The Boy Who Found a Home

Smiling, Madam Pomfrey entered the library to escorted Severus to the infirmary for his lunch. They walked along several corridors and up two flights of stairs. Putting a finger to her lips, she tapped the wall directly before them, revealing a passageway the Slytherin hadn't known existed.

Winking conspiratorially at him, the witch leaned close and whispered, "How do you think we happen to show up at inopportune times?"

Severus followed her into the low vaulted pass-through and emerged just to the left of the Madam Pomfrey's office. The entire infirmary smelled of chicken soup and freshly baked bread.

Having followed the witch's instructions to wash his hands, he returned to find Madam Pomfrey levitating a small cauldron from the fireplace hook to a tripod on the small wood table. The bread he'd smelled entering the infirmary, was on the table along with a slab of farmhouse cheese and a crock of butter.

"Would you cut the bread, Severus?"

The school matron was ladling soup into two bowls, so the twelve-year old sliced the still warm bread. It steamed as he cut several thick slices.

He saw a finger pointed to a chair and the young Slytherin sat in it. A large bowl of soup was placed before him.

"I thought we'd work on the restricted medical stores this afternoon. We will move on to the general stores later in the week," Madam Pomfrey murmured conversationally.

Severus slowly moved his spoon across the bowl of soup. Bringing his spoon up to his mouth, he felt the heat, so he blew on the liquid and sipped cautiously. From beneath his lowered eyes he saw her watching him.

"What do you think about my soup?" she asked. From her tone, it was clear she was expecting him to praise it.

"Why did you put nutmeg in it?"

The matron's mouth fell open in surprise. "You know there is nutmeg in my soup?"

Severus felt a smug satisfaction that he'd surprised the witch by naming an ingredient.

The school matron's eyebrow rose in surprise and she asked, challenging him, "What else?"

"Beside the chicken, water, carrot, and celery: a low quality nutmeg, one stale bay leaf, three substandard black peppercorns..."

"Severus Snape, I just purchased that bay leaf yesterday from McVeetes! It is not stale!" she interrupted him.

"Had it been fresh the colour would have been a vibrant green; the leaf itself would be dry, yet not brittle. Yours crumbled, and therefore the taste is bitter, having been harvested early in the season..."

Her mouth gapped open as he commented about the poor quality of her ingredients.

"...though the soup you managed, given your supplies, is better than could be expected," he finished in a rush.

"Better than could be expected? Well, that is mixed praise indeed, young man," the witch said with asperity.

"You asked my opinion," he hissed back defensively.

"You will not speak to me in that tone, young man!" He flinched at the tone in her voice; he realized he'd somehow irritated her, though he didn't know how.

"It is not a condemnation, Severus, merely an observation. What I am trying to say is you sometimes say things without thinking how it sounds to others. You don't mean to necessarily hurt others, but your words sting."

Severus withdrew into himself, feeling the burn of the criticism. He felt the sting of tears burning behind his nose causing it to run, and he ran his hand roughly across his it.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Severus. Time will teach you to moderate your words." She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and gave it to him without comment.

He wiped his hand on the linen square. I never say the right thing, he thought.

"Would you please eat a bit more of the soup and perhaps a slice of the bread?"

Nodding briefly, Severus picked up his spoon and proceeded to empty the bowl.

"Now, shall we begin our inspection with the restricted stores?" she asked, keeping one hand on his shoulder as she moved toward her office. He watched as she took up a clipboard, parchment, ink, and quills before following the matron back into the main room.

With an efficient wave of her wand, she opened a door into a darkened room. Another sweeping move at the torch caused it to flare to life. He felt himself pushed to the centre of a small enclose space that smelled of oils, herbs and medicinal potions. Swivelling his head, he looked up at a two sets of shelves.

"All right, I would like to start on that shelf, Severus. How is your penmanship?"

He shrugged without much enthusiasm.

"Since I have spent much of the day on my feet why don't you call out the ingredients so I can sit? There is a step tucked next to the shelf."

Severus pulled out the step and started with the first shelf. It was a jumble of items with no rhyme or reason in his opinion, so he asked, "How did you establish your method of shelving the potions?"

"Oh, I didn't. The previous school matron had the system in place when I arrived. We overlapped for two years and I just never changed it," Madam Pomfrey said scratching the quill across her list.

"Is it arranged by use?"

"No, not really, but I know where everything is now. It took me some time to learn her system."

"Why haven't you changed it?" he asked curiously.

"It has worked these past fifteen years and I'd have to learn the new system," she muttered and waved at him to continue the inventory.

