Chapter Text
In the smallest bedroom of a ramshackle house on Spinner's End, a six-year-old boy hastily stuffed his meager belongings into a worn, tattered charity shop suitcase. Dusk had already fallen, and if he delayed any longer, he might be too late.
Sparing an anxious glance out the window, the dark-haired child breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t see any signs of a familiar silhouette stumbling down the street. He still had a little time left, but his father would likely be home within the hour, hopelessly drunk and eager to blame his discontent on his worthless son.
Hurriedly packing the rest of his belongings, the young wizard sighed as he reluctantly returned his mother’s potions books to their hiding place underneath the loose floorboards. They were too heavy for his small frame to carry, but he wished that he didn’t have to leave behind his only connections to his mum. While it was true that his mother had never protected him from his father’s wrath, she had at least healed his most severe injuries and taught him about magic and potions. Often, it had been late in the evenings, after his father had already passed out, that his mother would take out her potions books and read to him in hushed whispers, promising that one day he would go to a magnificent castle called Hogwarts and learn all about the wonders of magic.
As such, it had been clear to the young boy that his mum was a capable witch, so he had never understood why she’d passively allowed his father to hurt them when she could have easily stopped him with magic. Even while soothing her son’s tears and tending to his bruises, she had still refused to raise her wand against her husband. However, despite his mother’s flaws, she had been the only person who’d cared about him, and it had been difficult to lose her. But while he had grieved for his mum, his father had only seen the extra money that was now available for alcohol.
Consequently, after the first few lickings following his mother's death, the six-year-old had quickly figured out that the best way to avoid the man’s drunken rages was to simply avoid being home at night. So, for the past several months, at the first sound of his father’s stumbling footsteps entering the house, he would climb out of his window and sneak away, walking until he reached the nearby park, where he would curl up under a tree and fall asleep.
Tonight was different, though, because it wasn’t just another night away from home. Tonight, Severus Tobias Snape was officially running away.
Closing his suitcase, Severus walked quickly towards the front door, admittedly a bit scared, but mostly relieved to finally be escaping Spinner’s End. He was a resourceful child, and he knew that if he could make it to a busy city, there would be plenty of opportunities to find leftover scraps of food.
Reaching the door, he jumped in surprise when it abruptly banged open, knocking the suitcase out of his hand. Someone stumbled inside, and Severus froze, terror filling every inch of his body as crazed, bloodshot eyes met his own. His father had returned home early.
“Freak! You made me lose my job at the mill, ya worthless piece of shite!” Tobias roared, backhanding the boy harshly across the face.
Severus cried out in pain, a hand flying to his clearly broken nose as he stumbled backwards. “Sir, please—” He paled drastically as his father’s gaze landed on his suitcase, the man’s fury noticeably increasing. “I-I can explai—”
“And just where the hell did ya think you were goin’ with that suitcase, eh boy?” Tobias bellowed, grabbing the front of Severus’ shirt and yanking the boy towards him.
“I-I was just going to visit a friend, sir,” Severus stuttered, already knowing that he was going to get punished. His father’s breath reeked of alcohol, and he always got punished when his father was drunk.
“Freaks like you don’ have no friends. You were tryin’ to run away, weren’t ya, boy?” Tobias slurred, swaying slightly on his feet.
Severus frantically shook his head, but his denial only seemed to incense his drunk father.
“I won’t stand for yer ungratefulness, freak, I can tell ya that!” the man hollered, an insane glint in his eyes. “I’ll beat the worthlessness out of ya if it’s the last thing I do!”
The six-year-old cowered before his father, whimpering pitifully as the man menacingly brandished his belt. “Please, sir,” he begged as he was dragged across the room to his father’s chair. “I’m sorry! Please, I’ll be good, I promise!”
“Quit yer whingin’, boy,” Tobias spat angrily, “and drop yer trousers and pants. Assume the position and don’t dawdle, or it’ll be double for ya,” he threatened cruelly.
Severus quivered with fear as he hurried to obey, bending at the waist and reaching down to tightly grasp the chair’s legs, his vulnerable backside perfectly presented for punishment. He was intimately familiar with this position, having been trained to receive what his father proclaimed as “good ol’ fashioned discipline” ever since he was old enough to walk.
Boys were coddled these days, Tobias often declared, but he wouldn’t stand for his son turning into one of them weak little pansies. His boy would learn proper discipline, and there was no better discipline for a boy than a strap against his bare backside.
