The Boy Who Almost Wasn't

Chapter 2: Like Father, Like Son

Thoughts

ooOoo

That's it, enough is enough, thought Severus Snape, as he impatiently foiled yet another of Potter's desperate attempts at freedom.

The small, undernourished boy was no match for the taller and stronger man. Snape managed to grab his recidivist burden and carry him bodily to the huge stone statue of an extremely ugly gargoyle, like he would a sack of potatoes.

Setting the struggling Ha - oh very well, Ebon down (Snape supposed he'd better humour the brat if he wanted some peace), he muttered the password (Sugar Quills) and waited until the statue sprang aside to reveal a tall spiral staircase which appeared to be moving upwards, rather like a Muggle escalator.

Dragging the small street kid along behind him by one worn and dirty shirtsleeve, Snape managed to step onto the narrow stairs. Potter seemed to be awestruck, and the Potions Master was able to lead the emerald-eyed youth into the Headmaster's office, plagued only by Ebon's half-hearted protests. But unfortunately for Snape, the street urchin seemed to make a quick recovery and resumed his glares and struggles with renewed vigour.

When Snape and Ebon entered to room at the top of the staircase, they were not alone. Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall were seated in two purple overstuffed armchairs, facing the Headmaster.

"Ah Severus. Welcome back. You found Harry, I presume?" greeted Professor Dumbledore, seated behind his desk.

Snape stepped aside to reveal the young boy concealed behind his tall frame. "I have," he confirmed.

"And as usual, just after the nick of time," muttered Lupin, none too quietly.

"Why is he still here? Hasn't he been shot yet?" demanded Professor Snape, eyeing his nemesis with great distaste.

"Now now Severus. You're setting a bad example," Dumbledore scolded, in a voice that suggested he was speaking to one of his pupils. "I thought Mr Filch might appreciate some assistance," he continued, answering Snape's first question.

"Why don't we simply employ Hagrid's mutt? It wouldn't make much of a difference." Snape's tone of voice made clear what his opinion of the situation was - severe dislike.

Remus glared at Snape for a moment, before pointedly moving his attention to Ebon, his sharp gaze taking in the half starved youth. "My name is Remus Lupin, it's good to see you again Harry."

"Name's Ebon. Pleased to meet ya." The opportunity to annoy his captor was too good to miss.

McGonagall spoke for the first time, giving Snape a glare to rival his own. "Honestly Severus. You've gone and brought us the wrong boy! How on earth did you manage that? For Heaven's sake, he doesn't even look like a Potter!"

Snape scowled at Ebon, who returned the gesture with one of his cheeky, infectious grins and despite his indestructible control, Snape almost smiled back.

"I can assure you Minerva, this is Harry Potter. He just doesn't know it yet."

"How intriguing Severus," said Lupin. "I'm sure we would all like to hear your adventures whilst finding 'The Boy Who Lived'. I can't help but be a little surprised. You see, when last we heard of him, Harry Potter was living with his uncle and aunt at Number Four Privet Drive, and looked almost exactly like his father: James Potter. But you return, three weeks after you were supposed to, with a boy who looks like he is off the streets, bearing no resemblance to James, and calling himself EBON! For the gods sakes Snape, have you lost your mind?"

"He is off the streets, Lupin! But he's got the eyes, the scar, and fits the description given to me by his warden at the orphanage!" snarled Snape, stepping forward to stand almost nose to nose with Lupin, who had sprung to his feet.

"Orphanage? Which orphanage?" questioned McGonagall, rising with Professor Dumbledore to stand by the two perpetual rivals.

"The Ken Payne Home for Foundlings," recited Ebon and Snape in unison, Ebon with a repressed shudder and Snape with a deeper scowl.

"Now that's rather a mouthful," said Dumbledore.

ooOoo

Ebon was watching the four arguing adults with distrust. Well, three to be more precise. Dumbledore seemed to be observing the goings on with barely suppressed amusement. His few encounters with grown ups had all turned out for the worst, and this one wasn't looking any better. He didn't find it hard to believe that these people were witches. Apart from the examples of magic he had already seen, there were other clues; with the exception of Snape, still dressed in leather, all wore the dress-like garments and stereotypical pointed hats associated with their kind. Besides, he didn't, by the looks of them, think that Snape or McGonagall would have the sense of humour to participate in such an elaborate trick.

