Chapter 19

Blood of Thine Enemy

"Harry, shut that ruddy bird up!" He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was happy that the raven found his way back home. "And give it something to eat. I put the owl treats in the kitchen cupboard."

The boy didn't answer him, apparently still in a snit. Harry had ignored his request to not turn on the tap while he was in the shower. He made the request knowing the boy would ignore it. The petty and childish actions would go a long way in cheering the brat up. The boy wasn't mean spirited, but the prank would dissolve some of the tension that had developed between them at dinner.

Finally after several moments, the bird quieted as he ambled down the stairs. Glancing about, he spotted Corvis huddled atop his bookcase, his feathers ruffled. "What happened to you?"

Severus threw his towel into the laundry basket and grabbed the box of owl treats from the kitchen cupboard. He noted that the dishes were done, but the sink was still a mess with soap and water everywhere.

"Harry! Get down here and clean up this mess!" He shouted in the direction of the boy's bedroom as he grabbed a small dish and filled it with water for the bird.

He put the water and treats in the dish holder on the old owl perch. Normally, the glutinous bird would fly over to the perch to gobble the treats, whether or not fingers were in the way. Today however, the bird stayed huddled atop the shelves.

"Not hungry?"

The bird blinked down at him, then tucked his beak back under a wing.

"I guess there's a first time for everything."

The bird still sat quietly, seemingly afraid.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost eight, almost time for the boy's evening occlumency lesson. "Harry!"

Severus listened for the telltale signs of the boy's steps upstairs, but heard nothing.

"Harry?" The house was quiet, too quiet.

A nagging pit of dread made his stomach twist. Did the boy leave the house? He ran upstairs and threw open the boy's bedroom door. Nothing. He checked the bathroom. It was empty, along with his bedroom, and then the storage room. The attic was empty too. He ran back to the Livingroom and glanced about.

"If you're hiding Potter, you'd better pray I don't find you!" He threatened to an empty room as he peered out the window, looking to the back garden and finding nothing.

He checked the shed. While outside, he checked the wards. They were still intact and showed no sign of tampering. He checked the locking charm on the front door.

"Homino revelis," Severus almost shouted as he swished his wand, learning he was the only human on the property. He let out a string of vile epitaphs.

"You showed up and the boy disappeared." He looked up at the bird, who watched him wearily with one eye. "I do not believe in coincidence."

He leveled his wand at the bird and it exploded into motion, cawing and screeching frantically. The bird flew across the room, but wasn't quick enough to dodge the spell. The bird glowed red, revealing recent traces of foreign magic on the animal. Someone had used a spell on the animal, and now the bird was wary of wands.

After a few more moments, he found and canceled a tracking spell. He grabbed a small piece of parchment from his desk. After scribbling a short note he revived the bird. "Take this to Albus Dumbledore. Stay there. Do not come back."

Corvis glared at him with no small amount of trepidation. After a moment of coaxing, the animal took it in his beak and headed out the window. The note wasn't important. It was simply a means to get the bird away from the house. The tracking spell had been nullified, but he couldn't be sure there were other spells on the animal, or if the bird had been here long enough to lead someone to his home.

I'm going to kill the boy, Severus thought to himself as he evaluated his next move. He glanced at the clock. It was a little after eight. It would be Beltane in four hours. The boy believed something was going to happen then. But what?

Severus racked his brain for the kinds of magic practiced on this day. For ritualistic magics, Beltane was a time of birth and renewal. Light magics symbolizing new life or rebirth were practiced on that day.

Why would someone kidnap the boy for what was generally considered a holiday dedicated to light magics?

Harry was cold, and his head hurt. His neck had a crick in it, as his head hung heavily to the side. He tried to move it back on to his pillow, but the back of his head hit something hard. It defiantly wasn't his pillow. That thought woke him up a bit more, and he realized he wasn't laying down, but was tied up against something hard and cold.

Harry opened his eyes to a darkened graveyard. He as tied to an old gravestone, the magically conjured ropes cutting into his body, leaving his left arm numb.

