The Boy Who Found a Home

Severus had a puzzle piece in his hand when Professor McGonagall walked into the Headmaster's parlour. She glanced down at the table and winced sympathetically.

"I see the Headmaster found another puzzle. What is it this time?" the Transfigurations professor asked sotto voce.

"I don't know, Professor," Severus answered in a similarly hushed tone.

"No box?"

"No, ma'am."

"Have you searched for it?"

"Ma'am?"

"The box; have you looked for the box?" she asked.

"I hope you're not encouraging Severus to snoop?" the Headmaster asked as he stepped into the room.

Not long after, the Headmaster and his Deputy were discussing the incoming first years and the selection of the new fifth year prefects. They often forgot the Slytherin was there; he worked quietly on puzzles, read, or worked on his summer homework.

The child had worked on the puzzle intently during the four hours his guardian debated with Professor McGonagall. Occasionally, Severus paused to chew at a finger while he scanned the table for a piece.

Years of self preservation had taught Severus to keep a tight rein on his reactions when listening in on the conversations of others.

The wizards' clock chimed the hour. Professor McGonagall's sweeping glance took in the clock and the boy bent over the table.

"Severus should be in bed. It is well past curfew."

"He should be allowed some relaxation of school rules during the holidays. There is no need for concern; Severus understands that he will not be granted the privilege during term," the Headmaster said dismissively.

Minerva looked over at the boy; he was occupied with the rapidly growing puzzle picture. Severus was a scruffy looking thing - skinny, stringy haired, and despite bathing regularly, he always gave the impression of a boy unfamiliar with soap and water. [Author ID1: at Mon Jun 26 15:05:00 2006 ]

[Author ID1: at Wed Jun 21 09:17:00 2006 ]

The child's face had a look of utter and complete concentration. It was the same expression he wore in her class as he focussed on an assigned project. Seeming to sense her sharp appraisal, Severus looked up at her and chewed his lip nervously.

The witch's feelings were still in a muddle; the child was a paradox. For the present, he was a vulnerable, confused, and frightened child who either clung to them desperately or violently tried to push them away. At the same time, her memory reminded her just how vicious he could be to other students.

"The new hedgehogs will be delivered in the morning. Don't allow Severus to stay up all night; he's supposed to help me tomorrow. And he is still a growing boy who needs his sleep," Professor McGonagall said with a yawn.

"Goodnight, Severus. We'll need to prepare the cages before the new hedgehogs arrive."

Severus stifled a yawn. "Yes, ma'am."

[Author ID2: at Tue Jun 20 18:38:00 2006 ]

"You see? Send the boy to bed, Albus. You really are a dreadfully bad influence on students," Professor McGonagall said, and left for her own rooms in Gryffindor.

"You've accomplished quite a deal." The Headmaster walked over to the table. He looked down at the table filled with little cardboard bits, each colour carefully sorted. Severus yawned deeply.

"Alas, Professor McGonagall is correct that you should be in bed. Would you like a cup of cocoa to take in with you?"

"No, sir." Severus yawned again. He pushed away from the table.

"The Prewetts wrote and asked if you'd join them for tea on Saturday. Would you like to do that?" Albus asked cautiously.

"Alone?" Severus fidgeted and wrung his hands.

"They thought you might enjoy seeing a bit of Devon." Albus avoided the boy's question.

"I don't want to go alone," Severus stated firmly.

Professor Dumbledore recognized a point that Poppy had mentioned, that a child in Severus' position would be in need of constant reassurance that he was not going to abandoned again.

"Of course I am going; I've always wanted to see Morwellham Quay," Albus said enthusiastically.

This seemed to satisfy Severus, for he relaxed and sat back down at the table. His hand returned to the puzzle pieces.

"I think we should both go to our beds, it's quite late." The Headmaster pulled the boy up from the chair. "What do you think of our choices for prefects?"

"Sir?"

Professor Dumbledore looked over his glasses at the Slytherin with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't really know the fifth years very well, sir." The young wizard gave up any pretence of not having overheard the discussion.

"What would you think of Ravenclaw's Boot or Gryffindor's MacDougal as head boy?" he invited discussion.

Severus shrugged.

"What if I were to give it to Hamish?" He pushed his ward down the corridor.

"You'd really ask Hamish to be head boy?" Severus asked incredulously.

"He has all the necessary qualities for the position. He has the marks and he is respected by the majority of professors and students. I don't think Hamish would abuse the position more than anyone else would."

"You wouldn't ever have a Slytherin as head boy," the young wizard said definitively.

"Why would you think that?" Albus asked.

"Lucius said there's never been a Slytherin as head boy or girl."

"Really?" the old wizard responded.

"Lucius said you don't really want to have Slytherin prefects either."