As Ebon was assessing the scene, Remus attempted to sum up the situation. "So if he is Harry Potter, which still hasn't been proven, he knows absolutely nothing of us, is most likely illiterate, and doesn't even know his own name! This is a right fix."

"Congratulations Lupin. For the first time in your sorry life you've managed to recognise a hopeless case when you see one. It might be kinder to simply hand the boy over to a rich family and let them teach him how to mind his Ps and Qs Albus." Snape folded his arms and raised one arched black eyebrow, daring Dumbledore to contradict.

"I won't argue with that," offered Ebon hopefully. It was an act of self-preservation. He didn't think he'd survive meeting with Snape on a daily basis.

"Nonsense dear boy. Ebon needs someone trustworthy, someone he already knows. He also needs to stay close to the school where he'll be safe. Well, reasonably safe," Dumbledore added, turning to Ebon and winking.

"What? Lupin? Do you think that's wise Headmaster? Didn't you just say you had the boy's safety in mind?" Snape's outburst earned him a look of disapproval from McGonagall and Dumbledore, a frown from Lupin, and a questioning look from Ebon.

"Oh no, my boy. I meant you," Dumbledore answered.

"No. Absolutely NOT!" yelled Ebon, disgusted. He looked over at Snape and found the Potions Master to be as opposed to the idea as he was.

It was obvious Snape was about to say something along the those lines, but after Ebon's outburst he changed his tune. "What's the matter? This could be the opportunity of a life time."

Ebon and the others stared at Snape for that uncharacteristic remark.

"Why is this the opportunity of a life time?" asked Ebon. This really didn't fit in with the picture of the Sadistic Bastard he had of Snape. Ebon wasn't usually far off with a character analysis.

"No boy, you misunderstand me. We are offering you, the chance of having a life time."

Nope. Ebon had Snape summed up perfectly.

Dumbledore spoke to the four assembled in his office: "It's settled, then. Severus will have the task of looking after Harry Potter-"

"Ebon," corrected Ebon.

"Sorry. Ebon, and assisting him with his studies," concluded Dumbledore.

ooOoo

Snape had an unpleasant feeling of deja vu as the Headmaster once again thrust the street brat into his charge. Neither he, nor Ebon was thrilled with the situation. Indeed, as far as Snape could make out from the little of Ebon's face visible underneath the grime, the boy was absolutely terrified.

Snape and Ebon descended the spiral staircase, stepping out into the main corridor. Lupin and McGonagall remained behind to discuss their original topic with Dumbledore - the sudden and unexpected rise of Gryffindor potions accidents since Professor Snape had left in pursuit of Harry Potter. Their conversation went as follows: "I can't keep handling all these rogue potions. It's getting really dangerous. Yesterday I tried to clean up a Friction-Less one and very nearly broke my back; of course, Filch won't touch them."

"Well be thankful you don't have them in class. I had to send the Weasley twins to Madam Pomfrey yesterday because they had swallowed an All Day Hiccup Potion."

"Never heard of it."

"That's because they'd just invented it."

Meanwhile, Snape and Ebon each tried to look as though they had never seen, let alone met the other. A pointless exercise as there was no one around to witness it. Snape thought of it as practice for when they did meet someone.

"You will be staying with me in my quarters. I don't want you getting lost. The blame will fall on me," Snape informed Ebon.

"Gee thanks Mister. Can't have ya be'n responsible now can we?" Ebon said sarcastically, glancing at Snape out of the corner of his eye.

"My name is not 'Mister'. It is Severus, but you shall call me 'Sir' or failing that, 'Professor'. Understand boy." It wasn't a question. Ebon nodded and shut up.

"Well, maybe you're not quite the idiot I took you for. It appears you can be educated," Snape said, not quite sarcastically. "You shall be sleeping in the spare room. It hasn't been used for a long time, but I dare say it'll be better than anything you're used to."

ooOoo

Ebon suspiciously eyed the room he was supposed to live in. It was certainly true the room hadn't seen a lot of life, though it may have evolved some. Dust lined chests were lying about everywhere, but at least there was a bed of sorts, which was more than he'd had in a long time. It was a black and gold brass double bed, covered in dust like everything else in the room, but at least it looked stable.

As Ebon was taking in his new haunt, Snape entered the room and stood next to the small boy.

"I won't ask you if you like it, because it's all you're going to get. After you've had a wash, we're going into Hogsmeade to buy you some new outfits."

"Wash? I don't need no wash. I've got by fine without one for four years!" Ebon said, a stubborn expression taking over his face.