"Skele-Gro, one bottle."

"Is that all? Last term I began with twenty-five bottles!" Madam Pomfrey muttered.

After four hours they had only covered a quarter of the room and Severus had a good idea of what was used most often.

"We will finish another day, Severus. I need to compare this partial list against the previous year's usages. You are welcome to remain here or you may return to the Headmaster's suite," she said as she gathered the parchments into a stack.

Being in the Headmaster's office made him nervous, he'd spent too much time there being reprimanded, so he went to sit in the room he'd slept in the previous night. Having retrieved the frockcoat from the bed, he slid down the wall and sat with his knees close to his chest.

Severus had spent the first two days at Hogwarts in a daze; he'd alternately clung to or was terrified of: Hagrid, the Headmaster, or Madam Pomfrey. Then he'd begun to lash out at them; they hadn't exactly punished him for his explosions, rather they had attempted to sooth him. His own mood swings frightened him because he didn't understand them.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway, observing him.

The old wizard attempted to understand the minute to minute changes he'd seen in the child over the past several days. He knew Minerva was unnerved by the boy's meek acquiescence, tears, or extreme anger. Hagrid felt great sympathy for the child and was unfazed by the rapidly changing moods.

Even though Madam Pomfrey had said, 'His reactions are absolutely within the range of emotions for a child of his age that has undergone a traumatic situation,' Albus wasn't convinced.

"Severus needs more help than we can give him, Headmaster," the witch had said. She wanted the child to see someone from St. Mungo's.

Minerva McGonagall agreed with the school matron's assessment, having taken a seminar on childhood developmental problems a year earlier. But then he knew his Deputy was wary of this Slytherin who was so skilled with hexes.

He feared further stigmatizing this child if any of this was revealed to the school population. Some secrets stubbornly refused to remain secrets.

Albus knocked on the doorframe. "May I join you, Severus?"

The child turned to look up at him, but remained silent.

"I imagine you are a bit bored with little to do."

Severus did not respond and stroked the frockcoat absently.

"You don't seem like a boy who enjoys sitting about doing nothing. Madam Pomfrey thinks it would be a good idea for you to have something to do, I do too. Some of the professors have asked if you might like to assist them in preparing their classrooms for the start of term in September. We have worked out a schedule that allows you some time to spend doing as you wish."

Albus sat on the corner of the bed and waved a small scroll over to the boy. Severus placed his head on his knees, ignoring the scroll floating beside him.

"Professor McGonagall would like to have you Monday afternoons and Friday mornings. Professor Dubius will share some of the Monday afternoons with Professor McGonagall."

"McGonagall doesn't like me," the boy muttered with a petulantly.

Ah, the surly Severus this afternoon, Albus thought to himself.

"Professor McGonagall, Severus. Professor McGonagall does not dislike you; in fact she thinks you possess a great deal of potential. Professor Flitwick requested your assistance on Wednesday mornings. Hagrid would appreciate your help Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Professor Pulmule thought you might enjoy working in the special greenhouses with him," he added but saw little interest from the Slytherin.

The first sign of interest he elicited from the child came when he mentioned Professor Warwick.

"I-I really get to help him?" Severus asked in an incredulous voice.

"Yes, Professor Warwick is thrilled to have someone as interested as you are in potions brewing to assist him with Madam Pomfrey's long list."

Severus finally plucked the scroll from the air and looked at it. His face paled considerably and he stammered. "I-I'll be w-with you over weekends?"

"Yes, your room is in my suite. We could discuss books or whatever else interests you," Albus said cheerfully.

The boy's face clearly illustrated that the idea of spending an hour much less two days in the Headmaster's company was at bit daunting.

"Mayn't I stay here, instead?"

"Madam Pomfrey has family obligations, Severus."

The boy looked ready to cry.

"You may ask Bimney to arrange your room any way you like. You may have whatever you wish, within reason," he offered.

Severus glanced at him before beginning to bite at a fingernail.

"Did you read The Adventures of Martin?"

The young wizard shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. The Headmaster was determined on drawing the child into a real conversation.

"What did you think of Martin's character? Personally, I did enjoy how he discovered a new world he hadn't known existed. Though I thought his character was a bit unrealistic; no one could believe wizards are the only sentient beings on earth."

"Muggles don't believe in us."

"True, but that is because we work to keep them from knowing about us and they tend to create excuses when they see magic around them. Martin didn't know that there were people without magic so he had no idea what to make of them," Albus said thoughtfully. "It is obvious the author thought it important to have a boy who did not know about Muggles come across them. Did you think Martin's reaction to meeting non-magic folk realistic?"