A big cauldron sat before him, Just like Stevie's, but bigger. A lot bigger, big enough for a person to bathe in. The wind was icy and cold, threatening unseasonably cold rain.

"The boy is awake, my Lord," a man Harry couldn't quite see in the shadows said. The voice sounded familiar, as if it was strait from his nightmares. Harry knew it was the creepy man Stevie saw in the park all those months ago. And somehow, it was the same person he saw in his neighbor's house. "Shall I put him under again? He needn't be awake for this."

"No," an unseen person hissed. The second voice was raspy and sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Oddly, the voice seemed to make the pain in his scar on his forehead worse. "I wish to see the life leave his eyes as he dies."

He ignored the boy. "It shall be as you wish."

"Let me go!" Harry pulled at the ropes tying him to the gravestone. He felt them cut and dig into his skin.

"You're in no position to make demands of me, boy," the second person said mockingly. Harry squinted in confusion. The voice seemed to be coming from Quirrell's purple turban.

"Why did you kidnap me?" Harry's shiver had nothing to do with the cold night air. His eyes began to fill with tears. "Let me go. Please!"

Quirrell ignored Harry's pleas. "My lord please, you must save your strength for the ritual."

"Mind the potion! The time draws near."

"It awaits midnight and the final three ingredients."

"Stir it or it'll scorch, you fool!"

Quirrell grabbed a big siring rod the size of a broom handle with his gloved hand and Harry continued to struggle against his bindings. As he struggled, his thoughts turned to Stevie.

Was the other boy mad at him, thinking he ran away? Would he even come to look for him? Would he miss him? Did he even know that he was missing? Then he recalled that the last time he saw him they had fought.

Harry bit back a yelp and more tears as the sharp edge of the tombstone he was tied to scraped his wrist. With a bit of maneuvering, he was able to rub some of his bindings. The minutes seemed to crawl by, but he was able to feel the tether fray a bit.

Harry bit his lip as his heart thudded in his chest. Would he be able to do it? Maybe he could, with enough time.

"The brat has gone quiet." Quirrell looked up from the potion and studied the boy. Harry froze. "He's is up to something, my Lord."

"It's no matter, the time draws near. Douse the flame."

Steam rose from the cauldron, and Harry noted it was cold enough for his breath to fog.

Severus squinted at the crumbled map of Little Hangleton. He knew the old Riddle Manor estate lay atop the hill. Someone was trying to draw the boy there, and knew that Harry was in that general direction, less than a mile away.

However, the manor house was a big place. The boy could be anywhere. And odds were, whoever took Harry didn't want the boy found—or at least found alive.

As far as he knew, Dumbledore was the only person to express interest in the building. Until now, the few Deatheaters who knew of Voldemort's connection to the Riddle name hadn't venture there. When had this changed? Why did Deatheaters draw the boy there?

Anger settled into the pit of his stomach. He'd warned the boy against portkeys. He told the boy over and over, not to touch the mail. He also warned the boy not to leave bits of himself lying about—toenails, hair, blood could all be used nefariously.

Fortunately for the boy, the potion he made from the boy's tooth was for more advantageous purposes. He adjusted the two sticks in his hand and set off in the direction the dowsing rods pulled him towards.

The gravestone finally cut through the rope. Horridly, Harry grabbed at the frayed end before it could fall to the ground. His hand was numb so the tether fell through his fingers, followed by the rest of the length.

Before Harry's could so much as take a step, a gloved hand collided with the boy's head. Harry fell to the ground, stunned. His vision was too blurry to see the wand pointing at him.

"Incarcerous!"

New ropes wrapped around Harry's body and legs. Harry could only blink up at Quirrell as the man used the ropes to drag the boy towards the cauldron. "You were told to stay put!"

"It's time. Harvest the blood."

Nausea rolled in Harry's stomach as Quirrell threw him to the ground and roughly flipped him over with one hand. Without loosening the bindings, he slit Harry's wrist with the knife he held on the other hand.

Foggily, Harry realized there wasn't much pain compared to the pain in his skull. He felt the blood spill down his hand, where it tickled his fingers. Harry then felt the icy metal of a goblet pressed to the wound.

"I have the blood my Lord."

