The Boy Who Found a Home

"What should I tell him?" Albus asked as he paced his office. He was aware of Fawkes' head following his movements.

"The truth," Minerva replied.

"Not the blunt truth, Headmaster. In my opinion it would be best not the reveal all the grisly details," Poppy said firmly. "Severus has suffered enough this past year; he doesn't need to know that they were tortured..."

"He's a Slytherin," Frederick Illingsworth interrupted the school matron.

Dumbledore could see that Pomfrey was bristling at the head of Slytherin's words.

"His house affiliation has nothing to do with it, Frederick!" Minerva snapped, stressing her counterpart's name in irritation.

Albus turned away from the staff and reached into the Floo powder box on the mantle. He took a pinch of the stuff and threw it into the fireplace. Kneeling, he called out to the Slytherin common room and asked to speak to one of the prefects.

After delivering his message, Albus walked over to his phoenix's stand. One wrinkled hand stroked the bird's sleek feathers while the creature nibbled appreciatively at his fingers. Absently, the old wizard gave the phoenix a biscuit.

The four professors waited until the sound of the moving staircase broke the awkward silence. The two witches each took a deep breath.

The heavy door swung open before there was even a knock. When the young wizard on the other side saw the two heads of house, he schooled his face into an expression of caution. Albus saw the wariness change to a fleeting look of surprise when he noticed Madam Pomfrey's presence in the room. The mask of watchfulness returned quickly.

"Why don't we all sit down?" the headmaster suggested. Feeling the weight of his years, he turned his full concern and attention to Severus. "There is no kind or gentle way to tell you some rather terrible news."

The second year sat very still on his chair; his dark eyes were riveted upon Professor Dumbledore.

"Mr. and Mrs. Prewett's home was attacked earlier today. When the Aurors arrived, they found them both dead."

"They're dead?" Severus asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey said quietly, reaching for his hand.

"Who'd do that? What about Fabian and Gideon?"

"Fabian and Gideon are both missing; the Aurors suspect they were taken."

Dumbledore watched Snape close himself off as the two heads of house talked at him. Only Madam Pomfrey lent silent support, her hand clasping Severus' in a light hold.

Severus sat in the Headmaster's office feeling a terrible numbness spreading through him. It's not fair, he thought bitterly. The adults talked around him; he heard none of it. Severus' thoughts were back several months earlier:

"You're so thin!" the witch exclaimed in dismay as Severus stepped out of the chimney and into a well proportioned kitchen. A hand stroked his face affectionately. "Bert will be back soon. He's helping Molly; she can't quite manage to decorate, what with Bill getting into everything. Arthur is a dear, but he doesn't decorate quite the way my Molly likes it," Anne Prewett said.

"Since we had them last year, they will go to Arthur's parents for Christmas. But I have them for New Years! Fabian and Gideon will join us tomorrow morning; I think you three will get along very well."

After his brief journey to Devon in the summer, the school's schedule and regulations hadn't permitted Severus to visit the couple. Instead, Mr. and Mrs. Pr--no, it was now Aunt Anne and Uncle Bert--had journeyed to Hogwarts every few weeks to spend time with him.

After having his family problems laid out before the school earlier that year, Severus was relieved that the headmaster kept the visits between them private.

"Let's get you settled. I'm putting you in Molly's room."

Severus followed Aunt Anne through the cottage and followed her through a doorway that opened into a room with a bed piled high with quilts. At the foot of the bed was a low bench. He struggled to place his suitcase on the seat.

"It's not too obviously a girl's room," she said. "My Molly wasn't fond of pastel colours or ruffles; she always wanted to be right in the middle of it with her brothers."

Severus looked around the small bedroom. The walls were papered in bold primary colours; the woodwork was painted a bright, glossy blue. Cuttings from the Daily Prophet were pinned above a small desk. The charms on the pictures were quite old; the Quidditch players moved sluggishly.

A door somewhere else in the house banged open noisily, then shut again. The sound of shoes tapped across hard floors.

"Mum?" a voice called out loudly.

"Here!" Anne Prewett responded as a broad smile crossed her face.

A stocky, ginger-haired wizard walked into the bedroom and kissed Mrs. Prewett's cheek. He wore the combination of wizard and Muggle garments that younger magical folk seemed to have adapted.

"Fabian, you came home early!" she exclaimed, her pleasure evident.

"Only to spend more time with my mum," he replied and winked at Severus.

"This is Severus. I told you about him last summer. You two chat; I have some things that need doing," the witch explained.