“Now don’t ya dare start cryin’ like a li’l sissy, ya understand?” Tobias hissed, raising the belt high in the air.
Severus tensed as he heard the familiar whistle of leather, his eyes filling with tears a moment later as his backside erupted in hot, throbbing pain. He bit his lip hard to hold back his whimpers as the belt landed viciously across his bare backside and thighs, over and over again. His father didn’t know how to do much, but he sure knew how to administer a mean strapping.
“This oughta teach ya some respect, boy!” Tobias growled drunkenly, delivering a particularly nasty stroke right across the child’s sit spots.
Severus flinched, his teeth clenched as hard as he could to prevent himself from crying out. Tears streamed heavily down his face, but the young boy knew better than to let any sobs escape. Disobedience would only lead to more pain; he had no choice but to silently endure as best he could until his father was satisfied.
Thankfully, it was only a short while later that Tobias showed signs of tiring, his breath coming out in heavy, harsh pants.
“Alright, boy,” the man grunted reluctantly. “I hope you’ve learned yer lesson.” He gave the boy a final hard lick of the belt, then tossed it onto the floor. “You can get up now.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” Severus whispered thickly. He kept his head down so that his father wouldn’t notice his silent tears, but a few slid down his cheeks and landed on the floor, giving him away.
“Hold on now, are you cryin’, boy?” Tobias bellowed, his drunk fury instantly revived as he knocked the boy’s head up for proof of disobedience. “You just don’ listen, do ya, freak? There’s no cryin’ allowed!” he thundered, dragging his son over to the sink. “Since ya can’t seem to quit yer sniveling over a li’l discipline, I’ll give ya somethin’ real to cry about,” the man spat, clumsily shoving a bucket under the tap and filling it with water.
Severus’ body froze in panic as he instantly recognized the punishment. Terrified, he tried to run, but his father’s choking grip on the back of his neck held him in place.
“This oughta teach ya, freak,” Tobias sneered maliciously before plunging the boy’s head into the bucket.
Severus fought wildly as his head was submerged in the cold water, desperate to free himself from his father’s grip. A minute went by as he struggled for air, but his efforts were futile. Tobias was too strong for him—he always had been, and he always would be. A burning sensation began to fill his body, a desperate panic building up inside of him. Would his father really drown him this time, just like he’d always threatened to?
Time blurred and his vision swam, his limbs tingling with numbness. Sound distorted, sensation faded, and a hollow ringing was soon all that existed. Moments later, his entire body went slack. Darkness would soon take over.
Then, Tobias’ hand disappeared.
Severus collapsed onto the floor in a crumpled heap, his lungs desperately gasping for air. As the oxygen rushed to his head, he instinctively curled up into a ball, bracing himself for the final blows that usually accompanied a punishment. But the room stayed silent, and not even his father’s drunk, heavy snoring could be heard. What in Merlin’s name had happened?
Trembling fearfully, the child weakly pushed himself to his knees, his face paling in horror as he stared at the scene before him. Practically the entire kitchen had been destroyed, and lying unconscious on the floor, with a bloody gash on his forehead, was his father.
At the Ministry of Magic, an alarm blared within the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Since it was after regular business hours, the only ones who heard the alarm were the two aurors on night duty.
“Merlin, a Class 10 case of accidental magic, Alastor!” Auror Charlus Potter exclaimed, hastily opening the drawer containing the records for underage witches and wizards.
Head Auror Alastor Moody plucked the glowing parchment out of its folder, skimming it with his magical eye. “Severus Tobias Snape, age 6. Half-blood. Spinner’s End, Cokeworth—that’s a muggle area. Wonder what set off the lad’s accidental magic to this degree,” he muttered darkly. “Let’s go.”
They disapparated with a crack, appearing in front of a small, shabby-looking house. “House seems fine from the outside,” Moody observed. “Doubt it’s the same on the inside, though.”
Turning the doorknob, the aurors found it unlocked and cautiously entered the house, their wands out.
Auror Potter let out a low whistle of surprise as he stepped through the front door. The kitchen table and chairs were in pieces, and shattered dishes and plates littered the floor. In the middle of the room, unconscious and bleeding, was a man who he assumed was the boy’s father. “Is the boy still in the house?” he asked his partner.