"Begin."

Harry craned his neck to watch. The movement sent shocks of pain through his head and waves nausea through his stomach.

Quirrell pointed his wand at the grave and incanted a spell. Dust rose from the ground and he directed it to the cauldron. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

"Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master." Quirrell hesitated.

"Do it!"

"Y-yes my lord." Quirrell took a deep breath and then took off his left glove. He sliced the little finger of his left hand off. It fell into the cauldron with a hiss. "Forgive my weakness, my Lord."

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe," Quirrell incanted, his face pale and gray with pain. He tipped in the goblet of Harry's blood. The potion frothed and boiled.

"Get into the cauldron."

"My Lord?"

"Get in!"

"But it's boiling hot!"

"Do it, now."

Quirrell shook his head and tried to take a step back. His body shook with effort as he fought some kind of internal battle with the voice. After several moments, Quirrell raised a shaky hand to the purple turban and pulled it off.

It fell to the ground, revealing a hairless head with two faces.

Quirrell's face went slack, except for his eyes. They were wide and panicked, rolling in his head. The second face opened its eyes and smiled mirthlessly down at Harry.

Harry could do nothing but watch in horror as Quirrell's body moved jerkily towards the cauldron of boiling hot liquid. He reached out and grabbed the rim of the cauldron with his damaged hand. As he gripped the metal, the flesh of his hand reddened and blistered. Tears streamed down the man's face.

The cauldron was tall, but not too much so. Quirrell first threw one leg in then the other. For a long moment the man stood in the blistering potion. Then either Quirrell's body gave out, or the magic controlling it ceased. Quirrell screamed as he collapsed into the liquid where he thrashed for several moments.

The screaming stopped, but the red liquid in the cauldron continued to roil and froth. So fixated on the scene in front of him Harry didn't realize that the magical ropes disappeared and someone was crouched next to him.

"Harry!"

The boy continued to stare at the frothing cauldron. Red sludge frothed and bubbled. It foamed over the sides of its container, where it coated the ground in red slime.

"Harry!"

"Stevie?" The boy blinked, coming to his senses. His voice was weak, as he was on the verge of passing out. Severus wasn't sure if it was from blood loss or a concussion. Either way, he poured a general first aid potion into the boy's mouth. It'd keep the boy alive long enough to get to either a healer or his potions stash.

"The potion will take a few moments to work," Severus said as he wrapped a torn piece of his cloak around Harry's still bleeding wrist. The freely flowing blood from both the lightning bolt shaped scar and wrist began to slow, but didn't stop. The boy needed more specialized healing than he could provide at the moment. "Quickly, we need to go before—"

The older boy's words were cut off by a figure emerging from the cauldron. He was naked, hairless, and his limbs were long and spindly. Oddly, he wasn't covered in the red goo that blanketed the cauldron.

Severus threw Harry's invisibility cloak over them both. They huddled together as they watched the figure step out of the caldron and don a robe. He then opened his hand and Quirrell's dropped wand flew into his grip.

Severus pushed his magical house key into Harry's hand. Silently, he brought his finger to his lips in the universal sign of 'shush'. He then gripped Harry's face by the chin and forced the boy to look into his eyes. The voice filled Harry's mind. When I distract him, go. The wards end at the road at the bottom of the hill. You can use the portkey then."

Harry shook his head and pain exploded behind his eyes. Severus's hand clamped on the boy's mouth, keeping Harry from voicing his objections. "I can't. Hurts too much."

"Do it! Crawl if you have to! Just go!"

"Harry Potter and Severus Snape." The two boys held their breath as the humanoid creature turned and focused his red eyes on them. "Come out now and I may show mercy!"

Severus gripped Harry by his arms and pulled the boy to his feet. Dizzily, Harry blinked as the edges of his vision greyed out for a moment. His hearing has an odd rushing sound and sweat collected on his brow. He wasn't sure if he could make it all the way to the bottom of the hill.

"I'm here, my Lord," Severus said as he stepped out from under the cloak before Harry had the chance to protest. He kneeled at Voldemort's feet.

