Author's Notes

I'm sorry for the really long gap between updates. I've been busy, and I've also had a fairly large dose of writer's block. Sadly, neither of those things are likely to go away in the immediate future, as I have a dissertation to research and exams to revise for.

Anyway I wanted to post something for you all, even though it's pretty short, so here you go. You will probably notice that, once again, I've "adapted" events from the Philosopher's Stone to fit into my alternate universe.

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Severus watched as Molly Weasley cuddled Sara against her chest, trying to quiet her tears. The little girl had been weeping continuously ever since they had taken her away from her mother.

In a strange way, he almost envied her. His childhood had been wonderful compared to that of most slaves, but compared to most free people, it had been very lonely. He had no mother, no siblings, and his father-figure had also been his master. Sara might never see her biological mother again, but at least she would have a large family that cared about her.

He turned as Dumbledore approached him. The headmaster had been talking to Mr. Weasley in the kitchen, going over arrangements for the child's care. His master was currently upstairs, talking to the Weasley girl.

"I think Molly and Arthur will take excellent care of Sara," said Dumbledore in satisfaction as he arrived at Snape's side. "She will no doubt have a better childhood than even Harry had."

"She will still be a slave," he responded dryly, despite his earlier thoughts. He despised the Dursleys for what they had done to Harry, but at least his master was free.

"Yes, I know. I wish that I could change that but that is something even I cannot do."

He nodded in angry agreement, and surveyed the crying child for a moment before turning toward the door. "I will fetch my master. It is time for us to return to Hogwarts."

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"I feel bad, taking him away from his mother."

"He's better off with you. He has a chance at a normal childhood, no abuse."

Jennings nodded, and moved the blanket back to reveal the tiny face below. He touched the baby's cheek gently, and looked up at his friend soberly. "Yes. But he will never be free."

"He'll be as close as you can make him."

"Close isn't good enough, Linda. Nowhere near good enough."

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Snape picked out the thickest of his black robes, wrapping it firmly around himself. The weather had recently taken a firm dive into "cold", with frost lightly covering the ground each morning. Two teachers had already been outside defrosting the Quidditch pitch ready for the Gryffindor-Slytherin match starting in half an hour.

He wondered who exactly he was supposed to support. He was Head of Slytherin House - it was his people, his team, the house he himself had been in as a teenager. His loyalty should lie with Slytherin. However, Harry Potter was playing Seeker for the opposite side, and wishing for his master's defeat went against all the instincts of a trained slave.

He stepped to the door, and frowned as he saw something lying halfway underneath it. He bent to pick it up, and then became absolutely furious as he realised what it was.

A dog's collar, with "Property of Harry Potter" engraved on it.

Draco Malfoy's idea of a suitable present, no doubt.

He drew out his wand, levitated the hated item, and then spoke a curse in a harsh whisper. He watched in grim pleasure as the thick leather burned in scorching blue flames.

Adjusting his robes, he curtly commanded the door to open, and then headed out of the dungeons. The ferocious expression on his face sent several young first-year girls running out of his way in fear.

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He lifted his eyebrows at the Potter for President banner flying over the Gryffindor section of the crowd. Not a particularly apt slogan, really, not unless there was some kind of presidency available that he had no knowledge of…

He seethed silently as Madam Hooch looked pointedly at the Slytherin team captain as she cautioned all of the players to play a fair game. He was not, however, sure whether he was more unhappy with the Quidditch teacher for implicitly accusing his Slytherins, or with his Slytherins for so often doing what she accused them of.

Being distinctly unimpressed by the commentary from a boy he found particularly annoying, Lee Jordan, he tuned it out as much as possible, instead watching the game closely. He found himself reluctantly choosing to support his master, inwardly cursing himself for being the good little slave - but at least he always remained silent during these occasions, so his Slytherins would not suspect his betrayal of their team.

He glanced up at his master, and realised with shock that Harry's broom was jerking out of control. Angrily he looked around the stand and saw Quirrell looking in his master's direction, muttering rapidly under his breath. Quirrell's eyes never once blinked.

Severus swore under his breath, and then turned back to his master. He began chanting himself, trying desperately to save his master's life. Harry's life.

It worked, but not well enough. Harry was still managing to cling to his broom, but it was zigzagging around madly, and he doubted that his master's grip could hold on for much longer.

Suddenly a cry of "Fire!" went up around him, distracting his attention. He looked, almost petrified, back into the sky, half expecting to see Harry falling rapidly down to earth, but breathed deeply with relief as he saw his master climb onto his now steady and sedate broomstick.

Looking around, he saw that Quirrell too had been distracted. He searched for the fire's culprit, and his eyes fixed on his master's friend, Hermione Granger. She gave him a discreet nod, and he nodded back gratefully.

Good girl.

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"I saw you muttering and I knew it couldn't be you," said Granger in explanation. "You'd never hurt Harry – and even if you wanted to, you couldn't. Killing him would probably kill you. So I looked at Professor Quirrell, and he was muttering too. Fire was the first thing I could think of to break his concentration."

"You did well," he told her. Compliments for Gryffindors came rarely from his lips, but she had after all just saved his master's life.

"Yeah, thank you Hermione," said Harry fervently. "And you too, Severus. I could have broken my neck if you hadn't started chanting the counter-curse."

"I'm sure someone would have levitated you before you reached the ground," he replied.

"Yeah well, thanks anyway."

"You are welcome, Master."

Harry breathed in deeply. He still seemed a little shaky from the fright. "I think I need to go and sit down."

Severus nodded in agreement, but cautioned quietly, "It's obvious that Quirrell wishes you injured or dead. I suggest that you be very careful from now on, Master."

"I will." Harry and his friends left as Severus bowed low.

He straightened, and then fingered his wand in its holster as he came to a decision. He might not yet have enough proof to have Quirrell arrested, but he could certainly go and give the man a strong warning about exactly what might happen to a person who deliberately endangered the life of Harry James Potter.