"I believe it," said Snape dryly, with an almost amused look. "However now you are here, under my charge, and I require you to wash."

"Not likely!" Ebon shot back.

"Very well. You leave me no choice." With that, Snape once again grabbed Ebon, 'carried' him into the bathroom and threw him (clothes and all) into the bath he had run while Ebon was surveying his new room.

"Now, are you going to scrub yourself? Or do I have to do it for you?"

"Go to hell!" spat Ebon, along with a mouthful of water.

Snape's face broke into what looked like its first real smile in ages, before he shoved Ebon's head under the water.

ooOoo

"Well Ebon, you really do have facial features. Will wonders never cease?" commented Snape, who was now so soaking wet, it looked as if he'd had the bath.

"Go drown your self in a rain barrel." Was Ebon's reply.

"Rain barrel!" Snape sneered, indicating his soaked clothes. "All I need is to let you loose near water. You'd probably drown a mermaid! Here," he said, throwing Ebon a white towel, "dry yourself off then come into the main room. I'll dry your clothes for you."

"Brilliant. I just love a good hour by the fire," muttered Ebon to himself.

As Ebon dried his face with the cotton bath towel, Snape was ordering lunch from the house elves. "...and Pasta Napoli for myself. Boy, are you done yet? I'd like to dry the towel as well. I've only got two!"

"Why don't ya get some more then?" Ebon asked, in no mood to show sympathy to a man who had just given him a wash.

"Maybe because I never expected to have to share my private lodgings with The Wonder of the Wizarding World."

"The what?" asked a perplexed Ebon, at last stepping into view, still dripping wet despite the towel.

"Never mind. I dare say you'll find out soon enough. I'll put off your swelled head for as long as I can," remarked Snape absently. He was eyeing Ebon critically. There was something awfully familiar about that face. But Lupin was right: Ebon looked absolutely nothing like James Potter.

Ink black, crudely cut, shoulder length hair framed an angular, pale, high cheek boned face. Quite unlike James' short, messy black hair, sitting like a mop on top of a thin, slightly pointy face. Furthermore, Ebon didn't even have the traditional Potter short-sightedness! And he had a few freckles, which hadn't come from either of his parents. But the nose, eyes and perhaps the mouth were like his mother's. Snape was sure of it. Admittedly, Snape hadn't really paid much attention to the Mudblood girl except that she represented someone to sneer at because of her poor social status.

A sudden realisation hit Snape like a bludger to the stomach. He stared at Ebon's small frame as if seeing the boy for the first time.

Snape had a flash back to a long forgotten rainy day in August: Celebrating graduation with his few friends in The Three Broom Sticks... renting a room for the night... Leading a young girl who had bright emerald eyes into the room in a drunken haze. She was gone in the morning.

"Boy, get over here right now!"

"What 'ave I done now?" groaned Ebon, walking over to the taller man and leaving his wet footprints on the Celtic rug.

"Give me your hand," said Snape, by way of answer.

Ebon reluctantly did so, obviously wondering where else the man would take him. Snape retrieved a small, sharp knife from within his jacket and drew it along his middle finger, then proceeded to do the same to Ebon, who couldn't manage to stifle a slight gasp of surprise. He pressed his cut finger to Ebon's and they both watched the blood mingle, Snape with controlled trepidation and Ebon with fascinated horror. Snape saw a drop of blood fall into the silver goblet he had placed under their hands. Quickly, he fetched a small vial with a slightly purple substance, poured half of it into the goblet, and waited. The swirling liquid turned a bright magenta before fading into a dull yet prominent red.

"SHIT!" swore the Potions Master.

"Wha' was tha' all abou'?" asked Ebon shakily. He stared into the goblet, almost hypnotised by its pure red, sparkling depth.

Snape placed a long finger underneath Ebon's chin. Tilting his face, he looked straight into Ebon's eyes. Emerald met onyx for a long moment.

"Looks like you do have a father," said Severus Snape, matter of factly.

ooOoo

"Look, would someone bleedin' tell me how a splash of blood in an ol' mug, can determine whether or not I'm an orphan?" yelled Ebon. The raised voice was necessary if he wanted to be heard over Snape and Lupin's shouting match. It had been going on ever since Snape had dragged Ebon all the way back to Dumbledore's office.

"Magic," snapped Snape in such a way as to make his unfortunate son believe it should have been obvious.

