and look alphabetically for the last name Snape, then once we find that we look for his first name.” Harry nodded and watched as she deftly flipped to the S’s in the book and than worked her way through the pages till she hit the SN names.
“Excuse me Ma’am.” The low baritone of a man spoke up behind them. Harry jumped in his seat and curled himself inwards while Mrs. Sample yelped and clutched her floral shirt, turning to the voice. “Sorry.” The man mumbled.
Mrs. Sample flapped her hand at him “Nonesense you just caught me off guard. What can I do for you?” she ask walking around the long front desk to stand behind it. “Harry dear, you can probably find that name of yours without my help. You know where the paper and pencils are to write the addresses down.” Harry nodded slightly happy that she was distracted by the man picking up and checking out a stack of large books.
It was on the next page that he ran into SNA and only half way to the bottom, SNAPE. Excited, he hopped off the stool and ran to the supply table to grab a notecard and pencil before looking for the first name. Luckily there were only two men by the name Severus. One was in Norwich and the other was in a town called Cokeworth.
Copying both the addresses down he used both hands to shut the huge book making sure no pages where damaged. (Mrs. Sample was very serious about keeping all her books nice and clean.) Grabbing his note card he walked over to the stairs and went to the first floor knowing the map room was up there. He had heard of Norwich but never Cokeworth, but he also had no idea where either of them were in comparison to Surrey.
It was easy to find Norwich since it was in bold lettering, but it was next to the sea. He didn’t know much about Aunt Petunia but he knew that she hates the sea and has never lived next to it. And it was with fingers crossed he started to squint at the map looking for the other town.
There it is! He cheered, finally finding it almost center England sitting next to a marked river. It was North West of Surrey, which meant he would have to take the Green Line buses. He eye’d the two towns on the map, slightly worried about the distance before shaking his head and walking out of the map room.
“I want to know more. I’m doing this for me.” He told himself quietly. He didn’t do anything just for himself except find ways to feed himself, he wasn’t allowed to do anything. “Just this once.” He could survive the consequences at least once…probably…hopefully.
There were a number of people now milling about the ground floor, but none seemed to care about the nine year old walking around. Mrs. Sample spotted him and smiled. mouthing a ‘Oh Marvelous!’ when he waved the card at her, before turning back to the person in front of her desk.
Turning right Harry headed to his next destination, the bulletin board. It was there he grabbed the Green Line Bus map and went to his self-assigned desk he always sat at. Cokeworth was the second to last stop on the line before a bus transfer in Banburry. Looking at the bus fare he started to write down the amount he needed on the opposite side of the card, he wasn’t very good at math and so triple checked the amount he needed.
He looked at the number and swallowed back the anxiety. “Just this once” he whispered to himself again, looking down at the address he was hoping would lead him to the correct man. Cokeworth, 5468 Spinner’s End.
The next morning Harry makes breakfast as usual, cursing his luck that they wanted pancakes of all things. When he got back last night he was sent straight to his cupboard without dinner, and was hoping to at least snag another slice of bread this morning. It was going to be a long day of traveling and if he was able to pull off this stunt and get back tomorrow, he just knew that a meal won’t be coming his way for a few days yet.
He was washing up the dishes when Dudley shouted he was off to school. Harry was ‘Very sick and can’t go for at least a week or more depending on how the poor boy is feeling’ according to his Aunt who called in last Thursday after Vernon did a number to his arm and side. He talked himself through the plan again and steeled himself for the possibility he was going to get caught.
Vernon has Tuesday’s off since he works Saturday’s. He always leaves his keys and wallet on the side table next to the front door and goes to the bank every Monday to withdraw a few pounds ‘for us lads’. Petunia had been fluttering around her husband all during breakfast constantly asking “More tea dear? Another pancake love?” and now that Dudley was out of the house she started to Giggle.
He did not want to be in the house any longer and Vernon seemed to agree when he purposely raised his head to make eye contact with the large man. His mustache twitched when he grabbed his arm, Harry could swear he could hear his bones creak at the grip, and marched him down the hall till they were just past his cupboard.
“I don’t want to see your filth until you come back to make super, you hear me boy?!” he shakes him like a dog with a stick and Harry honestly doesn’t understand why the man constantly needed to shake him when asking a question. But suddenly he was released and he purposely stumble back into the side table. Nodding vigorously at his Uncle he quickly turned and fled out the door.
He forced himself to walk down the road and wait till he turned the corner to break out into a run, a small smile stretching on his face. His uncle’s wallet felt heavy in his baggy pants due to the amount of punishments he was bound to receive when the man finds it missing this evening when he heads to the pup, but also his heart was fluttering in his chest because he gets to learn about his mother today.
At 11 on the dot a bus with a green strip stopped at the depo he sat at. The doors swung open and the balding man raised a graying eyebrow when he handed him 23 pounds and spoke confidently that he was going to Cokeworth.
“All by yourself lad?”