"My loyal servant, you have changed," Voldemort smiled cruelly as he ran his fingers through Severus's hair. "Did you cut your hair?"

"Amongst other things, my Lord."

"Leave it to a potioneer to devise such a clever disguise, my little serpent. Of course you had help didn't you?"

"Another worked out the alchemy. I merely brewed the potion."

"False modesty doesn't suit you." Voldemort grasped Severus by the hair and roughly pulled him to his feet. "I doubt many could have work out the precise ratio of Philosopher Stone to dragon's blood. After all, Flamel hadn't work out the ratio when he gave you the recipe, hadn't he?"

Severus swallowed thickly. There was no point in lying. "No my Lord, he had not."

"Give me your arm."

"The mark is gone, but I am still bound to you." Severus presented Voldemort his unblemished left arm. The red eyes narrowed in anger as he grabbed the limb. "Such a mark of loyalty cannot be erased my Lord."

"Potter, the one you trust is my loyal servant." Harry stuffed a fist into his mouth to keep from crying out as Voldemort roughly pulled the other boy closer. "I know you are there, watching. I can feel you."

Harry held his breath and did not move. Silently, tears streamed down his face and his body shook in fear.

"Come to me or Severus dies sooner rather than later!"

"I believe the boy has fled, my lord."

"Lies!" Voldemort backhanded Severus. Severus flew backwards, but before he could hit the ground a curse struck him. "Crucio!"

Harry stood frozen for several long moments as he watched Severus scream and convulse on the ground.

"Stop!" His voice was drowned out by the sound of the screams.

"I'm here! Stop!" He threw off the cloak and took a shaky step forward. "Stop!"

"You should have come to me sooner." Voldemort looked at arrythe boy, but did not lift the curses.

"I'm here now." The screams were growing quieter. Harry frantically hoped it was because Stevie's voice was giving out and not because he was dying. "L-let him go."

Finally after another long moment, Voldemort ended the curse. Severus lay on the ground. His eyes were open, but unfocused. His limbs continued to twitch and shake. "Do you give yourself in his place?"

"Yes, if you leave him alone!"

"Foolish boy. You've no leverage to bargain with, especially when it comes to the life of my servant," Voldemort sneered, amused. With a bare foot, he kicked Severus over so he was laying on his back. "Before I kill you I have a question."

Harry blinked. A question? Both Voldemort's casual body language and tone confused him. The man spoke as if they were discussing tea, not murder.

"How did you do it? How did an infant with no discernable magical talent survive the greatest wizard since Salazar?"

"I d-don't understand what you're asking." Tears continued to stream down his face. The potion Stevie gave him was beginning to wear off. The pain in his forehead was beginning to build again.

"Did Severus tell you who sent me to kill you all those years ago?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Harry looked at the other boy. Most of the shaking had stilled and he seemed to be regaining his senses. He still blinked blankly at the dark sky.

"You mean dear Severus hasn't told you of his past?" The man mocked as he level his wand at the boy. "In 1980 dear Severus brought me the prophecy that will soon lead to your death. Once, he was one of my most loyal servants. And he is no child."

The words struck harry like a pile of bricks. Somehow, impossibly, he knew it was true, or at least half of it was. He knew that Stevie wasn't as young as him. He also knew that he had a dark past. But he know the other boy was loyal to him.

Harry had a hunch that he didn't quite understand. He made a rash decision based on it, only wanting to keep the other boy safe once he was gone. "Is that why he kept trying to bring me to you? Is that why he took me away from my Aunt and Uncle's house, away from the blood wards?"

"Goodby Harry Potter." Voldemort smiled, but Harry didn't see it. He fixed his gaze on Severus. Though his tears he saw the panicked fear in the dark eyes and knew he made the right choice. Severus began to move, trying to speak, but he was too weak. "Avada Kedavra!"

A rushing sound accompanied by a green light hit Harry's chest like an iron-clad punch. He fell to the ground.

Severus screamed, but no sound came from his lips as he felt the bond they shared rip from his soul. For the first time in months, he felt utterly alone. The happy go lucky presence he'd gotten used to was gone. He hadn't realized how much the bond had grown until he felt its stark absence.