Severus shrugged again.

Professor Dumbledore realized this might take more time and effort than was presently available. Severus wouldn't be easily won over. He signalled the young wizard to stand.

"Alas, we must put Martin aside for a while; it is time for us to return to my suite for supper. What do you suppose might be on the menu this evening? I am hoping for something a bit unusual," he said as he motioned Severus to follow him.

Professor Dumbledore maintained the one sided commentary all the way to his office and back into the inner rooms. The table was already set for two. He heard the boy's footfalls slow behind him.

"I would like you to go and make yourself presentable for dinner. When you return, I want to see your hair combed, your face and hands washed, and you wearing a clean robe. I will wait here," he said firmly beginning to establish the sense of order Madam Pomfrey thought was necessary for the child.

This would give Albus at least ten to fifteen minutes to Floo the Prewetts in privacy. His afternoon had been crowded with working out details with his staff and rearranging their holiday schedules.

Reaching up to a small wood-carved box on the low mantle, Albus pinched a small amount of Floo powder between his large-knuckled fingers and with a sweep of his arm, threw it into the opening.

Kneeling into the fire, Professor Dumbledore called out the name of the home he desired, "The Shelters!" Through the green flames a kindly, apple cheeked face looked back at him.

"Professor Dumbledore!" the woman said. She had fading ginger hair and an open face.

"Mrs. Prewett, how have you and the family been?"

"Quite well, Headmaster. Our Molly is expecting another baby soon. I think she and Arthur may just populate Hogwarts by themselves, if they continue at this pace."

"I look forward to seeing your grandchildren as students."

"My little grandson, Bill, is moving the toys around his cot. Molly finds he is quite the most amazing little wizard."

"I wanted to discuss a young wizard with you and your husband." Albus moved directly to the reason for his Floo call.

"A young wizard?"

"I think it would be best if we could speak in person. Have you any time in the next few days that would be convenient for you?" he asked.

"I think Bert and I could come up tomorrow afternoon," she said glancing away from the fire opening.

"I would prefer if we could meet elsewhere, if that is acceptable? This is rather a delicate situation and I would wish to keep the matter very quiet."

"Why don't you come for tea tomorrow when we could have a nice long chat?"

"Wonderful," Albus said with a smile. He sensed Severus lingering at the edge of the room. "I will see you then."

***

The young wizard shut the guestroom door and opened his trunk. After he carefully folded the frockcoat into the trunk; he closed the lid and looked down at the robe he wore, it was worn and too small. Yet it was the only one he possessed and he'd never learned a spell to clean clothes.

Walking to the bathroom, he saw his nightshirt hanging on a hook. Frowning because he didn't know how to transfigure the sleepwear into something else, he found himself in a quandary.

Severus knew he would not be able to avoid supper; he was in trouble no matter what he did. The Headmaster never listened to any of his excuses before and was not likely to this time.

On a shelf, above the sink, was a bar of soap, a comb, his toothbrush and toothpaste, hair brush, and nail brush. He stopped the drain and filled the basin with water.

Unbuttoning his robe, he placed it on the hook behind the door, took up a flannel and lathered it with the soap; then proceeded to wash his face and armpits. He rinsed, getting his long hair wet in the process. He flipped his head to move the hair from his eyes and looked into the mirror. Grateful the mirror wasn't enchanted, he studied himself for several minutes before running the comb roughly through his hair.

He took up a towel and dried his face and chest, then picked up his robe. There was nothing to be done; this was all he had to wear, and the wizard in the other room would just have to be satisfied with it.

As quietly as he could, he opened the door into the main chamber of the Headmaster's suite. He moved along the edges of the room and saw Professor Dumbledore's long white hair hanging down the back of his robe. He was talking into the fireplace so Severus clung close to the wall hoping to remain inconspicuous. The Headmaster completed his conversation, straightened up and turned to look at him.

"Severus, why didn't you change your robe?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

He didn't reply. If I don't say anything, I can't get into more trouble, he thought.

"I expect you to answer me, Severus."

He stiffened defensively at the Headmaster's tone.

"Severus, I am waiting for an explanation of your behaviour," the old wizard said firmly.

He felt his anger flash out uncontrollably and the plates began to rattle on the table.

"You will cease to lash out in a non-productive manner and behave your age."

His magic exploded and rushed out around the room in a maelstrom. Plates flew up from the table toward the high vaulted ceiling, while the silver swirled around the two wizards, in an erratically dangerous trajectory. Hot red flames leapt out into the room from the fireplace.