"Well pardon me for breathing!" Ebon shot back.

"You won't be, unless you keep quiet."

Ebon winced.

"See, that's exactly what I mean!" Lupin declared triumphantly, pointing at Snape, and glaring around at the other occupants of Dumbledore's circular room. "He's not fit to look after a ferret, let alone a young boy!"

"Yes, but he is the boy's father, Remus. My opinion-" but McGonagall's opinion was never heard, for Lupin again voiced his.

"And that's another thing. How did you become the boy's father? You were awfully vague on that point."

"Surely we don't have to teach you about the birds and the bees Lupin? This is most surprising. I thought that you and Evans had-"

"Why don't you two sit down, and have a half-way civilised conversation?" Dumbledore cut in hastily. Like any headmaster worth his salt, Dumbledore knew when to intervene.

"Well, what's going to happen to him? Where's the boy staying?" Snape resolutely ignored Dumbledore's comment to voice the questions on everybody's minds.

"Why, in your rooms Severus. Same as before. I don't see why we should make other arrangements now," replied the Headmaster, an infuriating twinkle prominent in his eyes.

"Typical," Ebon muttered vehemently.

"Right. Thank you Albus, Minerva." Ignoring Remus Lupin, Snape once again grabbed Ebon, and all but yanked him out the room.

"Fine Albus. Don't say I didn't warn you when you see the poor boy in the hospital wing recovering from some dreadful 'accident'!" Lupin's prophecy echoed in the Ebon's ears as Snape practically slammed the door closed.

Father and son trouped back to their rooms in the dungeons in uncomfortable silence. Neither knew what to say, and each waited for the other to say what they could not.

ooOoo

When they entered Snape's rooms, Ebon threw himself down on Snape's favourite chair, and stared moodily into the fire. "They didn't even notice that I'd had a wash," he complained bitterly. "What's the use in washing, if no one notices?"

"I notice," volunteered Snape, sending a glare in Ebon's direction in case he dared to misinterpret the words as kindness. "You'll bloody well wash at least once a day, or I'll want to know the reason why!" he added for good measure.

"But it's unhealthy! Mayhap ya wouldn't be so peaky if ya skipped a few," crowed Ebon, grinning at his newfound relative in thoughtless abandon.

Snape wasn't impressed. "Insolence such as that, will earn you extra chores," he informed his offspring sternly. "So I suggest you think before you speak."

"EXTRA? What!? Ya mean I'll 'ave ta work?" Ebon exclaimed disgustedly.

"Of course. It's called earning your keep," Snape drawled. "I'll leave a list of things to do on the table every morning, and when I return from teaching, you'll have them completed. Don't worry," Snape added, seeing the curious look on his son's face "it won't be very extensive. Only three of four."

Snape was astounded when Ebon burst into helpless laughter. This obviously wasn't the reaction he had expected, when the professor began to hatch the plan on the way back from the Headmaster's office. "What? What's so amusing?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"It's no use leaving me a list," Ebon gasped, "'cause I can't read!"

Snape recovered quickly. After all, he had been expecting something of the sort. "Well that'll be your first chore," and mine, he added silently. "You can begin immediately."

"Not by meself! I wouldn't know where ta start," Ebon protested cautiously. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or not with his scholarly potential.

"Of course not, idiot child, I'll help you. Vacate my chair and fetch me that book. No not that one. The one over there, on the mantle piece. Good, now bring it here." Right, thought Snape, now on top of potions, I have to teach a child to read. I can't remember this ever being in the job description. Snape opened the book at random, and plonked it down in front of the ebony haired boy. "Do you know anything? Any letters? Any words?" Snape inquired.

"Not on an empty stomach I don't." Ebon stubbornly folded his arms and glared at the Potions Master. If you show any weakness, they think they can push you around all the more, he reasoned.

Snape glanced first at their ruined lunch - forgotten in all the excitement - then at the clock and sighed. "Very well. Since the house elves will be busy in the Great Hall we'll have dinner there." He sighed again in resignation. The students would find out about his embarrassment sooner or later. It might as well be sooner.

"House wha'?" Ebon enquired, wondering if he had heard correctly.

"Elves boy. House elves."

"WICKED! Do ya have flying horses as well?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked Snape sharply, unsure if his son was jesting.

"Never mind," Ebon said, grinning again in anticipation of a square meal. "Can we go find some elves now?"