His voice broken and tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't care. Not caring about the Dark Lord, who he believed was lurking behind him, he rolled to his side. His limbs were shaking too much for him to stand, but he managed to crawl to Harry's body.

Harry lay on his side, eyes closed, and was as still as the night.

He looked behind him, expecting to see the Dark Lord looming. But no. Voldemort lay on his back, several yards away. He lay prone, just as still as the boy.

He turned back to Harry's body. Severus felt numb with grief. He was too numb to think, so the slight movement didn't register at first. But it happened again, and then again. Harry's chest was moving with his breathing. It was shallow, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

Relief slammed into Severus, followed by fear as he heard stirring behind him. He turned to see Voldemort beginning to stir. He needed to get Harry away from there before the Dark Lord woke up, but he was too weak. He could barely crawl and Harry was unconscious.

As he evaluated his options, his eyes rested on Voldemort's dropped wand, a wand that once belonged to Quirrell.

Could he do it? Despite his dark past, he'd never successfully cast an Unforgivable before. He was weak and foreign wands were fickle. Would the wand even let him? Voldemort stirred again, prompting Severus into motion.

He crawled madly the two yards to where the dropped wand lay. He grabbed it just as Voldemort's dazed eyes opened.

Severus hesitated. Moments ago Voldemort cast the same spell he was about to and it rebound. Should he do it? Could he do it? Would it rebound on him too?

Voldemort's red eyes focused on him, then narrowed as he realized what Severus was about to do. "Severus."

It was now or never. There was no going back. He gathered his magic and focused his will through the wand. "Avada Kedavra."

He could feel the foreign wand hesitate before it broke free and pulled at his magic. For the second time that night, green light and a rushing sound filled the graveyard.

"Stevie!"

Harry's voice was pestering him, disturbing his sleep. "Go away," he said, or at least, he tried to say. His throat hurt too much. It came out as something between a groan and whisper.

"Stevie!" Severus threw an arm over his face to block both the annoying boy and the sunlight streaming through the window. "Wake up."

"Severus!" Harry never called him by his given name and that made him open his eyes. He squinted up at him. Severus reached into himself, felt for the presence in his mind. It was absent, but Harry was alive. Somehow, the killing curse had nullified it. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

The boy was a mess. Dried blood and mud was caked on his face, with clear tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. Twigs and dead leaves clung to his hair, fused to it with dried blood. He suspected that he looked no better, considering he was laying in the dirt.

His body ached and he could feel his muscles tremble with the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. He shut his eyes against the early morning light. He tried to ask the boy how long he was out for, but the ache in his throat stopped him.

"I was scared. You wouldn't wake up," Harry helped him sit up. He leaned against a tombstone. "I found another first aid potion in your pocket and gave it to you. You woke up soon after."

Severus looked around. They were still in the graveyard. It was early morning. The cauldron was still there, along with the dried residue of the red goo. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen

"Portkey?" Severus half croaked, half whispered. "Cloak?"

"Here they are." Harry tried to give them to Severus.

Severus shook his head, causing his head to explode in pain. "Put the key on, keep the cloak close," He whispered, closing his eyes against the pain. "Find his wand."

"Here it is. You dropped it when you passed out."

Severus grabbed at it and had to make two attempts. His fingers moved sluggishly and felt numb, but without fine control he was used to. Had the Cruciatus curse hit his adult body the damage wouldn't have been as great. But as it was, his pre-teen body need a neural regeneration potion and time.

He took a deep breath and stilled himself, gathering his magic. He motioned for Harry to grab on to him and apparated to Hogwart's front gates.

Harry curled up on the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. He alternately watched as Stevie slept and kept an eye on the door Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind.

For some reason Harry couldn't comprehend, the nurse wanted him to stay in bed. When he kept trying to get up to sit next to Stevie she'd shoo him back to bed. Finally, he was able to convince the woman he was asleep and she disappeared into the next room to do whatever it was pushy nurses do in their free time.

Stevie apparated the both of them to the gates of the big castle and them promptly fell into some kind of fit. A seizure the nurse called it, from the curse. Harry could only watch helplessly as the boy he thought of as a big brother lost consciousness and began to violently twitch. He was so panicked that he couldn't even clearly recall the moment when the old man found them.