"Contineo Magica!" the old wizard commanded; the silver fell back to the table and the plates crashed to the table, shattering across it. The fire retreated into the hearth.

Severus stood shaking with an unconstrained anger.

"You will sit, in that chair!" he heard the Headmaster say.

Rebellion burned in him and he stood firmly where he was.

"Now!" the Headmaster ordered.

Severus sat unwillingly on the edge of the chair and felt himself thrown back into it by the old wizard's magic. He resentfully began to rise, but felt himself pushed back.

"Leave Me Go!" he screamed across the room at Professor Dumbledore.

"You will cease to behave as if you were a five year old."

"I don't like you," Severus hissed angrily.

"I expect you to act courteously and behave in a manner consistent with your age."

Severus glared furiously at Professor Dumbledore.

"I want you to think very carefully for a moment, Severus. Have I done anything that has been hurtful to you since you arrived here? Has anyone done anything you have found to be hurtful?" The older wizard looked down his very crooked nose at the young man. He did not look angry; he looked puzzled.

Severus grew confused by the Headmaster's reaction. He was more accustomed to people lashing out or physically punishing him.

"No? Then, I would like you to apologize for your earlier rudeness," the Headmaster stated firmly.

Uncomfortable with the strange feelings, Severus looked around the room for several minutes. Professor Dumbledore stood beside the fireplace, waiting for his response. He didn't know quite how to answer; it was clear the Headmaster expected him to act contrite for reasons he didn't understand.

"I'm sorry," he said sullenly, deciding it was simpler to give in.

"Severus, please look at me."

After some moments he looked up rebelliously but remained silent.

"Severus..." The warning was implicit.

"I'm sorry," he said petulantly in surrender.

"I want you to understand me, Severus. I don't deny that you are very upset and not without some justification. At the present time, you are having some difficulty controlling your emotions. However, you must gain control over yourself. All I ask is that you allow me to help you to learn to control your anger. I can help you if you will allow me to."

Severus felt his lip begin to tremble, and his wall of anger crumbled as quickly as it had risen.

"Child, why did you lose your temper just now?"

Severus felt he was going to begin to cry again, but he managed to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Ducking his head, he blinked madly at the stinging behind his eyes.

"I believe you know what caused you to lose your temper," Professor Dumbledore observed. "Severus, please look at me."

After a long moment, with shoulders hunching in misery, he looked up into the clear blue eyes. He won't understand, he thought and glanced away. "I-I... You wouldn't understand."

"What wouldn't I understand?"

"I don't have another robe; I only have this one," Severus said quietly. He tried to look away but felt held in place by the Headmaster's powerful energy.

"You could have explained that to me and I would have accepted your explanation."

"You never have accepted my explanations before," he said with a sulky edge.

"Ah, we were not talking of other incidents; we were discussing this particular one. We can discuss those later, but I think we should focus only on this discussion for the present.

"Now, why did you feel you could not explain the situation to me? Did you come to Hogwarts with the standard outfitting for a student?"

Severus nodded his head and fidgeted; his fingers traced the edge of the chair in a manic motion.

"I would appreciate it if you would vocalize your answers, Severus."

"I came to Hogwarts with the required items."

"Headmaster..." the old man added.

"I came to Hogwarts with the required items, Headmaster."

"You haven't appeared to grow expediently during the past term. What happened to your clothing?"

"I lost them."

"Headmaster..."

"I lost my clothing, Headmaster."

Professor Dumbledore looked at him with one of those penetrating stares. "How did you manage to lose all but this set of robes?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Did you lose them throughout the term?"

Severus pulled his eyes away from the Headmaster's with a wrench. He felt his respiration increase and he whispered a reply.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that, Severus."

"Yes, sir."

"Surely, you did not lose them all. Did you accidentally damage some of them?"

"Yes, sir." Severus couldn't meet the Headmaster's eyes again. He looked about the room, searching for something else to focus upon.

"I would like it very much, Severus, if you could look at me."

He slowly faced the old wizard.

"Now, why don't you tell me what really happened to your things?"

"You wouldn't believe me, Headmaster."

"Try me."

"I-I put them in the laundry... I put them in the laundry and some of them were returned in pieces. Others just never came back, sir."

Severus felt the Headmaster's searching eyes closely inspecting him before he paused and called aloud, "Bimney!"

Professor Dumbledore's house-elf popped into the room. "Yes, Headmaster? You ready for yours supper?"

"In a moment, Bimney. I would appreciate your speaking with your compatriots in the laundry about what happened to Severus' clothing."