"You're in Slytherin, right?" Fabian asked as he sat down on the bed. "There were some amazing Quidditch players in Slytherin. I think you won the House Cup four of the years I was at school. How's the team doing this year?"

"I-I don't really follow closely," Severus replied and sat next to his valise. He studied this new person intently. He was of average height and build, and he had an air of good humour about him.

"Would you like to throw the Quaffle around before supper?" Fabian asked. "Neither one of us will have a troll's chance once Gideon arrives. He is just plain wicked on a broom!"

"I-I'm not very good on a broom." Severus swallowed deeply. "I fell off during my first lesson."

"I went over the broom handle myself," Fabian admitted. "My brother laughed so hard, he wet himself. Then guess who was laughing?"

Severus frowned slightly. "I haven't got a broom."

"Use Gideon's broom; she's a good steady lady. Have you got anything warm to wear in there?" Fabian pointed to the suitcase.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey made sure I packed properly." The Slytherin dug into his bag.

Fabian laughed. "She would! She's a bit of a mother duck. One January, after I took a nasty fall off my broom, Poppy discovered that I was wearing cotton socks instead of good woollen ones. She wrote Mum to complain about my lack of proper footwear. I got a Howler for that..."

"Why'd you get a Howler?" Severus asked as he pulled a jersey from the bottom of the suitcase and pulled it over his head.

"I had the socks at the beginning of term; I just found a better use for them rather than wearing them on my feet. Gideon and I were using them to help us distil something -something not quite in the Hogwarts lesson plan. When we were discovered, we got a month's detention, had fifty points taken, and our equipment was seized. I bet it's still in the caretaker's office," Fabian said nostalgically.

"Was Filch caretaker when you were in school?" Severus asked. Other than the headmaster and Professor McGonagall, he'd no idea how long the professors or staff had been employed at Hogwarts.

"No, we had a Mr. Pilfer. He was a nasty piece of baggage. Went a bit too far once. He forgot he'd manacled a Ravenclaw in the dungeons and left him there for ten days.

"The professors all went to the headmaster and demanded corporal punishment be abolished, but Dippett said it had always been done that way and while he was in charge, it would continue."

"Professor Dumbledore banned its use when he was appointed Headmaster," said Severus excitedly. "Mr. Filch - he's the caretaker now - keeps complaining about not being allowed to use the manacles."

With a wicked grin, Fabian leaped off the bed and called, "Beat you to the garden!" He pushed past Severus as he ran from the room. The younger wizard quickly wrapped his muffler around his neck and pulled on his cloak. Pulling a pair of mittens out of one of the pockets, Severus raced through the cottage in pursuit of the older man.

Their breaths made smoky puffs as they ran to a shed. Fabian hit the shed door with a resounding thud. "Beat you!" he cried out.

Without the audible use of a charm, the door slid open to reveal gardening implements and four brooms. Two of the brooms floated to Fabian; he took hold of one and motioned Severus to take the other.

A bit hesitantly, Severus called the broom to his side. It wobbled but followed his command. Swinging his leg over the shaft, he called, "Up!"

Fabian watched him rise several feet off the ground. "The flying instructor didn't tell you that you can use Wingardium Leviosa to help out, did he?" he asked. "You'll find it's easier if you add it to your incantation."

Severus' mouth fell open in surprise. "You can alter incantations? I didn't think anyone other than Professor Dumbledore could do that!"

That's interesting; I thought only someone not nearly as old as the Headmaster could change an incantation.

Fabian pushed off the ground and hovered just above him. The other wizard had a smirk on his face as he threw the Quaffle and then took off after it.

Without thinking, Severus pulled his broom around and sped across the garden. He was promptly knocked off by a low-hanging apple tree limb. He fell with enough force to take his breath away.

"All right there?" Fabian asked.

"Yes," Severus muttered. He did not enjoy flying at all.

"Try to lean over the handle; it's more aerodynamic. And try to avoid low-hanging tree branches," the ginger-haired wizard said with a laugh.

Severus stood. "Up!" he commanded and remounted the broom. This time he visualized the Wingardium Leviosa as he thought his Charm; he smiled as Fabian's tip worked and the broom rose smoothly....

xoxoxo

Severus felt empty and lost. Fabian had become the brother and best friend he'd longed for, the person who didn't constantly scold him or tell him what to do,, and now he was missing.

It isn't fair, his mind repeated in an open-ended mantra.

Aunt Anne--a sob escaped him when he thought of her dead. Over the Christmas holiday, the Prewetts had become the idealized vision of what a family should be like...