"Very well." Snape didn't think it was a bright idea to destroy his charge's delusions until he got him into the Great Hall. The Potions Master was not intending to play hide and seek all over the castle tonight.

ooOoo

The Great Hall wasn't exactly what Ebon had been expecting. Admittedly, it would be difficult to describe exactly what he had been expecting, except that this wasn't it. For example, to the casual observer the ceiling was nonexistent. Only close examination revealed the evidence of its enchantment; the occasional vault peeping through, as if embarrassed to be there.

Another cause for surprise was the students. Ignoring their unusual dress code (pitch black, ankle length robes), they were passably normal; however there was the occasional impossible fashion statement. Ebon could have sworn he'd seen more than one girl with a thin glass bangle, flashing several different colours a minute.

"Thought ya said there were elves here," Ebon muttered accusingly at Snape. He was sitting between his father and a lady with fly-away grey hair. Madam Hooch, he recalled. The food was excellent; the street boy knew he'd never tasted anything so delicious before. Unfortunately, it appeared he was expected to use a knife and fork. Ebon had never been one for table manners, and had used cutlery only when it was absolutely necessary, like when Cane had served porridge for breakfast. There was also the added hindrance of his chair; it was much too low. Ebon wasn't enjoying the meal as much as he might.

He was uncomfortable being the target of a thousand students' curious stares. All Ebon's short life, attention had meant trouble. First, at The Ken Payne Home for Foundlings, where it had meant Cane was adding up all of your sins for your punishment on the weekend. Second, on the streets, where people just quickly passed him by - as he was singing 'Gipsy Rover', or some other song the older kids had taught him at the orphanage - dropping a coin in his cap if they could be bothered. Attention made it rather difficult for Ebon to relieve passers by of their wallets. The street boy was an accomplished pickpocket, and proud of it.

"I lied," his father sneered.

"Aren't ya supposed to be me role model?" Ebon complained bitterly.

"I'll feel very sorry if you turn out like him," cut in Lupin, who was sitting on the other side of Madam Hooch. "I wouldn't wish Snape on my worst enemy."

"Who invited you into this conversation, Lupin?" Snape growled. "Butt out."

"Ebon doesn't mind, do you?" Ebon grinned and shook his head. "Don't you think you should let your son have a say," Lupin argued. Ebon glanced at his father and almost laughed at the furious expression on his face. Annoying Snape was turning out to be fun - as long as he didn't push him too far.

"You keep him out of this," Snape hissed back. He knew exactly what the boy was doing. It wouldn't be long until Ebon learnt how much of a mistake it was, to annoy Snape.

"Ebon, do you want to go flying tomorrow?" Madam Hooch asked hastily.

"Ya can fly?" Ebon asked excitedly "Is it a sort o' spell or something?" he continued, looking around at the three adults, nearly bursting trying to hide his feelings. His favourite dream had always been flying. Could he dare hope that it might yet come true?

"No, broomsticks," explained Hooch. "We use broomsticks."

"You're kidding? I thought that was only in stories!" Ebon said suspiciously.

"Well we use them too," Snape said.

"You mean I can really fly?" Ebon breathed, not quite believing it could be true. Ebon couldn't remember anything this spectacular ever happening to him before.

"Maybe. Although judging from Snape's past performances on a broom, you might need a little professional assistance," teased Lupin. "I can help you there."

Madam Hooch snorted with mirth, quickly turning her humour into a queer sounding cough as Snape sent a glare her way.

"If you want to see if he'll fly, push the boy off a cliff," Snape suggested. "He can't sky-lark tomorrow Hooch, I have to teach him his ABCs." He sneered contemptuously.

Lupin hissed through his teeth. "So he is illiterate?"

"It appears so," Snape replied, giving Ebon an unreadable look.

"Well it's not my fault!" Ebon cried defensively. "It ain't as if I was given a choice!"

"You always have a choice," Snape answered bitingly.

"I could help," offered Lupin quietly. Despite his animosity towards Snape, he felt rather sorry for the man. The gods alone knew what this was putting him through. Lupin also felt for Ebon. He quite liked the young street urchin, and being taught to read by Snape was probably going to traumatise the boy beyond repair. The least he could do was assist.

"If I ever need help Lupin, I'll be sure to never ask you," Snape promised.

"Don't worry," murmured Hooch to Ebon. "Despite his air of unashamed unpleasantry, he isn't so bad." She grinned as Snape stared angrily at her. Clearly, she had meant for him to hear.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Ebon stage-whispered back, glancing at his father in mock fear.