Moody nodded, his magical eye swirling as he jerked his head towards a small floor cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. “He’s hiding in there. Might be best if you approached first. Merlin knows I’d probably scare the lad,” the auror said gruffly.
Charlus nodded and knelt by the child’s hiding place. Making sure to keep his voice gentle, he asked, “Severus? Are you in there? My name is Auror Potter. I’m here to make sure you’re okay.” Hearing no response except for a muffled sob, he continued speaking. “You’re not in any trouble, Severus. We just want to know what happened.”
The auror slowly opened the door, revealing a small, scrawny boy cowering against the wall and shaking like a leaf. The child’s eyes were wide and fearful, and he was cradling his right arm against his body. There was blood covering the boy’s face, and judging by his shallow, hiccupped sobs, Charlus guessed that the child might have bruised or broken ribs as well.
Taking a deep breath, the auror quickly hid the fury he felt at seeing the boy’s condition, not wanting to frighten Severus any further. Smiling gently, he spoke again. “Hey, it’s alright. I promise we’re not going to hurt you. Do you think you could come out of there?”
The child stared at him with raw fear in his eyes and let out a pained whimper, bringing his good arm up to protect his face. Charlus exchanged a dark look with Moody. It was clear that the boy was being abused, and he had a sinking suspicion that it was the boy’s own father who had caused his injuries. It would not be the first time that a child’s accidental magic had lashed out protectively when faced with a life-threatening situation.
Moody’s eye swirled angrily, and he limped over to where the boy’s father lay, giving Charlus a significant look. Moody would handle the boy’s father, and Charlus would take care of the boy.
Turning back to the frightened child, Charlus continued speaking in a soft, soothing voice. “You know, Severus, I have a son about your age. He does accidental magic pretty frequently, and sometimes things get destroyed. I would never blame him for his magical outbursts though, because young wizards like you and him aren’t able to control their magic. Do you understand?”
The boy looked at him dejectedly. “Your son must be a good boy, sir, unlike me. Father says only bad, worthless freaks like me have to be punished.”
Charlus’ eyes blazed with fury, and he instinctively reached out to reassure the child, only to freeze when Severus flinched away and then broke into sobs, his injured arm having bumped painfully against the back of the cabinet when he’d jerked away. “I’m sorry, sir, please don’t hurt me!” the child pleaded.
“Charlus.” Moody spoke with a quiet urgency. “I’ll take the boy's father to the ministry for questioning. You need to take the lad to St. Mungo’s. He has injuries that need medical attention as soon as possible.”
Recognizing that Moody had just run a diagnostic scan on the boy, Charlus gave a sharp nod and turned back to the corner, reassessing the situation. Sensing that Severus wasn't likely to come out of the cabinet of his own volition any time soon, he reached forward and gently scooped the boy up into his arms. The child weakly kicked at him, struggling to get away, but Charlus ignored the feeble attempts. “Calm down, Severus,” he told the boy, adjusting him so that he was securely positioned to apparate. “Everything's going to be okay. We’re going to St. Mungo’s now.”
Severus squirmed frantically in the arms of his captor as the auror followed a stern-looking mediwitch down the hallway. This was a hospital, and Tobias had drilled it into his head that if he ever let anyone find out about his punishments, he’d make Severus wish he’d never been born. Dread filled his stomach at the thought of the punishment he would receive if Tobias discovered he’d disobeyed his number one rule, and he desperately renewed his struggles against the wizard carrying him.
“Settle down, now,” the auror whispered quietly, refusing to loosen his grip.
Severus shook his head feverishly. “No, let me go!” he cried in panic, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He needed to get away, right now!
The auror ignored his protests and gently laid him down on the bed in the room that they had entered. As soon as the man released him, Severus made to run for the door, only to find himself stuck to the bed and unable to even sit up. The child immediately struggled against the spell that was holding him down, ignoring the hushed conversation that the auror and the mediwitch were having. Something about “calling Albus” and “always wanted a child” and “inevitable prison sentence.” He didn’t care about any of that, though. He just needed to escape this place. “Let me go!” he wailed, thrashing against his invisible restraints.
The click of the door caught his attention, and his eyes snapped up as the auror quietly left the room. Where was the man going? Fear filled his whole body as the stern-looking healer turned her attention back towards him.