The oven door flew open and a roast eased itself out onto a carving board. With the flick of her wand, Aunt Anne sent eggs, milk, salt, and flour to whisk together. She then poured the stuff into the pan of drippings before it slid back into the oven.

A large, well-worn pot levitated from the top of the cooker over to the sink and tipped the water out. Potatoes rose from the kettle into a gadget that riced them into a bowl. A pitcher lifted and poured milk into the bowl, and a metal masher mixed everything together.

Another pot shifted from the cooker and emptied its contents into another bowl. Severus saw Brussels sprouts; he tried to hide a frown of annoyance. They were a frequent item on the Hogwarts menu.

The oven door opened again and the roast pan eased out. The contents had puffed up into a Yorkshire pudding. Fabian floated the roast, Yorkshire pudding, mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts to the table.

Uncle Bert cut the roast into thick slabs, and levitated them to each plate with a wave of his wand. With another wave, scoops of the pudding were deposited alongside large blobs of the potatoes.

The young wizard looked at his plate; there was barely any uncovered surface left. He saw Aunt Anne move a serving spoon loaded with Brussels sprouts toward his plate. "There's no room," he said quickly.

The witch raised one eyebrow sceptically. "Well, once you've made some space..."

"Mum, let him be," Gideon said with a chuckle. "I don't think some things have changed at Hogwarts; Brussels sprouts were on the menu at least five days a week this time of year. You'd think the house-elves could learn not to make such a mess of them!"

"A growing boy needs vegetables, Gideon," the witch argued.

"Dear, potatoes are a vegetable," Uncle Bert tried to say through a mouthful of roast beef. "I must say, you've done yourself proud again!"

The witch beamed, pleased with the compliment.

"Dumbledore said you're going to the Malfoys' on Boxing Day," Uncle commented with forced lightness.

Gideon choked loudly and Fabian's fork fell noisily to the floor.

"You've got to be joking! He's not allowing him to go into that..."

"Fabian!" his father warned sternly. "We are enjoying a pleasant supper, and this is not the time or place to have this discussion."

"Then when is the time?"

"Not now," Mr. Prewett stated repressively.

Severus looked between the two wizards from under his fringe of hair. They were displeased with the Headmaster's decision? That was definitely interesting.

The following morning Severus woke to the smell of eggs and sausages. Pushing back the quilts, he sat on the side of the bed and felt around for his slippers. Yawning, Severus stood and pulled on his dressing gown. He shuffled, sleepy-eyed, out into the corridor and headed for the bathroom.

A strawberry head of hair pushed past him, and the bathroom door slammed shut in his face.

"Hey!"

The door of a bedroom opened, revealing an already dressed Fabian.

"That's Gideon; he arrived after you went to bed," he explained.

The bathroom door opened again and out stepped a slightly different version of Fabian. A smile creased the corners of the wizard's mouth. "So you're the widdle boy Mum keeps going on about?"

Severus was struck mute by the comment.

"Mum likes to pretend we're still five," Fabian muttered. "Gideon, this is Severus."

"Fabian said you were pretty good on a broom."

"Not until he taught me a few tricks," the Slytherin admitted grudgingly.

"Boys!" Uncle Bert called out loudly. "Breakfast is on the table!"

xoxo

...It's not true. It can't be true, Severus thought dazedly as he listened to the headmaster's voice.

I shouldn't have dared to allow myself to like them. I should have known better.

A painful sob tore through him.

It had been so effortless to dream that Fabian and Gideon were his older brothers. For a while, Severus had thought he had a family that wanted him...

The headmaster put a comforting hand on the twelve-year-old's shoulder. Severus roughly shrugged it off.

"Don't touch me," the young wizard hissed. "I just want to be left alone."

Severus finally felt Poppy's hand holding his own. Magic flared and the school's matron was on the floor.

"Now see here, Snape, pull yourself together," Frederick said in a huff. "There's no need to--"

In an instant the boy's wand was out and pointed at his head of house.

"How dare you!" Professor Illingsworth exclaimed.

"Shut up!" Severus screamed.

"You need to calm yourself," Albus said quietly.

The Slytherin glared at him; his wand shook in his hand as he pointed the focal point of his magic at his guardian.

Dumbledore felt empathy for a child who'd lost so much. In less than a year, the poor lad had already lost a beloved father, an aunt and uncle, and most probably Fabian and Gideon, too.

Dumbledore saw something in those black eyes; there was a desperation and desolation so deep that it frightened his soul. He'd always been uncertain about the notion of Fate. How was he to keep his ward safe from Darkness if all that was good vanished before his eyes?