Snape glowered at him and returned his attention to his food. Expertly cooked as always. Two minutes later, Ebon placed his knife and fork on his plate and pushed it away, indicating he had had enough.

"Is that all you're eating?" Snape asked the malnourished boy in astonishment. "The way you were acting, I thought you were about to waste away!"

"Guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought I was," Ebon explained, shrugging nonchalantly. "Besides, I'm used ta much smaller meals."

Snape looked up sharply. This could be the explanation. How could he have been so stupid as to not have thought of the possibility before?

"What meals are you used to?" The Severus wanted to know.

Ebon shrugged again and ticked off his daily meals on one hand. "Apple or orange for breakfast. Blue berry muffin an' glass of milk for lunch every Monday 'n' Sunday. Chicken salad sandwich and a bottle of juice every Wednesday, an' a litre of water a day."

"Is that all?" Lupin asked. "Merlin! The poor boy's half starved!"

Snape kept staring at Ebon, his expression once again unreadable, but it was clear he was thinking hard. Eventually he sighed and stood. Turning towards the solid oak doors of the Great Hall, Snape glanced at Ebon and said "Come on." Together, the two ebony-haired males left the hall; the students craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the youth their greasy Potions Master seemed to have adopted.

"Why's everyone staring at us?" Ebon asked as the oak doors of the Great Hall slammed closed behind him.

"I'm sure I don't know," Snape answered, almost smiling at the expression on his young charge's face. Almost.

"Sure, an' I'm the Queen of England." Whoever she is, Ebon added silently.

"Truly? You have an excellent disguise your majesty," Snape jested.

"Why Sir!" said Ebon in mock astonishment. "I do believe that was a joke!"

"Believe what you will," Snape told him.

"Fine with me," the younger boy replied.

ooOoo

The Hospital Wing was empty, as befitted the superior skills of its mistress. Even so, Severus thought he could draw an accurate map of every crack in the ceiling. He had woken up to it more times then he could wish to remember, thanks to four Gryffindor boys.

"Severus," greeted the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, "what have you done to yourself this time?"

"It's not me this time Poppy, this boy, my charge, seems to have starved himself over the last four years," explained Snape, indicating his small companion with a casual flick of his long fingered hand.

"Starved! Over the past four years!? But Severus, he doesn't even look old enough to be a first year!" said a distressed Poppy Pomfrey, looking from Snape to Ebon and back again.

"That's because he's only ten," Snape explained. "He's been living off the streets for those four years."

Madam Pomfrey's disbelieving look melted into one of sympathy as she looked the undernourished street boy up and down. Ebon's oversized, faded shirt couldn't quite manage to hide his too skinny frame. Madam Pomfrey's sympathy quickly changed to suspicion as she turned her attention back to the sulky looking Potions Master. "Severus, exactly how did you come to be looking after a ten-year-old street boy?" she asked.

Snape expelled a long-suffering sigh and rolled his dark eyes at Madam Pomfrey. "Believe it or not, this 'street boy', is actually the great Harry Potter."

"No I'm not!" reproached Ebon. "I'm Ebon. I don't even know who 'Harry' is."

"He's also my son," Snape explained. "Who insists his name is Ebon."

"Well it is," growled Ebon.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. "How Severus?"

"Oh not you too," groaned Snape quietly.

"Pardon?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Never mind. A one night fling with Lily Evans and, I suspect, a rather powerful glamour," Snape replied, glancing at Ebon out of the corner of one black eye.

"Severus!" reproached a shocked Madam Pomfrey, she too glanced warily at the young street kid.

"Oh don't mind me," Ebon said casually. "I 'ear of this sor' of thing all the time." This only earned him a scandalised look from the poor nurse. "Well, maybe not glammers," Ebon continued, upon reflection.

"Glamour. It's a charm used to change your appearance. Rather like a mask, only it truly changes your face, until it's taken off that is," the tall Potions Master revealed.

"Weird," Ebon commented.

"Indeed."

"Well," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "this certainly is unusual."

"Why must people always state the obvious?" Snape asked nobody in particular.

"Don' no," Ebon shrugged. "Why are ya always sarcastic?"

"Don't try to be smart," Severus suggested. "I doubt you'll ever succeed."

"Severus!" reproached Madam Pomfrey again.