Nodding he showed him his notecard with the address written down. “Dads sent me off to visit my uncle. He lives just down the way from the stop and knows I'm coming.” He narrowed his eyes at the older man who just shrugged and pointed behind him at the seats.
“Eh, good enough for me kid. You payed, you ride.” Nodding he walked up the last two steps into the main part of the bus, his stomach swooping with excitement when he heard the doors shut behind him. Only a few people were sitting in the bus so far and Harry found a spot in the middle and looked out the window to his right.
Fear and worry set in eventually when they officially left Surrey and headed to Oxford. This is the furthest I’ve ever been from London He thought, watching the trees zoom by. It was around 3 when the mostly empty bus pulled into a rundown bus stop with no one standing outside.
“Cokeworth kid!” the driver shouted. Harry jumped and made his way to the doors that opened for him when he got near them. He had just stepped out when the driver spoke up one last time. “Now straight to your Uncles, I don’t want to be seeing your face in them papers.” Harry shot him a smile and hummed in agreement, even when he had no idea what ‘those papers’ were.
“Right to Uncles.”
He waved goodbye as the bus drove away and took his time to look around while looking for Spinner’s End. The town on the whole seemed quite drab and depressing, passing brick house after brick house until he eventually reached a crossroads with Spinner’s End. 5468 turned out to be at the very end of the lane and sat slightly separate from the other houses. The home looked older than those around it but the garden that sat out front was absolutely lovely. Harry admired the wide varieties of flowers growing, and was slightly envious when he spotted many he didn’t even know.
Despite the aged appearance the front gate didn’t creak when he swung it open. He let it shut behind him as he started up the short path to the green painted door pulling out the only other thing he took with him on this trip. Letter in hand he froze as doubt sunk its claws into him, and he pulled the now slightly crinkled letter closer to himself
What if this was the wrong house? or he didn’t remember something? or-
The front door swung open and a pair of gray slippers appeared in his downcast vision. “I don’t care how old you are, stop loitering on my properties or I’ll call the police.” A voice drawled out. Gasping he jerked his head up in alarm, eye’s widening and looked up into stern dark eyes.
“P-please sir, don’t call the police! I only wanted to ask you a question” the man scowled and crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the side of the door. Despite the age difference Harry knew this was the same boy from the photo and fought hard to stamp down the hope wanting to bubble up.
“I am not going to buy anything from you either, and while I’m at it, how can your parents let you leave the house looking like that!” Harry's slight smile turned sour as he frowned and looked back down at his outfit trying to find something wrong with it. No one on the bus said anything to him.
“But this is my cleanest outfit.” He pointed out not noticing the man slightly freeze at the admittance. Looking back to the tall man he noticed that he had his sleeve of his green button up rolled up to his elbows. Is that the way I should be dressed? Shuffling the letter into his pant pocket he hastily rolled up his sleeves to match the other, and after another glance tucked the oversized shirt into his pants. Looking up he found the man staring at him strangely. Swallowing his nerves he asked “Can I ask you my question now?” when the man didn’t react Harry winced and remembered to add on ‘sir?’
Curiously the guy's face slowly softened and he crouched down to be more at Harry’s level. No adult had done this for him, not even Mrs. Sample who simply preferred he sit on a high enough stool to be next to her. Unsure at the close proximity, he took a small step back. “Will you answer two of my own?” The man asked with a more sedate tone than he had been using before. Being thrown by the other and the personality change, Harry was hesitant to nod. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if this was a trap and he was just being kind so he could call the coppers. The guy sighed and raked a hand through his shoulder length hair, eye’s focusing sharply on Harry when he flinched slightly at the quick movement.
“A question for a question then?” That sounded fair, Harry reasoned and nodded. “How old are you?”
“Um 9 sir.” The man closed his eyes for a sec and it was interesting to see the different twitching in his face. Was this why adults crouch? So kids could see their faces better?
“Is your name Severus Snape?” Harry asked. A black eyebrow hiked up and the man tilted his head a bit to the side.
“That indeed is my name.” Mr. Snape then pointed at Harry’s arm.
“And how did you get that?” oh, OOOOH!
“Um.” Harry placed his hand around the bruise that wrapped around his arm from Vernon’s grip that morning. His small hand didn’t even cover up half of it, and he knew it was still obvious that it was shaped like a hand. Cursing at himself for forgetting about the bruise when he went to roll up his sleeves, his nine year old (almost 10) brain scrambled for a plausible answer.
He couldn’t lie about it since it was obviously a hand print, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t twist it a bit. “My Uncle had to pull me out of the way of a car.” Mr. Snape’s eyes didn’t leave the bruise and Harry shuffled a bit uncomfortable at the others' silence. “Can I ask my question?”
With a heavy sigh Snape braced his hands on his knees and stood up, nodding slightly for Harry to go ahead.
A swell of excitement had him plunging his hand into his pocket to fish out the letter. Once in his grasp he pulled it out and presented the slightly crinkled parchment to the dark-haired man.
“Did you know my mother, Lily? Can you tell me about her?”