"Really?" Albus had to take his wizard's hat off to Lucius; he knew how to lay the seeds of discontent.

"Yes. Well, goodnight, Headmaster," the boy replied as opened his bedroom door.

"Goodnight and sleep well. Please don't get up during the night to work on the puzzle. You really should get your eight hours sleep." Professor Dumbledore winked at the boy.

Albus continued down the passage to his own room. He would see to it that Severus walked to Minerva's classroom via the entry hall. There, a plaque would glint with a particular brilliance; a tablet inscribed with the names and Houses of all the head boys and girls over the past two hundred years. There the evidence would point to an incontrovertible truth: well over a third of head boys and girls, during the last fifty years, had been in Slytherin.[Author ID1: at Mon Jun 26 15:08:00 2006 ]

Severus would learn that not all Lucius Malfoy said was a fact.

***

The following morning Albus asked Severus, "Do you think we should ask the house-elves to make little pastries to take Mr. and Mrs. Prewett as a gift?"

Severus ran a finger over the books. There was something the boy wanted, though the Headmaster could tell he hadn't worked out how to ask. A look of intense concentration clouded the boy's face as he roamed the office.

"D-do... I was wondering -," Severus began and then hesitated. "I wondered... could you help me to transfigure something for the Prewetts? I'm not very good at it, you see, and I thought they might like..."

"Professor McGonagall would be very happy to help you transfig..."

"No! No, I want you to help me," the boy said with frantic urgency. "McGonagall doesn't like me."

"Professor McGonagall, Severus. Professor McGonagall does like you."

"No, she doesn't. She really doesn't like me; she tolerates me only because you make her," the young Slytherin said with an ever increasing urgency.

Albus saw Severus was working himself up into a state; if he didn't gain control of his emotions soon, his magic would begin to seep out. It had been difficult teaching this prickly child to recognise the signs he was losing control.

"Severus, do you recall how it felt when you lost your temper a few weeks ago? Do you remember that I asked you what it would be like if you could control your magic?"

The twelve-year-old boy came to a complete standstill and looked at the old wizard. "What?"

"What, sir?" he prompted Severus.

"Yes, sir." The rising temper abated as discipline was exerted.

"Tell me, Severus, what did we talk about control?"

"You said if I could learn to control myself, I could be a powerful wizard, Headmaster."

"Not exactly, but close enough. Did you realize you were beginning to lose control, just now?" Albus kept his tone quiet and relaxed.

"N-no, Headmaster."

"I would like you to sit, Severus. I would like you to think very carefully about what it felt like when you lost your temper the morning we captured the Pine Bender."

"When I stepped in the puddle or when...?"

"Both times," Albus interrupted.

Severus sat fidgeted in his chair before his hand crept to his mouth. Reaching across the table, the Headmaster pulled it down.

"Sit quietly and ask yourself about what you were thinking. Do you have the memory firmly in your mind?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me what you were feeling."

"Cold; cold water came over the top of my boot," Severus said.

"What else?" Professor Dumbledore prompted again.

"My foot got wet."

"Why did that make you so angry?"

Severus stopped and looked at the Headmaster dumbly. He had no answer; there was no real reason [Author ID2: at Tue Jun 20 22:58:00 2006 ]for him to have been so angry other than having cold,[Author ID2: at Mon Jun 26 11:02:00 2006 ] wet feet. His hand slowly rose back to his mouth.

"I - I didn't expect it, sir," he admitted.

"And the second time?" Albus' white eyebrow rose in question and the boy squirmed uncomfortably.

"I was angry because you didn't listen to me, Headmaster."

"Be more specific, Severus," Albus said quietly.

"When we returned from the Forbidden Forest, I asked if using Debilis was Dark magic. You said it wasn't and I said I had a right to defend myself, sir. You said I didn't."

"I would like you to think of yourself as an observer and not a participant in that conversation. Think very hard about the entire conversation," the Headmaster said with a soothing voice.

Severus scrunched up his face in thought for several minutes. His lips moved a tiny bit as he relived the words they'd shared. Suddenly, the boy stiffened and looked down at the floor. Colour rose in the sallow face.

"You said I had the right to protect myself," the boy admitted in a hushed voice.

Albus settled against the back of his chair. Allowing the boy to find his own mistakes definitely was a move in the right direction. When not feeling accused; Severus could admit his fault in his own actions.

After several more minutes, Severus cleared his throat. "You told me I overreact when I -" the child seemed unable to finish the thought. It was more minutes before he added, in a hushed whisper, "I sometimes forget myself and react without thinking, Headmaster."

"Do you think it is possible for you to remember yourself at those times, Severus?" Albus asked in an equally muted a voice.

Shrugging slightly, the young wizard chewed at his lip. "I don't know, sir. At those times I don't seem to be very aware of it, do I?"