“Severus, I know that you are probably scared, but I’m not going to hurt you,” the mediwitch said calmly. “My name is Madam Pomfrey, and I’m a healer at St. Mungo’s Hospital. I’m going to cast a diagnostic spell and then heal your injuries,” she explained, raising her wand.
Severus’ eyes widened in horror. No, she couldn’t find out! He had to stop this, but how? His father always yelled and said mean words whenever he wanted something, and he always got what he wanted, so maybe that was how he could stop this Madam Pomfrey person.
“S-Stay away from me, you bloody bint!” he shouted, trying to remember all of the mean words that his father liked to use. “I don’t want your help, so keep your bloody nose out of my damn business!” he finished, trying to appear much braver and more insolent than he really felt.
His eyes widened in surprise when the healer merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Severus, but being rude isn’t going to stop me from examining your injuries,” Madam Pomfrey scolded. “Now, watch your language, young man, unless you’d like a time out.”
His plan foiled, Severus lost control of the tears that had gathered in his eyes. “No, please don’t! Father is going to kill me,” he sobbed fearfully.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hand coming towards him and instinctively lashed out, flailing his good arm and legs in the air at whoever was trying to touch him. His leg connected with someone, and he kicked viciously, only to have both of his ankles caught and held firmly against the bed.
“We don’t kick people, even if we’re upset, young man,” an unfamiliar voice said, firmly but kindly.
Severus froze, his jaw dropping as his eyes landed on the man who had just entered the room. Standing before him was a tall, older wizard with a white beard and twinkling blue eyes. He gave off a calm, powerful aura that commanded respect, yet his demeanor was gentle and kind. But what was currently occupying the six-year-old’s attention was the man’s hideous, bright red robes that were covered with swimming yellow ducks.
“What are you wearing?” he blurted out, staring in horror at the robes. Maybe the wizard was color-blind? Severus certainly couldn’t imagine anyone wearing those robes on purpose.
A second later, he realized his mistake and clamped his hand over his mouth in horror. What was he thinking, daring to question the man and not addressing him with an honorific? His father would’ve thrashed him for his insolence. Cringing away and bracing himself for a smack, the child was shocked when the older wizard merely chuckled in response.
“I am actually quite fond of these robes, although I have been told by most of Hogwarts’ staff that my choice of colors and patterns is rather questionable,” the badly-dressed wizard replied, glancing fondly at the exasperated healer.
Severus decided to ignore the wizard’s strange fashion preferences, instead focusing on the mention of Hogwarts. Ever since his mum had told him about the magical castle, he had dreamed of attending the school and finally escaping his father. “Do you work at Hogwarts, sir?” he asked politely, hoping that if he was respectful, the man might answer some of his questions.
The wizard smiled kindly at him. “How about I make a deal with you, my boy? Madam Pomfrey needs to heal your injuries, so why don’t I tell you about myself and Hogwarts while she takes care of you?”
Severus blanched in sudden horror. How could he have been so stupid as to let his guard down and forget that he was in a hospital? He would never be allowed to attend Hogwarts if his father found out he’d disobeyed him! “Please sir, my father—”
“Your father has been arrested for child abuse, Severus,” the wizard interrupted, an angry glint in his eyes. “He will never hurt you again.”
The six-year-old gaped in shock. His father had been arrested for child abuse? But—but he wasn’t abused! Sure, his punishments were strict and harsh, but his father was merely disciplining him as he saw fit. He was giving him what he deserved for being a freaky, worthless little brat. Why did this wizard seem so angry about it?
His thoughts were interrupted when the man continued speaking. “Severus, I know that this is all a lot to take in, but right now you need to let Madam Pomfrey heal you. Will you let her take care of you without fighting?”
Severus bit his lip, glancing between the mediwitch and the old wizard as he tried to decide. He didn’t even know the poorly dressed wizard’s name yet, but for some reason, he felt like he could trust the man to tell him the truth. And it would be really nice for the pain to disappear for once, even though he was used to pain. He gave a small nod, bravely meeting sincere blue eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said in a small, wobbly voice.
“That’s a good boy,” he heard the man say warmly.
Severus swallowed hard, tightly clenching his eyes shut. He had never been treated for his injuries at a hospital before, and he hoped that it didn’t hurt as much as one of Tobias’ punishments. He flinched in surprise when he felt a warm, calloused hand covering his own small, trembling one. Peeking up from behind teary eyelashes, he saw the kind old wizard smiling reassuringly at him.