"Very well Poppy," Snape conceded. "Will you please just tell me what I'm supposed to do about this starving child?"

"Yes of course," Madam Pomfrey said, then launched into a list of various diets and foods Snape might consider feeding the 'starving child'. Ebon wasn't so sure about some of the suggestions put forward.

"PUMPKIN JUICE?" he half gasped, half shouted. "It sounds positively horrible!"

"Wait until you've tried it," Snape muttered.

"Great," said the scowling young boy.

"Now, was that all you wanted Severus?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Quite," Snape confirmed. "We'll be off then. Thank you, Poppy. Come along boy," ordered Snape.

"Yes master," mocked Ebon. Snape simply scowled at him, then seized his upper arm and pulled him out the door.

Madam Pomfrey watched them go with a slight smile on her kind, slightly older than middle-aged face, and shook her head at Ebon and Severus' displays of not quite affection.

ooOoo

"Ouch! Why do ya 'ave ta 'old me so hard?" complained Ebon.

"Because I refuse to waste my time and effort looking for you if and when you run away," Snape replied dryly.

"Alrigh', ALRIGH'!" Ebon growled. "I won't try an' get away. Yet," he added under his breath. "Just let go of me arm," he winced.

Snape gasped in feigned astonishment. "Oh, so there is honour among thieves?" he half joked.

"Now what would ya mean by that?" Ebon asked innocently.

"My gold cauldron has mysteriously disappeared out of my rooms," Snape explained. "I noticed just before we left my chambers."

"Wha' makes ya think I know anythin' 'bout it?"

"Call it a hunch," Snape raised an eyebrow at his scowling offspring. "Now kindly return it, before I think up something particularly unpleasant to inflict upon you. That cauldron is rather essential for some of my more delicate brews."

Defeated, Ebon put his hands behind his back and brought them out, this time holding an inch sized golden cauldron. "I don' know how ya supposed ta mix anything in this," Ebon confided. "Ya sure it's not jus' for decoration?"

"Wait until we are in my rooms, and I'll demonstrate," Snape promised. "Where on earth were you hiding it anyway? It's too big and angular not to be seen in a pocket, even a hidden one."

"Tricks of the trade," Ebon grinned.

When they returned to Snape's chambers, Ebon once again flopped down on Snape's favourite chair, having correctly guessed as to its favouritism in his sire's stead. Snape scowled at him and unceremoniously shoved him off his seat. Ebon promptly sat on Snape's feat and leaned back against his legs, having previously observed his father's habit of crossing the limbs whilst seated.

"Off you," Snape ordered. Ebon continued to grin up at him, not budging an inch. Snape narrowed his eyes and kicked, hard, sending his unfortunate son tumbling away.

"Bloody hell!" the boy growled, gingerly rubbing his upper arm.

"I suggest you never attempt to be employed as a foot warmer, you're too angular for the job, rather uncomfortable."

"Fine," clipped Ebon and attempted to seem indignant, failing miserably, for indignity was quite foreign to the young boy. Before, he had always been scared or angry, and his lack of practice with this particular facial expression showed readily.

Snape tried unsuccessfully to conceal a smile behind his hand. Ebon glared at him. Snape was rather disconcerted to recognise his own expression on his offspring's features. I suppose I'll have to get used to that, he mused.

"What?" demanded the younger Snape.

"Nothing," amended the elder. "We'll start your literacy lessons after lunch tomorrow. For now we'll just shovel the dust out of your room, so I might finally have a well deserved good night's rest, without missing brats to haunt my dreams."

"Righ'. First show me wha' this's for," stalled Ebon, holding out the tiny cauldron in one small, long fingered hand. It was clear to Snape that work did not appeal to his boisterous son at all.

"Very well," agreed Snape. He held out a hand for Ebon to place the golden ornament. Tapping the cauldron with his wand, Snape muttered a word Ebon couldn't hear. The street urchin watched in amazement as the once inch sized golden ornament expanded into a cauldron straight out of the storybooks.

"Flamin' heck," breathed Ebon. "Could I learn to do that?" he implored his keeper.

"If you study hard enough, and don't turn out to be a complete idiot or squib."

"A what?" inquired a confused Ebon. His policy was, if he was going to be insulted, he'd like to know what the insult actually meant.

"Never mind," Snape sighed. "That's a lesson for another time. Now let's see to your room then shall we?" He was extremely amused to see his small charge resign himself to what he thought was a good three hours worth of gruelling work.