Bimney peered around the Headmaster's legs to look at Severus. "What's you wanting to know?"

"I wish to know why his laundry seemed to be returned in shreds, and why some of it was never returned to his dormitory." Professor Dumbledore stated. "Now, I think we are ready for some supper. What have you for us this evening, Bimney?"

The large floppy ears bobbed excitedly. "Headmaster sir, Bimney has something really good for you's and the young master. Tuna casserole! Bimney sees it in a cooking book."

"Indeed, what is in this 'tuna casserole?" The Headmaster motioned Severus to the table even as he made a practised wave of his wand and called out, "Reparo!"

Severus slowly pushed himself out of the chair and slinked to the table.

"It is tuna, noodles with somes sauce, and peas. On top, Bimney puts crisps!" He hopped excitedly from one foot to the other. With a snap of his long fingers, a steaming hot dish appeared on the table.

Professor Dumbledore sat across from Severus and put his serviette across his lap. He dipped the spoon into of the contents of the dish and drew out spaghetti noodles with blobs of chunky tuna and pale green peas in a tomato sauce, and covered with crisps. It fell to the table in messy splats.

Severus swallowed deeply and shrank back at the sight of the repulsive looking stuff. "W-what is that?" he asked repulsed.

"That is tuna casserole," the Headmaster replied warily. "Is this really what it is supposed to be?"

"Oh, yes's sir. Bimney has recipe rights here." The house-elf proudly pulled the book from inside his tea towel.

Professor Dumbledore opened the book to the indicated page then turned the page. "Bimney," - he said slowly, "two of the pages were stuck together and you have combined two recipes."

Bimney reached for the book and read, and then began to hit the book on his head. "Bad house-elf."

The Headmaster took hold of the book as he chuckled. "Somehow the appearance of the casserole is rather - daunting. What do you have for sandwiches, Bimney?"

"Cheese and cucumbers," the house-elf said thoughtfully. He scratched one of his ears, "There is some chickens left from lunch."

"Well, Severus, what would you have? Cucumber, cheese, or chicken?"

"Cucumber, please," he said softly, trying to remain inconspicuous.

"Very well, we will have cucumber and one or two cheese sandwiches, Bimney."

Watching, the house-elf removed the tuna casserole; Severus let out the breath he'd been holding, relieved at the respite from the Headmaster's pointed questions.

The sandwiches popped onto the table, along with juice, tea, and a small folded piece of parchment. Avoiding the older man's eyes, Severus decided to eat a sandwich, hoping the old wizard would forget. The Headmaster unfolded the note, read it, and placed it in a sleeve pocket.

The meal complete, Severus asked to be excused.

"Alas, child, our earlier conversation is not finished. You either felt unable or were unwilling to explain that you had only the one robe. There is no shame in having only the one robe. Why did tell me you lost your clothing when, in fact, you had not?"

The feelings of panic begin to rise frighteningly fast; he licked his lips and stared at the table, uncertain what to do. A hand touched one shoulder and he leapt from the chair as if scorched by the touch. He felt simmering magic roil.

"Severus, I want you to concentrate on what is happening within you, right now. Can you feel how you are permitting your emotions to control your magic? You need to centre yourself on that impulse to lash out and direct it into something less aggressive. Now, I would very much like you to take a deep breath and count to ten. I know you can do as I ask."

He took a stuttering breath and held it; his fist clenched so tightly, that what fingernails he possessed cut into his palms.

"Release your breath and breathe again. Now, close your eyes and visualize those emotions dropping into your cauldron and diffusing into your potion of calm," the Headmaster coached him; his voice was steady and unworried.

"Stir the potion one quarter turn, clockwise. Breathe and stir it counter clockwise twice. There, you have contained it. Open your eyes, Severus."

Cautiously, Severus opened his eyes and saw the Headmaster kneeling beside him.

"Why did you not go to your Head of House?"

"He wouldn't do anything," he said bitterly.

"Professor Illingsworth, Severus, Professor Illingsworth."

"I didn't think Professor Illingsworth would do anything about my missing things, sir."

Severus felt the toll of exploding emotions and attempting to contain them; they had worn him out. He was drained.

"Madam Pomfrey requested that you take a bath this evening before you go to bed. Shall I ask Bimney to run one for you now?"

Shuddering deeply, Severus replied, "I just want to go to bed."

"I know you do. However, I'm afraid there are many things in life we don't wish to do, but find we must. There is shampoo on the edge of the tub; I would appreciate your using it."

"I didn't mean it, you know?" he whispered in very small voice. "I don't hate you."

"I know you don't, Severus."