“You’re going to be okay, Severus,” the wizard assured him. “Madam Pomfrey is an excellent healer, so you don’t have anything to worry about. I have seen her treat many students at Hogwarts, where we are lucky enough to have her as our mediwitch during the school year. As the headmaster, I—”
“You’re Albus Dumbledore?” Severus interrupted with a gasp, his eyes filling with awe when the wizard nodded. “D-Did you maybe know my mum, Eileen Prince?” he asked hopefully.
Albus smiled warmly at him. “Indeed I did, young man. Your mother was quite a gifted potions student and Captain of the Gobstones Team during her seventh year. I will be curious to see if you have inherited her talent with potions when you attend Hogwarts.”
Madam Pomfrey interjected at that moment, summoning a vial with a purple liquid inside. “Severus, I’ve healed most of your injuries, but I think it would be best if you weren’t awake while I take care of the rest. This is—”
“Dreamless sleep?” Severus asked shyly, recognizing it as one of the potions mentioned in his mother’s books.
“That’s correct, young man,” Madam Pomfrey said with an approving smile. “It will taste a tad unpleasant, but your body needs the rest.”
Severus pouted at the mention of needing rest, but he reluctantly agreed when Mr. Dumbledore nodded encouragingly at him. He liked the older wizard, even with his ugly robes, and he wished that his father was as nice as the headmaster.
Taking the vial from the mediwitch, Severus gulped the potion down as quickly as possible, his face scrunching up in disgust at the bitter taste.
“Good job, my boy. I’m proud of you,” Albus praised softly.
Severus blinked drowsily, the tension in his body fading away as the potion started to work. He desperately hoped that he’d be able to see the kind headmaster one last time before he was returned to his father. He knew that the man had said that Tobias would never hurt him again, but he knew better than to believe that. His mother had once promised the same thing, and then she had died, leaving him to fend for himself.
“Say goodbye?” the young boy mumbled, his eyes closing even as he fought to stay awake until he had an answer.
“Don’t worry, Severus. Go to sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Albus watched fondly as the child’s eyes closed and his breathing deepened. He turned to the mediwitch, only to find her smiling at him knowingly.
“You will be a great father to him, Albus,” Poppy commented softly.
“I don’t think—”
The mediwitch huffed impatiently. “I know that you’ve wanted a child for many years now, Albus. That’s why I asked Auror Potter to call you here. The muggle foster care system would be an extremely detrimental environment for an abused little boy like Severus who is prone to outbursts of accidental magic, and you know that. Severus deserves a good, stable home after all that he’s been through, and you will be able to give him that,” she stated firmly.
The headmaster sighed, running his fingers through the sleeping child’s soft hair. It was a bit greasy and would need to be washed soon, he thought absentmindedly. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Poppy, and I will admit that I am already very fond of young Severus, but I am not sure if I will be a suitable match for the boy,” he confessed. “I am older and may not be capable of giving Severus all that he needs.”
Poppy clucked her tongue at the man’s hesitance. “You are more than capable of caring and providing for Severus, Albus. I can see the love for the child in your eyes, and the boy has clearly already bonded with you just from the brief time you’ve spent together. And if you’re worried about not having enough time or energy, ask Minerva to be the lad’s godmother. Merlin knows she’d be absolutely delighted to be called Aunt Minerva,” the mediwitch muttered. Oh, she loved Minerva as a dear friend and colleague, but ever since Albus had let it slip that he wanted to adopt a child, the woman had not stopped talking about how much she’d like to be a godmother.
Albus chuckled at his colleague’s mutterings. Minerva certainly had been insistent on being named godmother if he ever adopted a child. She was an excellent choice though, and he was sure that she would be thrilled to help raise the lad in her strict but motherly manner. “Very well, I shall do as you suggest, Poppy. I will need to floo to Hogwarts and ask Minerva first, and then once Severus wakes up, I will ask if he’d like to be adopted.”
Poppy smiled at her colleague compassionately. “I am sure that Severus will say yes, Albus. The boy already trusts you to some degree, and that trust will only grow. Now, go tell Minerva the good news!” she said, shooing him away with her hand. “I will take care of the rest of Severus’ medical needs and then floo you when the dreamless sleep is wearing off.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Giving the sleeping child’s hand a last gentle pat, Albus rose from his chair and left the room. If everything went as planned, he would soon have a son.