"I see that you're awake," Albus Dumbledore said as he entered the room.

Harry's hart jumped. Would the old man banish him back to his bed?

His thoughts must have been clearly written on his face. "Have no fear my boy. I promise not to tell Madam Pomfrey you're up."

"She won't tell me if he'll be okay. She just keeps telling me not to worry, like I'm a child who can't understand."

"Young Mister Prince will be fine." The old man chuckled. "The curse he was hit with tends to have a greater effect on children as your magic is still developing. He'll need bedrest and some potions, but should make a full recovery. It will just take time."

"Severus. His name is Severus Snape, not Stevie Prince."

"Mister Prince had used the alias in the past, and it's the name that would have been his had his mother not been disinherited by her family," Dumbledore said. "This is a secret only the three of us know. In fact, I'm surprised he told you."

"He did something last Halloween. I can only say his name to him, and I guess around people who know."

"Ah yes, the secret binding ritual of some sort. Still, it'd be best not to say his name aloud. Someone may hear. In any case, that is his name now."

"All right," Harry nodded and stifled a yawn. He rubbed his eyes. They felt raw and gritty from crying earlier. "How long have you known him?"

"For a while now," Dumbledore vaguely answered.

"I know he's older than he looks." Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the vague non-answer.

Amused, Albus twirled the long ends of his mustache as he thought on how to answer. "I take it this is your runabout way of asking me how old Stephen is."

"I know he's really a grumpy old man in disguise."

Albus laughed. "Physically, he's no different from any other eleven year old boy. Mentally however, he's thirty-one. Grumpy, but hardly 'old'."

"Vold—I mean the Dark Lord—"

"It's all right Harry. You can say his name," Albus interrupted. "In fact, I encourage you to do say 'Voldemort.' Fear of a name is absurd."

"Voldemort said that Stevie is the reason he killed my parents."

"Voldemort is the one who killed your parents, and the blame lies with him. However, the secret behind his decision is a secret is not mine to share. When you get older, I believe Mister Prince will tell you. Until then, just know that he's a good person who's made mistakes in his youth."

Harry nodded and turned to watch to other boy sleep.

"If I may, I do have questions for you, if you're up to it."

Again, Harry nodded, not taking his eyes off of Stevie.

"How did you find yourself in Voldemort's company in the first place?"

Harry hugged his knees tighter to his chest as he told the tale.

Severus woke to an uncomfortably hot weight draped on him and an elbow in his ribs. He turned his head to see Harry draped on his pillow. He grimaced as spotted a stream of drool leaking out of the boy's mouth to pool on the pillow next to his head.

"Awake again, I see," Dumbledore said from his chair along the wall. A book was propped on his lap and a bowl of lemon drops sat on the end table. He looked like he had settled there for a long time.

"Please, can you move him back to his own bed?"

Dumbledore flicked his wand and the boy floated to the next bed over.

"The drool-soaked pillow too, if you will."

"You both seemed so comfortable cuddled together, so I let him stay," Albus said as he summoned a fresh pillow.

"You seem to have mistaken my state of unconsciousness as comfort," Severus snarked. "He drools and kicks in his sleep."

"You're sounding better than the last time we spoke. How do you feel?"

"Still a bit sore. A bit shaky."

"I meant mentally, about the bond."

"I'm not sure. There's some trace remnants of the bond left, but for the most part, it's gone," Severus sighed. "I'd gotten used to its presence, and now I'll have to get used to its absence."

Albus smiled. "Did Harry know about it?"

"Not consciously. Though, I'm sure he feels its absence on some level."

"I don't know the details, but I believe the bond's formation was tied to the curse scar on his forehead and the remnants of your dark mark. When Voldemort cast the killing curse, it somehow destroyed the magical remnant Voldemort left behind."

"I suspect the headaches and visions have ended too."

