Chapter Text
Severus Snape had never stopped looking for Harry Potter during the school year. He couldn’t stop turning up to classes or house meetings. Instead, he stayed up later and later into the night. And yet, he found nothing. That was until a Gryffindor first year came to his office with an old photograph.
Snape was not expecting to see a fifteen year old Lily Evans. This had not been the first time he was blindsides by a photo of her, smiling up from a memorial piece in the Daily Prophet or from a book about recent wizarding history. However, in these photos, she was usually hanging of the arm of James Potter, perfectly posed for the camera. This candid shot of them together, working effortlessly on a potion might have well been an avada kedavra to the heart.
He had assumed the worst. Lily’s death may have been eleven years ago now, but the Daily Prophet would still pay a pretty price for a photo of a man who had just barely escaped Azkaban with The Boy Who Lived’s mother. The last thing he imagined was that the Drake boy would have no idea who Harry Potter was or anything about the last war.
Snape intended to give him a few details and send him on his way but Drake’s reaction was curious. He said that Harry Potter was his friend, somehow but refused to say where they met. There were real tears in his eyes when he heard what happened to Lily and insisted that she was nothing more than an unemployed drunk. Those words, they reminded him so much of the kinds of things Petunia would say about Lily. He could picture that vindictive woman, cursing Lily’s name to feel some modicum of superiority.
A thought struck him, both horrible and desperately hopeful in equal measured. He examined the boy before him. He had the dark hair, the round glasses and the slim frame that was all quintessentially Potter but his eyes were wrong. They were too blue and his hair was not where near messy enough. There was of course the first name but that didn’t explain where Drake came from. Snape had too many question but he could tell the boy was already overwhelmed.
He let him run from the office, leaving Snape alone. Days past and Snape became convinced that he had simply imagined it all, that hope had gotten the best of him. However, standing in the hospital wing with Harry Drake’s medical records Snape knew he had not been mistaken. He had seen many of these very injuries inflicted on the boy through Vernon and Petunia’s eyes.
It made him sick to read everything written so clinically. Harry…whatever last name he wanted to use…sat on the bed, looking so small crouched into himself. Some absurd part of Snape wanted to draw him into a hug and wasn’t that a weird thought. He didn’t, of course, he just stood there with the last trying to think what on earth he was going to do. Dumbledore could never know. Snape just knew he would send the boy back to the Dursleys.
How had this happened? How had the boy gotten to America and who exactly was Tim Drake? They looked like twins, only their different coloured ties and Harry’s glasses marking them apart. He would have known if Lilly had another child.
“There’s not much we can right now,” Poppy was saying to Harry, “you’ve got some breaks that didn’t heal quite right. We’ll need to vanish them and let them regrow overnight. As for your scars, there isn’t much we can do, I’m afraid. The most pressing issue is the malnutrition.”
“I can brew the necessary nutrient and strengthening potions,” Snape answered Madame Pomfrey’s unasked question. He turned to Harry. “You’ll need to drink them with each meal. They’ll be sent up automatically to your table. I’m sure your brother can make sure you take them.”
“I will,” Tim sounded much older than eleven.
“There’s not many weeks left of the year,” Snape said, “I can give you a batch to take back to Gotham.”
“Thank you,” Harry said. He was still curled into himself, much too tightly. Snape knew what was causing him such discomfort, he’d been in same position before but there were still some questions he had to ask.
“Do you think we could get some privacy, Poppy?” Snape asked the medi-witch.
“Of course,” Poppy said, “we can organise a time to heal those breaks afterwards. Unless you’d prefer to get it over and done with tonight?”
“I’d rather just do it,” Harry said quietly.
“I can do that,” Poppy opened up the curtains, “if you have any questions just call for me.” She stepped out, leaving Harry, Tim and Snape alone.
As head of Slytherin house, he’d had this conversation many times but it never became easier. “I assume you know what I’m going to be asking about.” Snape said. It wasn’t a question but he sensed that Tim and Harry wouldn’t appreciate any attempts at subtlety. Harry and Tim nodded.
“I will be straight with you,” Snape sat down on a chair next to the bed where Harry and Tim were perched. He didn’t want to tower over them. “Your medical history, Harry has all the indicators of severe physical abuse and neglect.”
Harry bent his head, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Tim held his hand tightly. Snape got a brief flashback of Lily comforting him as a child the days after his father came home drunk. He was glad the little black-haired boy wasn’t alone.
“I’m going to ask a few questions,” Snape kept his voice, “you need only to shake or nod. Is that ok?”
Harry nodded
“Have you ever felt unsafe at home?”
Harry shook his head.
“Has food ever been denied to you as punishment?”
“Not,” Harry looked at Tim, “not in Gotham.”
“Have your guardians ever touched you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?”
Harry shook his head again. That was a relief. Snape continued through his standard list of questions until Harry interrupted him rather forcibly.
“Look,” Harry said, “you don’t need to worry about my…parents, ok? They didn’t do this, they have never done anything to me. They’re never even at home so you don’t have to worry.”
Snape paused. “Are you saying you live by yourself?”
“No,” Harry explained slightly exasperated, “I live with Tim.”
“And our parents,” Tim cut in quickly, “they just work a lot. That’s what Harry means.”
A sense of dread returned to Snape. It sounded like whoever Harry’s guardians were now, they were better than the Dursleys but something still seemed off. Thinking back to when he’d picked them up to go to Diagon Alley, he’d never actually seen their parents. Tim had written him a letter saying that their parents had taken them to London but he had proof that this was true. He’d seen their manor so at least they weren’t living on the streets and it seemed they had enough money for food but who exactly were looking after them?
“What are the names of your guardians?” He asked.
“Jack and Janet Drake,” Tim responded at once, “but they are currently at a dig site in Argentina. You won’t be able to reach them by phone and they are muggles, they don’t understand owl post.”
How convenient. It seemed that Snape had some investigating to do. He had failed Lily once before, he wasn’t going to do it again. As much as he wanted to ask more questions now, Snape decided that he could leave it for now. At Hogwarts, they weren’t in any immediate danger and there was still a little over a month left.
“Thank you for answering my questions,” Snape said to both of them, “is there anything you want to say before I call Madame Pomfrey back.” Tim and Harry shook their heads.
Poppy came back and gave Harry a rundown on how she would heal his bones. Snape decided to leave her to it. He suspected that Harry and Tim would like some privacy and he had some potions to brew.
On the way back to the dungeons he ran into Professor Quirrell going in the opposite direction. He wondered what the man was up. Snape hadn’t forgotten Halloween when the professor had tried to get past Hagrid’s demon dog and now he was hurryingly shiftily through the halls.
Oh well. Let Dumbledore and his ridiculous obstacle course deal with him. Snape had something more important to do.