"Now that you are aware of the tendency, do you think it is something you might work on?"

"Headmaster, if I'm not aware of it at the time, I don't see how I will be able to stop it," Severus said truthfully. His hand crept up toward his mouth.

"You can attempt to sidetrack it.[Author ID2: at Tue Jun 20 23:02:00 2006 ]" Albus reached across and caught Severus' hand. "You chew at your fingernails because -?"

The Slytherin had a puzzled expression on his face.

"Your fingernails aren't particularly delicious; you chew them because it distracts you from feeling something else, like feeling frightened or sad. Yet you don't bite them when you are with Professor Warwick. Why?"

"Because Professor Warwick says it's dangerous."

"Therefore you are conscious of that behaviour. So I think you can keep control your magic, Severus. It will be difficult. I know that you will occasionally lose your temper. I will be disappointed when you do; I don't want you to think I won't be. Why don't we work on a way for you to control your temper at those times?"[Author ID1: at Wed Jun 21 09:49:00 2006 ]

Severus looked dubious.

"Sometimes when you brew, you use a covered cauldron. Why?"

"A covered cauldron increases the potential effectiveness of certain potions, sir."

"Isn't the cover dangerous?"

"No, there is a valve to release the steam pressure, sir," Severus said as if it were perfectly obvious.

"Why do you need to release the pressure?"

"The build-up of pressure would cause the cauldron to explode if you don't, sir."

"That is what we need you to do, Severus. You need to learn to release some of your anger, before it gets away from you!"

Sudden comprehension spread over the child's face. Severus rose and paced about the table several times. Fawkes' beady eye glistened as his head followed the movements of the boy as he worked through the problem.

"Are you ready to sit again, Severus?" Professor Dumbledore questioned the Slytherin. He allowed the boy several more moments before he waved the chair over to Severus. Looking down at it in surprise, he sat.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I-I don't realize I am losing control."

"You can feel the magic rushing through you, though."

"Yes, yes I can; it feels - good. I like how it feels."

"Severus, many things feel good. Uncontrolled magic does feel good; it is a primitive form of magic that we wizards have within us; it is something which feeds upon itself and ensnares the mind of the witch or wizard who uses it," he explained as he looked into the boy's black eyes.

"Much of what we think of as the Dark Arts uses that uncontrolled magic as its catalyst."

Severus seemed frozen.

"You needn't be afraid of the Dark Arts; not all practitioners use it for evil purposes. Now back to important matters: how can you learn to allow some of the pressure to escape before you explode?"

The young wizard shook his head, his hair swung about in greasy clumps. Albus made a mental note to ask the child to wash his hair tonight. "When do you recognise that you have gone too far?" the old wizard asked.

"When I am sent to your office, sir," Severus replied in a small embarrassed voice.

"When do you feel you are still under control?"

"Before I am sent to your office, Headmaster." It was an honest retort.

Taking a large breath, Albus levelled his expression. "When you are confronted by someone other than James and Sirius, do you react the same way you would if it were one of them?"

"Well, no. No one else taunts me quite like they do," Severus said in amazement.

"How do you react to other student confrontations?"

"I usually tell them to..." An embarrassed look crossed his young face, causing flush spots on his cheeks.

"Go on...."

"Itellthemtofuckoffandtheyleavemealone," he said in a great rush, his cheeks flushing red.

Raising his fluffy white eyebrows nearly to the top of his snowy white hairline; Albus found it difficult to suppress a chuckle. "Well, while that might make you feel better; we should think of something a bit less -- obscene. Why haven't you informed your professors or prefects there is a problem?"

"I have told some of the professors; they don't see Potter and Black as causing trouble and blame me. Once, Hamish did talk to one of their prefects, and Black called me something rude the next day!"

The Headmaster made another mental note to himself. "Have you tried walking away from James and Sirius when they confront you?"

A huge moan escaped Severus, with a rolling of his eyes. "I did that once and wound up in the infirmary. I won't turn my back on them again. Ever!"

"Severus, take a breath and relax. I only asked you a question," Albus said soothingly. I shall need to ask to see his medical files, he thought.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster."

"Why don't you think about a solution and come back to me with some ideas."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Now about your wish to have assistance in transfiguring something special for the Prewetts - I think it is a wonderful idea. Though I wish you would ask Professor McGonagall for help. She doesn't bite, and it would make her very happy if you'd ask for her help."

A very worried boy nodded his head. "All right, I'll ask," the young wizard said weakly. He added in a soft aside, "I like the way you teach better."

***

The following morning after putting bedding into the hedgehog cages, along with water bottles and dishes of food, Severus girded his loins to ask his question.

"Ma'am? I was wondering -," he began and let his question fade away.