"I believe you are right," the old man said as he picked up a small bottle on the bedside table. "Poppy is busy with a transfiguration mishap. She asked me to administer your neural potions,"

Severus held out his hand. He was pleased to note that though still there, the trembling had greatly subsided. His fine motor control was still off he noted as he broke the wax seal on the vial. He gave the potion a sniff. "The fool who made this left it to simmer too long."

"You've been consuming them for the past four days. They haven't killed you yet."

Severus grimaced at the thought of consuming mystery potions, some of which while unconscious. He also hated the cheap mass-produced potions from Saint Mungo's apothecary on principal. "It's not nearly as effective as it could be."

"I'd say you're on the mend if you're complaining about the potions." Albus looked like he was trying to hide a smile. "Thirsty?"

Severus shook his head. "How has he been coping?"

"The concussion has healed, along with the blood loss and contusions. Physically, he's fine."

"What about nightmares?"

"No, but I believe Poppy has been dosing him with a mild dreamless sleep."

"I've spoken with Harry and viewed the memories you provided me when we spoke yesterday. But I do have one last question. How did you find the boy?"

"I suspected he'd be near Little Hangleton from those visions. Harry left a lost tooth lying about the house. I used it to make a tracking potion, a dowsing variety to be precise." Severus blinked against the drowsy gritty feeling in his eyes. He had about fifteen minutes before the neural potion put him under again. "I'd intended to use it to teach him a lesson."

"It seems fortunate you did. If I recall, that potion takes several days to make." Albus laughed. "Rest Severus. Poppy should release you tomorrow. We'll speak in my office then."

Severus nodded, the unsaid meaning clear. Dumbledore had news to share with him, but the information was best suited for the privacy of his office.

Harry had to jog in order to keep up with Stevie's long legged stride. This didn't leave him much time to gawk at his surroundings. There were students milling about, dressed in those weird robes. The portraits moved and spoke. There were moving suits of armor. The staircases changed position. He even thought he'd seen a ghost, but that was impossible, wasn't it?

"Keep up. I don't want you getting lost."

"Then slow down!" Harry grumbled as he hiked up his trousers. Someone procured them some clothing from the lost and found. Stevie found several outfits, but everything was too big for Harry.

Several twisty corridors, a moving spiral staircase, and a speaking stone gargoyle later, they were in the headmaster's office. The room itself was filled to the brim with strange objects Harry couldn't even begin to identify. The headmaster sat at a big desk. A big bird sat on a perch behind the old man.

"Harry, Stephen," Albus Dumbledore greeted as he waved a wand. "It's good to see to see the both of you up and about. I've set some wards so we may speak freely. Would you like some tea? A lemon drop?"

Severus ignored the question crossed his arms over his chest as he sat in one of the chairs before the desk. Harry could tell that he was angry.

"What the hell happened in that graveyard?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure." The old man took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. "I can only hypothesize. I'm sure I can only tell you what you've concluded yourself."

"Say it anyway."

"Voldemort briefly succeeded in regaining his body with a dark regeneration potion of some sort."

"And then I killed him," Snape concluded.

"No, not exactly. You merely killed the body he occupied."

"But then wouldn't there be a body?" Harry asked. "When I woke up, there was none."

"Not necessarily." The old man leaned back in his chair as he thought for a moment. "I can only surmise he's done something to tether his soul to this realm."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Severus sarcastically bit out. "You've yet to sufficiently answer my question in its entirety."

"I do know it has something to do with Harry's curse scar."

Harry automatically touched the scar on his forehead.

"No Harry, not that one. Your new one, the one over your heart."

Harry had noticed the cut, but assumed he got it when he fell in the graveyard.

"It's a curse scar, like the one on your forehead. You received it when Voldemort cast the killing curse on you for the second time. You are the only wizard in history to survive the killing curse. You did this not once, but twice."

"Did that other man, um Quirrell, dissolve in the cauldron?" Harry asked.

"His body became a constituent of the potion," Severus answered.

Harry wrinkled his nose in equal parts disgust and confusion.

"He means yes," Albus translated. "Quirrell dissolved into the potion."

"That doesn't explain how he found my residence in the first place."