"What is it, Severus?" Minerva McGonagall asked as she stacked the cages with a flick of her wand.

"I- I wondered, would you help me to transfigure something - for the Prewetts? We're going to visit them Saturday. I thought if I could learn how to -," his speech faded as his courage failed him.

Professor McGonagall stopped her wand mid stroke and stuttered her surprised reply. "W-well of course I will help you, Severus. Do you have any ideas of what you might like to attempt altering?"

"Well... I don't really know what they might like," he said while picking at a piece of loose wicker.

"Hmmm," the witch said with some consideration. "Let's sit a moment and think."

They sat at one of the student desks. Severus chewed on the inside of his mouth and ran a finger tip over the edge of the desk.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand in the air, and a small scroll and quill appeared before her. "Why don't we think of what you could transfigure; then we can decide what it might change into with the skills you already possess."

"All right, ma'am."

"What have you got that could be made into something else?" she asked, all business. Minerva saw how important the boy's request was to him.

"I haven't anything other than my school things, ma'am." Severus frowned.

"Well, you could look around the Hogwarts grounds. There are all sorts of things: stones, bird feathers, and plants," Professor McGonagall suggested.

"There are some interesting stones near the lake, and some flowering plants in the moor above the castle," he added thoughtfully. A smile rose slowly in Severus' face.

Nodding her head approvingly, Minerva wrote on a parchment scrap: stones and plants. She then went into her lecture mode and asked, "What can you change a rock into?"

"Something with the approximate mass of the stone."

"What about a plant?"

Grimacing, she saw Severus look about the classroom as he tried to remember his Transfigurations lessons. He had the completely absorbed look that came over him during her lessons. [Author ID0: at ]

[Author ID1: at Wed Jun 21 10:04:00 2006 ]

"It would depend on the plant; something about... I forgot, Professor."

"It would depend on the structure of the plant; a garden flower can be transfigured into a porcelain dish while a fibrous stalked plant cannot. Why is that?" she tested him.

"Ma'am, the fibrous stem is too sturdy for fine things but works well when it is transfigured into crockery."

"How do you know if a plant is fibrous?" The teacher in the witch continued to quiz him.

"When you break the stem, it doesn't snap off; instead it shreds the length of the stem, Professor."

"Very good, Severus. Does it take more energy to transfigure a stone or a plant?"

"A plant requires much more, because you're changing a living thing into something that isn't, ma'am," he shared in a rush of enthusiasm.

"Excellent. We'll go out to look for something suitable once the hedgehogs arrive and we cage them."

***

Two days later, Albus noticed Severus was sitting at the table at supper, resting his head on one fist. The child was clearly exhausted.

Professor McGonagall had taken him up into the hills to look for possible items to transfigure. They'd searched the moor looking for the delicate and rare flowers and brought back three orchids wrapped in a damp cloth.

Minerva had informed the Headmaster of the tremendous effort his young charge was putting into trying to transfigure a highland orchid into an ornament for the Prewetts. The first orchid transfiguration was disastrous; the bloom had turned to a mushy, mashed-potato consistency blob.

The witch gave him credit for attempting something far beyond his ability. He'd sat on the floor and cried at his failure. Only her gentle support had dried the tears long enough for him to attempt to transfigure one of Professor Pulmule's roses into a bowl. It failed, though less dramatically.

Severus had stubbornly worked on transfiguring flowers. The Headmaster was impressed that the young wizard managed to keep his prodigious temper in check. He pouted a bit, but he closely followed Professor McGonagall's motions.

The day before Albus was to take Severus to the Prewetts, he heard a sharp cry and then the pounding of feet coming down the corridor into his office. Looking up, Professor Dumbledore saw the excited boy holding out a small porcelain bowl.

Albus slowly stood and walked over to the young wizard, who was flushed with excitement. He was turning the bowl in the torch light and wearing the grandest smile the Headmaster had ever seen on his face.

"Look! Look at what I did! Isn't it perfection? Well, almost perfection. But, isn't it perfect?"

The old wizard looked down his half moon glasses at the bowl. It was luminous, pale pink, and had the glow only porcelain could possess. It was slightly lopsided, and the colouration was erratic, but it was a very good piece of Transfiguration for a beginning second year. [Author ID1: at Wed Jun 21 10:08:00 2006 ]

"May I?" Albus asked, and the child reluctantly gave his bowl over to the Headmaster. Walking over the window, he turned it in the light. Severus anxiously followed and was straining to see what Professor Dumbledore was looking for. "It is very fine, Severus. Your hard work has really paid off."

Severus took the bowl back and held it to his stomach, protectively. He smiled down at the bowl, proud of himself. He rubbed it with one of his sleeves, polishing the surface.

"I did it!" he whispered to himself. "I really did it!"