"When the wards at Harry's relatives fell Petunia Dursley was legitimized. This likely led him to Spinner's End. Apparently, he'd been observing your home from an abandoned house, just outside your wards. I suspect he saw the raven you've been training. Once he captured the bird, it was a simple matter to send Harry the portkey."

"You're just now telling me this?" Severus growled.

"I did not know until yesterday evening. I sent someone to check on the Dursley's and to survey your neighborhood." His vice then took on a chiding tone. "You knew the risks when you moved Harry from the blood wards, against my better judgement I might add."

"I had no choice in the matter," Severus grumbled.

"We all have choices, my boy." He then turned to Harry, almost expectedly for some reason. "Do you have any questions?"

Harry shook his head as he looked down at the floor. He had the feeling Dumbledore was expecting him to ask something.

"The boy hasn't inquired about his aunt's health. That itself should tell you about the toxic relationship Potter had with that bitch."

Harry's eye's popped open at the crass language. He rarely heard Stevie swear. "Oh, um, is she okay?"

"She's fine, but has had her memory modified," Albus sadly said. "Your whole family is doing well Harry."

"That's good." Harry couldn't explain why, but he felt bad that he didn't particularly care if they were okay or not. He didn't want to see them dead, but he didn't care about them either. Did that mean he is a bad person?

Albus scrutinized the Harry for several long moments. The silence felt thick to the boy, and Harry had to force himself not to squirm under the weight of the gaze.

"Was Quirrell behind the deatheater attack on the Figg residence last summer?" Severus finally broke the silence.

"No. Apparently Death Eaters had been using old ministry floo records find the homes of squibs residing in muggle areas. It's likely Quirrell saw the article in the Prophet and investigated Mrs. Figg," Albus said. "The other day I recalled Harry telling me about the Fon Book. He may have used that."

"Phone directory," Harry corrected.

"Yes, it occurred to me that he may have utilized this book to find Arabella Figg's residence."

"You didn't realize that this Voldemort guy could just look us up in the phone directory?" Harry asked, incredulous.

Severus winced at the boy's casual use of the forbidden name. "You need to realize that wizarding society is somewhat removed from muggles, Harry."

"Proper wizards don't use telephones. It wouldn't have occurred to them," Severus clarified. "How did he link Madam Figg to Harry?"

"It may have been coincidental, or he may have known of her connection to me."

"You know I don't believe in coincidence."

"No you don't, do you?" Albus smiled. "I wish I had an answer for you. We may never know."

"And what of Flamel?"

"He and his wife were found dead last fall, and with them, any remaining secrets behind the Philosopher Stone."

"Not exactly. Voldemort mentioned him. It's likely he was able to pick it out of his brain before his murder."

"Nicholas had the foresight to destroy the knowledge of his creation centuries ago, including his memories."

Severus snorted, doubting anyone would altruistically let go of such knowledge.

"I know what you're thinking, Severus. He truly destroyed knowledge of the stone. He knew the danger such knowledge represented to not only himself, but to humanity. With age comes wisdom."

"Who's Flamel?"

"Honestly, Potter. Haven't you bothered to crack open that history book I gave you?"

Harry lay in bed that night. They'd returned to Spinner's End that afternoon and Harry was happy to be home. The other boy was on edge, and had performed a series of complex spells. Warding, Stevie had called them.

Corvis was there, waiting for them. The bird's feathers were still disheveled, and the animal was a bit leery of them. However, the skittishness only lasted until Harry offered the bird a bit of ham. It wasn't long until he was back to his obnoxious self.

Harry smiled as he gripped the pendant the Stevie had given him all those months ago.

For some reason, the magic inside of it felt clearer than ever. Before it felt muffled, but now he could clearly sense the cool feeling of Stevie's magic thrumming through it. Harry smiled as he closed his eyes.

As he drifted closer to sleep he felt the second magical signature. It was almost eclipsed by Stevie's magic. But now that he felt it, he wondered how he could have ever missed it. It was warm, and bespoke of love, home, and protection.

If my mum were alive, I bet her magic would feel just like this, Harry thought to himself. Without understanding how why he felt different, he drifted to sleep to vague dreams of lullabies and peace, and without pain from his scar.

The End